by Louise Dawn
The kitchen clock ticked away. Max’s grim stare never wavered. The team waited, knowing how he worked. Abby finally slumped in the chair.
Bingo. First step.
Chapter Nine
“Before I begin, I’ll need a cup of tea.” Abby made a move to get up and Max’s solid form caged her in. How fast did the guy move?
“Sit. Down.”
“Relax, Flash Gordon, it’s just tea.”
“You think this is a joke?”
Abby spoke slowly. “It’s been a long day. I’m tired and thirsty. If not tea, would you get me a bottle of water from the fridge.”
“On it,” the fourth man answered. Stubble and a goatee made him look dangerous, yet he looked like the quieter one in the group. His movements were measured. Efficient. Abby was sure he was the brownnoser of the team. Not that he looked any less dangerous.
“Donnie, get me the rest of the files at the same time.”
Mr. Goatee unlocked her sliding door and moved out silently.
“Umm. The water?” Abby asked.
“He’s getting it.”
“Max, there’s bottled water in the fridge. You’ve seen it.”
“You’ll have your water shortly. Sit down.”
They were getting water from somewhere else. Another apartment? A car?
She tried again. “Why don’t you just grab—”
“Sit. Down. Please.”
Abby persisted. “I just don’t understand the difference between the water in the fridge and bottled water from wherever—”
“Jesus!” Max swore violently, and Abby jumped.
“Why so chatty all of a sudden. Do what I say and sit the hell down!”
That must be his “I’m the commander of the world” voice. Max felt formidable, crowding her back into her seat. John—or whatever his stupid name was—gave Max an odd look.
John then turned to her. “We won’t allow you or any team member to touch food or water in your residence.”
Abby looked confused, so John elaborated. “Explosive devices can come in tiny packages, and then there’s the possibility of hidden toxins in the fridge…”
It took her a moment to register what he was saying, her mind swirling with the implications. Tainted water. Suicide by poison.
“Who does that?” she wondered aloud.
He raised an eyebrow. “Ever heard of kill pills’? Cyanide capsules?”
Mother of God. People did that. These men thought that she was capable of ambushing them in that way or sucking it down herself.
Max moved through the house. They seemed antsy, as if they expected to be ambushed at any second. John never took his eyes off her. Abby sat dejectedly, waiting for her water, wondering if this would set a precedent for the rest of her life. Sitting in a holding cell surrounded by armed men, begging for water between interrogations. These hardened warriors had to help her. She walked a thin line but would tell them as much of the truth as she could. The rest she’d hold close.
◊ ◊ ◊
Pausing in her bedroom, Max ran his hands through cropped hair as he repeated his motivational mantra. She’s nothing to me, just a bitch who betrayed her country. There was a history between Khalid and Abby—her name tagged in numerous interceptions meant something. She was a means to an end—capturing the Sandpiper fucker who’d murdered his teammates. Keep your head in the game and control the interrogation.
Johnny stepped in behind him. “Everything okay, bud?”
Max smiled coldly. “Never better. Got her just where I want her. I take it the boys are back.” He turned to push past—the searching look in his friend’s eyes pissed him off.
Johnny propped himself against the door jamb with hands shoved into front pockets.
“What? Say it,” Max said.
“Not sure what you mean.”
“Don’t screw with me. Just say it.”
“It’s different when it’s a woman. I know we’ve had to deal with many female terrorists over the past couple of years. I know it sometimes can get to us. Just reminding you, that’s all. Women are soft. Feminine. Teary-eyed. But above all, they’re as smart as hell and can be just as manipulative as any man. You taught me that.” Johnny turned to leave before saying, “Hell. Sharon Nasari taught us that.”
The last comment was an icy slap. “I fucking know what I’m doing.”
“You’re one of the coldest motherfuckers I know.” Johnny nodded towards the kitchen. “But so is Evans—no one gets through that armor. Don’t let her be our downfall.”
◊ ◊ ◊
Abby concentrated her efforts on opening the water; the tight cap wouldn’t budge. The Slater-Goatee duo flanked her, focusing on every move like she was James bloody Bond, ready to launch a choreographed attack on the two Stormtroopers. Damn cap. Screaming like a banshee and flinging the water bottle across the room would show these Neanderthals how scared she was—no, correction, how petrified out of her wits she was.
Abby willed her hands to stop their fine trembling. She’d handled far worse in the past. One step at a time. The first step—opening a freaking water bottle.
“Will either of you fine gentleman please open this for me?” She jammed the bottle under Slater’s nose.
He looked down at her as if she was a worm. Alrighty then. She could picture him strolling down the beach wearing a banana hammock while throwing a teeny tiny ball for his girlfriend’s Chihuahua—a high-maintenance ladies’ man did nothing for her. Her lips twitched. He twisted it open and shoved it back in her hands. The charm fairy was apparently not home.
“Thank you, kind sir.”
Max and his traitorous sidekick were back in the room. Max took his seat opposite, before flipping through a thick file. Was that all the information he had on her? Was her life that interesting? Composed and wholly in control, Max placed it on the table behind him before returning his focus.
Abby refrained from gulping down water and instead took a few long, slow sips. Max’s eyes focused on her throat as she swallowed. A tingle of awareness raced through her body. Max felt it too. She saw the briefest spark of awareness before he shut it down. Human after all. If she shared some of her story with him, perhaps exploited that attraction, maybe he could save her. Save them all.
He started to talk, but Abby held up her hand to stop him. Let me tell my story. Max skewered her with cold eyes, probably used to pulling out fingernails to get at the truth. She rubbed her thumb over a pale pink fingernail; he wasn’t getting near them today. She blocked out the men and instead focused on her story. She’d only ever told it once, but never in detail. Her mind wandered back to that simple time where she was forced to close the book on the last vestige of innocence.
“Girls flock to the Middle East—to work for the airlines—for many different reasons. Some want to party, some want to marry a wealthy local Muslim, some want to save money, it’s tax-free. Others—like me—want to travel, to be inspired by other cultures. I jumped at the chance of becoming a flight attendant to visit all the great art galleries and museums.”
“Running from your father and your many daddy issues didn’t have anything to do with it?” John examined his fingernail as he raised the question.
Ouch.
“Maybe when I arrived, but pretty soon I fell in love with the traveling aspect of the job. I craved knowledge about world art and history and enrolled in art lessons. The first year was spent concentrating on myself and finding who I was meant to be.” Abby fiddled with the label on her water bottle. “That’s when Meg walked into my life.”
Max leaned forward. “Megan Jehani. London born. British mother and Iranian father.”
“Meg moved in when my previous roommate moved back to Russia, and she refused to let me hibernate, cooped up with my artwork. Instead, she dragged me out for dinners, to clubs, for crazy walks on the beach at five in the morning. We watched so many sunrises on the soft sand after a crazy night out. She was a flaming ball of energy. Men trailed after her w
herever she went.” Abby smiled. “Then Kris flew over to Dubai. Kris is a friend from—”
“We know who Kris Muller is.”
“Of course you do, on paper. Kris was like the brother I never had, and I was blown away by the mere fact that he’d traveled halfway across the world to join me in Dubai. He always had my back. For Meg, it was love at first sight. Kris is a good-looking guy. Why not, right?”
Max looked irritated. “How does this relate to Khalid?”
“It relates. Kris and Meg started dating. At first everything was fun. The three of us hung out, but things changed. It got awkward, and I felt like a third wheel. They started hanging out with a racier crowd. Wealthy locals and their leeches. Kris worked for a couple of the sheikhs, looked after their game farms and accepted invitations to all their events. I went to a few but felt uncomfortable. Kris kept pushing me to come along, and I eventually gave in and went for lunch at one of the fanciest hotels in Dubai, the Shangri-La. That’s when I met Khalid.”
Tension in the room spiked.
“He was smooth and persistent, constantly inviting me out but I never accepted. I saw him next when a neighbor took me to the party at the Yacht Club. Khalid arrived just as I left, and we barely said hello.”
“You gave him your number though. There are records of phone calls,” Max said.
Abby shook her head, “No. Kris gave him my number.”
Max narrowed his eyes.
“I’m not the type of girl who freely gives her number out to a man I’ve just met. Kris looked after livestock and game for many wealthy locals in the region and encouraged me to build connections, told me it would help my art career someday. Khalid called me a few times, and I was nothing but polite.”
◊ ◊ ◊
Abby stretched her back and resettled. Her discomfort was evident. Tough titties.
“And yes, I saw Khalid on a Paris trip but didn’t plan on it. I ran into him at a café on the Champs Elysées.”
“You just happened to run into him,” Max said.
“It’s the truth; I remember thinking what a huge coincidence it was. In Paris of all places. Khalid kept saying it was as if God willed it to be so. That’s what turned me off whatever game he was playing. It was something my father would say. I knew he’d likely tracked me from the hotel. I was a little freaked out but flattered that he’d gone through all that trouble, thinking he just wanted to take me out…like on a date.”
“You don’t deny having lunch with him?”
“We ate together, but it felt staged. Did your spy stick around long enough to see me leave Khalid at the table? I spent the rest of the day sightseeing.”
The agent left to meet with an informant, but Abby didn’t need to know that.
“You never spent the night with Khalid?”
Her eyes flashed with anger. “I’m not that kind of girl. I worked a flight back to Dubai that same evening.” Abby paused to gather herself. “I may have been young, but I’ve never been easy.”
That fitted with her profile.
“A few weeks later on a London flight, Khalid sat in my first-class cabin with his peregrine falcon. He invited me to a party at his home. I was reluctant but threw caution to the wind.” Abby chewed her bottom lip. “Biggest mistake of my life. I knew that the minute I walked in.”
“Did you see something suspicious?”
“No. It was all glamour. A massive outdoor cocktail party with a live band. Hundreds of people hung around the gardens. It was very racy…shallow.”
“Why did you stay?”
“To be polite and it was a long drive, and I’d paid the taxi driver a lot of money, arranged to have him pick me up in two hours. I went looking for Meg or Kris.”
“According to our intel, you weren’t alone for long. Khalid met you in the gardens.”
“He did. He was very charming.”
Johnny opened his mouth as if to say something. Max held his hand up, sensing her unease, knowing she was bordering on revealing a hidden truth that had drastically altered her direction in life. Abby took a deep breath, gathering herself. To tell the truth or to deceive? Careful, lady. The sudden haunted look had no right to reside on her beautiful face. Her eyes reminded Max of many soldiers he’d served with, who’d seen the horrors of war.
“I’ll tell you my sad story. My life is over. Khalid will find me. If by some miracle I survive, well, then I guess I’m the property of the US.”
“You believe that Khalid is looking for you.”
“He’s intent on killing me. I don’t work for him, I never have.”
“That’s hard to believe. Khalid offered you a job that night, and one of our informants overheard him. A job offer in Paris. You walked into his home to sign the papers and conveniently disappeared. Not the first of Khalid’s girls. The problem is that these girls turn up in the darnedest of places, with a suicide vest strapped to their chest.”
◊ ◊ ◊
Abby ignored the accusation and allowed her mind to wander back to that night. The last night of her life as Josephine.
Guests hung out in the ornate gardens at the back of Khalid’s mansion. A sculptured fountain of a leaping Arabian oryx dominated the landscaped shrubbery. Winding pathways sprinkled in fairy lights added to the ambiance. Champagne flowed, and waiters maneuvered through the crowd.
Joey’s black dress clung to her damp body as she escaped down a pathway, finding a quiet bench nestled under some palms. A small breeze whispered across her brow as she admired the view below. The golf course running across the bottom of the garden rolled out with palm trees flanking the green on either side. The tinkling of a nearby stream calmed her nerves. Not sure how long she sat there, Joey got up to leave.
“Josephine.” Khalid stepped out of the shadows.
“You knew I was here?”
“I myself was escaping the crowds.”
“But those are your guests.”
His robe rustled as he stepped closer. “Indeed, they are. I have a secret that you are now privy to. I sometimes need to escape. Some of my guests, let’s just say, are a little pompy.”
Joey stared at him blankly.
“How do you say that word…pimpus? Pampus?”
Joey giggled. “Do you mean ‘pompous’?”
Khalid turned to face the view. “That is exactly it. Pompous.”
Joey bet that a bottle of his peppery perfume that clung to the breeze cost about the same amount as her car.
“So, Habibti. Do you like my golf course?”
Joey’s eyes widened incredulously. “This is yours?”
“A man has to own a golf course.”
“Do you play?”
Khalid grinned. “I’m too impatient.” He winked at her. “I have a temper, and the golf clubs come off second best.”
Joey smiled. “So why build it?”
“Plenty of guests ensure that it doesn’t go to waste; besides, I like looking at the green.”
It stretched out into the horizon.
“You want to say something,” Khalid said.
“No, I’m good.”
“Say it; I have a thick skin.”
She doubted he had a thick skin in any sense of the word. His fine dusky skin gleamed in the moonlight.
“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Khalid pushed.
Here goes. Honest Joey. “Maybe you’re a tad bored?”
Khalid looked sideways, and Abby rushed to explain. “There’s only so much one can do with the money spent building a golf course you’ll never use… I’m sorry, it’s none of my business.”
“No, I agree. I’m young and still foolish.” He folded his arms. “What would you spend it on?”
“If it were for myself, I guess I would travel to an artist’s retreat—like in Italy—where I’d paint and hang out with fellow artists for six months. After that, I’d build an art therapy center for children.” Joey mapped out her ambitions in her head.
“That’s a noble dream.” Khalid bow
ed slightly to her. “You put a playboy like me to shame.”
“I never meant—”
Khalid held up his hand. “Don’t apologize. Your passion is a joy to see. What drives me is not so pure. I have beautiful things because I’m trying to prove my worth to my father and build a legacy for my children.”
“I’m sure he’s very proud.”
“No. He’s a holy man and sees me as the black cow in the family.”
“You mean the black sheep.” Joey knew the toll it took living with a devout father. They stared out over the green in companionable silence. “How many children do you have?”
“Three daughters but I want a son to carry my name. I currently have two wives.”
Joey hadn’t seen any trace of his family in Dubai. “Your wives are not here tonight.”
“This is not a clean environment for my family. For now, they live in Morocco. I have many homes in many countries that they can select from.”
Joey didn’t understand what he meant by a “clean environment,” but she felt comfortable with the fact that he was married. Perhaps Khalid just wanted to be a friend.
“Joey, does your job make you happy?” Before she could answer, Khalid pushed ahead. “This restlessness you have, it’s not just about tonight. I guess you’ve had it all your life? You are still finding yourself. You want to believe in something greater than who you are.”
Joey swallowed past the lump in her throat. No one had ever taken the time to know her well enough and give her such advice. Here was a new acquaintance who knew more about her than she knew of herself. Feeling flummoxed, she plopped down on the bench. “I like my job—I enjoy the traveling—but yes, I want so much more, and I know it will come.”
Khalid turned back to ponder the view. Joey stared at his regal back, pondering her own life dilemmas.
“I admire you. You’re not like the other girls in the airline business, you have a solid head on your shoulders.” Khalid sat down and leaned towards her in earnest. “Come and work for me.”
