The man called, Abd- Al- Aziz, took a long pull on his cigar and flicked to the floor. Under the laws of his religion he was not allowed to smoke, but neither was he allowed to commit murderous deeds. He had no misgiving of some holy mission, he only knew that his master's will would be done. He watched as the cigar lit the gasoline on the floor. The ground erupted with smoldering flames quickly moving across. The man called Abd-Al-Aziz, watching with icy blue eyes as the flames climbed onto the writhing bodies of his master's enemies; his enemies by proxy. With impassive eyes he took in the spectacle of the dying men bursting into flames. Uncaringly he smelled the smoldering skin, heard the cries of agony and felt the heat envelope him. He stared at his hand closed and opened it slowly as if he had the heart of an enemy in his grasp. He relaxed his hand and coughed into a handkerchief.
After a long pause he spoke.
"هذا للجرائم ضدّ الكلّ [بووفول], سيدي", "This is for the crimes against the all-powerful, my master."
He turned his back on the burning, rotting men and walked away on foot starting a journey that would mean another bad day for Jack Bauer.
The capitol city of Sangala was Mali Baso; the heart of the war ravaged country was just as impoverished as the rest of the weary nation. A coastal country located in Western Africa, Sangala had known war since its inception. A willingness to fight ran through the blood of any and all of the Sangalan people. Perhaps that is why the Executioner, Mack Bolan, developed a feeling of kinship with the people of this nation. He too had seen bloodshed and violence in his long war against the Mafia and now in his new war on terrorists throughout the free world. Deep unrest simmered beneath the surface of Mali Baso, a city that had seen two violent coups in less than a decade. General Benjamin Juma had overthrown the government with the aid of his lieutenant, Ike Dubaku, and army of soldiers at his command. Many tyrants before him had used children in war and he did the same.
Juma had succeeded in gaining control of the nation and he could have thrived in his own corner of the world as a conqueror of men, but just as so many before him had done he tried to get more than he could. In a daring attack on American soil he struck at the very heart of American Society; The White House. His attack on the nation's capitol would have succeeded were it not for a brave American agent, Jack Bauer. Bauer along with others brave Americans killed the Sangalan murderer and saved the President of the United States.
The head of the Sangalan government had been killed on foreign soil along with Second-in-Command; again the African nation was in disarray. The people beckoned for a fair and democratic leader to step in and take the reins of the waning nation. Instead they got Jon Y'Baku a member of the deposed former regime. Y'Baku had been the Minster of War prior to Juma's revolution. Forced into exile Y'Baku had been waiting to strike.
That's what brought Mack Bolan's Everlasting War to Sangala. Located mere miles from the Presidential Palace, this stronghold served as a barracks for Sangalan Soldiers and as a weapon's storage facility. This first strategic strike would send shockwaves running through the Y'Baku regime. Bolan set his sights on the first of two sentries guarding the gate. The Beretta 93R coughed once and the first man fell. The second sentry dove for cover before swallowing two nine millimeter rounds. Bolan started to run down the hill towards the gate.
A combat modified jeep smashed through the gate right on time and Bolan followed it into the Y'Baku stronghold.
Inside the stronghold, Jack Bauer spun on his heels and grabbed the nearest guard by the collar. A looping overhand right crashed into the guard's head and sent him to his knees. A follow-up knee to the face ensured he was down for the count. Bauer shouldered an assault rifle and set the charges. The building would blow in minutes.
The country had been in disarray, a president was revealed to be something horrible. When they thought they would get a new idealist commander he was rendered a virtual vegetable only to be replaced by a power-mogul of a man who wanted the presidency so bad he would resort to trickery. There seemed to be a renewed since of nationalism when the next leader promised to bring idealism and honor to the capitol. She too was pulled apart and forced to leave. The country was a shambles. The country was the United States.
Currently there was no President; the transition had not been fluid. Taylor the woman who had captured the imagination of many Americans was down for the count, Former Presidents Logan and Wayne Palmer were each in a vegetative state. The Vice President normally the successor in this situation was under investigation as was the rest of the Taylor administration. Surely most of the members of the Taylor administration would be vindicated but for the time being there was no leader. For the time being the Acting President was Mike Novick who coordinated with a panel consisting of the Speaker of the House and both the Minority and Majority Leaders. It was an arrangement not allowed by the constitution but something needed to be done.
CTU had met a similar fate; the newly christened Director Chloe O'Brien had been pulled from her job for aiding Bauer's escape. The future of the resurrected CTU was in question, the hierarchy of the entire government was torn apart, and CTU was not exempt. The agency was kept in place tentatively. Naturally the Second-In-Command was promoted to the top; Cole Ortiz took the lead as an interim leader with the aid of a man called Brognola.
The correspondence between the men was secretive. No direct contact was allowed, Ortiz didn't know much but he was aware that this man was someone big. Ortiz could handle himself but he heeded the advice he received in coded messages. It was usually tame hints on how to handle things. But the latest message alarmed Ortiz. It was in regards to an open investigation into Sangalan Rebels. "STAY OUT OF SANGALA" was all it said.
To kill a man it takes something that most people don't possess. It is not one thing that can easily be defined but when someone has it you know it. You can sense it entering a room there is a shift in the aura of the room. You know that when that man comes in he can kill and he will. Colonel Dakarai Mumboto, the ranking officer on site, had in him enough for two men, his mother had told him he had overpowered his twin in the womb and that she hated him for it. He hated her for it but he could not deny that she had given it to him, that quality that made him great. She said he was evil, she said he was a monster. That's why he kept her by his side; to show her every day the monster she had created. What torment it must be, but as long as it granted him some reprise from his own torment it was okay.
"Who let the infidel escape?" His fingers clenched around his ivory-handled revolver. "I want to know who I must kill."
No one spoke.
"I will smite each of you from this God-forsaken land!" veins popped in his forearm, "Would you allow your comrades to die for your aberrations!" There was an evil glint is his eyes as he moved the cylinder into place. "There is no place for your kind in this man's army." The revolver was level with the face of the next highest officer.
"It wasn't me, Colonel." there was a weakness in the voice that disgusted Dakarai.
"Men in your charge usurped their duties." Dakarai tightened his grip, "You are as responsible as the next. Maybe more so." Blood sprayed on the remaining soldiers before the officer went into a spiral of death.
Dakarai Mumboto moved the next round into place, the next man in line began to flee. Every last one of the other soldiers tackled him. They held him so that their Commander could discharge him from the Sangalan Service.
"Now you have turned on your fellow man." Dakarai Mumboto replaced the spent rounds, "Welcome, you are now true Soldiers in My Service."
Bauer wanted to kill the man right there and then; he had his assault rifle shouldered and ready fire away. In less the thirty seconds he could have leveled each of the soldiers in his view and been on his way out. But he couldn't bring himself to do it. Some of the soldiers may as well have been children; he had seen kids like that all over the world. He could not bring himself to bring war upon children no matter what misguided doctrine they subscribed to. If he killed one they would all be on him. He lowered the weapon and began an exit. He pressed against the wall and switched to his Sig Sauer P229, a semiautomatic pistol. He would have preferred the rifle, it offered more stopping power. But in close quarters he needed a weapon small enough to round corners without getting in his way. He considered the silencer, but they already knew he was here.
He started down a narrow corridor the P229 leading the way, a quick check revealed no one in the hall. He lowered the gun so that it was point to the floor and started a quick dash down the hall. He rounded the corner and saw a man with his back to him, and a portable radio raised to his mouth. Quickly and quietly Bauer holstered the gun and slid his knife from the sheath attached to his arm. He slid one hand over the man's mouth a slashed his throat with the knife. With a gurgling throat the man died. Bauer now had the radio, an inside line to the enemy operations.
To his great regret and grudging respect the army maintained a strict code of radio silence. There was none of the common radio chatter of an amateur fighting force. Bauer remained quiet; he remembered the clever interplay between Bruce Willis and the Terrorist on Die Hard but knew that it would unwise to let the Colonel know that it was a party line. If there was to be communication Bauer wanted the Colonel to be confident that he was secure. A bullet whizzed past his head and Bauer dropped the floor pivoting searching for a gunman. He found none. Instead through the window he saw a man operating a turret gun from a guard tower.
He switched to the assault rifle a fired a short burst at the turret. There was a short lapse in fire while the turreter redirected fire in his direction. It dawned on Bauer that he hadn't been the intended target after all. A stray bullet must have come his way. But now he was the one that they were after. Bauer cursed his mistake as new soldiers swarmed on the location the gunner was after. Bullet after bullet was turning the place into a hell ground. The room was catching fire and poorly structured floor was about to give in. He returned a volley of fire, saw the man at the turret collapse, and rocketed through the window landing in a ball rolling to cover. He crouched behind a burnt-out jeep. He shoved a new magazine into the weapon and glanced to his right. What he saw made his heart stop.
He saw a large man with brown hair and piercing blue eyes, going into the building.
In five minutes it would be engulfed in flames.
