Covert Danger: Mata Hari Series - Book 1

by Jo-Ann Carson

  “I told Seamus you’d say that.” Xander crossed his arms in front of him. “Are you banging her?”

  “No,” he grumbled. “But she’s …”

  “Dangerous.”

  Sebastian couldn’t argue that. “Look I know she’s light fingered, but I can’t believe she’d stoop to handling looted art.

  Xander looked directly at him, again. “When I told Seamus you knew Sadie Stewart the woman in the picture, he did some more checking around. His information confirms she’s a model. But her background is too squeaky clean for someone who spends their evenings with the likes of Delilah. It’s suspicious. We want to know more about the woman.”

  Silence settled deep into the room.

  Sebastian had every intention of checking Sadie out, but to do it for Interpol was another matter. What if she were guilty? Like maybe without knowing it. Surely she couldn’t be that evil? He swallowed.

  He’d have to turn her over. Way too Bogart a role for him. “What do you think?” Seb asked.

  Xander’s eyes softened. “I think it doesn’t really matter what I think. You’re the most stubborn person I know. This woman has you under her spell. You’ll do everything you can to prove her innocence and you might get your head blown off.” He pounded his fist on the table. “Seb, if there’s any way I can talk you into walking away from this?”

  Seb tilted his head. As if?

  “Seamus, my brother Luuk and I can investigate. Trust us. When Interpol and Van der Valk Inc work together we get to the bottom of things. We wouldn’t be sidelined by her beauty.”

  “But I already know her.”

  Xander winced. “Seb—be careful.”

  “Where is she?” They’d have her under surveillance for sure.

  “Doing a photo shoot at the Dam.”

  Seb stood up. Xander reached for his arm to stop him from going. “Listen man, Angela made me swear I’d watch you put the necklace on before you ran off trying to save the green eyed lady. That’s what she calls her. She said if you won’t do it for us, do it for your godson Mauritz.”

  Seb looked at his friend’s hand on his arm and raised a brow. The fact that Xander was willing to physically challenge him over a piece of jewellery amused him, but it also made him feel good. “Okay,” he said, grimacing. “For Mauritz.” He put the necklace on.

  It felt warm on his chest. Had to be his imagination. Had to be.

  17

  Chapter Seventeen

  Sadie’s face muscles ached from her trademark pout, the one the world paid big bucks for. Over the years she’d worked hard at perfecting the look to cement her reputation. The mags liked her style, an alluring femme fatale that drew people’s imaginations and sold product. She sighed at the thought. They liked her unusually high cheekbones that photographed well. She relaxed her mouth into a tired smile.

  The morning had a chill to it that made her long for a good strong cup of coffee. As if he read her mind Mitchell’s head broke his pose, bobbed up like a fish jumping for bait. “I need a break,” he mumbled.

  “Like Hell,” screeched Knickers in the background. “We’re behind schedule.”

  Out of the corner of her eye Sadie spotted Sebastian amidst the crowds, fifteen yards away watching. He talked on his cell phone while his eyes danced with hers.

  A young athletic man on a bicycle with boxes perched behind his seat moved smoothly beside the set while he talked into a yellow mobile phone. A common sight in Amsterdam, but the way he wobbled caught Sadie’s attention. As he neared Knickers he slid into a slow fall.

  Boxes tumbled everywhere and their tops became dislodged as they hit the ground. Out of one came a horde of, rats—big rats. Sadie’s breath stopped short. At least twenty rodents skittering in all directions.

  Knickers screeched. People backed away.

  The young man mounted his bicycle and left the scene. Another fallen box burst open and more rats escaped into the busy, city square.

  “Rats, rats,” screamed a woman in a blood curdling voice. People ran in every direction to get away.

  Out of the chaos, the Dutch stud walked right up to Sadie with an irresistible bad-boy grin.

  She laughed so hard her eyes watered. “Rodents? I can’t believe it. That’s quite the entrance.”

  “Coffee?” Sebastian reached his hand out to her.

  “I’m working.”

  He nodded towards the scene of people scrambling in every direction. “I think you’re on break.”

  She laughed. “Oh hell, why not.”

  Sending Mitchell a call-me hand signal she hobbled to stand beside Seb and ignored Mitchell’s you’ve-got-to-be-kidding-me death stare.

  “This way,” Sebastian said.

  Smiling she took off her heels and limped with him barefoot across the square to the Nieuwe Kafé beside the late-Gothic, Nieuwe Kirk. Nieuwe meant new, but the church had been built beside the palace six centuries ago. She loved its breathtaking architecture, spires and it’s stained glassed windows. It made her feel like she’d entered a fairy tale. The depth of history in Dutch buildings grounded her in a way modern skyscrapers never would. It made her feel like a grain of sand on the beach of time. With a glance she took it all in as she walked with Sebastian..

  The air between them sizzled. It just did. Neither spoke.

  They sat down outside of the café, near to where the three horse and buggies waited for customers. People milled around them, many of them tourists. The Dam was the busiest square in all of Holland.

  When the unspoken heat didn’t abate Sadie fumbled for words. “Rats?” She narrowed her eyes at Sebastian.

  “Diversions work.” He smiled. “But you know all about that.”

  Sadie shrugged. What the hell did he mean? Did he know about the exchange at Eros? Had it been caught on video? Her throat tightened.

  His lips firmed. Something had happened since she last saw him. He seemed different. Not as comfortable with her as last night. She needed to be careful. “What’s wrong with you?”

  ***

  “Everything,” he said. Sitting beside her, suspecting she was involved in some way with looted art, but still feeling attracted as hell to her hurt. He had to keep reminding himself she was the enemy, or possibly the enemy, or he’d never get through this investigation. His mind stalled.

  But other parts of his anatomy went on overdrive. When he looked into her moss green eyes all he wanted to do was make love to her. Godverdomme het. Maybe he wasn’t the man for checking her out. Maybe Xander was right.

  “Tell me,” she said.

  He leaned back and looked into her eyes. Clear and sincere. Femme Fatale? Possibly, but his gut kept telling him she was alright. Maybe if he knew more about her he’d understand how she got connected with the thieves. “Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  She slid her eyes away from him.

  “Look don’t deny it. Something’s going on around you and it’s not good. If you talk to me, maybe I can help you.”

  ***

  She looked at the table and sighed. So not like her. Sebastian’s directness and willingness to help her hit like a bullet between the eyes. An alarm went off in the spy section of her brain. Danger: this man is potent in more ways than one. She pulled a hand through her hair. “Look, Sebastian if we had met at another time…”

  “At least tell me about the box.”

  The damn box. She shuddered involuntarily. She opened her mouth and closed it.

  “You are in trouble.”

  She bit her lip. “More than you can handle my friend.” She got up to leave.

  “Don’t take on a gang of art thieves alone.” He took her hand and held it. His had to be twice the size of hers. Warmth and strength flowed through it, melting her resolve. What was it about this man that made her want to open up to him? Damn him. She’d been trained to not trust anyone outside the company. And that suited her well. There’s comfort in solitude and above all safety.

  But the steely edged fear th
at her life was slipping close to a dangerous precipice with this op squeezed at her gut. Maybe Sebastian could help her. He certainly knew the town, the art and…

  She should ask Jeremiah if she could read him in. But Jeremiah hadn’t returned her last call. That meant either he had no information or something big was going down in Langley that pulled him away from her assignment. Knowing her relative importance in the spy chain, she guessed the later.

  Anyway, Jeremiah had grown too protective. It was her job to assess the risks and threats and sometimes to act alone. It may break the rules to let Sebastian know what was happening, but it felt right.

  They sat in silence for a few heartbeats communicating only through their touch. It steadied her… tempted her. The waitress came and took their coffee order.

  When she left, Sadie asked, “What do you know?”

  “Interpol’s linked you to a ring of criminals dealing artifacts and looted paintings. They think it’s the Russian mafia.” The left corner of his mouth twitched.

  “Bullshit.” They couldn’t be on to her this quickly. “You’re fishing.”

  He gently brushed a lock of her hair away from her face. His touch sent off a current of desire through her body. “Then you tell me your side of the story. “

  She pulled her hand away from his. “Interpol sent you to seduce information out of me?” Shit. She should have known better. A man this kind and handsome had to be too good to be true. Men never really cared. They just wanted women for their own needs.

  He blanched. “Uh, not exactly.”

  “What then.”

  “I volunteered.”

  “Someone’s got to get the job done, eh?”

  “No, no. It’s not like that.” He gave a false laugh and then turned serious. “I can’t believe you’re involved.” Sincerity flowed out of his blue eyes, as clear as morning sunlight and slapped at her conscience like waves on the shore. If a man ever deserved the truth, this guy did. He wore his thoughts and feelings true as day on his face. His sincerity cut right through her well maintained CIA shields and tugged her heart. What a lousy time to meet a sexy, boy scout.

  “Things are not always what they seem,” she said. She tossed her hair behind her shoulders. Sweet Jesus, he opened me up easily. She started to stand.

  “Sadie, sit down and talk to me. I’m your best chance, and I…”

  “You what?”

  “I care.”

  She flopped in her chair. Like we needed that said. To booster her resolve she thought about her oath to her country and stood up. She reached for her glass of water and threw it in his face. “Leave me alone.” A bit melodramatic, but she needed to do something drastic to break the heat growing between them.

  Water dripped down his cheeks, but his eyes held hers. He stood up, pulled her to him and kissed her.

  His lips, soft, warm and so inviting… She wanted to melt into him, wanted so badly to be with him, but instead she pulled back, lifted her arm and slapped him.

  “Sadie,” Mitchell called out as he broke through the crowd and jogged over to them. He looked from one to the other. His brow furrowed and the lines of his perfectly sculpted jaw firmed. “Knickers is on the war path.”

  “I’m done here,” she said, nodding at Sebastian.

  ***

  Five minutes later, Xander slid into Sadie’s empty seat. Sebastian had dried his face with the table napkin. “Well done buddy,” Xander said.

  Seb shrugged and took another sip of his coffee.

  “In less than five minutes she threw water on you, returned your kiss and slapped you.” Xander laughed. “Watching your style is… interesting to say the least. Maybe, you should write dating books.”

  Seb glared.

  “So what did she tell you?”

  Seb leaned back. “It’s what she didn’t tell me. She more or less confirmed my suspicion that what happened at Eros had been a diversion, which means some sort of exchange took place right under my nose at my own fucking gallery.” He looked across the Dam to where Sadie posed for pictures. “But I still think she’s a victim. She’s just too scared to talk. She’s wickedly smart. Wickedly beautiful… But I don’t think she’s evil.”

  Xander put up his hand. “Wait a minute. Why can’t she be evil? She kisses too good?”

  Seb shrugged.

  “Bad girls can kiss, buddy. Don’t get too involved with her. She’ll rip your heart right out of your chest and eat it raw.”

  “Easy for you to say. Xander. She’s not like other women. She…”

  Xander interrupted, “No she’s not like other women. She steals, smuggles looted art and maybe collects body parts on the side.”

  Seb sent him another shut-up glare.

  Xander frowned. “Listen, I know this is not what you want to hear, but you have to be sensible. Maybe she’ll cut off your dick, since that’s what you’re using to think.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “I’m spoken for.” Xander looked off for a minute, his face red. “Look, what do you want me to tell Seamus.”

  “I’m on it, and I’ll find out more.”

  “And how do you propose to do that?”

  Seb stared at him. “I have a plan.” He didn’t but he’d figure one out.

  18

  Chapter Eighteen

  As Sadie hobbled back to the shoot with Mitchell supporting her right arm, she checked her phone: 11:00a.m. Only one hour until her meeting.

  The crowds of people milling around the square thickened. Tourists gaped at the scenery while locals hurried to their destinations. Bicycles weaved between everyone ringing their bells to clear a path. The brisk spring breeze made people’s cheeks rosy and the glimmer of sunshine had many smiling. She caught smells of cologne, frites and sweat. A busy day getting busier in the Dam.

  But she couldn’t afford to lose herself in the Amsterdam scene, she needed to be at the American Hotel in the Ledseplein square by noon and it was a twenty minute walk away. “Mitch, how can I ditch this shoot?”

  His eyes popped. “Excuse me?”

  “You heard me, damn it. I have to be somewhere else in an hour. Unless we can wrap it up in thirty I’m doomed.”

  His jaw softened and the look in his eyes told her he’d do whatever it took to help her. She didn’t deserve such a good friend.

  “I’ll let them take a few more shots and then I’ll complain about an upset stomach,” he said.

  “Sounds good.” She nodded. It should work. No one wanted models to barf over product, or spend too much time in the loo. Knickers would want to kill him of course, but it would take the heat off her.

  He leaned closer. “I could say that I’d be willing to try later today. Would that work for you?” Anxiety laced his voice.

  “Sure. Whatever.” Sweat beaded on her upper lip. Great, now her makeup would start running.

  “Tell me about your son, Sadie.”

  Knickers paced only a hundred yards away from them. Her fiery dragon eyes narrowed to slits ready to slice and dice Sadie when she arrived. The irony of such a cold bitch owning a successful fashion magazine was high on her list of the-freaking-unbelievable in the modelling world. But the witch’s rage could not deflect Mitchell’s question. “They were killing him.”

  “Who?”

  “The shaman of a remote Nigerian village and the grave digger. His mother died giving birth to him, so they believed him cursed. They strapped his body to his dead mother’s and were in the process of burying them both when I heard the baby crying and came to see what was happening. I couldn’t believe my eyes. Without thinking it through I took the baby and ran.”

  “You stole a baby?”

  “Had to. There’s no 911 in the jungle. I was his only chance.”

  “Nice of you to turn up,” screeched the Knicker Bitch now only five feet away.

  Sadie willed her body to shudder and made fluttery eyes, because she knew the woman would like that. “Rat’s aren’t in my contract.”

  “G
et to work.” The muscles in the woman’s face tightened distorting it into a melodramatic mask of anger, fit for a Venetian opera.

  Sadie put on her sultry pout. Mitchell winked at her before adjusted his own face. His friendship made moments like this easier.

  Twenty minutes later, Mitchell complained he felt sick. Damn he was believable.

  As Knickers flew into a temper tantrum, Sadie slipped away.

  ***

  The Leidseplein sat between the Museum square and the Dam. Known as the entertainment square it was ringed by popular hotels and restaurants. She headed towards the large American Hotel on the far end. A destination for writers, artists and dancers, it had been famous for well over a century.

  Sadie liked to imagine the days when Mata Hari, the famous Dutch World War I spy, held her honeymoon party there, amidst the Art Nouveau decor. The place had a twenties vibe that spoke of clandestine romance and adventure.

  Having to meet al-Sharif’s man broke the magic. What else in her life would be changed by this op? A chill ran down her spine.

  Sadie arrived five minutes early for her appointment in front of the water fountain.

  The sound of flowing water usually soothed her, but not today. This op had gone screwy from the outset. First, she had to work the unstable Delilah who partied to the wee hours of the night with cheap wine that gave Sadie horrible headaches, then the woman turned greedy and double-crossed Sadie’s mark and now—the finger. The friggen finger.

  Dee had never been what she’d call a friend in any real sense, but they’d hung together for the last couple of months and the thought of the woman being tortured hollowed Sadie’s insides. Delilah had no idea who she was taking on. A freaking arms dealer who enjoyed violence! No idea.

  Sadie felt for the package in her purse and pulled it out. All this pain over a few old relics. She slipped the tiny wrapped item into her jacket pocket and shuddered. The deeper she waded into this op, the murkier the people became.

  Crowds flowed through the street, along with bicycles and the tram. Amsterdam in the middle of the day hummed like the pulse of a marathon runner, steady and fast.