Hybrid - Forced Vengeance
Page 8
“I also have a teenage daughter, and have experienced similar crises.” Erik’s words seemed to relax his host. “I often wonder how my daughter can have an entire walk-in closet full of clothes yet still claim that she has nothing to wear.”
The shorter man laughed loudly at his remark, and Erik found himself settling into a comfortable ease.
“Allow me to introduce myself. I am Jean-Paul Dubois, President LaSalle’s personal aide.”
“Mr. Dubois, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”
Dubois gestured toward one of the wingback chairs expertly arranged for casual talk in the far corner of the room. Erik noted that a steaming pot, a tray of cups and confections rested on a coffee table.
“Let us be comfortable and get acquainted. May I offer you some coffee?”
“Please.”
Dubois poured two cups of coffee from the sterling silver pot. “Cream, sugar?” He raised his eyes from his task.
“Both.”
Dubois handed Erik a cup then seated himself in the chair directly opposite. “How was your flight?” he asked.
Erik hated attempts at small talk. “Fine, thank you.”
“I was never one for airplanes myself.” The aide grimaced.
“I’m not a big fan of flying myself – especially in the current political climate.”
The aide nodded. “I see.” His posture stiffened.
Erik’s senses confirmed that LaSalle’s Dubois had misunderstood his reply, thinking that he was referring to the 9-11 incident.
“With all the pilot strikes and union picketing in the United States, somebody like me could be up in the cockpit flying one of those big birds,” Erik added, hoping he had effectively deflected his political blunder.
Dubois laughed again and sat back in his chair.
“Jean-Paul, I see you’ve wasted no time in making our guest comfortable,” a man’s voice announced from a door. Jean-Paul rose and Erik followed suit.
“Mr. President.” Erik extended his hand, recognizing the president of France.
“Mr. Knight. Welcome to Paris.” LaSalle offered Erik a firm handshake. The president smiled, then gestured for them to move to a circular table in the center of the room.
The three men were settling in at the table when several servers entered the room. One picked up the sterling coffee pot from the tea table and poured coffee into clean cups provided for their use. Other servers had brought in platters of cheese and sandwich rolls and these were tastefully positioned on the table.
Erik noted that LaSalle grew more agitated and kept glancing over at one particular doorway. Perhaps the president had expected his daughter to be in the room already.
He was obviously irritated at her tardiness. LaSalle shot his aide a look, and his aide shrugged his shoulders.
The president then let go of his irritation and smiled at Erik. “I have taken the time to read your file, Mr. Knight. You are a most impressive man. How do you feel about being assigned to a duty that most men in your position would regard as degrading, even punitive?”
Erik looked the man directly in the eye. The president had not bothered to couch his inquiry in diplomatic terms. LaSalle would likely decide if Erik could be trusted with his daughter’s life based on his reply.
“My personal feelings are irrelevant, Mr. President. I came here on assignment. If I didn’t want it, I assure you, I wouldn’t have wasted my time flying halfway across the world to do this. I’m here for only one purpose, to assure your daughter remains unharmed.” Erik perused the offerings on the table and poured himself a glass of orange juice, and one for the president. He raised his glass in a toast. “To the health and well being of Monique LaSalle.”
The president picked up the glass and joined in the toast to his daughter, as did the aide. “To my daughter’s health and well being,” he added before sipping the juice. The president turned somber at that point, and leaned over the table, eyeing Erik with a worried stare. “She’s all that I have, Mr. Knight. I don’t want her sacrificed because of political infighting among religious factions and fanatics. You have a reputation as an effective weapon against these fanatics. From what my secret service has been able to glean, you’re on several of their ‘most despised’ lists.”
“I dealt with several of those factions during a recent trip to Saudi Arabia. It doesn’t surprise me they’re still holding a grudge.” Erik sipped his juice then deliberately placed the glass on the table. He looked at the president with purpose. “May I ask a question?”
“Please.”
“Why would you entertain the idea of your daughter traveling across the country in such a public fashion when you know she’s going to be a mark for these extremist groups? Isn’t this trip almost inviting an assassination attempt or abduction?” Erik managed to say this in the most neutral tone his voice could muster. He continued with another question. “Wouldn’t it be better to call this tour off until your security teams have had time to break up the more radical of these groups?”
LaSalle smirked, almost as if he had anticipated the query. “You ask a logical question, Mr. Knight. Would you like to hear the spun answer we give to the media – or the simple, plain truth?”
Erik nodded. “Let’s try the truth first, and if I don’t like that we can always switch to the spin.”
“My daughter is a dynamic, stubborn individual, Mr. Knight. She has chosen to dedicate herself to charity work and use her social status to bring attention to those who have fallen through the cracks in our society. If we deny Monique her opportunity to get exposure to the diverse cultures of this country we are admitting defeat to the terrorists. I refuse to accept defeat, plus my daughter is adamant about going forward.”
“Those are noble words, sir, and your reasoning is valid. But the exposure could come at great cost: The safety, and possibly the life of your daughter.” Erik hoped the man realized that he was only one man.
The president averted his eyes. “My daughter is aware of the risks involved with public life. This tour will test the mettle of her will and strengthen her character.”
“As I said.…” Erik’s hesitation brought the president’s gaze upon him. “It’s not my place to judge. I’m a stranger in this country, ignorant of your politics and culture. I will do everything in my power to see that your daughter remains safe.”
A look of relief came over the president’s face. “For that, Mr. Knight, we are most thankful.”
“As am I,” a firm female voice added.
* * * *
Monique LaSalle looked as if she were made of the most delicate porcelain. Her dark pantsuit and ruby lipstick enhanced milk-white skin. Erik studied the young woman approaching them.
She definitely had an aura that would announce her status in any crowded room. She didn’t walk as much as saunter, each motion cool and calculated, her head upright and formal. Erik had seen this type of woman before – the product of a classical education and formal upbringing. People of this nature did not take direction easily, but rather gave directions, and expected those directions followed without question.
He groaned inwardly. How would the young socialite react when he tried to limit her activities? He hoped her father had briefed her extensively on security protocols.
The president rose. “Mr. Erik Knight, I am pleased to introduce my daughter, Monique Bridget LaSalle.” The father’s voice revealed his pride. Erik stood up, as did the aide.
She blushed perfectly. “Father, please – you embarrass me.”
Erik discerned a flash of typical teenager under her refinement. He was counting on her being more down to earth than the impression she was trying to impart this minute.
He mentally compared her size with that of his daughter. She was no more than five foot three – and that was with spiked heels. “Ms. LaSalle.” Erik nodded, doing his best impression of the unimpressed American.
“Monsieur Knight.” She extended her hand with wrist bent.
In France, it
was customary to gently kiss a young woman’s hand, but this gesture was also designed to put him in his place in society – beneath her. He raised an eyebrow, which was enough to trigger an involuntary response from her. She lifted her wrist slightly closer to his face in a persistent gesture.
Erik took her hand gently, knowing that the young woman took this as a personal victory. Erik released her hand without kissing it.
“Your daughter is beautiful beyond words, Mr. President,” Erik said while he flashed the young lady a warning. He needed to assert his authority, immediately. He was not someone to be toyed with or tested. It was obvious his hard gaze put young Miss LaSalle off balance.
He smiled inwardly. He had somewhat followed protocol, but now Miss LaSalle knew he wouldn’t play by her rules. If she regarded him as merely another hired employee, he’d never gain her respect – or her trust. In order for this situation to work, Monique LaSalle had to respect him and his decisions when it came to her safety. She had to view him as her life insurance for the next half year.
“Well said, Mr. Knight.” Jean-Paul pulled out a nearby chair for the president’s daughter and guided it closer to the table as she sat down.
“Please forgive my tardiness, Papa, Mr. Knight,” Monique began in heavily accented English. “I was unavoidably detained.” To Erik, her omission of Jean-Paul in her greeting confirmed her lack of respect for the hired help.
“You are excused, daughter.” The president’s face clearly reflected a father’s pride.
“Are we discussing politics?” Monique asked, her voice betraying her excitement.
“No, my dear, we are discussing your security while you tour around the country.”
The young socialite shrugged then wrinkled her nose as a servant poured her a large glass of light purple liquid. Erik’s senses caught the unfamiliar scent emanating from the freshly opened decanter – alkaloid compounds, pharmaceutical in nature. His gut tightened as he saw Monique raising the glass to her lips.
Erik grabbed a spoon from a tray and hurled it at the young woman’s wrist with deadly accuracy. “Don’t drink that. It’s poisoned!”
The spoon struck the nerve bundle in the young woman’s wrist, causing her hand to go numb. Her grip on the glass was broken, and it tumbled onto the table, its contents staining the white tablecloth.
“Ouch!” she screamed, more in surprise than in pain.
The president and his aide watched in shock while guards rushed in to subdue Erik. The president rose and motioned the guards to stop. “What the hell is going on?” President LaSalle asked him.
Before they could react further, Erik was by the young girl’s side, rubbing sensation back into her numbed hand.
Erik pointed accusingly toward the open decanter of juice. “Whatever is in that pitcher has been poisoned, a strong alkaloid poison derived from a plant oil. Somebody’s not wasting any time here, Mr. President.”
“Come, come now!” the elder LaSalle exclaimed in disbelief. “How could you possibly know such a thing?”
“Have your people check the contents if you doubt me.” Erik turned his attention back to young woman, applying gentle pressure to her wrist trying to restore sensation to her hand.
Jean-Paul studied the remaining fluid in the spilled glass. The man reached in and rubbed two of his fingers into the remaining liquid, then put a finger up to his nose and sniffed. His eyes popped open.
“Dear God,” he murmured, his face losing color. “This pomegranate-grape juice smells and feels foul.” He slumped into his chair, wiping his fingers on a starched handkerchief. “Pierre, your daughter is the only one who drinks this particular cocktail. This was set out just for her.”
“No, it cannot be,” President LaSalle whispered with dread. “Not here, in my own home!”
Monique’s composure collapsed. “Father, I could have been killed!” She turned toward the detective with tear-filled eyes. “You saved my life, Mr. Knight. I don’t have the words to thank you.” She wrapped her arms around her torso, as if warding off a sudden chill. “Dear God, they really do want to kill me.”
Erik felt sorry for the young woman who was coming to terms with some unpleasant facts regarding her station in life. “It’s okay, Miss LaSalle. I’m not going to let anything happen to you,” he whispered. Erik read the fear in the eyes of the president and his aide. Martin Denton was right; this was truly a job for him, for the hybrid.
She raised her eyes to Erik with new respect. “You can call me Monique.”
He forced out a reassuring grin, then grabbed a nearby empty metal pitcher off the table. “They had their shot; now it’s my turn,” he announced crushing the empty container in a fit of anger and disgust.
The president and Jean-Paul gasped but otherwise remained silent. Erik relaxed and let the anger run its course.
The anger of an Esper was far more potent than any human fit of rage. He called a guard then breathed deeply. Now was the time to plan and calculate. Later he would need to open the warrior part of him for this assignment, but for now the detective and OSA agent needed to take charge.
“Have the juice pitcher dusted for fingerprints and the content analyzed for the type of poison.” He gave napkins to the guard. “I’m not counting on success here but maybe our assassin isn’t as clever as he thinks he is. Use the napkins to hold the pitcher.”
The guard left, holding the pitcher at arm’s length.
“I want names.” His terse tone defied anyone to challenge his authority. “Who made this breakfast? Who set this table? I want a list of anyone who had access to the kitchen and this room in the last twenty-four hours. Also, I want to know who made this particular juice concoction this morning.”
The detective looked at the president and Jean-Paul. “I trust the law enforcement agencies have facilities to analyze and identify the toxin?” At their nods, he continued.
“Jean-Paul would you get a list of pharmacies that stock toxic plant oils? This is a concentrated poison and had to be purchased somewhere. These compounds have a very short shelf life so this was a recent acquisition. I want to know who bought plant alkaloid compounds within the past week. There has to be a record of a sale somewhere; maybe we’ll get lucky.”
The guards, waiters and Jean-Paul hesitated, looking toward the president for guidance.
“Do exactly as he says.” LaSalle roared the words like a wounded lion. “Treat this man with the respect you would give me! His requests are my requests; his questions are my questions. In this matter Mr. Erik Knight speaks for me and will be obeyed without question.” LaSalle turned back toward his daughter who was struggling to cope with the attempt on her life.
LaSalle placed a hand on Erik’s shoulder. “I owe you a debt that I cannot repay, Mr. Knight. Thank you.”
“You’re most welcome,” the detective said, “and please call me Erik. I was never big on formality.”
“As you wish, Erik. What is our next course of action?”
“We relocate your daughter to a secure location. Then we sit down with your security staff and come up with a plan to protect your daughter, both here and on the road.”
Erik watched as several guards escorted the shaken young lady back to her bedroom.
“I have a funny feeling that we’re going to have a lively six months, Mr. President. I believe our fanatical friends were hoping for a quick kill.” Erik closed his eyes and thought. “Whoever is behind this failed attempt is very familiar with me, and was probably hoping to avoid a direct confrontation.”
“Why? Was this an act of desperation?” the president asked.
“I honestly don’t know.” The detective decided not to pull any punches. “Either this was an attempt to embarrass me by having your daughter murdered under my very nose which would most likely further the wedge between our governments – or this was a message to convince you just how deadly these fanatics really are and force you to capitulate for fear that you may be next.” Erik shrugged. “Or both.”
“Yes it is, Mr. President, but we’re not beaten. Word has probably already spread. Our assassin likely knows he has failed and lost face. In some circles that works in our favor,” Erik was remembering Jeremy Storm. “Let’s talk to your security forces. We need to interview the people who served us breakfast and see if we can uncover a bad apple – or in this case, a bad pomegranate. After that we’ll design a thorough security plan for your daughter’s upcoming travels.”
Gestation Day 38
Shanda Kerwin-Knight saw the rifle, but had no time to react. She heard a muffled concussion and felt a soft impact against her left breast. She looked down to see the feathered tail of a dart protruding from her chest. She plucked the dart from her body and tossed it to the ground. As she looked up, three heavyset men ran toward her.
When they were within reach, she showed her displeasure with a solid front kick to the nearest man’s groin. The man fell over gasping in agony. She wasted no time meeting her other two attackers. Her well-timed right cross struck the second man’s jaw with a resounding crack. This man, however, didn’t fall like the other. He grabbed her arm with unyielding strength. Meanwhile the third man tackled her, toppling her and his fellow attacker into a heap.
Having nothing to lose, Shanda grabbed a fistful of hair and yanked, ripping follicles from scalp. The frightening shriek of surprise gave her hope. An elbow approached her face, but she was unable to avoid the blow. She rolled her head in the direction of the elbow, minimizing the impact. Jagged streaks of blue lightening filled her vision as the blow struck her head. In a fit of fury she squirmed free of her attackers. She ran toward the safety of the nearest building but her legs were sluggish, refusing to obey her command. The world tilted, and her ears rang with an annoying buzz. The two men gripped her arms. As much as she tried to fight, her body betrayed her, and she surrendered to the oncoming darkness.