Saber Down

by Harrison Kone

  “Sorry,” Hannah said. “You said you needed help earlier, and I heard you were up.”

  “No, it’s okay,” Natalie said. She smiled at her friend and retrieved her dress.

  “So,” Hannah started. The way she spoke churned Natalie’s insides. She knew what was coming next. “You seeing anyone?”

  “No.” Her eyes traced the floor as Natalie dressed.

  “Okay,” Hannah replied; her long tone drew Natalie’s attention as she stepped into the dress.

  “I’m telling the truth,” Natalie insisted.

  “But you have someone in mind,” Hannah countered. “Look, I don’t get much girl talk on my team, as you can imagine. Come on, tell me.” Natalie sighed and smiled.

  “Help me into this dress, and I might tell you.”

  “Deal.”

  Natalie struggled with more difficultly to don the dress than she had in the store. Perhaps her skin was still damp from her shower and clung to the material in a way it hadn’t before, but they eventually succeeded.

  “I wish I could pull that off,” Hannah said as she tossed Natalie’s dark hair over her shoulders.

  “It’s shorter than I remember,” Natalie replied, tugging downward at the hem.

  “No, leave it. You look hot, Babe.” The CIA officer looked at herself in the mirror. She tilted her head and smiled. The black, sequined dress hugged her curves in the best way possible. She did look beautiful, and she couldn’t remember the last time, if ever, she had dressed up like this. “So, what’s his name?” Hannah probed. Natalie chucked and exhaled.

  “David.”

  “Does he feel the same?” Hannah asked.

  “I don’t know. I haven’t seen him since we left Yemen.” Hannah grinned, biting her bottom lip.

  “You were in Yemen together? Is he CIA too?”

  “No, he’s a Marine.” Natalie lifted one foot to slip on her black heels. “But it’s nothing. He doesn’t even know, and I’m not even sure if anything’s there anyway.” Hannah simply smiled and met her gaze in the mirror. “What?” Natalie asked. Hannah’s expression held some deep sense of knowing.

  “Nothing,” she said as her smile widened. Natalie rolled her eyes.

  “Let’s get this thing started. The sooner we’re in, the sooner we’re out, and the sooner I can get out of this dress.”

  26

  Named The Lounge, the hotel’s premier bar bristled with people, and live music echoed around the spacious floor. The scene was classier than she imagined, and she most certainly stood out in her dress. It clung tightly to her body, exposed nearly the entire length of her legs, and the neckline broadcasted her cleavage in the most tempting way. She felt vulnerable but refused to show it. The dress matched the style of the flight attendant, and that was all that mattered.

  She headed to the bar, which appeared cast in a faint red glow as white light reflected off the polished, wooden ceilings. Natalie saw the flight attendant at her usual place sipping a cocktail. She strode forward mustering her confidence. Some time had passed since she worked over human intelligence face-to-face, but she recalled her training with ease.

  “Can I have a house martini?” Natalie asked as the bartender acknowledged her. She took the barstool next to the flight attendant and crossed her legs. The flight attendant glanced over Natalie before returning to her drink. Natalie repositioned herself and turned to face the other woman. “What are you drinking?” she asked. Given recent events, her mock, bubbly personality proved difficult to muster, but she succeeded. The woman perked up at the question.

  “Lemon drop,” the woman replied, over articulating the last syllable. Natalie smiled.

  “I bet that’s good.”

  “It is,” she replied. Her eyes brightened as the conversation continued. “I haven’t seen you around; did you just check in?”

  “Yes, this morning. I’m Miranda,” Natalie said extending her hand. The woman smiled and gently gripped Natalie’s palm.

  “Ella,” the flight attendant greeted. The bartender set the martini down in front of Natalie.

  “Thanks,” she said. She turned back to Ella, “nice to meet you, Ella. Your dress is amazing.” Ella blushed and looked at her outfit. The shimmering, ivory garment sparkled in the low light.

  “Thanks, I like yours as well.” Natalie smiled, noting her accent, and sipped her martini. She’d tasted better.

  “I love your accent,” Natalie complimented. She placed her hand on Ella’s forearm. Rule one: physical touch generates connection. “Where are you from?”

  “Norway,” she replied. She turned and faced Natalie directly, and Natalie caught a glimpse of her earrings.

  “Oh, girl, your earrings,” Natalie complimented. Ella grinned and bounced her head a bit to show them off. Rule two: compliments open up conversation.

  “They’re my favorite,” she said.

  “They are stunning!” Natalie exclaimed as she reached for one. Ella turned her head so Natalie didn’t have to reach as far. The gold earrings, resembling large leaves, caught the light on their polished edges. Natalie ran her thumb over the jewelry as she admired its beauty.

  “Thank you. Perks of the job.” Ella, her delight growing as they conversed, noticed Natalie’s ears. “Oh, you don’t have yours pierced?” Natalie laughed.

  “I’m afraid of needles,” she replied.

  “Oh, I like the natural look,” Ella quickly said. Natalie surmised she didn’t have many friends. She appeared in constant fear of saying something that would drive Natalie away. “So, what do you do?” she asked.

  “I’m in private aviation,” Natalie replied. Rule three: establish professional or personal connection.

  “Me too!” she squealed. “Oh my gosh, are you a stewardess?”

  “I am,” Natalie replied, wearing a genuine smile.

  “Wow, this is crazy! I am too!” Her pitch rose with each word. “To world travel,” Ella hastily toasted, lifting her glass.

  “To world travel,” Natalie agreed as she clinked her glass against Ella’s. They each took a large gulp and laughed when they put their glasses down.

  “Are you in Dubai often? Where do you normally fly?” Ella asked. The questions came so fast Natalie could only smile, and she had to fight to focus. How long had it been since she had conversed so simply with anyone? Natalie couldn’t deny how good it felt to just talk.

  “Mainly Europe, but we get to this area occasionally. What about you?” Natalie answered.

  “Oh, I’m all over. Asia, South Pacific, Europe, South America, just about everywhere,” Ella said. That was good to know. If she was employed by Silva, Natalie now knew he operated globally.

  “Wow, that’s amazing. Look, it’s pretty lonely out there. Do you want to exchange numbers? It’s not every day I make a new friend,” Natalie said. Rule four: secure future contact as early as possible.

  Ella nearly jumped out of her seat as excitement exploded forth. A pang of guilt struck Natalie’s heart. Ella seemed like a sweet young woman and didn’t deserve to be tangled in this mess, but Natalie reminded herself that she likely already was.

  “I would love that!” she exclaimed. This was easier than Natalie had thought.

  “We can get drinks and maybe go dancing,” Natalie said. She moved her shoulders to the music. Rule five: create hope.

  “Where have you been all my life?” Ella asked. She produced her phone, unlocked it, and handed it to Natalie. Natalie quickly keyed her number.

  She was in.

  “Shoot me a text with your info,” Natalie requested.

  “I will,” she promised. Natalie grinned again and reached for her drink.

  “He just entered the lounge,” Hannah said. Natalie received the information through her earpiece but kept her gaze focused on Ella. Her skin prickled as she sensed someone staring. “He’s heading your way,” Hannah added.

  “So, who do you work for?” Natalie asked, attempting to keep the conversation flowing as naturally as possible.
Ella’s gaze snapped away, and Natalie, feeling his eyes on her, turned her head to behold the man in the cream suit.

  • • •

  “Who’s your friend, Ella?” the man asked. Ella tensed under his wary tone, and Natalie studied him closely. Perfectly manicured, the man from the photographs stared directly at her.

  “This is Miranda,” Ella replied fearfully. The man smiled, and Natalie watched the exchange.

  “His men are here,” came Ari’s voice in Natalie’s ear. Natalie fought the urge to look for them. “One by the exit and the other at your eleven o’clock, tall with blonde hair. He seems pretty focused on the girl.” Natalie picked him up through her peripheral vision.

  “That’s a pretty name,” the man complimented. “Tell me, Ella, are all your friends this beautiful?” His eyes danced down Natalie’s figure, and his smile shifted. Natalie knew what thoughts ran through his mind. “It’s great to meet you, Miranda. Let me buy you another drink.”

  “No, thank you. I don’t let strangers buy me drinks,” Natalie responded. She tossed her hair over her shoulder, which offered him a full view of her cleavage. She brought her drink to her lips and sipped lightly. His eyes brightened at the sight. Her breasts certainly weren’t the biggest he’d ever seen, but they were perfectly proportioned with the rest of her body; his desire to touch her intensified.

  “We can remedy that,” the man said. He had taken the bait. “Francisco Silva, but Silva will do just fine.”

  At the mention of that name, Natalie’s insides flared and burned with hate. She fought the desire to break the bowl off her glass and shove the sharp stem repeatedly through his neck.

  “It’s a pleasure, Silva,” Natalie managed. Had she hid it well enough?

  “See, now we aren’t strangers anymore. Let me buy you a drink, and we’ll see where the night goes,” he said. His hand slid across Natalie’s lower back as he moved to the bar. She suppressed her shudder and the urge to pull away. She forced a smile, but her mind screamed.

  Silva glanced at Ella who produced a strained smile. Maybe tonight, he could have both Miranda and Ella. They were new friends after all. The thought stirred his loins, and his eyes again traced Natalie’s cleavage before they rose to meet her gaze.

  “Well, you don’t hide your intentions very well,” Natalie accused. Silva smiled and turned to the bartender. He spoke in Arabic, and the man nodded and quickly moved away.

  “I’m a man who knows what he wants,” Silva replied unashamedly. “What kind of woman are you?”

  “The kind that requires men to try harder than that,” she responded as she sipped the last of her martini. If something was going down, then vomit could not rise up.

  “Fair enough,” Silva replied with a smirk. She readied herself for what was coming. If she left now, it might raise suspicion. It was imperative that Ella feel comfortable enough to text or call her as soon as she was able.

  The three talked and drank, and the evening tested Natalie’s self-control far beyond its normal thresholds. The more Silva drank, the more he touched her. The invitations to his room grew steadily more forceful.

  Before Natalie could execute her planned exit, Silva’s hand shot forth with blinding speed and seized her wrist. She tensed, repressed her fear, and stared into his dark eyes.

  “You’re hurting me,” she said softly. His grip tightened.

  “Why won’t you come up with me?” he countered. His words slurred together, and his other hand slid up her leg. Natalie torqued her arm against Silva’s thumb, but his grip didn’t break. She fought against the growing fear that welled within her as his hand traced the hem of her dress.

  “Please stop,” she insisted. Don’t make a scene, she told herself.

  “I told you I am a man who knows what he wants. Ella, convince your friend to come up with us,” he said. Ella froze with fear. Natalie caught Ari moving toward the bar. Her gaze stopped him, and he diverted but kept a close eye. The interaction didn’t fall on blind eyes. “Who’s your friend?” Silva asked. His words came through clear and crisp as if he hadn’t ordered a single drink. His entire demeanor changed, and he glanced over at Ari who met his gaze; the Israeli’s eyes bored hard with warning.

  “He works security for my employer,” Natalie stammered, putting on a show for him. Silva’s hand shot upward and gripped the side of Natalie’s neck, and his dark eyes interrogated her for the truth. Behind the sharp pupils, a beast stalked, and Natalie felt Silva’s hunger permeate her being.

  Ella couldn’t take it anymore. Finding courage, she stood and moved to Silva’s side.

  “Silva, please,” she insisted. She hung on his arm. “Please let her go.” Natalie remained stiff in his grip.

  “Why does he take orders from you?” Silva hissed, ignoring Ella altogether. The commotion drew attention from other patrons.

  “Silva, please, people are staring,” Ella whimpered as she tugged on his arm. Silva still ignored her and kept his gaze fixed on Natalie’s eyes. His breath bathed her face as he held her. His hungry stare traveled from one eye to the other, awaiting her answer.

  “Why are you not afraid?” he asked. Alarm rose within Natalie, but she held his gaze.

  “What do you want?” Natalie asked. Her tone drew a smile from Silva’s lips. He appreciated strength. He let her go but kept his hand on her thigh just to remind her of his authority.

  “I want to know why you are so interested in my staff,” he answered, turning back to the bar and draining what remained of his cocktail. He set the glass down firmly and returned his gaze to Natalie.

  “Just being friendly,” she replied. Again, his eyes moved back and forth between hers. “What’s your problem?” Natalie asked forcibly. Silva smiled again.

  “I just want the truth,” he replied.

  “Is this how you always treat the women you want to have sex with?” Natalie countered. Ella watched the exchange. She admired Miranda for her courage. How could she stand before Silva in such a way? She could only rationalize that Miranda had no idea to whom she was speaking or what Silva was capable of doing.

  Natalie brushed his hand off her thigh and drained her drink before standing. “Ella, your boss is a dick, but it was great to meet you,” Natalie said. Her comment spiked fear within the Norwegian. She moved toward Ella and kissed her on each cheek. “Bye,” she said. Silva watched her go, and chuckled.

  “I like your friend,” he said to Ella. Ella kept her eyes focused in the direction Miranda had just taken. She couldn’t deny the longing in her heart to follow her, but Silva’s strong hand reached around her waist and roughly pulled her into his side, his previous warning still fresh in her mind. “Let’s go,” he ordered. She reluctantly fell into step with him as they left the bar.

  27

  Once in the elevator, Natalie leaned against the wall and exhaled heavily. Thinking of her fallen team, tears fought their way to her eyes, but she repressed them and allowed her anger to surge upward. She drove her fist into the elevator wall. Her knuckles immediately burst in pain, but she ignored it. Her skin remained intact and therefore not worth another thought.

  In that moment, Natalie had never felt such compassion for an individual and such hatred for another. Her desire to end Silva’s life increased with each passing second. The critical question remained.

  Did Silva believe her?

  If he didn’t, would he destroy Ella’s phone? The device’s destruction would ruin the entire operation. She pushed the thought from her mind; there was nothing to do about that. All that remained was to wait for that text.

  As the doors opened, Natalie removed her heels, walked barefoot down the hall, and, after producing her keycard, entered her room. Hannah rose from her chair as her friend entered.

  “You okay?” she asked. Natalie answered with a wave and moved to the minibar. She grabbed the first bottle in her path and popped the top. She tossed it back and wrinkled her face as the fiery liquid descended into her belly. Natalie held the bottle
out to Hannah who shrugged and accepted. A grin shot across Natalie’s face as Hannah coughed after downing her gulp.

  “How can you throw this down like that?” Hannah asked. She rotated the bottle in her hand and gazed at the vodka label.

  “Well,” Natalie said. Her head buzzed. “I was a sailor.” She took the bottle back and tilted it skyward again. “I’m going to take a load off,” she added. Hannah understood; she had watched the entire ordeal on the security camera. Natalie had shown considerable restraint. She must really want to nail this guy, Hannah thought as she watched her friend head toward their shared room.

  With heels dangling from one hand and the bottle of vodka in the other, Natalie closed the door behind her with her foot.

  • • •

  Ella lay beneath the sheets with Silva’s arm draped over her. She fought back tears and prayed that he would roll over. He finally did, and she quietly slipped away to the bathroom. She turned on the shower and sat down on the ornate stone floor. Her tears mixed with the hot water, and she held herself tightly. Loneliness cut through her as she sobbed.

  Her thoughts then shifted toward Rian, his sweet smile and tender touch from weeks ago constantly filled her mind. Since that horrible night, she found confidence in his affectionate gaze. Whenever their eyes met, she could not refute the desire he had for her. It wasn’t like Silva’s. Rian’s was genuine and caring, and she found that she desired more than anything to be with him.

  The thought brought a fresh wave of tears. It was merely a dream. There was no way Silva would allow it. She had tried to quit already and would not do so again. Before dragging her from the bedroom, Silva had said she knew too much. She didn’t even know what he did for a living, but she began to guess that his dealings did not align with the rule of law.

  At first, Ella served him drinks aboard the plane and maintained the interior as instructed. The job was a dream. She traveled the world and experienced everything it had to offer on Silva’s tab, and when he first invited her into his bed, she was excited. It was only afterwards that she realized he was just a dog looking for his next lay. Her inner ear still ached occasionally from the beating weeks ago.