Identity Crisis (Blood Brothers #4)

by Manda Mellett

  Studying Afeef, watching the elderly Arab staring out across the sands, I come to a decision. “We head east,” I tell my colleagues, firmly.

  “But she could have gone in any direction,” Hunter protests, he’s looking concerned. Like me, he knows time is running out. We have to find her soon. “We should wait for the updated satellite image.”

  “But that will be hours,” I protest. And if they don’t have water that could be too long.

  Rais is staring at me, his hand brushing his beard, and then stopping to cup his chin. “Sean’s right.” As I look up in surprise he continues, “She’s an analyst, Hunter’s been telling me. She’ll be thinking logically. And that logic will tell her to avoid going around in circles. A desert Jeep will probably have a compass even if it doesn’t have GPS. She’s got no desert survival skills, has she?” This question is thrown out to all of us, and we shake our heads, no. Because at the time we didn’t think she’d need them. “In that case,” he continues, “Her thought would be to get far away from this place in case more men come to find them.”

  “Could she have simply driven a short distance away? To get behind the rocks?”

  Rais indicates the solid cliff wall to the rear of the building. It seems to stretch for miles in either direction. “Personally, I think she’d head out and keep driving. She probably has no idea how vast and remotely populated the desert is.”

  Particularly if she’s headed east. There was nothing on the map for hundreds of miles until she hits the border with Alair, and even after that, there’s just more miles of sand.

  Shaking his head, Nat checks his ammunition.

  “Got something to say?” I ask.

  He huffs a breath in, “I don’t mind chasing off after her, but fuck knows where she’s heading. She might be coming back this way, and we’ll miss her again.”

  Rising up on the toes of my desert boots, I settle back down on my heels again. This hanging around is not doing anything but getting on my nerves. I just want to take some action, but I don’t have a clue what’s the right thing to do. I hate this lack of control.

  Ryan appears, even though it’s early he’s already wiping sweat from his brow, “Just finished filling up the tanks. We’ve got some left for refuelling later if necessary.”

  Afeef has been walking further away from the camp, but he comes slowly back, his hands gesturing he’s found nothing of use. Fuck.

  The satellite phone rings, Ryan goes to answer it. His hand comes out to touch the adobe wall, and he smacks it a couple of times. “That’s fucking fantastic news, Jon. Thanks for that. Send the coordinates. Cheers mate.”

  “What is it?” I’m by his side in seconds.

  “Kadar’s pulled in a favour and has got info from a French satellite which was crossing the area as dawn broke. They’ve had people examining it since first light and have found the Jeep. It doesn’t appear to be moving, and he’s given me the coordinates.” He waves at Rais who brings over the map. As Ryan reads out what Jon has sent, Rais marks the spot. Using the spread of his hand he measures the distance. I note it’s due east of here. “It’s about a hundred and forty miles, just under an hour’s flying.” And the good news is, that will mean we’ve got plenty of fuel to get her back out to safety. “Praise Allah!” Rais raises his eyes to the heavens.

  The relief I feel almost sends me crashing to my knees.

  Without waiting for any instruction, we gather our packs, put guns in holsters and make our way to the two choppers. Rais walks to one, the pilot who brought us here, to the other. Hunter and I choose to go with the desert sheikh while Ryan and Nat go with the pilot who brought us to the desert. Soon rotors are turning, and the helicopters are lifting into the air, their tail rotors spinning as we make a stomach lurching turn and set off on the heading we’ve been given.

  Hang on Nessa! We’re on our way.

  Nessa must have had a tedious journey, though relatively flat with no large dunes to go over, it would still be difficult driving for someone not accustomed to it. The ground varies from a hard-packed gravel where she could have picked up some speed, to a rocky terrain where she would have needed to take good care. And a large part of it is visibly soft sand which would have caused her real problems. Nessa did well to cover the distance she had mostly in the dark. Full of sympathy, I realise not knowing help was on the way, she must have just kept driving on, hoping to get to civilisation for help. And now she’s probably run out of fuel. And will have given up hope. Hang on, Nessa. We’re coming!

  After what seems an inordinate amount of time, but is no more than Rais’s original assessment, Ryan points excitedly from one of the rear passenger seats. Up ahead is a Jeep. My jaw locks tight, my muscles are tense as I understand I’ve no idea what we’re going to find. Is she injured? Is Mollie alright?

  We land a short distance away, the terrain’s rocky and the pilots have had to look for suitable ground to set down. Before the rotors stop spinning, I’m out of my seat and on the ground. The other helicopter lands alongside.

  Now on foot, me with a decided limp, we draw closer and can see the sound of our engines has attracted attention. Two people step out from where they were sheltering in the small amount of shade provided by the broken down vehicle. One is carrying something, it’s Nessa, with Mollie in her arms. The sense of relief all but overwhelms me.

  With every second we’re getting nearer, but much as I want to run, I know I have to be cautious. Two people is something I didn’t expect. Unless it’s a guard…

  “Fuck! There’s another woman with her.” Ryan points out. “Who the hell is that?” The woman is slightly behind Nessa and has her head bowed, and from my position, I can’t tell who she is.

  Covering my eyes against the sun’s glare and squinting to bring her into focus, it’s then I recognise her, “Danielle! What the fuck is she doing here?”

  “Come to get her baby, I expect.”

  But she’s not the one holding Mollie close in her arms.

  I start to run; Nessa is coming toward me fast, holding that precious bundle so tightly to her. She near enough for me to see tears making channels through the dust caking her face. Danielle’s up close behind her. Suddenly both women stop.

  Nessa’s eyes are staring, her mouth open wide, and she’s mouthing something which looks suspiciously like oh shit!

  “Don’t come any closer,” Danielle calls out. “I’ve got a gun. Throw your weapons on the ground.”

  “That right, Van?” Hunter calls out.

  “Yes.” Her face twists and her eyes drop down.

  “Where are the people in the other helicopter?” Danielle sounds mistrustful.

  Glancing around, I see no sign of the pilot or his passengers. I offer her what I hope is a plausible reply, “The pilot is waiting with the chopper. He’s a civilian pilot, just here to help with the search.” I can only hope she believes me as knowing my colleagues they’ll have something planned.

  “I’ll take the baby and be off, then.” She grins, and it’s easy to see what she’s thinking. Offer the pilot enough money, and he’ll take her anywhere.

  I take a step forward, keeping her attention on me, seeing a movement in the sand off to my right. Ryan has descended from the other helicopter and is crawling slowly across the surface, his camouflage desert clothing helping to hide him from view. Out of the side of my eye, I see him successfully reach some low rocks. Nat’s doing the same, but coming up from the opposite side. I’ve got to keep her talking and her attention on me.

  She considers the two aircraft, her brow furrowing. “One of you, shoot out the tail rotor off that helicopter.” She points to the one Rais had flown.

  Hunter and I exchange glances, if we do that, we won’t all be getting out of here. The helicopters are R44s with only room for four people. She’s obviously opting to go with what she’s probably hoping is a neutral pilot.

  “You planning on leaving some of us here, Danielle?”

  “I’m sorry, Sean,” s
he sounds anything but, “It’s just the way it has to be. I’ll be leaving. With my baby.”

  I hear a gasp from Nessa, and watch as her arms encircle Mollie in a more secure hold. Her eyes are on me, pleading. I take a step forward. “You can’t do that.” I need to ensure her attention is on me.

  “Watch me. And anyway, your woman’s dead already but just doesn’t know it.” Danielle shrugs nonchalantly.

  “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “You know who she killed?” She’s glaring at me, fire in her eyes.

  Another step toward her. Just keep her talking and her focus on me.

  “Stay back! Or I’ll shoot her. A bullet through the spine.”

  “Shoot Nessa, and you risk shooting Mollie as well.” The likelihood of a bullet going through them both is dubious, but at that close range, possible. Although the sun’s blazing down, I shudder.

  Behind me, Hunter scuffs his boot against the ground and stamps.

  “Keep still!”

  “Scorpion.” He calls out to explain, perfectly plausibly, particularly as he quickly sidesteps away from where he was standing.

  That’s enough of a distraction to allow Nat to come up behind her. I just need to buy him a few more seconds. To keep her looking at me I play along, “Who did Nessa kill who’s so important?”

  “Nasir al-Fahri.” She calls out.

  Shit! Amir al-Fahri’s son. A man so elusive we hadn’t recognised him as being one of the bodies left back at the dwelling.

  Nat’s right at her back. His gun cocks audibly in the still air, and I see Danielle’s body go rigid as she feels metal against her ear. He reaches round and takes the Glock, Nessa’s Glock, from her hand.

  Nessa steps away, her breath coming in fast pants as though she’s just run a mile. Knowing Nat has the bitch who birthed my child safely contained I close the gap between us, rushing to my woman, putting my arms around both her and my daughter, relishing the feel of them both. And then I notice. Mollie’s quiet, too quiet. And still.

  “She needs a doctor, fast, Sean.” More tears are flowing now, “God, Sean. She needs a doctor!”

  Nessa herself looks in a bad way, her eyes are sunken in, obviously dehydrated. I go to take the burden from her, but she’s clinging onto Mollie as though she’s never going to let her go. As I try again, a small whimper comes from her mouth, and her dull eyes plead with me. Never had I expected her to bond with my child in such a way, especially after everything she’d told me, but now she seems terrified of letting anyone take her, even me, her father.

  “Let me have her, Nessa. You’re dead on your feet.” I keep my voice quiet and low, soothing.

  “No.” It’s a refusal, but also a plea.

  “Let’s help her to the helicopter, Sean,” Rais is speaking quietly for such a big man. “Let her keep hold of the child.”

  I jerk my chin, not understanding why, but somehow, I know she needs this. With the sheikh on one side and me on the other, we half carry woman and child to the chopper and help her inside. Once there, Nessa’s head lolls back. Peering into the blanket I see Mollie; she’s barely breathing. She’s naked beneath the covering, her body blazing red. What the hell have they been through?

  Rais waits only for Hunter to join us then lifts off almost before he gets into his seat. As we rise into the air, I see Ryan and Nat have Danielle restrained, and are dragging her toward the other helicopter. I don’t give a fuck how they treat her, as far as I’m concerned, if that’s the last I ever see of her, the better it will be.

  The half hour flight to Z̧almā seems too long. I sit, my arms round both of my girls, hardly able to believe I’ve got them back. Mollie worries me, she’s so still and quiet. Far too young to have gone through the ordeal she has. Nessa rocks her constantly, and coos to her in the type of voice I never expected to hear. Unresponsive to me, all what remains of her strength is directed toward comforting the baby in her arms.

  Rais radios ahead and arranges to land at the helipad at the desert city hospital, one well equipped to deal with the effects from exposure. Medical staff are awaiting our arrival and quickly whisk Nessa and baby away. Nessa’s only partly conscious, and still they have to pries Mollie from her arms.

  And then I can do nothing but play the waiting game, pacing, unable to relax in the room they’ve directed me to. My hands alternate between twisting together in anguish then fisting in frustration that there’s nothing else I can do but kill time until I hear news.

  Rais stays with me during what seems an agonisingly long hour. After a short discussion where I’m able to function rationally, if only for a few minutes, he’s on his phone, and, as we’d agreed, informing Kadar of the name of the person who had been killed on Amahadian soil. If the country hadn’t already been attracting the attention of al-Fahri, it certainly would be now. The son of the world’s most wanted terrorist is dead. Like Rais, I expect there will be fallout from that, and I dread what form that could take.

  Finally, the door to the waiting room opens and a doctor appears. He bows his head as he acknowledges the sheikh, and then turns to me.

  “Mr Cooper?”

  “How are they?” I can’t be bothered with introductions.

  “The woman you brought in is suffering severe dehydration and exposure but she’s now on a saline drip, and the initial tests didn’t suggest there are going to be any lasting complications.”

  Thank goodness for that. “And Mollie, my baby?”

  As he starts to explain he hasn’t been treating her, another doctor appears. Immediately I take heart that his expression isn’t somber.

  “Mr Cooper, we were told your baby had been given non- pasteurised milk in an unsterilized bottle.” I knew that part, Nessa had been conscious enough to tell them that. “She’s got a high level of bacteria in her stomach as a result, and a high temperature. We’ve given her anti-biotics, and are treating her with intravenous fluids to help with the dehydration. The prognosis is good, and she should make a full recovery.”

  The relief is so immense, I have to put my hand out to the wall to keep myself upright for a moment. Rais claps me on the shoulder, his hand resting for a moment, giving a squeeze of support. Then he nods to the door, and leaves, his job done for now.

  My first visit is to the children’s ward to see Mollie for myself. She’s hooked up to all sorts of equipment, and looks so tiny and forlorn. I hate to see her this way. How the fuck could her real mother put her through something like that? If I see her again, it will be all I could do not to murder her with my own hands.

  I have a short conversation with the nurses, who assure me that Mollie is responding well, and she’s sleeping naturally. They tell me some things about her ongoing care which I know they’ll have to repeat before she’s released, as right now my powers of concentration seem to be nil. All I can focus on is their certainty that there’ll be no lasting ill effects.

  Once I’m confident Mollie’s in safe hands, I make my way to a different ward to see Nessa. Standing at the entrance to her room I examine the woman lying on the hospital bed, her face glowing red with sunburn but strangely still looking wan, her eyelids closed as though she’s sleeping. This woman saved the life of my daughter. The thought almost causes me to stagger with gratitude, and I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to thank her enough for that. I don’t know the whole story yet, but all the evidence suggests seems she protected her, killed the men who’d taken her, and cared for her to the extent that even in her semi-conscious state she wasn’t going to let her go. This woman, who’d told me so emphatically that she ‘doesn’t do babies’.

  As if she senses my presence, she opens her eyes. “Sean,” she breathes, her voice still husky and dry.

  I’m at her side in seconds. Mindful of the drip still running into her arm, I pull her to me. I might be a man, but my masculinity doesn’t stop tears falling from my eyes as I think how close I came to losing her, to losing them both. Her hands grip my arms with a strength I don�
�t expect, her fingers digging into my skin as if to prove I’m here, and her eyes stare up into my face, drinking me in as though she’s afraid I’m a vision and I’ll disappear.

  I’m not letting you go again. I vow, silently, I am never going to let you go.

  Chapter 35

  Vanessa

  “I don’t know how you managed to kill five men, Nessa; that was fucking good going.”

  I’m sitting up now, drinking a welcome cup of tea. Some time ago the nurse came and removed the drip from my hand. Apart from a throbbing headache and the skin feeling hot and tight over my face, I’m feeling more human now, and well enough to answer Ryan’s question.

  “I was lucky only Danielle and Nasir came into the room. I was certain she wasn’t armed, she just didn’t seem the type of person to get her hands dirty herself. I decided to shoot Nasir, and made sure Mollie was out of the line of fire,” I impress that on Sean, and wait for his nod showing he believes me. “The men outside just assumed it was me that had been the target.” I shudder, knowing just how close my brush with death had been. “When I got outside I took two out immediately, they were standing, smoking, and didn’t see me coming. Then it was a bit of a game of cat and mouse with the others.” I shrug, “I got lucky.”

  Sean takes my chin in his hand, “Fuck, Nessa.” He’s shaking his head in disbelief.

  “I took lives, Sean. They’re dead because of me.” I know I’ll have nightmares, will be reliving those bullets smashing into flesh, the blood… Putting my hands on my face, my body shudders again.

  Sean covers my hands with his, “And if you hadn’t, it would be your body lying rotting under the desert sun.”

  I nod, he’s right, but it doesn’t stop tears pricking at my eyes. Before Ryan had joined us, I’d filled Sean in on what had happened from the time he’d left the house in Kadar’s compound to the moment they’d saved me. I also let him know in my opinion how unfit Danielle is to be a mother. And now I need to be assured she’s safely out of the way.