Deception (Powell Book 3)

by Bill Ward

  Deception

  Bill Ward

  Copyright © 2015 Bill Ward

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-13:

  978-1519350527

  ISBN-10:

  151935052X

  It is about time I said thanks to my wonderful partner Anja for all her support and encouragement during the writing of my books. She has to put up with me spending long hours unsociably sat at my computer. She is the first reader of everything I write and her feedback helps make the books a better experience for the readers that follow.

  CHAPTE R ONE

  Fawwaz Al-Hashimi had been well trained in the art of making bombs. The first rule his teacher had taught him was to always have respect for the materials. As his teacher was missing three fingers on one hand, Fawwaz deduced his teacher had learned respect the hard way.

  Fawwaz had asked to learn how to make bombs so he could bring the war to the doorstep of his enemies, in the way they had brought death and destruction to his homeland. He had pulled the bodies of his sister and mother from the rubble left by the bombs, dropped by the accursed British and American planes.

  They fought like cowards, hiding in the sky, shattering both buildings and lives with their technologically advanced weapons but primitive understanding of ancient civilizations, most of which had existed for thousands of years before Columbus ever set foot on America. They did not understand that at the same time their drones left families torn apart, they turned moderates into fanatics. Now these infidels, who waged indiscriminate war against women and children, would learn what it was like to meet your enemy face-to-face on the ground and pay the price for their criminal acts.

  It had been explained to Fawwaz that good a soldier as he was on the battlefield, it was by learning how to make bombs that he could properly revenge his family. He had been a good student. It helped that his mind was focused on the single goal of revenge. He didn’t waste time, like some of his fellow students, on playing computer games or listening to music. In the time when he wasn’t learning how to make bombs, he was training his mind by reading the Koran.

  Neither did he have any wish to take a wife. There were plenty of young girls who wanted to serve the cause in the only way they knew how, by marrying a fighter. He considered girls to be an unnecessary distraction so he declined the many offers of marriage. He was of the opinion, learning how to build bombs and distractions like wives were not good bedfellows. He was fully committed to a noble war. A wife might make him soft and weaken his resolve.

  Sometimes, he lied to himself that when the war was won, he would settle down, take a wife and have children. Everyone was entitled to dream. He understood the reality of his short life would be different. He did not want to leave behind a young widow or father children who would never know their father. He was just turned twenty nine years old and doubted he would see thirty. Fate had decreed he was to be an instrument of his God’s vengeance.

  He had been the star pupil and made many bombs delivered by others over the preceding twelve months but finally it was his time to strike directly at those he hated. He had been willing to be a martyr and wear the suicide vest so he could inflict the most carnage but it had been forbidden. He had been told he was too valuable. It was imperative he remained free as he would be leading a larger, more important attack, planned for the following month. In fact, there was to be a whole campaign of attacks, which would make the enemy too scared to sleep in their beds at night. The idea filled him with joy.

  Fawwaz was proud to have been given such an important role in striking at the heart of his enemy. It was his first time in England and though he had so far seen very little of London, where he was staying, he had no interest in being a tourist. His mind was completely focused on his mission. His success would be measured by the number of dead, which he hoped would run to thousands by the time he was finished.

  He liked that he was working alone on this first mission. He didn’t particularly care for the company of others in normal circumstances, let alone on an important operation. Too many of the others he had fought alongside, had their heart in the right place but simply lacked the skills required to be most effective. It took more than foolish bravery and being devout to be a great warrior. For an important mission it took careful planning and intelligence to guarantee success.

  He had done his homework and was ready to make his enemy start to pay for what they had done. He picked up the rucksack and put it on his back. It was quite heavy but that could not be helped. Two days earlier he had travelled the route and he was confident there would be nothing ruining this glorious day.

  He had chosen a point to strike where he believed there were no cameras to record his actions. He did not wish to see his face broadcast on the television the next day, which would make it impossible for him to carry out further attacks. But he also knew there were cameras all over London and some would capture his image.

  He was dressed in a grey, hooded top and blue jeans. The top was a size too large and the hood fell forward over his forehead, helping to obscure his face. He was also wearing large glasses to further disguise his features. He doubted even his own mother would be able to recognise him from the grainy images typically obtained from CCTV. He checked in the mirror and was confident there was nothing about the way he looked to attract unwanted attention.

  The idea for this first attack was not original but that was not important. He had seen videos on YouTube of the previous year’s race. The London Marathon attracted about forty thousand runners and even more spectators would line the route. Fawwaz considered it a perfect target. The runners came from all over the world so his action would receive global news coverage. It was impossible for the police to patrol the whole route and it would be easy to escape in the chaos of the aftermath, lost in the mass of people watching the race.

  He had recorded a personal video before he arrived in England, which would be broadcast over the internet if, or more likely when, he was finally killed. It was the only time he would be happy to appear on television. He would look down from above and smile at his fame.

  Fawwaz checked the time. He had watched the race start on television, more than an hour ago. He had been pleased to see the streets were so packed with runners and those watching, he expected to achieve heavy casualties. It was time and he could not help the smile that spread across his face as he stepped out of his front door. It was a bright clear day, a good day for doing God’s work.

  “Allahu akbar,” he said quietly, touching the photos of his mother and sister, which were in his inside jacket pocket, close to his heart. God is truly great to give me this chance for revenge.

  CHAPTE R TWO

  As Baz arrived at the apartment, where eight months earlier he had first enjoyed sex with Lara, he was in an ebullient mood. He was under no illusions Lara would at first refuse his suggestion of sex but today he had significant information to offer in exchange. A little old fashioned bartering was in order. He was going to dangle a carrot and knowing the woman she was, he believed she would be unable to resist the temptation to ensure he was fully on-board. She did not need to know the truth, which was that he was going to feed her the information whether or not she agreed to sex. He ultimately had no choice in that matter.

  Today, he would be putting in motion a plan conceived two years earlier. Baz didn’t know why the man he knew only as Phoenix, wanted this information passed to the British but he understood it was of the utmost importance. Baz also knew if Phoenix was made aware of the fact he was bartering with the information for sex, he would not be happy and Phoenix was definitely not a man Baz would wish to make unhappy. Still, life was one eternal risk after another. On the scale of risks he took, the chances of Phoenix
finding out about this particular risk were negligible.

  Lara arrived punctually as always and Baz hurriedly ushered her into the living room. The anticipation of her arrival had been almost too much to bear.

  “It is good to see you, Lara,” Baz greeted her with a broad smile.

  “You seem in an especially good mood,” Lara commented, surprised by the friendly welcome. Over the previous few months of their meeting, she had never previously seen the hint of a smile.

  “I am always excited to see you, Lara. Ever since that first memorable time in this apartment.”

  Lara didn’t like Baz referring to the first time they had met when she had sex with him in order to entrap him. He had supplied a steady stream of worthwhile information since then and there had been no question of her having further sex with him. It was in her hands whether he lived or died and she believed that was sufficient incentive for him to double-cross his terrorist friends. One word from her and those same friends would undoubtedly give him a very slow and agonising death.

  “So what do you have for me today?” Lara asked, taking a seat at the small table. It was their routine that he would sit opposite her but he made no sign of doing so.

  “Would you like something to drink?” Baz asked.

  “No thanks, I am in a hurry. I have another meeting after this,” she lied.

  “You will want to stay longer when you hear what I have to tell you today.”

  Lara became more attentive. This promise of special information and Baz’s happy mood suggested this was not going to be just another routine meeting. “What do you know?” she asked, trying to control her impatience as he turned his back and went to the kettle.

  “First, I am going to make some tea and then I am going to enjoy your company. Afterwards, I will give you the information you crave.”

  “Look Baz, stop messing me about and just tell me what you have to tell me.”

  “No, Lara. I have been risking my life for a long time, providing you with good information but today is far more important than anything I have previously provided. It is only fair that you reward me for my contribution to a meteoric rise in your career.”

  “I’m not fucking you,” she said flatly, finally understanding where the conversation was going.

  “Think of it then as me fucking you.” He laughed at his attempt at humour.

  “If you don’t tell me something soon I’m going to leave here and inform your colleagues how you have been helping us,” Lara threatened.

  “You won’t do that. It is what I believe you English call, cutting off your nose to spite your face. I am too valuable and I don’t think your superiors would be very happy with you losing me as a source. Is it not your job to keep me happy?”

  Lara felt uncomfortable. He had proved to be valuable and should his information dry up so would her immediate career prospects. She didn’t want to have sex with him but she suspected that because he was changing the dynamic of their meeting, he really did have something significant to trade.

  “Can you give me everything I need to know within twenty minutes?” she asked.

  “That should not be a problem,” he confirmed.

  “Then you have thirty minutes of my time to do with as you wish but not a minute more. I cannot be late for my next meeting.”

  “I suppose I have to be grateful for small mercies.”

  “And this information had better be worth it,” she threatened. “Otherwise, I swear you will regret this.”

  “Trust me, you will not be disappointed. Now I suggest you remove your clothes as we are wasting my valuable time.”

  Lara quickly undressed and discarded her clothes on the floor. There was no hint of seduction in the way she removed her clothes. She had no intention of being an equal partner in what was about to take place. She wanted him to know she was doing this under duress not for pleasure.

  Baz had watched her undress without removing any of his clothes. “You are a beautiful woman,” he said, once she was naked. “Lie on the sofa.”

  She spread herself out on the sofa and watched as he undressed. She remembered clearly Baz’s sexual preferences. He liked only anal and oral sex. Everything else was reserved for his wife. The hypocrisy was absurd but she found much about Saudi men to be bizarre.

  As he removed his boxers, she wasn’t surprised to see he was already erect. She enjoyed the male form and had always been able to divorce the act of sex from love or emotions. The demands of her job had made it necessary but in truth, it hadn’t been any great sacrifice learning how to use sex to recruit assets. Men were easily manipulated by their egos and cock.

  She opened her legs hoping he would take the invitation but instead he moved to the side of the sofa, level with her face. He directed his cock straight to her face and she took the end in her mouth. Perhaps he would settle for a simple blow job. She started to suck deeper and he placed his hands behind her head, one hand holding on tightly to her hair. As he thrust he pulled her head towards him, forcing himself deeper.

  She had her hand around the base of his cock, restricting how deep he could penetrate.

  “Hold your hands behind your back,” he instructed. “And don’t move them.”

  She did as he asked and interlocked her fingers as she clasped her hands tightly together. She understood what he wanted.

  His next thrust found her lips up against his skin and he held her there for several seconds until she could take no more and forced her head back so she could breath. He gave her only a couple of seconds before he again pulled on her head as he thrust and buried himself deep in her throat. He repeated the action several times and with his spare hand reached down and started playing with her nipples.

  “Now I’m going to properly fuck your pretty face,” he said, suddenly stopping.

  He took her under the arms and pulled her to the end of the sofa so her head hung backwards over the arm. He took hold of his cock and slid it into her mouth. Upside down, her throat was more open and he was able to reach even deeper.

  Lara believed that each time Baz buried himself in her throat he was repaying her for what she had done to him, turning him into a traitor. It was his small chance for revenge but whatever his motives, she couldn’t deny she was now completely aroused and enjoying being submissive to his sexual desires. For a short time at least she could lose control and forget everything except a primeval need.

  As he grunted and thrust deep for a final time she swallowed his cum. He stayed in her mouth and squeezed the end of his cock, ensuring she had every last drop. Then he walked away without saying anything.

  After a few seconds she sat back up. She reached for her knickers from the floor.

  “You won’t be needing them,” Baz said, from across the room. “I haven’t finished with you.” He took a large vibrator from the sideboard drawer and held it up for her to see clearly. “I have invested in a new toy for your pleasure. It is larger than my previous one.”

  “You had your fun,” she replied impatiently. “What about this information?”

  “You said I could have you for half an hour. I have plenty of time left. You get your information when I’ve finished with you.”

  She glanced at her watch, he had about fifteen minutes left. She would quite like to get off as well so decided against arguing but she had no intention of letting him know how she felt. “If you insist,” she said, throwing her knickers back on the floor. “How do you want me?”

  “Doggy style like the first time.”

  She glanced at his cock and it was still looking quite stiff. “Have you some lube?” she asked, assuming he would be wanting anal sex. She had recently read that anal sex was forbidden under Islam even between consenting married couples. The punishment in their case would undoubtedly be death. She smiled at the thought. It certainly added a greater sense of danger to having sex than just being caught by your parents when you were a teenager.

  “Yes and this is for you.” Baz handed over the vibrat
or. “I remember you enjoyed playing with my toy last time.”

  Lara took hold of the toy and knelt on the sofa, sticking out her bottom. She felt the trickle of lube running down her backside and shortly afterwards he entered her, slowly at first but then after a couple of seconds he buried himself balls deep and she grimaced.

  He thrust deeply and slowly. He didn’t rush and seemed intent on enjoying every sensation. She suspected he was again using sex as payback time. She placed the vibrator between her legs and the way it slid so easily inside her body, confirmed her physical need whatever her head might be thinking.

  The feeling of both holes filled so tightly took her mind away from any thought except the desire to orgasm. She pushed her hips back to fully receive his cock and he began thrusting quicker. She knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it up for long and soon he was grunting and exploding inside her. She had the vibrator on maximum speed and her own orgasm overtook her whole body. She collapsed forward on the sofa as he withdrew.

  She didn’t like that her body had betrayed her with its automatic responses. She would have liked to stoically take his fucking her without showing any sign of interest but once he started, her body had responded of its own accord and she had wanted, in fact needed, his cock.

  Lara knew she had to regain control of the meeting. She stood up, collected her clothes from the floor and walked to the bathroom where she spent two minutes under the hot shower. When she returned to the living room, Baz was sitting at the table drinking tea.

  “We must do that more often,” he said. “It makes our meetings so much more pleasant.”

  “Nothing about what we just did was remotely pleasant,” she snapped, although in truth her orgasm had told a different story. “And it won’t be happening again.” In her mind she was wondering if he was going to become a problem at their future meetings.