When she opened it, Reese just stared for a moment, clearly flabbergasted by the array of weaponry, from knives and guns, to explosives, big and small. “Some of these are home-made,” he said, “and a lot of them are illegal.” But he grabbed a couple of flashbangs and stuffed them in his pockets.
Kate secured the small-calibre Glock she’d been carrying earlier at her ankle. She strapped a knife holster at the opposite calf, smoothed her jeans down over both weapons, then slipped a shoulder rig over her stretchy T-shirt and pulled a hooded sweatshirt over it all. She stuffed extra clips into the pockets of the hoodie and said, “Ready to go.”
Since they were going in during the day, she was dressed like she was out for a walk in the morning sun. Reese had no choice but to wear what he’d worn to infiltrate her house: black cargos, black T-shirt, black boots, intense expression. The first civilian they came across was going to run screaming.
“You really ought to change your clothes,” Kate said to him, “but, hell, you’d look menacing in a tutu.”
“Menacing doesn’t begin to cover what would happen if you tried to put me in a tutu.”
Another time that mental picture would have made her laugh. Another time when she didn’t have life and death on her mind. She headed for the car, talking as she went, not to calm her nerves, but to set the scene for Reese. “It’s not a crowded neighbourhood. The houses are on big lots, most of them with stone walls or some sort of privacy barrier between them.”
“That’s a plus,” he said.
“In the minus column, they’re high-dollar places, lots of square footage.”
“But you know the layout of the house and all the security features. Another plus.”
“It helps. The family will be held together, probably in the kitchen area. It’s convenient for food and water, and there’s a bathroom in the maid’s quarters, right off the kitchen.”
“The maid’s a live-in?”
“Was. Mrs Kashani always prepared the family’s meals, so on my advice they went from a live-in maid and gardener to once-a-week services, both on Friday. Cuts down on the number of possible cracks in the armour.”
Reese grunted his approval, and they made the rest of the trip in silence. Kate used the time to centre herself in a calm, cold place, not anticipating what they might find but preparing to react to it. She glanced over at Reese as they pulled down the street, and knew he was doing the same.
They’d timed it to arrive before Kashani left for the bargaining table, not that there’d be any negotiating that day. There’d be formalities, opening speeches, feeling out the other side. Not much actual progress would be made on the treaty, a silver lining since Kashani would not be acting independently. He would be by the time real negotiations began, if Kate had any say in the matter, and the other side would never know he’d been under duress in the opening hours of the peace process.
“That’s the house,” Reese said as they cruised by a sprawling, white-pillared colonial behind a mile of front yard studded with landscaping features.
Kate had no trouble figuring out how he knew. “The gates are disabled,” she said, noting that one was slightly ajar. “They were in perfect working order two days ago, so the Reformists must have broken them getting in. Good news for us.”
She parked down the street next to a green belt between two houses, and then they walked back. It was early but the sun was up completely, the air cool with the tail end of spring, so their jackets didn’t look out of place.
Amir Kashani’s house was surrounded by wrought-iron fences and fronted by a stone wall. Kate crouched down at one side of the gate, behind some bushes that had been planted to camouflage crumbling mortar. Reese hunkered down behind her.
“Take the other side,” Kate said, not looking over her shoulder. Just the feel of him was enough to split her focus. Seeing him could only make it worse.
“There’s not enough greenery over there to cover you and you’re a lot smaller than I am,” he said, and unfortunately he was right. He was also curled around her, so close she’d have said they were spooning if they’d been lying down.
“Do you have to hover?” she snapped, resigned but cranky because, even though she didn’t look at him and he didn’t say anything, she could tell he was grinning.
A long black Lincoln Town Car slid down the drive. She shoved her emotions down inside her, a coiled spring of frustration and anger she could unleash on the kidnappers when the time came. Poor bastards.
The Lincoln stopped at the gates, and a man exited the front passenger door. He was young, with black hair and dark skin, his ill-fitting suit outing him as one of the bad guys. Kashani’s men would be turned out in something high end, probably Savile Row, since Kashani had been educated in England. The bad guy looked up and down the street, his eyes scanning for traffic. He completely overlooked the shrubbery as he walked one side of the gate open and then the other, ending up about five feet from Kate with his back to her.
The car pulled out. Reese waited until it was out of sight, until the kidnapper was walking one side of the gate closed again, then he moved, fast and quiet. He took the guy down, cutting off his shout for help mid-yelp. Reese dragged the unconscious man into the bushes and secured him with ties which, Kate thought, had probably been meant for her when he broke into her house the night before.
Kate, meanwhile, eased around the edge of the brick wall, far enough to see a shadow in the house’s large front window. A shadow armed with a rifle. Reese had stayed low enough that he hadn’t been seen, but they’d know someone had taken out one of their men.
“Sniper,” Reese said from right behind her. “You can tell by the scope.”
“Silencer?”
“I don’t think so.”
“Then he won’t use it on me and risk alerting the neighbours,” Kate said. She started to her feet.
Reese pulled her back down. “I know what you’re thinking, but they’ll kill you as soon as you step foot in that house.”
“So you should go instead?” She shook her head. “We already agreed about this. You walk in there and you’re dead. They’ll recognize me, and they’ll be more interested in what I know and why I’m not dead than in killing me themselves. Once I’m inside, I can convince them that I’m still bitter about the way the Bureau treated me, so there’s no way I would call in the FBI.”
“And they’re just gonna believe you?”
“I’ll be really convincing.” She held up a hand. “I know how to play them, Reese.”
“These aren’t you average kidnappers. They’re fanatics.”
“Yeah, I got that. Look, we’ve already spent too much time talking. I need to get in there before they decide the mission is a bust and kill the hostages.”
Reese’s jaw clenched.
If they hadn’t given themselves away they could have snuck in, scoped out the situation and made a game plan. That wasn’t in the cards now. And as much as he hated to admit it, Kate was right about everything. “They won’t believe you’re alone. I’ll take out the guy they send out looking for me, cut the odds down by one more, at least.”
“And after that you’re going to wait at least an hour before you come in. I’ll need time to get the lay of the land.”
“Jesus,” he said, “you don’t want much.”
“Just your trust.”
Seven
Reese looked into her eyes then nodded. It would have been a nice moment, if not for the life-and-death stuff. Which was all on her shoulders, since she’d left him with nothing to do but cower behind the wall while she took all the risk.
She flipped her cell open, ran the contact list and dialled Kashani’s house. She held the phone so Reese could hear as well. “It’s Kate Morris,” she said into the phone, “I’m coming in.”
“Hurl your weapon over the wall,” was the accented response, “and keep your hands in sight as you walk to the house. Any sudden moves and you are dead.”
All Reese could do was watc
h from the screen of bushes as she followed instructions, her hands loose at her side but a good six inches away from her body as she crossed the deep lawn. The front door opened when she got to it. She climbed the steps without hesitation, didn’t flinch when the man with the rifle stepped out and grabbed her arm. As he spun her around to check her for weapons, her gaze lifted to Reese’s. He almost broke cover. Not because of her – she looked dead cool calm – but because he couldn’t bear to watch her disappear into that house with an unknown number of armed terrorists, not knowing if she’d get out alive. So he didn’t watch, dropping heavily to the ground and bracing his back against the warm brick.
Trusting Kate.
“How many are with you?” the kidnapper at the door asked as he patted Kate down and took all her weapons.
She’d anticipated that, but it didn’t stop her from feeling a little jolt of panic.
“How many?” he demanded, shoving her roughly through the door.
“I’m alone.”
“You lie!” He gestured with his gun, and a figure separated itself from the rest of the shadows. When her eyes finally adjusted to the gloom she could see that the man was armed to the teeth but dressed as a gardener so he wouldn’t draw attention.
“You know where all my people are,” she said, which was more than she could say herself. She had no idea where her men were, or if they were even alive. If they were, they would be bound and gagged. The family wouldn’t be tied up, not for the entire day. That meant there’d be a man guarding them, which put the enemy at three at least with one outside checking the perimeter. But not for long. “If the Feds were involved they wouldn’t let me anywhere near this place.”
“Yes.” He smiled, “I know of your history with FBI. But maybe you bring in police.”
She snorted. “The local cops are useless in this kind of situation.”
“So are you. Where is the man tasked to kill you?” the head kidnapper snapped. When she didn’t answer he backhanded her, splitting her lip.
She barely noticed because something in his voice caught her. When she took a closer look she saw the resemblance and knew the kid in her basement was related to him. She could use that.
He pushed her down the main hallway, the barrel of his gun in her back. When they got to the kitchen he gave her a hard shove that sent her sprawling in front of the table where the family sat. The oldest son, a boy of about fourteen named Rahim, jerked, and she could see the hatred in his eyes for the kidnappers and for his own helplessness. And then his eyes met hers and she saw hope.
She winked ever so slightly, keeping her head down as she got to her feet. She remained as submissive as she could bear, thinking “game over” when the head kidnapper put his rifle down, tore a pistol out of his waistband and held it to Mrs Kashani’s head.
It worked far better than binding her hands because she froze, flashing back five years, the image of another hostage superimposed over Mrs Kashani, a hostage shot and dying. Her mind went blank, and a shaking started deep inside her—
“Answer my question.”
—and just like that she snapped back to the image of Mrs Kashani. It helped that the kidnapper snarled his question right in her face. And he had bad breath. Seriously bad. Nothing like a little comic relief to make you remember what was important. She still had a chance to save these hostages, if she kept her head.
She dragged her eyes off Mrs Kashani and put them on the kidnapper. “You can’t kill her,” Kate said, giving up on the submissive routine. It wasn’t working anyway.
“Do not tell me what I can and cannot do.”
“You shoot her, or anyone else, there’s a chance the neighbours will hear and call the police. Yeah, silencer,” she added before he could, “but what will Amir Kashani do when he comes home to find that you killed his wife?”
“He will continue to obey as long as we have hostages.”
“Do you really believe that? You promised him you wouldn’t harm any member of his family as long as he cooperated. He would never have gone to the negotiations otherwise. You harm her, and you will have betrayed your word. Why would he trust you again?”
“It is your fault,” he screamed, and since he was a hair away from total meltdown she pulled back.
“I gave Mr Kashani my word that I would keep him and his family safe. That’s why I’m here.” If she died, she died keeping her word, and hopefully she’d be the only casualty. At least on her side of the conflict.
Fuck it, Reese thought after he’d taken down the enemy operative who’d been sent to find and kill him. The second guy had been older than the kid at the gate. Older and better. Even after being disarmed, he’d kept his head and gotten in a couple of good body blows before Reese dropped him, trussed him up, and left him in a clump of shrubbery along the west side of the property.
Less than fifteen minutes had passed since Kate disappeared into Kashani’s house, but he was done waiting. Sure, Kate would probably hate him later, but at least she’d have a later. He refused to consider any other outcome.
He worked his way around the perimeter of the yard, conscious that time was limited but needing to make sure he wasn’t seen. It didn’t take a genius to find the kitchen, but peeking in the window told him precious little. Except that Kate was hurt.
He was at the door, reaching for the knob, before he could stop himself. It took a couple more minutes for him to holster his gun and begin the nearly impossible task of talking himself out of busting into the house and killing the guy who’d bloodied Kate’s face. If he busted in she’d be dead. Two armed men had guns trained on her – luckily they were both facing away from him and hadn’t seen him. But at the first sign of trouble they’d start shooting, and they’d take out the biggest threat first. After Kate was dead they wouldn’t care where they aimed.
Reese eased back, retraced his steps, and slipped in the front door. He wasn’t worried about going in, or being heard, since the guys in the kitchen would think he was one of them. The flipside of that was that the kidnappers would expect their guy to check in and make a report. That meant time was limited.
He made his way back to the kitchen, not using the main hall since he’d be seen that way. When he got there he heard Kate talking a blue streak, keeping the bad guys focused on her. He stayed back, letting her run the show and hoping to hell she had a plan.
“I caught the man you sent to kill me,” Kate said in response to the head kidnapper’s repeated question, “but I’m not telling you where he is until I get some answers from you.”
She’d hadn’t heard the front door open, but the change in air pressure had told her someone had come in. She knew it was Reese. No way the kidnapper had gotten the better of him, and no way would he wait an hour to come in, which was for the best. Ten minutes of conversation with the kidnappers only confirmed for her that more talking would be a waste of time.
“He revealed our plans,” the other man grumbled. “You should not have sent him, Taj.”
“Shut up,” Taj snapped, the barrel of his gun drifting away from her, just for a second, when he looked over his shoulder. And then he turned back and she saw her death in his eyes. “You must have tortured him.”
“There was no need,” she said. All she had to do was hold Taj off long enough for Reese to make it to the kitchen, and hope to hell he could read her mind. “The men I had posted here didn’t check in.”
“And what do you hope to do?”
“The safety of the Kashani family is my only concern.”
“The family remains safe as long as Amir follows my instructions.”
“They’re safe until the peace treaty has been negotiated and you don’t need them any more.”
“You are helpless to change the outcome.”
Rahim Kashani didn’t look surprised to hear Taj agree with Kate.
Neither was Kate, but she knew otherwise. “Helpless?” she said. “No, I’m really not. Reese,” she yelled as she lunged for Taj.
Sh
e saw the other guy bring his gun to bear on the family, but saw him go down before he could get off a shot and she knew it was Reese firing from behind her. Then she was in under Taj’s gun, deflecting it up so his first shot went into the ceiling. She hit him hard enough to hear his breath whoosh out and make him lose his grip on the handgun. He came right back at her, and he had at least fifty pounds on her, all muscle. But he wasn’t trained in hand-to-hand. And she was rusty. Death was a hell of a motivator, though, and she was getting the upper hand. Until he pulled a knife and took a swipe at her, the point burning along her biceps as she moved in, because he had the longer reach and staying back was to his advantage.
Then Taj stopped cold, moving his hands out slowly to his sides and dropping the knife. Kate was pissed, filled to bursting with adrenaline and no place to work it off – except on Reese. But when she stepped around Taj, it wasn’t Reese holding the gun on him. It was Rahim Kashani, cocking the hammer on the gun Taj had dropped. And he was a hair’s breadth from pulling the trigger.
“You don’t want to do that, Rahim,” she said to him, working hard to keep her voice calm, to talk him down when what she wanted was to take the gun away and kill Taj herself.
“Yes, I do.”
“You kill him, he’s a martyr. His name will never be forgotten. You let him live, he’s nothing but a failure.”
“Yes.” Rahim eased back, uncocked the gun and smiled. It wasn’t a particularly nice smile. “A failure beaten by a woman.”
Kate gave him a look. So did his mother.
“I mean no offence,” Rahim said with a slight bow. “This coward who preys on women and children will be sent back to Balykistan, where we know how to deal with pigs like him.” He started the humiliation by spitting on Taj.
“I almost feel sorry for you,” Kate said.
“I have no need of your pity,” Taj sneered.
“No, but you have it anyway,” she said, knowing it was like rubbing salt in a wound. Petty, but satisfying. “Now where are my men?”
Trisha Telep (ed) Page 4
