Ancient Danger: Mata Hari Suspense Series #3

by Jo-Ann Carson

  “My name is Khalid Badru. This is my father’s home.”

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you. My name is Sadie Stewart. I’m a…” she paused to sound demure, “friend of Bakari’s.”

  Ah, the American whore. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. My father speaks of you with the warmest of words.” And he can’t wait to fuck you.

  As she nodded her long mane of red hair moved and the light caught and held on the wavy tendrils that fell to her breasts. Khalid could see why his father would take risks for her. He shouldn’t stare, but it was hard not to.

  Her full, sensual lips begged to be kissed. His eyes scanned downward, down her long neck to her firm breasts and trim waist. It would be heaven to have his hands on this woman. He swallowed and hoped his face hadn’t turned pink.

  “I was just having tea. If you’d like to join me…” Her elegant hand waved to another chair and following its sweeping motion he noticed the fancy tray of food on the table.

  But his words wouldn’t come. Pure, raw sensuality flowed from her, filling the room with an erotic magnetism, choking him. He tried to read her, but his blood rushed to his groin. He sat down barely feeling the chair beneath him.

  “Khalid is an interesting name. What does it mean?” Even her voice had a throaty quality that made him think of sex. Hot sex. Hot sex with her.

  “Immortal. It means, well immortal.” Could he sound any more lame?

  The brittle-looking maid came in and lifted the teapot. “I’ll bring a fresh pot,” she said and left through a side door.

  The beating sound of a low flying helicopter took his attention for a second. Must be a medical emergency nearby.

  Sadie brought him back to the room with a wicked laugh, the kind you usually hear in a bedroom. “Have you the balls to live up to your name?”

  Balls? Did she just say balls? Love bawdy women. “And then some,” he said.

  She pouted her lips and leaned his way. Khalid could smell the fruity shampoo in her thick mane of auburn hair, the delicate fragrance of her expensive perfume and beneath all that her musky womanness. “I don’t doubt that,” she said.

  Suddenly Khalid felt like he could leap tall buildings. And he’d do it, if he could get between her legs.

  Don’t be stupid. She’s playing you. He gritted his teeth, but that didn’t really help. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck. He looked into her fathomless green eyes and tried once again to read her.

  She reached out for his hand and tapped it, making it once again impossible for him to think with his head. His heart raced.

  He pulled his hand back, feeling his cheeks burn. Get a fucking hold of yourself. His bodily reactions to being so close to her were embarrassing. He forced himself to lean back.

  “Is something wrong?” she cooed. In her sexy voice was an awareness of her own sexual power over him, and that only turned him on more.

  The woman had a hex on him. Could she be a sorceress? He extended his senses as best as he could with his hard-on clouding his thoughts. After a minute, his shoulders relaxed. No, she wasn’t one of them. She was simply all woman, sensual and sexual and…

  “Good afternoon.” Bakari’s dominant voice came from the doorway.

  28

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Bakari had taken a helicopter from the airport. Usually Gahiji would pick him up in a car, but today he wanted to get to the house as soon as he could. Sadie Stewart would be waiting for him. Between reading business reports and worrying about Rashida, he’d had time to think about his evening with her. Would she be as eager to be with him as she sounded on the phone?

  He entered through the back door, dismissed his two body guards and headed towards the dining room where he could hear voices. Hers soft and enticing, just like he remembered. His? It couldn’t be.

  He made it to the doorway. Indeed, his son Khalid sat with her. His staff had informed him that he’d arrived in London, but he didn’t expect to find him with her.

  “Good evening,” Bakari said. They both looked up. A wide smile spread across her face making her look lovelier than he remembered. She had to be the most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on. His son, all red-faced, looked like he’d choked on the pit of a date. No doubt the charms of the American had worked their magic on him.

  Bakari’s heart beat faster. He’d have to accept that other men would be attracted to her. She was a woman all men would want. And maybe it wasn’t a bad thing that the two of them had met. He could ask Khalid what he thought of her later. Get a read on her. He didn’t want to believe Chasisi’s warnings that the woman was playing him.

  He wanted Sadie so badly it hurt. If he approached her slowly he may be able to have her all to himself. That would be something. Holding her eyes with his, he walked up to her and lifted her right hand to his lips. Her fingers were long and delicate and felt softer than silk. Her scent hit him like a tidal wave, so distinct it made him as hard as a lamp-post.

  When he kissed her sweet smelling skin, a trembling sensation started at the base of his spine and rose. He’d never wanted a woman more. Self-restraint would be nearly impossible. “You look so beautiful, Sadie.”

  Her full lips pulled into a warm smile, telegraphing it was meant only for him. He swallowed, trying to regain some composure and turned towards his son. “I thought you’d planned to stay in Cairo.”

  Khalid gave him a stubborn teenage face, his eyes sullen, his lips curving. “I thought I’d be more useful to you here.”

  “Perhaps.” Bakari stared at him hard. “We could have talked about it.”

  The younger man shrugged.

  An uncomfortable silence filled the room as the two men stared at one another.

  Sadie broke the stand-off. “I think I’ll head for bed. Flights tire me out.” She put her hand gently around Bakari’s arm and gave it a gentle squeeze. “Will you join me soon?”

  “Not tonight. I have work to do. But, I have planned a dinner for us tomorrow. Seven o’clock?”

  “Just the two of us?” she cooed.

  “Definitely.”

  29

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  After locking her bedroom door, Sadie climbed onto her enormous bed and took out her company cell-phone. She sent a text to Jeremiah. “Bakari and Khalid Badru are here. Papers and a parcel arrived and were put in the office. I’ll look around. I have a dinner date tomorrow night.”

  On her personal phone she had messages: two from Mitch, and one from Knickers, a lady she loathed, who wanted her to do a magazine shoot next month. Sadie would need to answer the texts later. She lay back on the bed and looked up at the wooden canopy.

  Khalid gave her the creep-chills. There was something odd, very odd, about him. Bakari was just as she remembered him, a lion of a man with a bad-ass temperament. She’d see how far she could bend him.

  In the meantime, it would be good to know more about the schematics of the house and what was in the cylinder and box stashed in the locked office. She stretched her legs and wiggled her toes. She would start her search at the top of the house and work down. It would be easier to do later that night, when there was less likelihood of running into anyone. She dozed off.

  The clock on the bedside table attached to a radio read 12:30. In order to hide easily in the shadows she put on a black top to match her black yoga pants. If anyone did manage to catch up with her she would make up an alibi about exercising.

  She turned on the radio and tuned it to a classical station. Then she put some pillows inside the sheets of the bed and molded them to look like a body. After giving her ruse one more examination, she put on a pair of thin, black gloves, pulled her hair up into a knot and stuffed it into a black toque.

  After three deep breathes for good luck she headed for the door. Hearing no movement in the hallway, she silently exited the room and closed the door behind her.

  She considered looking inside the rooms on her floor, but decided to head to the stairway instead. She climbed the
stairs, listening for people. No sounds. When she made it to the next landing she expected to find a hallway lined with doorways like on her floor, but instead found herself in a small foyer with only one door, painted white like the walls. It must be Bakari’s penthouse suite. She listened for any sound of activity. Nothing. Leaning into the door, she put her ear against it and listened. Still, no sounds. She sniffed the air. No smells.

  Reaching for the vintage crystal-glass doorknob she extended all her senses to catch any sense of people. Nothing. She tried to turn the knob, but it wouldn’t budge. Locked.

  She knelt down to examine the knob closer. Unlike the door to the office below, this one did not have an old fashioned key lock. It had a card scanner beneath it. Gaining access to this room would be more difficult. How many cameras were watching her right now?

  If someone caught her, she’d let her hair tumble and she’d claim to be exercising and perhaps a little curious. Would Dead Eyes believe that? Not likely. He was one of only three men in her life who were immune to her charms. Damn him and his evil eyes. She stole back down the stairs.

  Descending to the first floor, she listened for movement. The busy noises of day-time activities had stopped, but she could hear some clinking in the kitchen. Maybe someone was having a late night snack.

  She tiptoed into the dining room and went to the smaller door through which Elizabeth had disappeared. The knob turned and she opened the door onto a narrow hallway. She entered and closed the door quietly behind her. She flicked on her small flashlight.

  To her right, four yards down the hall was a door. Probably the kitchen. The sound of voices came from there.

  Holding her breath, she tiptoed past them. The corridor ended in another seven yards at a closed door. To its right rose an old, spiral metal staircase, like those found in many old houses.

  She had to be directly behind the grand, Scarlett O’Hara stairway.

  The spiral stairway went straight down. Down? They were at the street level. There must be a basement. Great. Dead Eyes had his own dungeon to play in. She bit her bottom lip.

  If her sense of direction was right, the door could lead to Bakari’s office. That would tell her more than the basement. She put her ear to the door and listened.

  Hearing nothing, she tried the doorknob. It turned. Carefully she pushed open the door a sliver and peaked inside. This room would definitely have high security in it. She’d need to figure out where the control room was and take out the cameras, if she really wanted to search this room and live.

  She could run into the office, grab the items the messenger had brought and run out onto the street, but that would end her chances of turning Bakari and the information might not be that useful. Better to get a look at it then leave everything in place. But, she needed to temporarily disarm the cameras. And Dead Eyes? If only she could disarm him.

  She closed the door and headed back to the hidden stairway. Was Bakari’s control room down there? As she stepped on the first rung it squeaked. Iron grinding on iron. She continued down, wincing every time the metal made a noise. No sign of cameras. As she descended the dank smell of earth, mold and decay assaulted her senses. Was she descending into Dante’s hell? God only knew what a power crazed arms dealer who thought nothing of beheading his wife would stow in his Edwardian London cellar. She hit dirt after the last step—black, dry and dusty dirt.

  Scanning the small space with her flashlight she found two doors, one to the left and one straight ahead. Maybe the room to the left was an old bomb shelter. And the one ahead? It should lead to the street. The bomb shelter would probably be more interesting.

  Its wooden handle wouldn’t budge. The door had an old fashioned key lock, so after putting her ear to the door and not hearing any sound, she pulled her lock-picking jackknife from her pocket. Extending her long hook, she said a silent prayer. She readied a second pick. Her record for opening a lock like this was three minutes. Did she have the time? She slid in the hook and wiggled it around. Just as it reached a tumbler, she heard the sound of a door closing above her.

  She pulled out the pick and jammed it back into her pocket. Footsteps headed towards the metal stairs. The hair on the nape of her neck rose.

  The smell of garlic hit her nose. Was it her imagination? A stream of light from above shone down. She squeezed against the wall so it couldn’t find her.

  Beads of perspiration formed on her brow. She ran over to the other door as quietly as possible. This one had to be an escape route. No lock. She went through it and closed the door silently behind her.

  It was more a tunnel than a hallway. A narrowing tunnel. Breathing became difficult, partly because her lungs resisted the cold damp air of the night and partly because adrenalin pumped through her body. Her calves tightened. A cold sweat poured down her back drenching her clothes. Her senses sharpened until she could hear the sound of rats scurrying along the pathway. She ran full speed the rest of the way, not stopping until she found herself at a circular, exit covered by a grate. She gulped in the fresh air and tried to move the cover. It didn’t budge when she pushed on it the first time, or the second. Taking a step back, she kicked hard at its center. And she was free.

  For about five seconds.

  Barking. Lots of dogs barking.

  Dogs were coming her way. It sounded like an army of hungry Doberman pinschers, rotties and pit bulls coming to get her. Couldn’t she catch a break? The sound of someone shuffling along the tunnel behind her answered that question. Nope, no breaks today.

  Standing on well-manicured grass she swept the area with her flashlight. She’d ended up in a small part of the back garden, set apart from the rest by a six-foot row of privet. A rose-covered arbor linked it to the main garden to her right. Beyond that stood the house.

  The road had to be directly in front of her, but all she could see was the thick hedge of small, green leaves. The area wasn’t lit, but the back garden was, so it wouldn’t be wise to go that way. She ran over to the hedge and poked her flashlight into it.

  Barking rang in her ears. The dogs were closing in on her. The hedge had to be four feet thick, and on the other side was a metal fence.

  That didn’t make sense. If someone had gone to the trouble of making an escape route, it should lead right to the road. Shouldn’t it? She poked her arm in again about a foot. The dogs were getting louder. Her chest constricted. There had to be a way out.

  Was that the smell of garlic? Had to be in her head. Shit. She pushed her hand in again. And that’s when she saw the hidden doorway. It was made of fake privet. In three stuttered heart beats, she pulled on the fake branches, opened the gate, darted through and closed it behind her. Releasing a long breath she could hear the canines on the other side of the hedge jumping at the branches. A few seconds later and she’d have been dog food.

  An ornate street lamp revealed a quiet road. No pedestrians. No cars. A sliver of the moon peaked from behind the clouds, giving a somber melancholy glow. Sadie started running and didn’t stop until she could no longer hear the baying of the hounds, or see Bakari’s house.

  She pulled off her toque and loosened her hair. Every cell in her body trembled. Putting her hands on her thighs, she leaned over and concentrated on slowing her breathing. It would take a few minutes for the effects of the adrenalin to settle down. Enough time to figure out how she’d slip back into the house.

  When her nerves settled she stood up, only to find herself eye to eye with Chasisi al-Sharif. On either side of him stood Doberman pinchers. A chill ran down her spine.

  Dressed in a black, wool sweater, black khakis and black runners the man wore an expression of disgust. Talk about a messenger from the gates of hell.

  “Good evening,” Sadie said, carefully tossing her hair behind her shoulders. That was usually all she had to do to capture a man.

  Silence.

  His eyes stayed on hers, showing no evidence of attraction. She lifted her breasts and put her mouth into a pout. “I was running.”r />
  “From what?” His thin lips turned down into a menacing scowl and he put his hands on his hips. He didn’t have Bakari’s charisma, but he sure had the ability to instill terror in others.

  “Americans don’t need to run from anything. We simply run for the joy of it. It’s an endorphin-addiction thing. I couldn’t sleep, jet-lag and all, so I decided to run.” She made her voice light, like a lame dame.

  Still grimacing, he let his eyes wander over her body. His breath caught for second as he traced her hips then he cleared his throat. “Let me introduce myself. I am Chasisi al-Sharif, Bakari’s brother and head of security for the family.”

  She was about to say something polite, but he shook his head.

  “I don’t trust you.”

  Sadie gave him a bawdy laugh.

  His eyes widened.

  “Darlin’, I don’t trust you either,” she said.

  30

  Chapter Thirty

  Sadie, escorted by Chasisi and his dogs, returned to Bakari’s house. Three things were clear: One, Chasisi didn’t like her relationship with his brother; two, Chasisi had been told not to hurt her and; three, Chasisi would like to screw her. Talk about family drama! She could work with that. After five minutes of trying to engage him in conversation, she gave up and they walked in an unsettling silence.

  After a restless night, Sadie slept late. She had a light breakfast in the dining room and then wandered around the first floor. There really wasn’t much to see. The office door remained locked and the kitchen busy. She didn’t dare go into the secret passage again. Not in broad daylight.

  Returning to the second floor she found all but one of the four doors unlocked. Each was a replica of the suite she stayed in. Khalid must be in the fourth. She wondered what he was doing behind the locked door. Whatever it was, it made no sound. Maybe he had gone out for the day. Sadie returned to her room.