“Why should I join you? Your plan sucks. I have a better way inside that bank,” she declared saucily. She couldn’t have acted more like a brat if she’d stuck her tongue out after that bold declaration.
He egged her on, running his gaze up and down her very sexy body, the blueprints still out of her reach. “Seems to me you’re a little short on manpower and explosives.”
“Seems to me you’re a little short on brains,” she shot back, her hands on her hips, and her swagger back in full force. “How many times have you been inside that particular bank? Huh?”
She had a way of bobbing her head and shoulders when she was over-confident. His dumb heart flipped. Alex was standing somewhere in the same room, but Lee only had eyes for Tess with her chin jutted out and licking her lips like she was ready to fight. An I’ll-show-you, tough-as-nails survivor had replaced the sad lady in mourning.
He couldn’t resist the challenge. Bring it on. “What’s it matter? A good operator only needs one shot.”
Her nostrils flared and he was in heaven.
“Just because you play with guns does not make everything a target,” she hissed. “I, on the other hand, have been inside that very vault. I also know the layout of the entire building, not to mention that I’m the only person in this room with enough talent to make this theft happen without making a sound. I’ve filched five treasures from the National Museum. What have you stolen, tough guy?” The gauntlet was thrown. She had him there, and she knew it. With one half-step forward, she was under Lee’s chin and glaring up at him. “Who do you think has the Star of Persia?”
Lee cocked an amused grin. This girl was damned seductive when she had her dander up. This was another coup she hadn’t yet told him about. Anyone who’d heard of the Hope Diamond also knew of the famed Star of Persia, a natural cluster of emeralds so large they were said to look more like green crystal fingers than precious jewels.
The story of their theft was the thing of legends amongst the media—no doubt the defrauded insurance company, too. But she hadn’t stolen it from the museum. Not reckless Tess Culver. She preferred doing things the hardest way possible, and she had.
A jewelry heist in far-off Darfur had recently brought worldwide attention to the fact that the one-time prize was no longer in the National Museum of Afghanistan where it belonged. Go figure. The Sudanese rebel who’d acquired it in a clandestine black market transaction and just as quickly lost it, screamed foul. He wanted vengeance upon the common thief who’d lifted it out of his very impressive treasury where he’d kept his mostly ill-gotten booty.
The embarrassed National Museum curator had demanded redress, although he hadn’t realized it was missing until the story broke. Meanwhile, the talking heads of the world had expressed varying degrees of outrage. The daring thief had never been apprehended. The media had a field day. And Tess Culver had gotten off scot-free.
“That was you?” Lee asked with more than a hint of admiration in his tone.
“I also have the Sultan’s collection of rubies. It truly is the finest in the world.”
Again with the chin tilt, and Lee wanted to kiss the sassy lips she kept sticking in his face. But he was also impressed. That particular collection of rubies was an equally rare treasure that Alexander the Great had brought back from his failed foray into India, another theft Lee hadn’t known about. What other treasures did she have? And where was she keeping them?
“You two need a room?” Alex muttered behind him.
Actually, not a bad idea, but Lee got the hint. He stepped back from his very audacious client. Business now. Room later.
“Let me guess,” Alex poured on the sarcasm. “You stashed those treasures at Darul Aman Palace, too.”
“No,” she retorted. “They’re... safe. Safer.”
“Then why the hell didn’t you keep the reliquary just as safe?” he demanded. “Why’d you hide it where Sherazi and Nizari planned to meet?”
“Did you ever consider that just maybe I didn’t know they were going to meet there?” she hissed. “When Musa and Yusuf handed it off to me at the museum, one of them tripped the alarm. I had to hide it some place close by or risk blowing my cover, so I stashed it at the palace. Monsieur Favreau still needed a DNA scraping from the fingers to run his test. We hadn’t enough time to remove it to a safer place.”
Lee caught her word choice. Safer? He’d studied her for weeks before this operation, yet he’d still missed the fact that she worked at an orphanage. Her last two revelations declared the nerve of this audacious woman—and that he was in over his head. “That’s why you and Jacque visited the mummies. You’re keeping all of these jewels and artifacts in the crypt with Roxana, aren’t you?”
She didn’t have to answer.
“That is a damned good hiding place, if you think about it,” Alex muttered. “I can’t see that particular tribe giving up a secret they’ve kept for more than two centuries.”
“And the treasures still belong to the people,” Tess insisted. “Everything I’ve stolen I’ve returned to Afghanistan. It’s all there where it will be protected. I can show you.”
Lee mused. “Sherazi and Nizari seem to conduct a lot of clandestine business at the old palace. It might be a good idea to see what else is stashed there, Boss.”
“You do realize you’ve broken quite a few international antiquity laws”—Alex rolled his eyes—“besides stealing.”
“You do realize nothing will be left of this country if we wait for the Taliban to recognize your precious international laws?” Tess bit out sharply.
Lee sighed. Alex and Tess had just summed up the plight of Afghanistan—caught between a rock and a hard place.
Alex extended his right hand to Tess, his palm up and his fingers beckoning. “Give it up.”
The most beguiling smile blossomed on her pretty face as Tess reached between the two lowest buttons of her tucked in shirt and retrieved his gold and silver watch. Instinctively, Lee checked his back pocket. She was a pickpocket, too?
“Did you realize I’d taken it?” she asked Alex coyly.
He pulled her silver crucifix and chain out of his sleeve and dangled it at the end of his fingers. “Did you miss this?”
She clutched her now-bare neck. Another challenge sparked deep in those violet-blues. “You stole my cross,” she hissed.
Lee checked his back pocket again.
Chapter Sixteen
Tess won the argument.
Early the next morning, she was none other than the notoriously wealthy Cashmere bin-Awa, supermodel and totally spolt bratsksi, the daughter of Russian oil-tycoon, Zoe Zurat, and Arabian Prince bin-Awa, owner of the worldwide oil conglomerate, Awa Petroleum. Based in Dubai, it boasted subsidiaries in South America, Russia, and as far north as the Mongolian-Manchurian steppes.
Tess kept her stride long and her chin high, in keeping with the energy of the temperamental Cashmere as she marched into the Central Bank of Kabul. Marble columns guarded the interior aisle that led straight to the manager’s desk. Three on the left, three on the right, all fitted with security cameras. She glanced neither to the left nor the right as she bee-lined through the busy bank, her head held high. Her steps were sure and true. Her heels clicked on the smooth marble floor.
Cashmere had a reputation of making outlandish demands for paparazzi to attend her every move. She loved the press, and, mostly due to her billionaire father’s money, the press adored her. Tess intended for every move she made to prove that Cashmere truly was in the bank this morning. What a show.
She’d disguised herself beneath a mantle of luxuriant red hair that matched Cashmere’s, and a navy blue, floor-length, pencil skirt that barely hid her three-inch open-toed heels, courtesy of Alex’s expense account. She had to give it to him. Once convinced she knew the bank inside out, he’d gone all in. And he had the money and resources to do it.
Not only had he outfitted everyone overnight, he’d also contacted someone clever enough to provide combinati
ons to the bank’s lower level vault where the safety deposit boxes were securely maintained, as well as a few other indispensible items to insure the ruse went off flawlessly. He’d also kept her up half the night practicing Cashmere’s handwriting—just in case.
She couldn’t believe the reach of Lee’s boss. It was early morning when a carrier arrived at the rig with, of all things, a complete set of the wealthy supermodel’s fingerprints. Tess very much wanted to know how he was able to come up with them, and how he did it so quickly. She just might have to check into his holdings when this heist was through.
Tess fingered the violet hijab at her shoulder, projecting an air of tolerance for the old ways while expressing a flair for the modern. She had no intention of expressing submission, a quality neither Tess nor Cashmere subscribed to.
Except when it came to Agent Hart. Tess had been pretty submissive with him.
The memory of their lovemaking flamed to mind and blazed her cheeks with her favorite indiscretion. She shot him a quick glance out of the corner of her eye. A momentary smile tugged at those manly lips, almost as if he’d read her mind and planned a little more submission in her near future. No other man had gotten beneath her skin as fast as he had. Ever.
Both Lee and Alex liked her idea of walking through the front door of the prestigious Bank of Central Kabul in broad daylight better than using SEMTEX, with its over-the-top, testosterone-filled ramifications. They trotted at her heels like trained Rottweilers on short leashes, Lee on her right, Alex at her left. Just the way men should be, submissive and at her beck and call. She could get used to this.
Tess allowed a throaty chuckle to bubble up, drawing Alex’s annoyed brow and Lee’s adoring smile. There was no doubt about it. Alex and she were cut out of the same cloth while Lee wasn’t. Hence, she’d never get along with Alex, but Lee? She chuckled again. He believed in her. He had faith. And because of that devotion, she loved him more all the time and she wouldn’t let him down.
Eric and Seth were somewhere across the street supplying Alex and Lee with intel via their carefully hidden Bluetooth earpieces. Neither Alex nor Lee acted as if they were receiving, but she knew they were. She’d seen the miniscule devices they’d both hidden deep in their right ear canals. No wires. Nice touch.
Both men also wore slim-fitting tactical vests beneath their dark gray business suits, two holstered pistols under their arms, and at least one lethal-looking knife with serrated edges in their boots. They exuded wealth and class when they were actually men of war. She was as humbled to be walking between them as she was proud of them. She made them look good.
That the paparazzi weren’t in attendance should’ve been a clear signal to the shocked and unprepared man of finance that something was amiss. The bank manager should’ve noticed Cashmere bin-Awa didn’t sport her usual entourage of a dozen bodyguards, and that she dropped her flamboyant designer handbag to the floor the moment she stepped up to his desk. The real Cashmere didn’t bother with purses. She had staff.
Mr. Hussein looked up from his computer. A flicker of relief raced across the deeply etched worry lines on his forehead when he peered around her and caught sight of only two escorts. In that split second, Tess knew she had him. She’d banked on her close resemblance to the celebrity heiress to get her through this tricky operation. Now she could also count on Mr. Hussein’s desire to be rid of her before the cameras showed up. It really was all about timing.
“Mr. Hussein! So nice to see you again,” she gushed with her best fake Russian accent, air-kissing his sallow cheek while he did the same to her. “You’ve been well?”
“Miss bin-Awa,” he acknowledged, his fingers weak and flimsy on her hand. “Y-yes, I am fine, but I wasn’t expecting you today. Why are you here? Is there a problem?”
She waved her hand at him with a dismissive, I-could-care-less flutter of her fingertips. “Why would you say that? Just because I arrived with only two bodyguards this time? I thought you would like that for a change.”
Immediately, Lee and Alex stepped to the side of Mr. Hussein’s desk in rigid synchronized formation. Both in matching Oakleys, their dark glasses added an element of anonymity to their chiseled jaws and chins that clearly declared, “Stay out of my way.”
“Oh, no, no, no. It’s just that you usually send advance notice before you arrive,” Mr. Hussein chirped, a sheen of sweat on his upper lip as he glanced at the two men, “but... here you are.”
“What you mean is that I always draw attention to your fine bank when I visit. Ah, yes.” Tess dropped into the leather chair in front of his desk, fanning herself with one hand, studying the manicured nails on the other. “My, my. It’s unusually warm in here, is it not? Is your air-conditioning broken? The press will be here soon enough. I have to let them know where I’ll be. They seem to find me irresistible. It may get warmer. Don’t you agree?”
“So it would seem.” His head bobbed in nervous agreement while his eyes scanned the entrance, most likely looking for his next heart attack. “That is exactly what you are—irresistible, very intelligent, and quite the businesswoman. Let me check on the cooling system for you. It will take just a minute.” He waved a teller over to his desk and promptly assigned her the task of informing maintenance that he had a problem.
Tess caught his undertone. Mr. Hussein wasn’t good at hiding his true feelings. He must work extra hard to tolerate the real Cashmere, who was known to be at least a hundred times more obnoxious than Tess was being now. That made this op all the more fun.
“I was on my way to Monte Carlo and...” Tess glanced around the lavish lobby and yawned, taking in the blinking red lights of the security cameras along the ceiling as well as the six armed guards, three at the entrance and the other three scattered throughout the lobby. Seven tellers manned the windows. Four loan officers were engrossed with clients at their desks; three were not.
The stairs to the basement vault beckoned at her left, but what she needed at that moment lay immediately behind Mr. Hussein’s pretentious desk. The bank vault. An impressive, older masterpiece with linked locking mechanisms, it boasted steel-reinforced concrete walls, and the customary array of anti-theft precautions and alarms. She would know.
Her lashes lowered. Alas. Divesting that vault of the Taliban’s share of Afghanis, the currency of Afghanistan, would have to wait for another day. She only needed the vault’s sensitive security system at her beck and call for this job.
Poor Mr. Hussein. Shortly, the device she’d hidden in her purse would trigger the steady blare of the vault’s alarm and add more chaos to his already frazzled nerves.
“Excuse me?” He ran a finger between his sweaty neck and the stiff collar of his white dress shirt. “You were going to Monte Carlo? Why did you detour to my bank? It isn’t on the way, is it?”
“As I was saying,” she continued airily, “I was on my way to Monte Carlo, but I had a notion to see my collection of rare lapis lazuli. The jet needed to refuel. I was here. Ha. It seemed a simple thing to do. May I see my babies?”
He breathed a sigh of relief, smiling and nodding while he removed a digital tablet from his top right drawer. “Yes, of course. Your signature.”
Tess lifted her brows to her hairline, tapping the tip of her index finger to her bottom lip. “You can’t be serious, Mr. Hussein. Look into my eyes. It’s me, your dearest friend, Cashmere. Surely you don’t need my signature on that silly device.”
She watched his throat clench as he tried to swallow. Twice. He hesitated, but recovered quickly. “Of course not. Right this way, Miss bin-Awa.”
“Ah, you’re so good to me, but perhaps I am being a bother. Here. I will give you what you need for your, how do you accountants say it? Audit trail?” She scrawled her much practiced version of Cashmere’s signature to the tablet’s screen, then rose with an easy lift, beckoning for her guards to follow as she nudged her bag farther beneath the chair with her heel.
Lee and Alex followed in tight formation. Tess latched ont
o the poor bank manager’s elbow, overloading his tightly stretched nerves with a brush of her hip against his and a suggestive wink. “Ah, you’ve been working out. I feel muscle beneath this fine silk suit. I’ll speak to my father about your indulgence with me. He asked about you only yesterday.”
“He did?” Sheer consternation was a nice touch to Mr. Hussein’s already green gills. He tugged at his tie as he gestured toward the basements steps. “Your father? Me? What may I do to help Prince bin-Awa?”
“Oh, nothing,” Tess rambled, her hands firmly attached to the sweating manager’s forearm and elbow as she looked this way and that. Walking with long, languorous steps, she made certain her swaying hips bumped him at every other step. All she needed was to be inside the safety deposit vault within the next two minutes. Once the door was locked behind her... well, that was all she needed.
“We were just talking about the terrible thing that happened over at that other bank in the city. You know, the embezzling ring that walked out their front door with all those millions? Such a scandal! Everyone who is anyone is talking about it.”
Mr. Hussein didn’t choose to speak, maybe because he couldn’t. It was true. Several Kabul banks had been rocked by scandal during the past year. Tess poured it on. People no longer trusted the country’s financial institutions. What’s a rich heiress to do? Tsk. Tsk. “But Father is pleased he can rely on someone of your financial talent. He trusts you. I think he might even pay you a visit soon. He likes you. I can tell.”
“Oh, how good for me.” Mr. Hussein offered a weak smile as they approached the vaulted room. “Your guards must not enter,” he said sternly.
“But of course not.” Tess leaned into his ear, her knee bent and her heel raised in feminine grace. “These dumb jocks have no clue what to do with my treasures. Look at them. They’re all muscle, and most of it is between their ears,” she stage-whispered. “Surely you know what I mean.”
He cast a sharp look toward Lee and Alex, the three keys to the vault already in the three locks and his fingers at the security pad. “If you say so.”
Lee (In the Company of Snipers Book 12) Page 19
