“We’re watching you.” She recalled her stalker’s words. Her stomach sank. Why?
His distinctive tattoo bothered her. The Eye of Horace in a green triangle. What the hell did that mean? It looked like a membership insignia of some kind. Did he belong to a gang with a thing for Egyptian symbols? A weird religious sect?
The ass-hole could be connected to the power hungry Egyptian, arms-dealer Bakari al-Sharif, the man she’d let slip through her fingers. Not a pleasant thought. Dangerous, violent, volatile and horny. Yes, horny. She hadn’t noticed any such signature on Bakari’s people. It probably had nothing to do with him.
Sadie sat in the stern of the boat. As the soft evening breeze cooled her face she considered doing an Internet search for information. But Google had its limitations, not to mention its trolls. To get the best answers in the fastest possible way, she had to contact Langley. Langley, Virginia, as in the headquarters of the Central Intelligence Agency.
Sebastian would be furious. Her inner goddess who’d been working on inner-peace would be pissed too. She hadn’t talked with anyone from “the Company” for six months, not since she walked out of her handler’s office and told him not to call her. And he didn’t.
It had all made sense then. But now?
The taxi slid down a side canal to a back street near the quaint inn she liked to stay in when she spent time in Venice, the Bella Giornata. The sight of the beautiful old place always warmed her heart, made her feel at home.
Barefoot, wearing a rumpled Marie Antoinette gown and smeared makeup, she climbed out of the boat with the dignity and class of royalty. Projecting the dream had been part of her training, both as an international model and as a spy. When you project what people want to see, you have them.
Three couples strolled down the narrow road chatting with one another. She slipped past them and slid into the back alley that led to her inn. Twenty yards down the alleyway, she arrived at the Bella Giornata, with its tall, shuttered windows and wrought-iron balconies holding boxes overflowing with flowers. The pink and purple blooms cascaded down the side of the hotel towards the narrow alley twenty yards below. The inn was not the ritziest place in town, but it was her private get-away. During her first trip to Venice ten years ago, she’d stumbled upon it. Since then she had returned at least once a year. It was an exotic sanctuary that collected memories. Delicious memories.
The first moment she saw Venice, she’d fallen in love with the city, the people, the tasty cicheti, the Veneto wine and most of all the exotic charm of a quaint cosmopolitan city that had once been an empire powerful enough to rule the civilized world. There was no place on earth like Venice.
History seeped through the walls of the palaces lining the Grand Canal around which the city had been built. Secrets, memories, love and passion. Italians were all about passion and Venetians kicked it up to another level.
The night was still warm, and the air inside her room was hot and sticky. She took off her layers of sweaty clothing and hit the shower. The sooner she could get her body fully back to normal the safer she’d be. She groaned. Thinking like a spook again.
Hot water pummeled her sore muscles. Her breathing deepened. Her mind cleared. Her anger faded. She increased the water temperature until steam filled the room. She needed this. After five more minutes she got out and wrapped herself in a thick white robe.
The night had had such a promising beginning. That was what angered her the most: paradise imagined, then lost. Her mind returned to when Sebastian had arrived at her door, her super-sized man with a killer smile oozing virility. At that moment, Sadie thought her night would be filled with love and passion, a perfect beginning to their anniversary celebration.
Always full of surprises, Sebastian dressed in a genie costume, dropped to one knee and looked up at her. His eyes as blue as the morning sky in April danced with mischief. Her first thought had been: Is he going to propose? Nah! But her heart leaped into her throat. She’d thought about getting hitched to him, more often than she would admit to anyone, but even though she loved Sebastian more than she thought humanly possible, jumping into the institution-thing, with papers and pomp, didn’t feel right. Been there, done that. Her bottom lip had slipped between her teeth as she waited for him to speak.
He took her hand in his. With his deep baritone voice that kicked her libido into overdrive, he said, “I am your genie for the night. You have three wishes. I am yours to command.” She laughed. This was so like Sebastian. He had a wicked sense of humor in and out of bed. Good timing too. Impeccable timing. The kind that made counting the number of orgasms she had in one night impossible.
Three wishes from him made her blush from her little toes to the top of her head and back to her clit. A proposition no sane woman would refuse. She pulled him into her suite. They kissed long and hard. If they hadn’t had so many layers of costume on they would have done more. But they were expected at the gala, charity ball.
After that… her night shredded to rat-shit.
Three wishes. She’d been thinking about the first one when she first spotted her would-be assassin. Her mind shifted gears to that moment, and her emotions hit hard. Time to get serious.
After pacing the length of the room five and a half times, she retrieved her cell-phone. And hesitated. Did she really want to re-enter that other world? She’d enjoyed being a model and having a guy who loved her. Did she really want to risk all that? Her fingers moved without further thought. She only had one good move.
Jeremiah answered after one ring. “Hi sugar.” His southern accent, steady and deep, bounced off her backbone. The infamous spy-master, Jeremiah Cole, her former CIA handler, the man who’d taught her how to be a hot-shot spook. He didn’t sound the least surprised to hear her voice.
Sinking into one of the two deep leather chairs in her suite, she imagined him on the other end of the call. A fit, mature man, aging well, with salt-and-pepper hair and clothes that made him look more like a librarian than a seasoned expert in all shades of espionage. She’d used his personal cell-phone number, but he was probably at work. He pretty well lived there, feeding on the intrigues and secrets of the world. A shudder ran through her. She pulled her robe tighter.
Surrounded by computer monitors and his chess set, the man was a legend. His intense gray eyes would study the screens as he spoke taking in information from around the world, but he would hear every word she said, every nuance and implication she made; and worst of all—he would hear all the stuff she didn’t say.
In his fifties, he used a paternal tone of voice which annoyed her. At least she squared it in her mind as paternal. But it could have been something more. Not a good time to be contemplating that.
“Cole,” she said.
Silence is hard to interpret on a phone. It hung between them like a solid black curtain for a moment. “How are the cheekbones?” he asked.
Smiling she leaned her head back. The first day they met she’d told him the only reason she’d become a famous model was that she had good bones. They were in his office. He’d been drinking tea and it spurted out of his mouth. It was the only time she could remember him acting so… human. “Sadie,” he’d said, “as a man I have to tell you, people are looking at more than your cheekbones.” Since then he’d teased her about them. She sighed. Teasing wasn’t a bad place to start.
“I’m in Venice. One hour ago, I was at a charity ball on the top of the Danieli and a man dressed in a satyr costume stalked me.” She gave him all the details in as few words as possible. That’s how he’d trained her to communicate, but in the past she would add unnecessary details to annoy him. But not tonight.
“Sounds like Venice.”
Sadie could feel his smile. “The guy was agile and skilled at throwing Ninja stars.”
“Are you hurt?
“No.”
“The man?”
“Dead. Cyanide. He died in less than four minutes and I wasn’t able to get information, but…”
The silence resumed. How much did she really want to tell him? Being connected to that world of shadows had a price. She had thought—hoped—she had left it behind.
He broke the quiet. “Why are you calling me?”
Just like Cole. Right to the point. “Two reasons. As the security men held him, I noticed a quarter-sized tattoo on his wrist and moved closer to get a better look. It had the Eye of Horace in black, inked into the middle of a green triangle.”
She waited for Cole to respond, but he didn’t. Probably too busy putting the image into a computer search. So she continued. “Before they hauled him away the would-be assassin said to me, ‘We’re watching you.’”
“Eye of Horace, green triangle, stalked, got it. Anything else?”
“What do you think?”
“I don’t like men throwing weapons at you, sugar. And yes, the incident is probably related to your life with us. You should be concerned. I’ll contact the Venetian police and do some research into the symbols, but…”
“But?”
“Just a hunch.”
That was another thing about master spy Jeremiah. He had wickedly good hunches.
“Shoot.”
“You got somebody mad, real mad. You’re in danger. I’ll be in touch.”
4
Chapter Four
Sebastian threw his key card on the hotel dresser. It made a light thunk and bounced. He wanted to punch something. How could the night go so fucking wrong, after all his planning? He even put on a stupid purple costume just to please her. He’d brought her flowers, offered her three wishes… It was supposed to be a perfect night.
Ripping off his cape he paced the room. Everything will be okay. Everything has to be okay. He couldn’t lose her. His chest tightened. His intentions had been good. She had to see that. He’d wanted her to remember their six month anniversary forever. That’s why he’d agreed to meet her in Venice. Women like forever don’t they? But Sadie was so bloody… Sadie. A lover’s gift, burned in his pocket. Godverdomme.
And who the hell was the satyr? How did he elude security? Why did he kill himself? It all smelled of trouble. He didn’t want trouble to touch her ever again.
If anyone could identify the stalker it would be his best friend, Xander van der Valk who ran an international art crime investigation business from Amsterdam. He had connections everywhere in the world. Seb grabbed his cell-phone and punched in his friend’s number.
“What did she say?” Xander asked.
“I didn’t get to ask her.”
Silence.
“I’m sending you three pictures. The first is an asshole’s fingerprints. I got them from the local police. The guy tried to grab Sadie at the party. He threw fucking Ninja stars at her as she tried to escape. When we took him down, he swallowed a cyanide pill. The second picture is of the guy, dead, and the third is a close-up of the tattoo on his arm.”
“Is Sadie all right?” Concern anchored his friend’s deep voice.
“Yeah,” Seb hesitated, “but she’s pissed at me, because Gregor told her I’d insisted on extra security for her.”
Xander laughed long and loud.
Sebastian grumbled.
“Buddy, you don’t get it,” said Xander.
“What’s there to get? I tried to keep her safe and she gets all bitchy.”
“Extra security for Sadie is a good idea. Letting her know about it is another thing.”
“I’ve never seen her so angry. She…” He stopped. His chest so tight it made it hard to say more.
“I get it,” said Xander. “She doesn’t want her cover blown and she thinks she can take care of herself.”
“I just want to protect her.”
“Yeah, big guy, I understand. But your woman is fiercely independent and used to looking after herself. You know her story. She’s a force to be reckoned with.”
Sebastian groaned. “She’d climbed onto the palace railings to escape from him. And then she attacked him. He had her on the ground and was about to punch her when I caught his arm. I don’t care what she says, she needs me.”
Silence.
“Xander?”
“I don’t recognize the man in the picture, but I’ll run his prints through my data base. If nothing comes up, I’ll contact Seamus at Interpol.”
“Thanks,” said Sebastian.
“Did you give her three wishes?”
“Yeah, she liked that part.”
“I’m betting she’s thinking about them right about now. Give her an hour to let the effects of the adrenalin flush out of her system, and yours, then call her.”
“I…”
“Don’t fuck it up Sebastian. You two are meant for each other.”
The line went dead.
5
Chapter Five
Amsterdam
Trying to appear calm, Bakari looked at his son standing before him in his ceremonial robe. His black wand trembled in the air between them. If only I could think of an easy way to do this. His mind reeled with thoughts and his chest tightened with emotion until he thought it would burst out his ears. There were things that needed to be said. He prided himself on being a good negotiator, but his well-honed skills were useless in this situation.
Khalid hesitated, breaking the rhythm of his performance. He lowered his wand. “Why have you come?” His deep voice echoed in the small room.
Bakari took a breath. The smell of the cheap incense burned the insides of his nostrils. “I didn’t know about you. If I had known…” He sighed. “If I had known I had a son I would have been part of your life.”
Khalid lifted his wand and waved it lazily in the air as if he were conducting a symphony. “You want to play daddy?” The sarcasm in his voice cut the air between them. The glaze over his eyes drifted away in the flickering candle light, like mist evaporating in the morning light. He looked like a young man once again, an angry young man.
“I don’t ignore my responsibilities.” Bakari said. “You are my son. I want to do what is right.” He firmed his jaw and straightened his back.
Khalid sat in the chair opposite, holding his stare. “How did you find out about me?”
“Djeserit told me.”
“She’s dead.”
“Yes,” Bakari said. “She called me to her death bed to tell me about you. I held her hand as she died”
Silence stole the room.
Khalid touched the Tarot cards before him. “I see the two of you in a narrow alleyway. Amsterdam. It smells like Amsterdam. You had been drinking. A rat skitters by. She…”
Bakari remained quiet while his son replayed his past, his inception, unfolding in his mind.
Khalid opened his eyes. “She took you.”
“Yes. Your mother wanted you to have my blood.” Bakari didn’t want to discuss the erotic details of that night with his son. There had been an animal passion between him and Khalid’s mother, hotter than he had ever experienced. There had also been magic. In her last moments, Djeserit, admitted she’d put him under a sorcerer’s spell and ravaged him.
Khalid opened his eyes. “Tell me why?” His lean face thinned.
“Why?”
“Why you?”
Bakari smiled. The boy obviously hadn’t been impressed with his physical appearance. Bakari opened his hands. “I grew up in Cairo. My family—our family—was dirt poor. I made millions dealing arms around the world to change that. I don’t want any one in my family to go hungry again. I’ve let nothing stop me. I’m not proud of everything I’ve done, but I did what I had to do for my family.” He swallowed. “My younger brother now runs the business. Blood is what counts. We are wealthy and we will take care of you.”
“And you only slept with my mother once?”
Bakari firmed his lips. “I didn’t even know it was her.”
“It felt like an erotic nightmare to you.” Khalid laughed. “My mother possessed ancient powers and she knew how to use them.”
“Yes.”Bakari leaned forward
. “Over the years, her sight helped me achieve my goals. The truth is I could never have been as successful as I am without her.”
“And now you want to use me?”
Bakari’s gut twisted. Use? Such a harsh word. He would never get used to talking to seers. Other people could be fooled into believing whatever he wanted them to believe, but not Khalid or his mother. They had an unerving gift of sight. After a long minute Bakari said, “I want three things.”
“Three?” The corners of Khalid’s mouth turned up slightly as if he wanted to smile, but wouldn’t let himself. He leaned back in his chair and for a moment looked like a bored and rebellious teenager.
“First, and foremost I want to be your father and help you in any way I can. Money, family… a home.”
Khalid scrunched up his mouth as if Bakari’s words rotted his brain.
Bakari waited.
“You’ve never been part of my life and I’m not sure I want you messing in it now.”
“I hope to change your mind. You could leave this dump and return to Cairo with me—a rich man.”
“And? What is your second request? What will my new found wealth cost me?”
Bakari held up his hand. “I need your sight. Your sister’s life depends upon it.”
Khalid grimaced. “A sister?” The fine muscles in his cheeks twitched.
“Rashida, your blood sister, is dying of cancer. Blood fights for blood. I’ve used a special amulet with ancient power your mother helped me find to keep her alive. But now her health is fading once again. I need your help to save her.”
Light flickered across Khalid’s dark eyes for a second. Had Bakari reached his heart?
Ancient Danger: Mata Hari Suspense Series #3 Page 3
