by J. D. Hale
Good luck police force.
“Mahar!” I whispered excitedly when I caught up to him.
“Kairee! I would recognize that voice anywhere!” He said, embracing me. He smelled as he always had, of lemons and tobacco, as we exchanged hugs. Mahar had strong middle-eastern features with a squared jaw, crooked nose, full lips, and deep, fathomless chocolate eyes. He was in his early twenties, and was extremely attractive.
“Kai, who is this?” Rowan asked suspiciously as I rarely embraced anyone not in our immediate family.
“Remember when I went to Neara, a few years back, for that criminals convention? Well Mahar here was the arbiter and helped me around. Since it was my first, it was a great help, and since then he’s been letting me in on top secret information for some of our previous exploits. A very good friend who’s earned a spot on the coveted list that is people whom I trust,” I said with a glare at Salah.
“And who are your friends?” Mahar asked, his accent marring the familiar English language. But, of course, I was fluent in Arabic and responded in it. I loved the sound of Arabic – it slid effortlessly out, sounding smooth and velvety.
“My brother, Rowan, and our accomplice, Salah the younger,” I said in Arabic, leaving Row and Salah in the dust. I can’t believe Salah grew up here and yet did not speak one of its dominant languages, “He’s a bit of a twit.”
“Salah the younger?” Mahar laughed, and the one spoken of recognized his name with interest, “Didn’t you kill his father just a few months ago?”
“Yes, but let’s not mention that in front of him, shall we?” I immediately switched to English, “I’m treating all of you to breakfast.”
Minutes later we were sitting in my favorite Cairo restaurant, a little shop that sells alcohol before eleven in the morning, The Mauve, and we were going over Mahar’s plan. The place was a large, gated courtyard made of cobblestone, with ivy scaling the brick walls, giving it a certain French Riviera feeling. The tables were wrought iron with intricate spirals and whorls carved into the metal. Emerald umbrellas sat atop the rounded tables, giving shade to the matching chairs.
I did a weapon check for myself. Three knives (one strapped to my stomach, a smaller one clipped to my ankle, and a large dagger on my back, covered with leather for the unlikely situation that I fell), two guns(a small Rizer 0.1, a very powerful weapon that vaporizes everything within a twenty foot radius of the target and a .22 magnum mini revolver), my razor pins, a small collection of needles, covered in various sedatives, a hard plastic shell covering my right index finger that shocks an enemy if touched, and protection (clothing made of hard nylon that prevents bullets from hitting my skin, but that’s all), and I was satisfied. When I got dressed this morning, I had suddenly felt that something dangerous was going to happen, so I came ready.
“Boys,” I began. Salah, Rowan, and Mahar all looked at me expectantly, “Listen up: Mahar knows the intricacies of the Institute where the Xeron’s kept. He wants to draw us a map of the tunnels.” I told them, masking my thrilled nature.
“Wait. Kai, how does this commoner,” Rowan accentuated the word as if it were poison on his tongue, “know anything about the tunnels?”
“As I’ve told you, Mahar is nothing of a commoner. I met him at an Intergalactic criminal convention. He was there for a reason – Mahar works under cover at the Institute of Technology, providing technological advance information to the most infamous thieves around the galaxy: Sienne, Heema, Itu. They trust him and he can get us inside the tunnels, give us a vague direction of where we’re to go, and stay connected through an earpiece.”
“All right, but I’ll need some reassurance that he won’t give us up to they horrendous police patrolling the Institute 24/7. What can you give us?” Rowan asked, his dusky eyes turning to slits.
“Money, estates, whatever you want.” Mahar replied indifferently with a shrug.
“We need something better.” Rowan said confidently, and I could practically see the wheels turning in his head.
I sat in silence, waiting to see what my twin would come up with.
“What did you have in mind?” Mahar asked curiously, “What would be better for you than more places to hide and more money for new weapons?”
“Don’t be naïve, Nefri. Kairee and I have built hundreds – no, thousands – of manors, estates, and mansions in every part of the universe. Money is no object in our family, so that would simply be unnecessary. I’m thinking something a little more…personal.” Rowan told him, and Mahar’s eyebrow lifted in curiosity, “Something you would have to get back from us. What about that?” Rowan’s gaze went to Mahar’s right ring finger.
When Mahar lifted his hand, I got a good look at the amazing ring. It was white gold with a hundred pure, forest green emeralds set around a large diamond.
“That’s stunning.” I cut in, “May I ask where you got it?”
“Of course.” Mahar smiled, “When I was about your age, six years ago, my father went to America and became president. He was given this ring to symbolize the unity of America and the rest of the world through their first foreign president. Just before I turned twenty, my father became horribly ill and gave me the ring. On my twenty-first birthday, he passed away.”
Rowan smiled almost insensitively, “Perfect.”
Mahar reluctantly pulled the ring off his finger and handed it to my brother.
“I promise I’ll take good care of it.” Rowan said quietly.
A handsome, raven-haired waiter came over with four beverages, and flashed me a flirtatious smile. Charming waiters are lovely here on Earth – it’s pretty much the only planet where cute boys, of mostly the same species, can flirt with me.
My drink is a blue-raspberry martini, Rowan held a glass of Chardonnay, Mahar with a beer, and Salah sipped a Coke looking exceedingly awkward.
“What?” I asked when Salah eyed me suspiciously.
“You’re not old enough to drink.” He said matter-of-factly.
“On this planet.” I scoffed, “Where I come from, the government has realized that that Saizians mature faster than any other species. My brain, unlike yours, is already fully developed and isn’t affected by alcohol the same way as a human’s. Why do you care anyways? On Saize they introduce you from a young age, like in France, so one martini won’t affect me like it’ll affect you, little boy. Anyways,” I sighed, “Mahar? What are your terms?”
“What do you mean ‘terms?’” He asked innocuously, but I knew.
“Ha ha,” I smiled without warmth, “We all know that not even the most generous person in the galaxy would give away this information without some sort of bartering item. Money, perhaps? Inexplicable fame?” I tried slyly.
“None of these.” He replied, leaving me in the figurative dust.
“Then what?” Rowan snaps, knowing (unlike myself, at the time) where Mahar’s thoughts were headed.
“I want the Xeron.”
This is unheard of.
Outraging.
My eyes almost popped out of my head, and I had to take a few deep breaths to get myself under control, “No. Anything but that. Nobody gives up their spoils of battle, and thievery is my unending war.”
He smiled at me almost knowingly, and I felt like spitting at him.
A snarl just about escaped my lips as I clenched my teeth. I would have yelled at him in some language he wouldn’t understand when I felt Salah’s hand on my leg. I was still fuming, but now somewhat flattered. His touch was warm on my bare leg, causing my skin to tingle and my head to become momentarily clouded.
I squeezed back my anger, letting it simmer for another few minutes.
“That is my one term. You can have all the glory, but I want the prize.”
The nerve!
Wrathful anger bubbled up inside me, making my stomach churn and my head spin. Even Salah’s attempted comfort couldn’t hold back my rage. Never, in any history I’ve ever read, has anyone ever heard a request of such audacity!
> He wants my prize!
With that goes the glory!
“Salah, Rowan, I need to speak with you. Immediately.” I stood up abruptly and walked to an open door that led into the kitchen.
“Hey!” Our waiter yelled in Arabic, clearly a native, coming after us, “You’re not allowed in there!”
I stopped suddenly, allowing him to catch up with us. My temper was flaring at Mahar, indecision lacing my brain and clouding all my decisions.
In short, this wasn’t a good time to mess with me.
I slammed the door behind him without turning.
“Don’t screw with me. You either walk out of here and never see me again, or in two minutes you can be decaying on this floor.” I growled to the waited I couldn’t see. I felt strong hands on my shoulders, one Salah’s and the sturdier obviously Rowan’s, and he was squeezing my shoulder.
I heard the idiotic waiter take out his cell phone. He was about to dial security when I whipped around, grabbing his phone, and stared him straight in the eye.
“That’s not a good idea. Trust me.” I growled.
“What are you going to do? I’ve got a head on you. You’re tiny; I could take you. I’ve seen your posters and I could haul you to jail and get a reward.” He responded.
I pull a knife that had been strapped under my tank-top and press it to his throat. A look of rapid terror spread on his face, his sparkling blue eyes wide in horror.
“Now, what did you have to say to me?” I smiled sweetly.
“Nothing.” He gagged out.
“Oh? I think that since you have nothing to say, you have nothing to live for.”
“I’m not ready to d-”
This is one of the most typical lines I’ve heard from captives on their death beds.
So I reply with a classic line.
“You’re not ready to die? Then you shouldn’t have lived.” I grimaced, plunging the dagger into the small of his back. I felt Salah’s hand withdraw sharply from my shoulder.
Rowan’s, on the other hand, didn’t flinch – he was used to my ruthless ways. I slowly pulled my knife from his still blushing flesh and wiped it on his blue jeans, leaving a streak of crimson on his leg. Glancing fleetingly at his face, I watched the life leave his eyes and the color fly away like a frightened bird. With his legs no longer supporting his body, the waiter plummeted to the hard stone of the kitchen, blood slowly pulsing out of his fresh wound. The stench of flesh combined with the air of death was in the room.
“Kai? Calm down.” Rowan gripped my shoulder more tightly and turned me around. My breath was heavy and quick, and the erratic beating of my adrenaline-pumped heart echoed through my body.
My fury still had not subsided at Mahar.
“I just…I cannot believe he wants the Xeron!” I yelled. I had to hope the door was soundproofed, but if it wasn’t, so be it.
“Kairee, listen. We have to give it to him.” Salah said with conviction.
“What?!” I stammered at him, “You want to give up our glory? This was your plan anyways. Why would you want to write it off to someone else?” I snapped.
“You know what he’ll do if we don’t agree to give him the Xeron, right?” Salah seemed surprised that I didn’t understand all his thoughts.
I was shocked. Salah’s no mind reader, so I must have missed something
“He’ll tell the universe about the plan. We won’t be able to get in the Institute with or without his help.” Salah reasoned, “The place is already going to be crawling with police, security guards, and tourists. We’ll have to do everything we can to get in, and we don’t want them to know we’re coming.”
“He’s right,” my brother said, sincerity in his eyes as he looked into mine, his tone softening, “This is big. We have to do this, and it has to be done right. My only question is how Mahar knew that we’re going to steal the Xeron.” Rowan said, his eyes narrowing.
“Oh god.” I breathed, realization seeping into my head.
“Thanks Rowan. Listen up: we have to take him back for questioning after we get a map of the tunnels. I never told him we were stealing the Xeron. That means somebody knows, besides us.”
“So the twins make another enemy.” Salah said.
“An enemy we need to find. Before we steal the Xeron.”
June 15th 8:40 am
Cairo, Planet Earth: Egyptian Bistro
“So, how about those maps?” Rowan asked Mahar.
I was sitting at our table, sulking and drinking my martini. I couldn’t talk about the Xeron now, after I had agreed to give it up.
Hopefully, we’d find a way to trick him into sending it back to us.
“Okay, come with me.” Mahar commanded, standing up.
This seems to be a pattern among criminals – this leaving public places almost as soon as arriving.
Walking out of the gated courtyard, I noticed something particularly…unsettling. At first, I only saw the bright flashes. Then, I noticed the people milling about, wearing black and sporting cameras.
Paparazzi. Ugh.
I couldn’t help but find it funny that paparazzi simply question and follow me, but don’t call the cops.
“Follow me!” I shouted, taking off my shoes; I’d run faster without them. The stone road was hot under my feet as I started off towards the nearest building – a four floor stone affair with one widow cut out of the top.
“Kairee! Is it true you’re planning a big scam for your three-hundredth crime?!”
“Kairee! What are you going to steal?! How big are we talking?!”
“Rowan! Rowan! Is it true you and Salah are fighting for the affection of your sister?!”
“Salah! Is there a romance between you and Kairee yet?!”
Idiots, the lot of them.
The questions were ridiculous, but one stopped me in my tracks.
“Kairee! A source tells us you’re stealing the Xeron! Is that true?!”
I turned around, grabbed the reporter who said that and pressed my knife to her throat.
“All of you get out of here or I’ll slit your throats!” I screamed, glaring at each one in turn. One of the reporter’s fingers twitched over the photo button, and a flash set off. I took immediate action and whipped around to plunge my knife into his heart while still holding back the woman.
The rest of them looked petrified and fled the scene, towards the restaurant we were just at. I suspected they would link the dead waiter to me – obviously – and twist out some deranged story about how I was yelling death threats at them. They would warp it into how I was on a crazy killing spree, rampaging through a terrified Egypt.
“You’re coming with us,” I told the trembling reporter in my grip, continuing on up the stairs of the building. There were four flights of steps to the top, and I dragged the girl all the way, and at the top I handed her off to my brother. He restrained her struggling frame. She was small – maybe 5’4 at the most – with a frail frame, much like mine but with no muscles. Her hair was long and silky auburn, and she had twinkling, spring green eyes that held flecks of black and hazel.
The room we entered was large and made completely of stone. There was a skylight cut out of the thick rock ceiling, and another hole in the wall to my right. The stone walls were a faded yellow color, looking sandblasted and rocky. The floor, on the other hand, was a dark, flat slate that clicked when I walked across.
“Rowan, let her go. Know this, reporter, if you even try to escape, I won’t have a single aversion with hurting you, or worse. You obviously know who I am, and I think I have a right to know the same about you.” I told her with malice in my voice.
“I-it’s uh…A-Adena Ognian. Please don’t hurt me,” She began crying. It was pitiful.
“Shut up,” I sighed, annoyed, “I won’t hurt you unless you do something stupid. Rowan!” I snapped, “Didn’t I tell you to let her go?!”
He dropped her and she almost plummeted to the ground in fear. She sat down instead of getting up, rocking b
ack and forth nervously.
Am I that intimidating? Good.
“Cooperate with me, all right? Then I can let you go.” I told her softly, and she nodded her head willingly.
“All right, Adena. Now, I need to ask who told you we were stealing the Xeron. Who was it?” I demanded.
“My boss.” She cried plainly, tears streaming down her face.
“Who’s your boss?” I inquired coldly.
“A woman called Zenda.” She enlightened me.
“Zenda? Who is she?” I asked, utterly confused.
In seconds, I flew through a rally of tens of thousands of people I had met, heard of, hated, hunted, or hurt. Never had I met a Zenda.
“A very powerful woman with a lot of connections. She has a plan to off you by the time you get the Xeron. She wants it.” Adena divulged to me.
“Oh does she? Did she happen to mention what planet she’s from? If, of course, you’ve spoken to her,” I reply.
“She said she was from Saize, recently. She said it was your home planet, so she had to move there.” Adena conveyed to me.
“How long has she been following me?” I posed.
“A few years, at most. She hasn’t been very interested until now, since you suddenly want her prize. I…I can’t tell you anything else. She’ll kill me,” Adena sobbed.
“So she’s dangerous.” I deduce, “Are you wearing a wire?”
“Yes – directly connected to her. P-Please don’t hurt me,” She sniffled.
“Haven’t I told you I’m not going to hurt you?” I snapped, irritated, “I’m positive you know that. The only person who’ll hurt you is this Zenda woman.” I walked over to her, and she began cringing.
I almost slapped her, but refrained.
I reached behind her ear, pulled out the wire and mike set. I put the microphone to my mouth, the earpiece behind my ear and said, “Listen here, Zenda, and listen well. You’re messing with the wrong girl here and I know I could take you down. I don’t know who you are but I’ll find out. I swear if I ever see you near me, I’ll-”
