"Death Row 03 - The Avenger" - читать интересную книгу автора (Black Jaid)

Kalif Henders cleared his throat as he stood up. He circled the desk in his lavish, overly decorated office and made his way toward a nearby slave. “You gave me a week, old friend,” he said, coming straight to the point as he keyed in a code that would command the slave to retrieve a drink. “It has been but three days. You are early.”

Abdul Kan studied him through lowered eyelashes. “I am well aware of the date, amigo. You have four days left to return my daughter to me.”

Kalif mopped at his brow with the back of his silk tunic sleeve. He smiled a bit weakly, then handed Abdul the chalice of spirits the automated slave had delivered. “This drink is called Tamarish. It comes from the African Congo,” he stuttered, making Abdul’s eyes shutter. “A gift from Tozeki LeJeune. Drink up, amigo. It’s quite good.”

Abdul accepted the chalice of spirits from his longtime associate with a small incline of his head. He held the ornate gold cup between his hands, then raised it to his mouth. Kalif’s gaze warily darted back and forth from the chalice to Abdul’s lips. He blew out a breath when Abdul sipped from it.

A minute ticked by. “How is the search for Nellie coming along?” Abdul murmured, lowering the chalice.

Kalif smiled, his gaze continually flicking back and forth from the chalice to Abdul’s mouth. “It isn’t. She won’t ever be found.” His rat-like, beady eyes found his. “And if she is found by some miracle of Cyrus, my orders are to kill her on sight.”

Abdul nodded. He had figured as much. He raised the chalice and stared at it. “You dare tell me this because you have poisoned me?” he softly inquired.

Kalif Henders chuckled. “You’ll be dead outside of ten minutes. Feel free to put any questions to me you might have. Amigo,” he mocked.

Abdul’s eyes danced. “Why do you want my daughter dead?” His expression was thoughtful. “I daresay no scientist will ever find a cure for infection. Your brother made sure of that long ago. So why Nellie? Why kill her?”

Kalif’s nostrils flared. “It seems my brother was dumber than I thought,” he bit out. “There is a cure—only one but it does exist.”

“And my daughter is the key?”

“Yes. She is the key. A key that will soon be erased from existence,” he said softly.

Abdul inclined his head. He stared at the chalice before glancing up to smile at Kalif. The weak, effeminate Henders with his flowing white silk robes and idiotic taste in office decorations. “Do you know anything about erodium, old friend?”

Kalif frowned. “Erodium?”

“Yes, erodium. That is what you poisoned me with, is it not?”

The slight Henders shrugged. “Yes. What’s to know? When digested in pure form it is lethal. You’ll be dead at any moment,” he sniffed.

“You were always a fool,” Abdul sighed. “It’s a Cyrus-forsaken miracle you’ve managed to live this long,” he drawled in a pronounced Arabic accent.

Kalif was about to respond when a large tanned hand wrapped itself around his throat. His eyes bulged from around Abdul’s grip.

“If I had truly sipped from the chalice, fool, I would have expired upon contact.” Abdul smiled, showcasing neat white teeth. “Like this…”

Henders unthinkingly gasped as the chalice of poisoned spirits was raised to his mouth. Abdul Kan took advantage of the slight man’s momentary surprise, pouring the contents of the gold cup in between his parted lips. Kalif began to shake uncontrollably, hellish gurgling sounds issuing from the depths of his throat.

Abdul released him, watching dispassionately as his former associate fell to his knees and began frothing at the mouth. Blood mixed with green vomit erupted from between his lips like a spewing volcano.

“Veni, vidi, vici,” Abdul softly murmured. He brushed off his blue silk tunic before turning on his heel to walk away. Henders fell to the ground, his face purple as blood and vomit continued to spew. “‘I came. I saw. I conquered.’”

The vacuum-sealed door whizzed shut behind him.

* * * * *

“We are close,” Nellie whispered. Her feet ached. She was tired and she was cold. Her nipples were hard as rocks from being naked—except for a dangling nipple chain—and walking around the drafty Underground catacombs. The Crossroads were especially chilly.