The President's Man 2

by Alex Ander

  Hardy and Cruz went right at the top of the stairs. They were in a small room with dark-stained wood paneling from floor to ceiling. On the left side of the room was a counter that ran the length of the room. Electric lamps and lampstands that mimicked candle stands were spaced along the counter. A couple of small mirrors were mounted on the wall above the counter. The opposite wall had a round, deeply set window that looked out into the restaurant. The window resembled one that could be found on a shipping vessel. In the far corner along the same wall was an alcove, containing a three-tier wooden shelf that held wine glasses and a serving tray. In the center of the room were four long wooden tables. They would normally be pushed together to make a longer and larger rectangular table; however, one table had been separated from the others. A woman in her early thirties was sitting at the table, facing them. Hearing them come in, she lifted her head. Her dark red lips, which seemed to be permanently pursed, thinned when she smiled. Standing, she walked around the table to greet her guests.

  Hardy took in the rest of her features, while she came closer. She had a rounded face with hazel green eyes, narrowly spaced. Above them lay nearly straight eyebrows, curving slightly toward the bridge of her petite nose and the outer corner of her eye. Her bleached blonde hair was long and straight and came to rest at the middle of her back. The bangs of her hair fell straight down her forehead, stopping less than an inch above her well-manicured dark eyebrows.

  “Well, well, well,” said Dahlia, wearing a red, ribbed turtleneck sweater with cable ties running down the long sleeves. The tight fitting sweater heightened her rounded breasts. A black leather mini skirt hugged the curves of her hips and thighs. Black boots with three-inch heels and a slightly flared leg opening rose above her kneecap. Dark red fishnet nylons could be seen between her skirt and boots. Raising her arms before she got to Hardy, she hugged him. “I told you we’d be seeing each other again.” She stepped back and focused her attention on Cruz, preparing to introduce herself. Before she could, however, the man behind them spoke.

  “I’m sorry to interrupt, Dahlia, but your food will be out in a few minutes.”

  “Thank you, Julio.” Dahlia directed her words toward Hardy and Cruz before she headed back to her seat. “I ordered a small sampling of food; bagels, muffins, pancakes. There’s also coffee and juice on the way.” Sitting at the head of the table, facing the door to the room, she added, “It was the best I could do. You didn’t give me much notice.”

  “Sorry about that,” said Hardy, pulling out a chair to Dahlia’s right and sitting, while Cruz took the chair opposite Hardy and to Dahlia’s left.

  Dahlia extended her hand. “Forgive me. It’s nice to meet you Special Agent Cruz. I’m Dahlia St. James, but I’m sure you already know who I am.” The two women shook hands.

  “It’s nice to meet you, too.” Cruz glanced around the room. “This is a very nice place. Do you own it?”

  “No, but I’m good friends with the owner. He lets me use this room when I’m in town and need a place to meet with people.”

  Cruz unfolded her napkin and placed it on her lap. “It seems we have more than just the room to ourselves.”

  Dahlia took a sip of coffee and put the cup on the table. “They open at seven thirty, but the chefs and wait staff come in a little early to start preparing for the day. I didn’t want to be a burden. That’s why I just asked them to prepare something simple for us.”

  “Well, this is very gracious of you. Thank you.”

  Julio entered the room, carrying a large serving tray. He placed the tray on the table nearest to the trio, retrieved another tray from a cart at the bottom of the stairs and put that tray alongside the other. He poured three glasses of orange juice and set them in front of his guests. “What may I get for each of you?”

  After Julio had placed a plate of food in front of Dahlia, Hardy and Cruz, he said, “I’ll be back in a few minutes to check on you.” He smiled and added, “Enjoy.”

  “Thank you, Julio.” Dahlia picked up a knife, scooped some butter out of a metal container and spread the butter on a plain bagel.

  Hardy and Cruz acknowledged Julio. “Yes, thank you.” They picked up forks and eyed their main course, pancakes with butter and syrup.

  After Dahlia took a small bite of the bagel, she sipped her coffee. “So, Hardy, what’s so important that you had to wake me out of a sound sleep, only to tell me it couldn’t be discussed over the phone?”

  Hardy had put a large forkful of pancakes into his mouth. He took a few seconds to finish chewing and swallowed. “Again, I’m sorry I woke you, but this is very important.” He glanced at the door to the room before turning back to Dahlia. “Before I say anything, I need your word that what I’m about to tell you will stay in this room.”

  Dahlia was hurt he would ask that after all they had been through; however, she realized the two of them had not spent much time together. She had done so much research on him that, for her, it felt as if she had known him quite well. She checked her feelings. “You have my word.”

  Hardy nodded his head and said, “Good—”

  “On one condition…” Dahlia interrupted him.

  Hardy shot a look at Cruz. “What’s that?”

  “I want the whole story…all of it. Don’t forget what I use to do for a living. I know how the game is played. You only give out as much information as necessary to get the person to cooperate. I’m not an asset. I want all of the details.”

  Thinking, Hardy took a few seconds to reply. She was right. That was how the game was played. “Agreed,” he said before taking a drink of orange juice to wash down the pancakes sitting in his throat.

  Dahlia took another bite of her bagel. “So, what’s going on?”

  Cruz started the conversation and got to the point. “The President’s daughter has been kidnapped.”

  Hardy followed up. “We think Muslim extremists, operating in the United States, may be involved.”

  Dahlia stopped chewing for a second. Her eyes grew wider and she whirled her head back and forth, spying the two Special Agents.

  Chapter 13: First Crack

  Taking turns while they ate, Hardy and Special Agent Cruz spent ten minutes telling Dahlia everything they knew about the kidnapping. Hardy took the last bite of pancakes, set his fork on his empty plate and wiped his mouth with a napkin. “We need your help, Dahlia.” He opened a manila folder. Retrieving a photo, he handed it to Dahlia. “Do you recognize this man? His name is—”

  “Ashar Yamadi,” replied Dahlia, snatching the photo. “Yes, I know him. I’ve been trying to find him for quite some time. He’s like a ghost. I can sense his presence, but I’ve never been able to get eyes on him. Do you think he had something to do with the kidnapping?”

  “We do.” Cruz finished her meal and set her napkin on the table. “We have credible intelligence that points to him as a possible suspect; however, he’s eluded our best agencies.”

  With Dahlia’s line of work in mind, Hardy carefully chose his next words. “We were hoping that with your contacts you might be able to track him down.”

  Dahlia grinned, appreciating his efforts to be tactful. “As I said, I haven’t been able to find him.” She looked closer at the photo. “However, I might be able to rattle a few cages…” Her words trailed off, as the images of a few people came to her mind. She studied Hardy for a few moments, thinking of her next move. “If I do this and we find him, I want first crack. He’s a high value target. I know many people willing to pay a lot of money to see him dead.”

  Hardy shook his head. “I can’t promise you that, Dahlia. Even though the top priority is Abby’s safety, if we have a chance to take Yamadi alive, that’s what we’re going to do.”

  “Then, what’s in it for me?”

  Her voice a little louder and not as pleasant, Cruz answered the question. “How about knowing you did the right thing, serving your country and saving innocent lives. Isn’t that enough for you?”

  Dahlia’s j
aw tightened and she lowered her head and glared at Cruz. Who the hell do you think you are, judging me? Not wanting the meeting to go down a negative path, she forced herself to relax, managing to give Cruz a quick smile. She pointed her finger at each of them. “That would be your job.”

  Hardy saw Cruz open her mouth to speak and was concerned her words were not going to be helpful. “Please, Dahlia, we could really use your expertise on this. You haven’t met Abby.” He pointed his finger across the table. “We have…she’s a great kid with a bright future, regardless of whose daughter she is.”

  Dahlia stared at Hardy for several seconds before glancing at Cruz. Her eyes settling on Hardy again, Dahlia analyzed the situation. She was an assassin, who was paid to kill people. More specifically, she was paid to kill terrorists. Yamadi’s death would bring her a large sum of money. She reminisced of her encounter with Hardy, two months earlier.

  She and Hardy had fought to escape a warehouse filled with terrorists. He had saved her life and she had returned the favor. It was only a moment in time, but she had reveled in the excitement, being on the right side, fighting for good, fighting for her country.

  Also, she liked Hardy. As soon as she laid eyes on him in the warehouse her intuition had kicked in, telling her he was an honorable man, who did the right thing no matter the cost. She wanted the money for taking down Yamadi, but a bigger part of her was eager to jump at the chance to once again work with Hardy and be part of a team.

  Hardy felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He dug it out and looked at the screen; it was Charity. “Cherry, can you hold on a minute?” He concentrated his attention on Dahlia. “So, how about it? Are you in?”

  Dahlia plucked the napkin from her lap and tossed it onto her plate. “I’ll see what I can do. There’s a man in New York I’ve been watching. He’s a good place to start. If I apply the right kind of pressure, I think he’ll crack.”

  Hardy smiled before returning to his call. “What’s up, Cherry?”

  “I’ve been going over the report from Director Burroughs and there seems to be a lack of information on the girl who was taken with Abigail. What do we know about her?”

  “I’m sure the Secret Service has vetted her quite thoroughly, since she’s a friend of Abby’s. Why?”

  “I’m just trying to see this situation from different angles, I guess. I’m having a hard time coming to grips with why those girls were where they were—a ski run off limits to everyone.”

  Hardy had been thinking the same thing. It did not add up in his mind. Why would Abby ditch her security detail and go off the reservation? Sure, she’s a teenager, and teenagers are prone to breaking the rules. But, that’s not the Abby I know. Hardy could not make sense of it. Abigail’s behavior was out of character. “What about the girl’s parents?”

  “That’s just it,” said Charity. “She’s a foreign exchange student from Egypt. I can’t find anything that says the host family was questioned. They might know something, some small detail that means nothing to them, but everything to us.”

  “Wait a minute. She’s from Egypt? Yamadi’s from the same country.”

  “I know. That’s what got me thinking about the girl.”

  Hardy was mulling over the possibility the two being from Egypt was a fluke. He spotted Cruz and Dahlia out of the corner of his eye and formulated a plan. “It may just be a coincidence, but we need to check it out.”

  “I agree.”

  Hardy pictured Charity in her red skirt and high heels. “What are you wearing?”

  “What…what do you mean?” She glanced downward. “The same thing I had on at the meeting. Why?”

  “Change into some street clothes and meet me at the airport. You and I are going to visit the host family.”

  “Me?” said Charity, her voice rising. “I’m not a field agent.”

  “Today, you are, Cherry. I need someone else with me, picking up on the little things—facial cues, voice inflections—something I might miss.”

  “What about Cruz?”

  Hardy shifted his gaze toward Cruz. “She’s going to be busy. Just get ready and be at the airport. I’m leaving now.” He disconnected the call.

  Cruz had been starting at him during his conversation. She motioned toward the phone he was slipping into his pocket. “What was that all about?”

  “I’m heading back to D.C. to interview the host parents of Layla, the girl who was kidnapped with Abby. Charity found out she’s from the same country as Yamadi. We need to rule out every possibility.” Hardy stood and grabbed his leather jacket from the back of his chair. Swinging the jacket around, his slipped his arms inside the sleeves. He spoke to Dahlia. “Is that your Renegade, parked out front?”

  Dahlia nodded her head.

  “Good. You and Cruz see what you can find out here. I’m taking the SUV back to the airport.” He paused and glanced at the women. He remembered the tension between them. “Can I trust the two of you will not attack each other the minute I leave?”

  Dahlia’s eyebrows turned downward. “Excuse me, but we’re both professionals.”

  Cruz added her own chiding. “I think we’re capable of not letting our personal feelings get in the way of the mission.”

  Pleased, Hardy held up his hands in front of his chest. “Glad to hear it.” Secretly, he had hoped his words would have sparked the response he received—the two women joining forces, even briefly, against him. He pointed at the remnants of their meal, while reaching for his wallet. “What do I owe you for this?”

  Dahlia waved her hand at him. “Go, I’ve got it.”

  Hardy nodded his head and spoke to Cruz. “Take care of yourself and call me as soon as you know something.”

  “I will. The same goes for you, too.” She watched him walk away and out of the room, as Julio came in and approached the table.

  Chapter 14: For an Assassin

  Julio approached the women and smiled. “How was everything?”

  Cruz returned his smile. “It was delicious. Thank you very much, Julio.”

  He cleared the dishes from Hardy’s table setting. “Was everything to your liking, Miss Dahlia?”

  “Of course it was. Thank you for putting this together on such short notice. When you’re ready, I’ll take the check.”

  He smiled and shook his head, while he stacked the dishes on the serving tray. “You know the Boss’s rules.” He held up his index finger. “One, you get whatever you want.” He added his middle finger. “Two, you don’t—”

  “I don’t pay for anything,” said Dahlia, finishing his sentence, while fumbling with her jacket. She produced a white envelope and handed it to Julio. “Here, this is for you.”

  He took and opened the envelope. His eyes widened and he stammered, “Dahlia, I can’t…this is…”

  She raised her finger and wagged it at him. “There are no rules against me giving you a Christmas present.” She paused and added, “Take it and treat your wife to something nice.” He struggled to come up with something to say. “That reminds me.” She whipped her head around, leaned over and grabbed a bag off the floor. “This is for Ramon.” She held out a red gift bag. Ramon was Julio’s son.

  Taking the bag, he spread the white handles apart and peeked inside. He smiled. “Ramon is going to love this.” Julio stepped closer to the table, gawking at Dahlia. He half lifted his right arm.

  Dahlia swung her legs to the right, stood and hugged him. “Merry Christmas, Julio.” Her voice was strained, because her head was cranked backward. Julio was at least six inches taller than she was. “And, give my best to your wife.”

  “I will. Merry Christmas, Dahlia.” He released his grip on her and left the room with one of the serving trays.

  Once Dahlia had put on her jacket, she arched her back and threw her long hair backward, so it rested on the outside of her jacket. She raised the coat’s zipper halfway before producing a pair of black gloves from the pockets. The long black leather jacket matched her skirt and came to rest
at the same height as the hem of the skirt. “Are you ready?” Her voice was curt and she left the table without acknowledging Cruz.

  After leaving the restaurant, the women climbed into Dahlia’s navy blue Jeep Renegade, a four-door, four-wheel-drive, subcompact crossover SUV. Dahlia navigated the vehicle into traffic, which was minimal. She pressed her foot down on the accelerator and the Renegade sped forward.

  Cruz peered out her window. The women had not said much to each other since Hardy had left them alone. Dahlia had told her the name of the man they were going to see and where he was before walking out of the restaurant with Cruz in tow. Not knowing where to begin, Cruz decided to keep things on a positive note. “That was a nice thing you did back there for Julio.”

  “For an assassin, you mean?” Dahlia checked her side view mirror and changed lanes before shooting a quick look at her passenger. “That’s what you meant, right? That was a nice thing to do, for an assassin.”

  Turning her head, Cruz observed Dahlia. “That’s not what I said.”

  “But, you were thinking it.”

  Chuckling and trying to hold back her temper, Cruz glanced out the windshield. “Is this how it’s going to be? Are you going to twist around everything I say? You need to lighten up and not be so defensive.”

  Defensive. Dahlia had spent many years playing defense, fighting off false accusations about her actions. She had come to expect the worst from people; however, she was not about to allow this woman to tell her to lighten up. Not attempting to hide her anger, Dahlia shot back at Cruz. “Don’t tell me what to do. I’m not a fool. I see the way you look at me. I hear the condescending tone in your voice. You know my profession, so you think you know everything there is to know about Dahlia St. James, the assassin, the trained killer.” She stuck her finger out toward Cruz. “You don’t know a damn thing about who I really am, or what I’ve gone through. So, just keep your judgments and your pompous looks to yourself and we’ll get along just fine.”