Mona Lisa's Room

by Vonnie Davis

  ****

  Henri’s cane thundered through the early-morning quiet as he approached the area where Niko and Jean-Luc were pouring over data and listening to taped phone conversations. They worked on a plan for hours; a plan to invade an apartment in which they deduced members of The Red Hand were living. Henri’s voice pulsed with tightly reigned anger. “You want to tell me how a dead woman’s purse ended up at the Café de Flore?”

  Niko’s head jerked up. “What?”

  Henri collapsed into a chair and leaned forward. “I just got a call from Captain DeMarché. Seems a customer at Café de Flore ordered and then left. Not an uncommon practice after eating, but not before. The woman left her sketch pad and purse behind—a yellow leather shoulder bag.

  Oh hell! Aly! Cold fear filled Niko’s stomach and overflowed into his veins.

  His supervisor obviously saw the effect his announcement had on Niko. “The waiter waited for his customer to return, but she never did. When the owner of the café searched the yellow bag for I.D., he found it belonged to Alyson Moore from America. The owner recognized her name from all the news reports about her incident at the Louvre and her death from the shooting. So, he called the police, who notified me.” He cracked his cane across the top of Niko’s desk. “I better damned well get some answers. Honest answers and fast!”

  “Have someone bring the shoulder bag and sketch pad to me.” Niko fought the fear clawing at his gut like a rabid animal.

  Someone had Aly.

  “At this point, you have no right to demand anything!” Henri’s voice roared. “I want some answers.”

  Jean-Luc stood and moved next to Niko. “When the ambulance took Alyson to the hospital, we thought a subterfuge would keep her safe.”

  Henri glanced from Jean-Luc to Niko. “We? You two stick closer than Siamese twins. Why was I left out of the loop?”

  “Would you have agreed to our plan? I had to protect Aly. I couldn’t take any chances with her life.” Niko’s mind raced to compute data: Aly was missing. She left behind her bag—a gift from her dad—and her sketch pad. Therefore she left the café against her will.

  She’d been abducted. He guessed just like the earring and bangle left behind for clues, she left her bag and sketch pad for clues.

  “Aly?” His superior leaned back in his chair and sighed. “Damn, your dick got the best of you again, didn’t it, boy?”

  Niko wanted to choke the man. He had no clue about the essence of Aly’s goodness and strength. No idea how much he loved her.

  “So just whom did the department pay to have cremated?” Their superior glowered first at Niko and then Jean-Luc.

  Jean-Luc sat on the corner of Niko’s desk. “I found a homeless woman in the morgue. The city would have paid for her cremation anyway. We just gave her a name, an identity.”

  “The city, yes, but we are budgeted by the country of France. Again, I’m asking why am I just now hearing about this?”

  “Because you would have ranted just like you’re doing now. Because you would have considered our plan’s effects on you, not on her safety. Just like you’re doing now.” Niko stood. “A woman is missing, no doubt in The Red Hand’s captivity. You know their penchant for violence and yet you want to waste time complaining because you were excluded from something.” Niko turned to Jean-Luc. “How soon can we get this raid on the move?”

  Henri stood and leaned on his cane, his eyes opened wide. “Raid? What raid?”

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Alyson and her captors walked two blocks from the Café de Flore to a building housing a Vietnamese restaurant on the bottom floor. As soon as Hae-Won shoved her inside the side door leading to the square foyer containing a wall of mailboxes and a curving wooden stairway, Alyson was shoved against the wall with the barrel of a revolver shoved into her neck. Hae-Won’s lover, whom she called Farid, tied her wrists behind her back.

  “It would be wise of you not to struggle. Neither of us will hesitate to kill you. Upstairs. Now.” Hae-Won shoved her forward, and Alyson complied.

  She hadn’t given up, though. No, if she were going to die, she’d create some havoc first. After all, she faced death before. “What happened to the guy you had with you the night you shot me? That burley guy, the one you called ‘Sex Slave’?” Maybe she could create some jealousy between the two captors. Would God forgive a few lies to create dissent?

  “I never called him Sex Slave, and you know it.”

  Alyson gave the scowling boyfriend a look of apology. “Sorry, guess I should have kept that bit of information to myself. I mean, the way the big muscled guy kept touching her, I just naturally assumed…”

  Hae-Won shoved her against the wooden railing. “Stop lying about me!”

  Alyson glanced at Farid. “This scrawny guy is really your lover?” She eyed him up and down, milking it as Gwen would say. “No wonder you were drawn to Sex Slave.” She wiggled her eyebrows. “His shoulders were really nice and broad, weren’t they?”

  Hae-Won’s face turned crimson with fury. She punched Alyson in the mouth. Her lip split, and she tasted blood. In a reflexive move, Alyson kicked Hae-Won down the steps before turning and charging upward.

  “Get her!” Hae-Won screamed.

  The disgruntled man chased after Alyson and grabbed her ankle before she reached the top step. She hit the staircase with a thud and bit her tongue. He flipped her over and pulled back his fist.

  ****

  Gathering the agents, finalizing plans and securing equipment took Niko another hour. He and the rest of his agents changed into black uniforms and gear. The whole time his heart pounded with the necessity for urgency. His Aly’s life depended on everyone doing their job. He was short-tempered, yet coldly focused and calculating. This was his milieu.

  He sent the department’s van bearing the logo of a fake pest extermination company and equipped with surveillance equipment into position twenty minutes ago. Now, Niko, Jean-Luc and four other agents converged on the scene. They parked around the corner and split up, moving in a stealthy manner in the predawn hours. Two were stationed on rooftops across the street from the building housing a Vietnamese restaurant and several apartments. Jean-Luc and André entered the foyer and waited for the appointed time to begin the raid. Niko and Jacques went in the back entrance.

  At headquarters when he handed out infra-red goggles, he instructed his men to spring into action at three o’clock sharp while residents were still sleeping. Niko didn’t want innocent people caught in any crossfire. He planned for a clean sweep of the apartment and arrest of what he hoped would be stunned, sleeping terrorists.

  Jacques swept the darkened staircase with the beam from his flashlight. A bicycle sat on the second landing. Other than that, the stairway was clear. Both men remained silent as planned.

  Niko pressed the light on his watch.

  Two minutes till three.

  His heart beat a strong bass rhythm, yet his fingers tingled as if demanding better circulation.

  His mouth was dry with fear. Not fear for what he was about to do, but fear for Aly.

  Please God, let her be alive.

  One minute.

  Niko rechecked his Heckler and Koch sub-machine gun and his two clips full of 10mm ammo. His Glock revolver was loaded, too. A knife was tucked into his boot.

  Twenty seconds. He placed his hand on Jacques’ shoulder. The two regarded each other in silence. Niko nodded his head and squeezed his partner’s shoulder. He raced up the steps, his movements silent. Jacques followed.

  When he rounded the final landing, a gunmen was lying on his stomach.

  A trap. Niko dropped and rolled. The gunman fired, his silencer making a spitting noise. Another gunman, leaning against the wall, fired, striking Jacques. His partner groaned but continued the attack. Niko returned fire. A door smashed open somewhere on this floor. Niko suspected it was Jean-Luc and André. Shouts and scuffles came from the apartment. More gunfire. Pandemonium.

  What was happen
ing? Was Aly still alive? He couldn’t think about her. He had to stay focused. For her.

  Niko leaned around the corner and, having the advantage of his infra-red goggles, aimed at the man crouched against the wall. He squeezed the trigger and a spray of bullets erupted. The man crumbled.

  The man on the floor screamed obscenities and fired several shots in rapid succession. Niko was struck in his mid-section. A prick. Fire spread. Warm blood flowed over his abdomen and down his leg.

  Both he and Jacques fired a barrage of bullets, striking the man on the floor several times. Niko rushed for the opened back door of the apartment. His pain intensified with every movement, but now was not the time to feel. Now was the time to act. His back against an interior wall, he inched forward, peeping around doorways to other rooms. Kitchen clear. He inched forward, glanced into the bathroom and motioned for Jacques to check behind the shower curtain.

  He kept a hand over his wound just above his navel. Jacques gave the all clear sign. Niko crossed the doorway. Someone was talking.

  Niko halted his movements and raised his hand for Jacques to do the same.

  “Hae-Won, certainly you can talk to me. We always got along, you and I.” That was Jean-Luc talking.

  “You never liked me. You were jealous because I had such control over Niko. He was like a pathetic puppy, panting at my heels.”

  Niko rolled his eyes. What a delusional bitch.

  “Tell me, how do I get you to release Alyson.”

  Hae-Won laughed. “Don’t you understand? She will explode and become one of Paris’ glittering lights. You and I will be dust. In another life, I will be a queen, perhaps the Queen of Paris. Wouldn’t that be a kick in the ass?”

  The woman was insane.

  Slowly, he inched his head to the corner to peer in the room. The pain from his wound made him sweat. He was losing a lot of blood, if the puddle at his feet was any indication. What he saw nearly dropped him to his knees. Aly was tied to a chair with a belt of plastic explosives around her waist. Electrical tape covered her mouth and her eyes were wild with fright.

  Hae-Won held a detonator in one hand and a revolver in her other. Her eyes were frenzied, darting here and there as if looking for her sanity. By the looks of her, she would never find it.

  André lay on the floor, bleeding, as did another man. Both appeared unconscious. Jean-Luc was unarmed, his arms upraised. Niko turned his head to signal Jacques. He had to shoot Hae-Won. It was the only way he could save Aly. That meant his aim had to be deadly accurate. He had to neutralize Hae-Won with one quick shot before she had a chance to detonate the explosives on Aly.

  Niko hadn’t been on the shooting range in two weeks. He was a trained sniper with a rifle, hitting his target at long range. This was a close combat situation. Granted he was a well-trained shot, but never…never…had the stakes been so high. Could he set aside his sub-machine gun for his more accurate revolver without making noise? There was no time to deliberate, only to deliver. He handed his larger weapon to Jacques, careful not to make a sound.

  Soundlessly, and in almost slow motion, he removed his Glock and eased off the safety. His gut was on fire. His vision blurred around the edges. He wiped his eyes and forehead with his sleeve. Why was it so damn cold in here? Move, aim, shoot. He could do it. He had to. He said a quick prayer and took three deep, calming breaths.

  Everything kicked into slow motion. In a crouching stance, Niko made a silent pivot and squeezed off four rounds. Hae-Won flew back with the force of the hits. Her gun fired into the ceiling. The detonator skittered to the floor, and Jean-Luc dove for it.

  Niko stumbled for Aly. He had to get to her.

  “Don’t touch the explosives, man!” Jean-Luc yelled. “We don’t know how they’re wired. We need the bomb squad.”

  Niko removed the tape from Aly’s mouth, his hands, covered with blood, trembled. “Mon amore. I got to you as soon as I could. Are you hurt? Talk to me, sweetheart. Talk…” The cold and darkness enveloped him.

  ****

  Every cell in her body cried for her to go Niko, but her feet and hands were still bound. He lay in a heap at her feet. Was this nightmare over? She glanced at the explosives at her waist. No, not by a long shot.

  “Jean-Luc, is he still alive? There’s so much blood.”

  “There’s a pulse.” Jean-Luc used his knife to cut away Niko’s shirt. “Damn arrogant fool wouldn’t wear a Kevlar vest.”

  “Did you?”

  “Hell no.” He pressed a make-shift bandage to Niko’s wound.

  “You two and your arrogant French attitudes. As if you’re invincible against bullets. You both suffer from superhero complexes.” Her tears flowed as Jean-Luc tended to Niko. What if he died? What if she lost him? She willed the man she loved to live, to survive. Suddenly she couldn’t imagine her life without him and his superhero complex.

  Chaos continued while Alyson looked on. The first ambulance crew on the scene lifted Niko onto a stretcher and rushed out with him. Now she knew how he felt the night she was shot. So much bloodshed and death, and for what? Some heartless ideology.

  Another ambulance crew treated a young man Jean-Luc called André. Farid was dead as was Hae-Won.

  Two members of a bomb squad crouched at her sides and examined the wiring on the explosives. The apartment was in bedlam, and she felt removed from it all.

  Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the bomb squad finished their inspection of the explosives. “We are going to remove the belt now, Madame.”

  She nodded mutely, staring at drops of Niko’s blood on her khaki pants. Frantic over Niko’s wound, she closed her eyes and said a prayer while wires were cut on the bomb.

  Exhaustion wrapped her in a cloak of numbness. She wanted to lay in the security of Niko’s arms and sleep. Sleep until emotions healed and horrific happenings faded. Sleep until she felt like herself again.

  Frankly, if she saw one more drop of blood, heard one more acidic word, witnessed one more death or felt any more pain, she’d lose her tenuous hold on her sense of self. Too much. These last few hours were too much.

  Chapter Thirty

  “We are going to release you now, Madame Moore. Dr. Patalinghue has signed your release papers.” The nurse removed the IV. “Your family is outside waiting. I will send them in shortly. The doctor wants you to take these pills to help you deal with post traumatic stress. There are enough for two weeks.” The nurse handed her a bottle of pills. “Your sister brought you a change of clothes.” She laid folded clothing on the hospital gurney.

  Alyson was dressed and running a comb through her hair when her dad and Gwen burst into her room. “Hey.” She blinked back tears and walked into her dad’s arms.

  “Buttercup. Buttercup.” His voice was tight with emotion. “My heart can’t take much more. When I woke up and found only one of my girls in the adjoinin’ room, I nearly died.”

  Gwen kissed Alyson. “Then we found your note that you went out for dinner. It was six o’clock in the morning by then. Your bed was still made up, so we knew you never returned.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “I have to tell you, Dad and I were both scared spitless. We called the embassy and then the police. The police sent us here.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Maybe if she said it enough times, she’d start to believe it.

  “You don’t look so fine, does she, Dad?”

  Concern was evident in her dad’s features. “Buttercup, your face is a mass of bruises and cuts. Can you see okay? ’Cause your one eye is swollen shut. The nurse said you have two stitches on your cheekbone.” He pointed to her wrists. “You got bruises there, too.”

  “I’ll be fine.” Her voice held more strength this time. “Have either of you checked in on Niko?”

  “Dad went down to talk to Viviana earlier, but she didn’t know much. The doctors were operating on him to remove the bullet.”

  Alyson took her dad by the hand. “Take me to him. He saved my life, do you know that?”

&nb
sp; Her dad nodded. “That no-neck fella told me what happened.” He shook his head. “We’re common, quiet, simple people. I never thought I’d be in the middle of hair-raising events like this. Good God a’mighty, I can’t wait to step on American soil again.”

  Gwen picked up Alyson’s wig. “Are you putting this back on?”

  “Not yet, if ever. It holds too many bad memories. Look, I need to see Niko. Let’s go.”

  When they stepped off the elevator, Jean-Luc sat in one of the chairs in the hallway. He stood, and Alyson hurried to him. “How’s Niko?”

  “He’s out of surgery and recovery. They just brought him to his room. The doctor told Madame Reynard he removed Niko’s spleen. That’s where the bullet lodged. He had a blood transfusion.” He shrugged his shoulders. “Thank God we’re the same blood type. As long as infection doesn’t set in, he should be fine.”

  “Buttercup, I want you to sit now. You’ve been through a lot, too.” Her dad hovered, concern on his face. Not wanting to upset him anymore, Alyson complied. “You want ol’ Dad to get you anything to drink?”

  “Tea, if you can find it. Some pastries. I’m starving.” She looked at Jean-Luc. “What about you?”

  “No, I’m good. Too good.” Jean-Luc sat, clasped his hands between his wide-spread knees and stared at them.

  “Are you having a pity party because you’re the only one of the four agents who didn’t get shot? Sounds to me like you’ve got bragging rights.” She nudged his shoulder with hers. “Look at me.”

  He lifted his gaze.

  “You love Niko.”

  “Yeah, brothers, you know?”

  Alyson reached out and took Gwen’s hand. “Yes, the bond is close.” She smiled at her sister, thinking of their relationship. “I’ve been in situations these last few weeks where I’ve asked myself how Gwen would behave. I modeled my actions after hers. We dearly love our siblings, whether they’re siblings by blood or by heart.”

  Gwen crouched in front of her, laying one arm across Jean-Luc’s massive thigh. Alyson noted her sister’s movement. Jean-Luc gasped, and she noted that, too, and smiled.