“Why all the games, John? Why didn’t you just kill me yourself? You had a hundred chances to do it.”

“I was just trying to warn you off, brother. Somalia is a lost cause. Nothing we do here is going to make a damned bit of difference, so why shouldn’t I make a little something on the side—maybe fund my retirement and pay for my kids’ college?”

“Because you’re a traitor. That’s the legacy you’re going to leave for your kids.”

“I didn’t have a choice. Once I did that first deal with Cawar, they had me.”

Pickens pointed one of his meaty fingers at Jake.

“I got nothing against you personally, Keller. You can still walk away.”

Pickens gestured to the door.

“I’m afraid I can’t, John.” Jake pulled the karambit from his vest.

The big man laughed again and grabbed the three-foot-long Ngulu sword off the wall. It was a cross between an axe and a broadsword and its heavy curved blade was designed to sever a man’s neck.

Pickens swung it like a cleanup hitter.

Jake ducked as the edge sliced through the air just inches from his head, then leapt up and elbowed Pickens in the face, shattering his nose.

But it didn’t affect the big man. He wielded the sword effortlessly, like a painter with a brush.

Jake shifted sideways, keeping the desk between them, until Pickens attacked again, swinging the sword overhead as if he were splitting firewood. The blade crashed into the desktop, chopping off a foot-thick corner of the hard mahogany.

Pickens stepped around the desk and swung again.

Jake rotated his body out of the way and drove a heel kick to the big man’s pelvis. Pickens staggered backward but still managed to slice a gash in Jake’s arm.

Jake retreated back behind the desk.

“It’s only a matter of time, Keller,” said Pickens as he feinted to his left and moved right. His natural athleticism masked his enormous strength.

Jake realized that the desk was keeping Pickens away but also giving him an advantage with the longer weapon.

Jake was never going to win a fight for his life by playing defense.

He stepped into the middle of the room with the knife in his right hand and his wounded left arm held against his chest. There could be no mistakes now. If Pickens connected, Jake would die.

The big man came to the same conclusion.

And smiled.

He came at Jake with a stutter step and then charged. He held the axe low and swung it hard enough to fell a redwood.

The blade nicked the front of Jake’s vest as he leapt backward. He counterattacked with a knife strike to Pickens’s rib cage as the big man followed through on his swing.