NoFoolAnUndercoverMission

by Ann Raina

  Cebrail stood more erect. “I know he will, but to serve him is already the goal for me.”

  “Very well. It is good to have a goal at all in life. Most people don’t care for such luxury.” Lady Summerston glanced at George, who had stopped wiping his pants. She dropped her gaze on the used paper tissues on the table, then toward the paper basket closest to Cebrail. George’s eyes widened. She lifted her brows briefly, then turned back to the young Arab. “How old are you?”

  * * * *

  Cebrail frowned. The conversation irritated him and it showed. These women and the man should be frightened to death by Kamal’s announcement. Yet they were composed. He looked from one to the other. They seemed unthreatening. The old woman was fat, her face puffy and red as if she’d faint any moment. The young one appeared timid. And Mr. Summerston had always done what Kamal wanted and backed down from his opinion. He had watched it and admired his leader for his unrelenting will and determination. He would not fail him. Cebrail gripped his weapon tighter.

  * * * *

  “How old are you?” Lady Summerston repeated.

  “Nineteen.”

  “For how long have you been with Kamal?”

  Cebrail looked at her haughtily. “Long enough to understand his way.”

  She nodded, praising his decision with an amiable expression. George got up and collected the paper tissues. He gestured toward the basket.

  No one could ever tell later if it happened because of the two scotch the lady had drunk in her quarters before or if simply her temper and frustration won over better judgment. The moment Cebrail turned his head to look at George was the moment Lady Summerston got on her feet, the paperweight in her right hand, and leapt forward with strength and determination. The sub machine gun changed direction. Cebrail’s eyes widened. The lady swung to hit the glass against Cebrail’s forehead. The youth aimed and pulled the trigger a friction of a second before the weight crashed against his nose, knocking him backward.

  Cebrail stumbled, pulled the trigger again and fell against the wall, ripping down a calendar from a wine company. Lady Summerston grunted. The muzzle had hit her sizeable belly, but the bullet never left the chamber—the safety was still on. She pushed away the Uzi and struck again, this time with more precision. Panting, she stood over Cebrail’s slumped figure. He didn’t move. Blood gushed down his nose and a bruise blossomed on his forehead where the impact had been strongest.

  “Wow.” Alyssa let go of her breath she hadn’t thought of holding. One hand was on her heart, the other steadied her at the desk. Fear that Lady Summerston would be dead any moment strangled the words in her throat. “You did it!”

  Lady Summerston breathed so heavily she couldn’t speak. She put the paperweight back on the desk and grabbed its rim tight, knuckles white. The muzzle… She closed her eyes for a second, regaining her equanimity.

  Alyssa smiled tentatively. “You’re one remarkable woman.”

  The lady’s voice was hoarse and grim. She smoothed her blouse and straightened. “I hope he is out for the count.”

  George woke up from stunned immobility and checked Cebrail. “He’s still breathing.”

  “Then tie him up.”

  “Tie…” George swallowed and shook his head. Sweat was on his brow and he looked as if he’d throw up. “You could’ve killed him, Kate!”

  “Aren’t you good for anything?” Lady Summerston snapped. “Now, hurry! If he’s not dead, he’ll be around again. I so don’t want him in my back!” She turned to Alyssa. “Thank you. Do you have a rope around here?”

  “No rope, but some wrapping cord.” She pulled it from a drawer and tossed it to George. “Here! Catch!”

  “You take this as a joke, too?” George was appalled.

  The ladies exchanged a glance that was enough to mutually understand George was a weakling.

  She handed Alyssa the Uzi. “Do you know how to use it?”

  “You trust me with a gun? I fuck your precious Matt.” But she took the weapon.

  Lady Summerston’s lips twitched. “That’s why. He’s in deep trouble and we’re going to save him. We have to get out of here.” Lady Summerston pulled her act together. Though her heart protested the sudden exertion, she felt fit and very alive. “Proposals?”

  “The back door leads to another room and then toward the back corridor. We can pass through it and into the wine cellar.”

  “How convenient.” She eyed George tying up Cebrail’s hands with insecure moves. “Ah, come on, that won’t work!” She squatted beside him and wound the rope as tight as it would go around the young man’s wrists. “Don’t look at me like a deer caught in the headlights! If you’re that squeamish, you shouldn’t have gotten into dealing with Kamal in the first place!” She shot him a glare when he retreated, irritated and miserable. “What did you expect?” She stopped her doings to look in his eyes. “The last I heard was that you were quite afraid of what Kamal would say when I made my demands. Why didn’t you chase him away earlier? Or stick to your decision, but take it like a man?” She finished binding Cebrail and held out her hand toward George. “Your tie.”

  George opened his mouth, closed it and took off his blue-striped tie.

  “Thanks.” Lady Summerston used it as a gag. “Now, we’ll hide him here somewhere.” She looked around.

  “In the corner,” Alyssa suggested and they both dragged the unconscious man across the floor.

  * * * *

  George watched, heart hammering, fear gripping his body so tight he wanted to sit down and didn’t dare to. If Kamal learned of this, he’d kill them all! There was no doubt about his intentions. The morning’s sudden grouping of his followers had warned George, but he hadn’t thought that Kamal would take command so soon. He had had thoughts of that before—how it would be to lose his home and his sister-in-law. Now, as the threat became real, he changed his plans how he would save David and himself. If the ship was to sink, he wouldn’t be there to drown.

  * * * *

  “Look what I found in his back pocket.” Sebahat, a man of thirty years, small and slender with a face that could lure an angel, approached Kamal to hand him the swipe card. “It’s not his, right?” He was eager to be praised. He didn’t like working as an errand boy in a house so big. He came from a small village and all he knew about the great world he had learned from Kamal. The outside world was ruthless, brutal and getting worse. Only men like Kamal were able to set things right. He would follow him to whatever end this journey held in store.

  “It’s Alyssa’s.” Kamal turned the swipe card between his fingers, gazing absent-mindedly at Michael hanging in the center of the dungeon. “So she betrayed us. Small wonder.” He made a derisive gesture toward the captive. “Ask him again what he knows.”

  Dutifully, Sebahat turned on his heels and went back to hitting their prisoner and asking the same questions they had asked for the last half hour. Kamal looked at the card, pursing his lips. Alyssa had had access to the second office to help erase flaws in programs his followers had written. She was an excellent worker, fast and effective with a superb knowledge of data and how to use the Internet in the most advantageous way. Kamal regretted that Alyssa was not made to follow him; that she only helped him for money and would have to be wasted when the time came. He had threatened to kill her if she ever told the police. Yet she had given him away to the first man entering her filthy bed. Kamal despised women who had no stamina. All of them were weaklings. All Americans were weak, coaxed by a beautiful face and therefore nothing more than sinners he had to punish.

  Kamal tried to remember all details of his latest visit to the secret office. He had been alone and nothing extraordinary had happened. All systems had booted as usual. He frowned and the ugly feeling of having missed something twisted his guts. He had made contact to his leader, explained the recent developments and taken the harsh reprimands lying down. Kamal knew that his leader, who was still far away, could do nothing else but admonish him so he had enough ti
me to set it right. Success was close at hand. He would not let it slip away.

  * * * *

  “I don’t have my swipe card anymore,” Alyssa stated with a shy glance at George. “We have to use yours.”

  “Who has got yours?”

  Lady Summerston huffed at George’s incredulous indignation. “You better produce this card right now or the paperweight crashes on your head! And don’t you think I’d mourn the loss!” She turned to Alyssa. “Where’s yours?”

  Alyssa’s voice dropped to a whisper. “I gave it Matt. He wanted to…” She shrugged. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if he had time to use it.”

  Lady Summerston knew exactly that Matt had had the time. She could see through the lie quite easily. She nodded once. “George, the card, now.”

  With the same reluctance like a goat drawn to its slaughter, George pulled out the swipe card and granted them access to the second office.

  Lady Summerston quickly surveyed the hidden place. She didn’t keep her disgust at bay. “You lead a secret life, my dear George, how enchanting. I hope you have an escape plan handy when all of this goes down the gutter.” She smirked. “Oh, I know what you think. Get rid of the old sod and be off with money! New name, new friend and off into a new country! Make sure it doesn’t deliver felons to the US for I will place an accusation.”

  “Why don’t you stop bickering and concentrate on our way out?” George snapped and slowly opened the back door to the corridor. It was empty and quiet. “This way.” He pointed left.

  “If you stop looking guilty, we might as well march out here.” Lady Summerston emerged into the dim light of the corridor, looked left and right and turned to Alyssa. “Which way?”

  “Through the door over there.”

  “A door?” She didn’t see it. “You made some changes since I last saw this basement.”

  George put away the swipe card, closed the office door and led the way. “I relied on our agreement, and be honest—you don’t need this whole lot of space down here.”

  “I remember that I had this excavated to have a bowling lane down here, not…whatever you had them build. They might have an execution lane down here, as far as I see.”

  “For God’s sake, stop it, Kate! There’s no time now.”

  “Right.” Lady Summerston stooped to fit through the door that led into the wine cellar. “There’ll be a lot of time later.”

  * * * *

  Michael swore he would change jobs if he made it out of the dungeon alive. So far, he hadn’t revealed the true nature of his occupation or his employer. Kamal thought him to be from the FBI and he made no attempt to teach him otherwise. The beating went on until Michael felt consciousness slip away. He was glad to fall into the embrace of the dark room where no terrorist could hurt him anymore.

  * * * *

  Kamal looked at the slumped figure with the same disgust he had shown the traitor he had killed. He thought of what he would do with that G-man once he had confessed. There was no telling when this would be and he ran out of time. Reports told him that so far no guests or staff members had noticed the lady of the house missing, but with every hour chances increased she would be needed and searched for. He cursed under his breath and called Sebahat. “Wake him up! I want you to continue! Now!”

  * * * *

  “Let me take over here,” Alyssa whispered as they reached the vinery. She gave back the SMG.

  “What for?”

  “There’s a man out there, you know. I’ll lure him in here and, well—” She smiled a shy, quickly dying smile. “We’ll knock him off the way you did before.”

  “Clever girl. Go ahead. We’ll hide in here.” Lady Summerston weighed the gun in her hands. It was compact and heavy. She wouldn’t dare firing it, but it would serve as a club.

  While they retreated, Alyssa went to the closest shelf, heart pounding hard against her ribs. She wasn’t a tough woman. She wasn’t even courageous, but the thought of her life at stake gave her the push she needed. She pulled the topmost bottle.

  “No! Not this one!”

  Alyssa swiveled round, eyes wide. “What?”

  George wrung his hands. “It costs more than $200!”

  She put it back carefully.

  “Take the one below if you have to!”

  Alyssa grimaced and did as told. After listening to the quietness outside the room, she tossed the bottle a few yards away and retreated. The noise was like an explosion in the secluded space. She stopped breathing, afraid she would not only alarm the man standing guard outside, but the whole building. Steps got closer, quickly. Joshua appeared around the corner, astonished. He looked at the mess on the floor, then saw Alyssa.

  “What happened? How do you get here?”

  “I came through here.” She indicated the false barrel.

  Joshua frowned and moved in, a hand in his jacket, close to his gun. He frowned. “What were you doing here?”

  “I needed to get out.”

  He was one step in front of her. When he saw movement out of the corner of his eye, the gun butt hit his temple and he went down like a stone.

  “Is he unconscious?” Lady Summerston stood with the gun, ready to use it again. Her breathing was ragged and a flitting moment she thought about the irony if she went down with a heart attack now.

  Alyssa, kneeling beside the guard, nodded. “Out cold. You got quite a punch. You’re getting a hang on this, aren’t you? I’d better be careful around you from now on.”

  “I’d prefer to stay in my line of profession.” She handed back the Uzi, glad to be rid of it. “It’s a heavy piece of equipment.”

  “Why do you think I used it before?” She put it down beside her.

  “Were you with the bad guys or not?”

  “Not a fair assumption.” Alyssa used the rest of the wrapping cord she had stuffed in her pocket to tie up Joshua. “We need another gag.”

  Lady Summerston produced a long thin scarf she had in her jacket pocket. “Here. That’ll do. George, help her stuff that guy in the barrel.”

  George shook his head. “You’re both mad! Kamal will kill us all!”

  “Yes, I heard you. But what do you think he’ll do with all of us after his job’s finished here? Hand us back the keys and leave?”

  “It was never his intention—”

  “You’re the bloodiest fool I ever met.”

  They hid Joshua and turned to the exit. Lady Summerston and Alyssa stood listening close to the stairway. “Sounds safe to move. I need to get to my guards.”

  “There’s still time to escape!”

  “Stop whining, George! I won’t leave all my guests and staff to those maniacs!”

  “Not to forget Matthew,” Alyssa whispered.

  “Yes, not to forget him.”

  Chapter 21

  “Where’re you going?” George hurried to keep pace with his sister-in-law, always turning and making sure they were not followed. He felt sick and weak and the moment they had passed the exit had been the hardest. Only the lady’s icy stare had kept him from running.

  “I need my guards.”

  She didn’t say another word. George shook his head as they rushed upstairs.

  “Check for Peter.”

  George opened his mouth for a reply, but closed it again and did as ordered. There was no use to discuss his duties with her now. She moved on like a train on a track, Alyssa close behind her.

  * * * *

  Downstairs, Linda Bernstein followed gut feeling. Seeing Lady Summerston, Alyssa and George hurry through the lobby, made her anxious to know the reason. The moment she went up to the first floor, she saw the lady and Alyssa heading for a door at the far end of the corridor while George had already disappeared. “On a word, Lady Summerston!”

  “Not now. I’m busy,” she called over her shoulder. “If you got a complaint, you might as well talk to my assistant.”

  “I don’t think so.” Linda closed the gap and saw the Uzi in Alyssa’s hands. S
he lifted her brows. “Trouble in the house?”

  “None of your business.” Lady Summerston pushed open the door and kept Linda back with an outstretched hand. “Excuse us, this is private.”

  “And I think, my assistance could be helpful.” Linda forced her way into the small office, ignoring the lady’s apparent anger. “What happened downstairs? I heard a bottle crash and then some other noise that makes me wonder—” Her gaze found the weapon again. “If there’s something I should know about.”

  “Who are you to offer me help?”

  “What happened?”

  Lady Summerston and Linda Bernstein went into a duel of stares. “Bad people on the premises. And one of my boys is their hostage.”

  “Matthew.”

  “How do you know?”

  She closed the door. “He’s the kind of guy that gets into trouble all of the time. How can I help?”

  Lady Summerston switched on the computer and monitor and reached for the house phone. “Who do you work for?” She waited for Bryan to pick up the call. “I need you and all of the men up on the first floor. Last room to the right. Now.” She put the phone back on the cradle. “Well?”

  “CIA.”

  Lady Summerston pondered over that statement. “Do you carry any ID you can show me?”

  “It’s not the time to question my occupation, milady. Do you know where Matthew is kept?”

  The lady pointed toward the monitor. “Look for yourself.” She switched to the cameras in the dungeon. The clear pictures of Michael, Kamal and his minions took their breaths away. “It’s high time we get him out of there.”

  Linda shook her head. “Let me call my people. They’ll send an evacuation team.”

  “No. We can’t wait for some mysterious cavalry to ride to the front. Kamal’s mad and he hates Matthew. He won’t wait until you’re ready to attack!”