Mona Lisa's Room

by Vonnie Davis

  Spread out over the gold satin bedspread in Viviana’s chamber was the black dress from the window of that boutique on Boulevard Saint Michel—Cote dé Cote. One single long-stemmed red rose lay across it. One of the leopard print heels she coveted at Minelli’s yesterday was artfully displayed atop the opened shoe box. “Why…why would he do this for me?” She picked up the stiletto and stroked the pink satin lining. Tears flowed. Emotions warred. She had no clue if she cried over his thoughtfulness or over his love for Hae-Won.

  “Oh, I think I hear my cell. I’ll be right back.” Renee hurried to answer her phone.

  “I saw sadness come into your eyes when I told you about Hae-Won. His feelings for you are true. They are no longer for Hae-Won. He was extremely upset when you disappeared.” Viviana squeezed Alyson’s shoulders. “My dear, he is falling in love with you. I saw how he hugged you when he found out about his coworker, his past paramour. She was not right for him, either, but you…you are perfect for my son.”

  Renee stepped back into the room. “That was Marcel. He caught the earlier train back from Nice. If it’s okay with you, the baby and I will leave now. He’s been gone for two days.” She wiggled her eyebrows.

  “Go. Go to your husband. Aly and I will be fine here alone.”

  “Aly, how nice it was to meet you. I want to see you again. Often.” Renee breezed kisses off her cheeks and then turned to her mother. “Maman, take pictures of her in her new outfit and e-mail them. Okay?”

  “Okay.” Viviana planted a kiss on Olivia’s sleeping head. “See you soon. I love you both.”

  A few minutes after Renee and the baby left, the front door opened again. “Who can that be?” Viviana asked.

  “Maman?” Footsteps sounded in the hall.

  “Renee? Did you forget something?” Viviana and Alyson stepped out of the bedroom and froze. Two masked gunmen held guns on Renee.

  “Renee!” gasped Viviana. She made a couple steps in Renee’s direction but halted when the larger of the two black-clothed gunmen pointed his semi-automatic weapon at her. Both wore black ski masks with eyes visible through the openings.

  The one sleeve of Renee’s cream blouse was ripped at the shoulder. Her cheek was bleeding where she’d been struck, but what reached out and punched Alyson was the terror on her face. No wonder. The smallest of the two gunmen held baby Olivia. Cold fear gripped Alyson’s lungs, making it almost impossible to breathe.

  “If you want to see this baby walk, give us the American.” The smallest one held a revolver to little Olivia’s head. Renee was wild eyed. She quaked with terror. Words of begging and beseeching tumbled from her lips.

  “Give the mother her child back and I’m all yours.” Alyson had no compunction about saving little Olivia’s life. The child deserved to live. When she was within three steps of the gunmen, she stopped. “Give Renee the child.”

  “You’re in no position to negotiate.” Olivia began to squirm and fret in the shorter gunman’s arms. Renee extended trembling hands toward her baby.

  Alyson took a deep breath and feigned bravery. “You gain nothing by killing the child.”

  Dark eyes in the ski mask studied her.

  She was afraid to breathe. Dear God, please don’t let anything happen to Olivia.

  Finally, the crying child was deposited into her mother’s arms. Both Renee and Viviana dissolved into tears. Alyson turned to Viviana. “Take the baby into the bedroom and the three of you stay there. Go now!”

  The smallest one, who Alyson suspected was a female, shoved Alyson back against the wall, pressing the barrel of a black revolver to her throat. “You do not get to give orders!” The barrel’s cold steel singed seeds of resolve in her system. After all she endured these last few days, she’d be damned if she’d let fear get a stranglehold on her thoughts. Plan. She needed a plan.

  Alyson turned her attention to the women and the child. She nodded at them, willing them to follow her command. Somehow, The Red Hand had discovered where she was again. They came for her. Although she was trapped, she’d do her best to make sure Niko’s family remained safe before the terrorists took her away.

  Once the three were in the bedroom, Alyson pushed away from the wall. “Let’s go.” She glared at the larger of the two gunmen with her best school teacher scowl. “Show some manners. Open the door.” When he complied, she stormed through, her fists clenched.

  She would not show them fear. Damn them. They’d have to hustle to keep up. Before they killed her, she wanted to remove herself from Niko’s home. A handprint of her blood would not mar this place, not if she could prevent it.

  She bolted down the steps.

  With every step, she made decisions.

  “Stop or we’ll shoot!”

  Alyson turned and took note of her captors. She imagined she had them off guard. They were probably used to their captives cowering and begging. She’d do neither. She had no doubt they’d kill her, but she’d die on her terms.

  “I’m not running away. You just need to keep up.” She turned and continued down the steps. She was an American and a woman—and neither gave up without a fight.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Niko and Jean-Luc searched Giselle’s tiny studio apartment. Although the authorities removed her body several minutes earlier, Niko still reeled from the gruesome sight. Blood ran down the wall where The Red Hand stamped its calling card. Evidence indicated her attackers were inside her apartment, probably waiting for her to come home. When she did, she was killed almost immediately. Her purse, briefcase and bag of groceries lay in a heap just inside the door.

  “The woman loved her shoes.” Jean-Luc hunkered in front of a closet with shoe boxes stacked four high across the closet floor.

  Niko sorted through a stack of computer printouts on her bedside table. Many contained new information he hadn’t yet studied. That rankled. Part of Giselle’s job was procuring information like this from the Internet for his analysis, yet she kept these from him. One in particular detailed a new type of tracking system one installed in cell phones. Another printout described new poisons administered in crowded situations through an undetectable needle in a specialized ring.

  He glanced at Jean-Luc. “Make sure the only items the boxes contain are shoes and not something else.” They already discovered some top secret files and discs in a basket on the floor beside the desk. Niko’s cell rang and he answered. “Oui, Maman.”

  “Gunmen were here. They took Aly.”

  The universe stilled. He swallowed the bile rising in his throat. “Repeat that, please.” His voice was hollow and raspy. A trickle of cold sweat snaked a path down his back.

  “Gunmen came into our home and took Aly.” His maman was crying.

  He rammed his fist against the wall. “Damn! How did they get in? Tell me that!”

  “When Renee left to go home, two gunmen dressed in black and wearing ski masks jumped her in the building’s foyer. They were hiding under the stairway where the concierge stores her brooms and mops.”

  “Did they hurt Renee?” His jaw clenched in fury. No one messed with his family.

  “They tried to take the baby from her and she fought them. She has minor bruises. A cut to her cheek.”

  “Olivia?” Dear God. “Did they hurt my angel?”

  “No, they threatened to shoot her if Aly didn’t go with them. Aly made the gunman give the baby back to Renee before she would go. She made sure we were safely in my bedroom before she left with them. She saved our lives, Niko.”

  “How…how…” All the saliva in his mouth had somehow evaporated, making it hard to talk. “How long ago did they take her?” Good Lord, it was just like losing Hae-Won all over again. Helplessness swooped in on a winged horse and soared away with all the hope and happiness he found with Aly.

  “Just now! A minute ago.”

  “Jean-Luc and I are on our way.” He ended the call and turned to his friend, willing himself to react in a composed, coherent mode.

  “What�
�s up?” Jean-Luc stood staring at him. His stance screamed preparedness. No man could ask for a better backup partner.

  “Somehow The Red Hand discovered Aly was at my house. They waited in the foyer until someone came out so they could use them to get inside our apartment. That someone was Renee and my niece. They yanked the baby from Renee’s arms. Scared my sister to death. The bastards! Once inside our apartment, they threatened to kill the baby unless Aly went with them.”

  “Which she did.”

  Niko nodded and turned away. “Yeah. She saved my family, and without hesitation, if I know her. We need to get to my place. We’ll finish in here later. There’s nothing more we can do to help Giselle.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Good God, does every woman I touch have to die?”

  “Easy, man. There’s still time. We’ll damn well save Aly.”

  Niko turned his gaze to Jean-Luc. “I hope to hell you’re right. If anything happens to her…” The possibility didn’t bear thinking about. “Let’s get out of here.” He headed for the door and stopped. “How did The Red Hand know where she was? How did they get inside those wooden doors to the courtyard? They needed the security code. Then they needed a different code to gain access to the building.” He turned to glare at Jean-Luc. “All of these happenings are about the terrorists, right? Am I being paranoid here or does a lot of this seem directed toward me personally?”

  ****

  She was going to die. Alyson accepted this. Calmness walked hand-in-hand with her resignation. Defiance followed, sauntering with a heaping dose of good ol’ southern grit, as her daddy was known to say. She would die on her terms, not theirs. That much she decided before she reached the bottom of the steps.

  Gwen would be proud of the “take no prisoners” attitude she displayed. Her younger sister would certainly applaud her changing from demure, dull Alyson into gutsy Aly. Too bad Gwen and her dad would never know. That bothered her. Not being able to say good-bye to her family pained her, too. Hearing Gwen’s outrageous comments or seeing her cherished Rhiannon grow up…yes, those things she would miss. And Niko…Lord, how she would miss him.

  Just to show a tad of her grit, she opened the door and held it for her captors, waving them through. The large, bulky gunman eyed her suspiciously. The smaller terrorist stalked up to her, nose to nose, eyeball to eyeball. “You need to be afraid, bitch!”

  “Sorry, but after all I’ve been through the last two days, I’m all out of fear.” She waved her hand toward the outside. “You going out or staying in?” Listen to me, acting all tough. Please, God, don’t let them hear my knees knocking.

  “Fool, your baseless arrogance fuels my hatred. You first, bitch!” The gun-wielding, black-garbed woman terrorist shoved Alyson through the doorway with her revolver pressed into her back.

  In Alyson’s methodical mind, she formed three goals. First, she wanted to throw her kidnappers off guard. They were probably used to captives reacting in terror. She would not. No matter how badly her insides trembled—and they were trembling and cramping—she vowed she wouldn’t show fear. Second, she wanted to get them off the property before they killed her. The memory of her death needn’t tarnish Niko’s home. Third, she’d leave Niko clues, hints to signify the direction she was taken, if she allowed them to take her.

  She ran both hands through her hair, and as her right one touched her earring, she quickly unlatched the wire and removed the golden hoop.

  “Where’s your car?” She stopped and glanced around, hoping to create a diversion.

  The bigger gunman shoved her. “Keep walking.”

  Alyson exaggerated the momentum of his pushing her on the wet pavement and stumbled, dropping the earring. The sounds of her shuffling footsteps masked the noise made by the piece of jewelry. “Ouch! Was that necessary?” She straightened. “There’s no need for your nasty attitude.”

  “Attitude?” The female gunman shoved her with her weapon. “You dare question our attitude? You are our prisoner!”

  At this ill-timed moment, her coworker, Lakeesha came to mind. So she took on her friend’s mannerisms and attitude. She placed her hand on her hip and cocked it to the side just as she saw Lakeesha do a thousand times. For good measure, she mimicked the woman’s voice. She spoke strongly and loudly as if she’d just grown a gigantic pair of balls. Damned if she’d cower to anyone—even her potential killers. “Girlfriend, I don’t know who you think you are, but I’m tellin’ you, you’ve got some anger management issues. I’m thinkin’ you need therapy.”

  She wanted to wince. For sure she was going to get punched for that remark, but oh how good it felt to see the female gunman’s eyes widen and hear her suck air.

  The slap to Alyson’s face cracked in the night.

  She swallowed hysteria tinged with the tang of copper-tasting blood. Although she tensed for a second blow, it never came. Instead, the female gunman surprised her by keying in the security code for the solid wooden gates. Did they know someone else who lived in the building? How had they gotten the code?

  The larger gunman shoved her through the opening and onto the street. She quickly scanned her surroundings, glad there were a few streetlights to place the area in muted shadows. The street was narrow and only allowed for parking on one side.

  The male gunman coiled his strong fingers around her arm and led her up the street.

  She had to make a decision and fast. Which would she rather have happen? Get in their car and go along quietly? The ride would surely lead to the horrors of torture. Did she want her throat slashed like Giselle’s? Or would she fight, hoping they ended her life quickly by shooting her?

  The man stopped at an older silver two-door compact and unlocked the doors. He opened the passenger door and motioned for Alyson to get in the backseat. She leaned in, fumbled with the latch to flip up the front seat and pretended it wouldn’t work. “It’s stuck. What’s wrong with this piece of junk?” Using her body to shield her movements, she removed the bangle from her wrist and palmed it.

  She stepped back.

  Cold fingers of fear fisted and twisted her stomach.

  She had to decide.

  Now.

  She turned to the impatient gunmen, hoping they couldn’t hear the supersonic pounding of her heart. “I need help.” The man cursed and nudged her aside with his automatic weapon.

  “Clumsy bitch,” the female hissed.

  Alyson shifted slightly to benefit from the street light’s illumination. The man bent to unlatch the seat.

  She knew her opportunity to attack was this instant.

  Now!

  She tucked her thumb under her palm, curled her fingers and locked her wrist forming a ridge hand. She smacked the female’s philtrum, jerking her hand further up to the nose. Blood flew. She spun and struck the stunned woman in the side of her face with her elbow, dropping her bangle at the same time.

  A whoosh of air gushed from her unsuspecting captor. Before the larger kidnapper could turn and respond, Alyson interlocked the fingers of her hands and struck him across the back of the neck. She slammed his forehead into the corner of the opened door. His grunts were pain-filled.

  The female captor, mad as hell and probably still seeing stars, wildly swung the barrel of her revolver at Alyson’s head. Alyson grabbed the back of her attacker’s ski mask and jerked her head back, delivering two quick jabs to her throat. When the female gunman dropped to the ground, gasping and choking, Alyson was still clutching the ski mask.

  She took off, running as fast as she could. Zigzag so you make a harder target. Her self-defense instructor’s words came back to her. If she could reach the end of the street, she’d jump into the Seine.

  Panting, she increased her speed.

  Her high heels hurt.

  Her chest burned.

  Footsteps echoed behind her.

  “I’ll kill you, bitch!”

  Three bullets pierced the night.

  Aly felt a searing pain in her back and stumbled into darkness.
>
  ****

  Niko and Jean-Luc each attached their emergency flashing bubble lights to the roofs of their cars making their trip to Niko’s building a fast one. When Niko turned into his family’s courtyard, he was surprised to see the security gates hanging open. He pulled into a parking spot and Jean-Claude eased his car beside his.

  His partner got out of his sports car and glanced at the open gates. “Wonder why they were open? Do you think the intruders bypassed the wires somehow?” He walked toward the code-box protruding an inch or so from the stone wall flanking the wooden doors. “Got a flashlight?”

  “Yeah.” Niko bent to retrieve one from his glove box. It didn’t work when he first switched it on, so he pounded the bottom of it with the heel of his palm. The flashlight lit, illuminating the cobblestone courtyard. Something glimmered. He bent and retrieved it, his heart sinking when he examined his discovery.

  “What did you find?”

  “Aly’s earring.” He stepped closer to Jean-Luc, his palm extended. “Why would it be lying here? Why an earring? Her handbag, perhaps, or a shoe…” His gaze locked on Jean-Luc’s. “Surely they wouldn’t have cut off her ear.” A frigid response invaded his veins, chilling him to the marrow. Hell, why not? They slashed Giselle’s throat. He leaned against the roofline of his car, willing the contents of his stomach to stay and refusing to continue in this vein of thought. Strength. He needed strength.

  Jean-Luc rested his hand on Niko’s shoulder. “I know what you’re thinking and this isn’t doing her any good. Be strong. Pull yourself together, man. Look around, do you see any blood? Come on, you wuss, get a damn grip.”

  Anger and frustration surfaced. “I’ll remind you of that when you fall in love, you cold, pushy bastard.”

  Jean-Luc laughed. “Dream on, buddy. It’ll never happen. Come on, let’s check out this area.”

  Niko nodded and focused on finding Aly. He swung the flashlight’s beam in a slow arc over the parking area. Both men searched the courtyard for clues. “Whoever took her knew the code for the gates and the front door. I still can’t figure out how they got it. I hate it when a solution or answer eludes me.”