Redemption

by Will Jordan

  ‘There,’ she said, nodding towards the bar with its mirrored backdrop and seemingly endless rows of spirits. ‘Third seat from the end.’

  Craning his neck around for a quick look, Drake spotted a man in a dark suit sitting alone, nursing a vodka with ice. He was facing away from them, but the mirrored bar allowed them a decent look.

  Average build, early forties, with short dark hair, glasses and a face that was neither handsome nor ugly, he looked thoroughly nondescript. He also looked as if he’d put away a few of those vodkas judging by his unfocused eyes.

  Still, he seemed a rough physical match for Drake.

  ‘Perfect,’ Anya decided. ‘He’s the right age, he’s wealthy, he’s alone and approachable. And he is British.’

  Drake frowned. ‘And how can you tell all that?’

  ‘His suit comes from Savile Row, and he is making no effort to talk to anyone. British men are no good at small talk,’ she added with a significant look at Drake. ‘He has been drinking spirits for a while, so he isn’t planning to meet anyone, especially not a woman. And I see the mark of a wedding ring on his hand. Either he is divorced, or he took it off tonight. Either way, he is the one. Once he invites me back to his room, I’ll take his passport and meet you back at our suite.’

  Drake regarded her with a raised eyebrow. ‘What if he blows you off?’

  She gave him a wry smile. ‘For a man, you have very little understanding of the male mind. Not many men would refuse to sleep with a beautiful woman with no strings attached.’

  ‘Your modesty continues to impress me.’

  ‘I saw the way you looked at me earlier,’ she whispered in his ear, her breath warm against his cheek as she stood up. ‘Go back to the room and wait for me there.’

  Saying nothing more, she turned and sauntered over to the bar, finding a seat close to the target. Straight away she caught his eye, though the man tried to be unobtrusive about it. He kept his gaze averted, as if worried he would scare her off.

  Drake watched Anya order a drink. Vodka on the rocks – clever girl. She looked relaxed, elegant, composed as she sipped her drink. She was an attractive woman in a bar filled with men. It was too easy.

  Five minutes or so went by, during which a waitress came over to ask if Drake wanted a drink. He ordered a whisky and soda.

  The man had kept to himself, minding his own business, but casting the occasional furtive glance Anya’s way to check if anyone had joined her. He was attracted to her. Good.

  She played it cool, ignoring his first tentative attempts. To turn and look at him too soon might frighten him off, or worse, give the impression that she was a hooker trawling for a rich businessman.

  When the target finally plucked up the courage to look at her properly, she smiled at him, her pale blue eyes smouldering in the dim light. Drake saw him smile back, tentative at first. He wasn’t used to approaching women, flirting with them, showing interest in subtle ways.

  She was speaking now, holding up her drink, using it to start a conversation. Drake couldn’t hear what was being said over the general hubbub, but he could tell from the man’s body language that he was receptive.

  Five minutes later, and she had switched chairs to sit beside him, and the trap was sprung. He was all over her, laughing and joking, his confidence riding high now that her interest was firmly established.

  He’d seen enough. Draining the last of his drink, he stood up and quietly left the bar.

  Chapter 47

  AS THE ELEVATOR made its unhurried ascent to the third floor, Lewis Henderson smiled at the woman beside him, hardly believing his luck. She was beautiful: tall, blonde, slender, with a sultry, intimate voice and an enticingly exotic accent that he could listen to all night long.

  He’d bumped into her down at the bar, found they shared a preference for the same brand of vodka, and the conversation had blossomed from there. She’d explained she was in Miami for some financial conference, and that her flight had been delayed until tomorrow. So here she was, alone and bored.

  It was he who had suggested they return to his room for a nightcap. Normally he never would have been so brazen, but the vodka was thick in his blood and his confidence was soaring.

  He felt her hand, soft and warm, gently stroking his own. The barest touch was maddeningly arousing, and already he could feel his heart hammering against his chest.

  ‘I hope it’s not far,’ she whispered, her voice deep and purring. ‘I’m looking forward to seeing your room, and your bed.’

  The elevator pinged and the doors opened. Taking her hand, he turned left and strode down the corridor, eager to be alone with her. He wanted to see that glorious body naked, wanted to run his fingers through that thick blonde hair, wanted to hear that seductive voice moaning in his ear.

  Reaching room 312, he fished out his keycard and fumbled to swipe it through the reader, silently cursing himself for being so clumsy.

  At last the door beeped and unlocked. He pushed it open and hurried in, with his new companion just behind.

  No sooner had the door clicked shut than he felt her mouth on his, her body pressed up against him, hard and insistent. The kiss was so strong it left him breathless.

  His hands encircled her narrow waist, then moved up until he felt the soft warmth of her breasts. He was more aroused than he’d ever thought possible. He felt like a teenager again, eager but apprehensive.

  She kissed him again, slowly pushing him towards the bed. A playful shove to the chest sent him falling backwards onto the soft mattress.

  ‘Don’t move,’ she whispered, reaching into her handbag.

  ‘What have you got there?’ he asked, wondering if this was some sort of sex game; handcuffs or a blindfold or something like that.

  He hadn’t dabbled much in that sort of thing. Not that he hadn’t wanted to, but his previous partners had always been so conventional, so ordinary, so unwilling to try anything new or creative that he’d never felt comfortable suggesting it. After a while he’d given up thinking about it.

  But this woman was something else. She was special, adventurous, exciting and unafraid to exert her authority. She was everything he’d ever looked for, and she had awoken something in him: a desire to break free of the safe, dull monotony of his life, to seek adventure and excitement.

  She smiled seductively. ‘Something just for you.’

  Then, in a flash, everything changed. Suddenly she pulled a weapon out of the bag and aimed it at him. He saw the dull black gun metal gleaming in the wan light.

  For a moment he laughed. This had to be some kind of game, surely?

  ‘Shut up,’ she hissed, all trace of her former attraction and desire gone. ‘Roll over on your stomach. Do it now!’

  The look in her eyes erased any doubts he might have entertained. There was a cold, calculating, menacing look in them now. She was like a predator poised to strike.

  In an instant, all the life drained out of him. He felt sick, terrified.

  You stupid fool! his mind screamed at him. How could you be taken in so easily? She brought you up here to rob you! Then she’s going to kill you!

  ‘P-please, don’t kill me,’ he stammered, trembling visibly now. He didn’t care that she saw it. He was terrified. With every ounce of his being, he wished to return to the safe, comfortable life he’d spurned only moments before. ‘Please. I made a mistake. Just take what you want. Don’t kill me.’

  ‘Are you married, Lewis?’ she asked.

  His eyes went blank for a moment. ‘What?’

  ‘It’s a simple question. Are you married?’ she repeated. ‘I see the mark of a ring on your hand. Do you have a wife at home? Don’t lie to me.’

  He could feel tears threatening. Sniffing and unwilling to meet her gaze, he nodded.

  ‘Does she love you?’

  He nodded again, fighting hard not to break down.

  ‘You think she’d be upset if she found out you’d been murdered in a hotel room by a Russian hooker?’ />
  His lower lip was trembling and tears were running down his cheeks as he spoke. ‘I d-don’t want t-to die.’

  ‘I didn’t ask if you wanted to die, Lewis. I asked if you thought your wife would be upset to know you’d been murdered in your hotel room by a Russian hooker? Well, would she?’

  ‘Y-yes!’ he hissed, hating her for making him say it, and hating himself even more for being so weak. ‘Yes, she’d be upset!’

  She sighed. ‘Then you won’t invite women back to your room in future, will you?’

  Wild, frantic hope surged through him. ‘No. No, I won’t! I promise!’

  ‘Good.’ The look in her eyes hadn’t changed, but he did detect something in her voice. A slight softening, a brief moment of understanding. ‘Lie face down on the bed and put your hands behind your back. I’m going to tie you up, then I’m going to leave. You’ll never see me again. You can go back to your life and pretend none of this ever happened. Understand?’

  He nodded.

  Three minutes later, she had him gagged and secured on the floor beside the toilet, bound securely with a roll of heavy duty duct tape she’d brought along for the task. Available in any hardware store in the country, it was as good as a pair of handcuffs and far more versatile. No human was strong enough to break it; she knew that much.

  Anya was no stranger to securing prisoners, and had made sure Henderson couldn’t go anywhere or make enough noise to arouse suspicion, practically mummifying him in the stuff.

  He was in for a long night, and probably a long day tomorrow before the hotel staff found him, but he would live. His pride and dignity were another matter, though she had no concern for either.

  She had already helped herself to his glasses, wallet and the valuable credit cards and identity documents within, but a quick search of his room failed to yield his passport. She did however find an electronic safe, similar to the one in their own room.

  It required a four-digit PIN to open. Checking his driver’s licence, she found his date of birth was 10/07/68.

  She tried 1968. The safe’s indicator light flashed green, and there was an electronic hum as the bolt was withdrawn. She shook her head, dismayed at how naive and predictable people could be.

  Tucking his passport into her jacket pocket, she paused in front of the mirror to check her appearance, then glanced into the bathroom.

  ‘Thanks for the help. Goodbye, Lewis,’ she said, then opened the door and placed the Do Not Disturb sign on it.

  A moment later, she was gone.

  Chapter 48

  ANYA WAS FEELING good about herself as she strode down the corridor to their suite. Her plan had unfolded perfectly, leaving her with a valid passport that just might get Drake through Immigration.

  Perhaps they would make use of that champagne after all. She’d never had much fondness for alcohol, but it would be a shame to waste it.

  She would certainly make use of room service, she decided. She was often hungry now, which she took as a good sign. Her body was recovering from the deprivations of Khatyrgan, a hint of her former strength and vigour returning.

  But her first order of business would be to change out of her skirt and high heels. How could women wear things like this all day long? She’d never enjoyed such impractical clothing, and resented having to wear it when men were able to walk around in relative comfort.

  Still, like many things, it had its uses.

  She smiled as she swiped her card through the reader and pushed the door open.

  ‘Drake, I have good news for once.’

  He was standing by the window, staring out across the city. Rain was still pattering against the glass.

  ‘You got it, then?’ He took a drink of something. Whisky. She could smell it.

  ‘Mr Henderson was most cooperative.’ Crossing the room, she handed him the man’s passport. ‘It may take a little work, but you should pass for him.’

  Drake surveyed the picture for a few moments, then glanced back up at her. ‘You didn’t …?’

  ‘What? Sleep with him?’ She kicked off her high heels, sat down on the bed and rubbed her aching feet. Assassinations she could handle. Women’s fashion was another matter.

  ‘I was going to say, kill him.’

  ‘I know what you were going to say. But don’t worry, I didn’t shoot him or sleep with him.’ Anya flashed a playful grin. ‘Tell me, Drake, which would you have preferred?’

  It wasn’t in her nature to be flirtatious, but the vodkas she had shared with Henderson had gone to her head a little. She was flushed with success, with optimism, and with something else she hadn’t felt for a very long time – attraction. Attraction towards the man who had been her only companion for the past couple of days.

  She hadn’t thought much about it, hadn’t allowed such feelings out, but looking at him now with his jacket off, his shirt open at the collar, and the faint outlines of hard muscle visible beneath, she realised how much her perception of him had changed since that moment he kicked in the door of her cell in Khatyrgan.

  ‘I’m not sure which would be more dangerous,’ Drake smiled, seeming to see her comment for what it was. She saw something in his eyes then, a glimpse of something he’d kept hidden all this time, a part of himself he’d been careful to keep under control.

  Her body responded in kind, and she felt a sudden blush rise to her face as a tingling warmth spread to other parts.

  She rose from the bed, suddenly feeling uncomfortable and self-conscious. Crossing the room, she reached into her bag and removed the Glock automatic he’d hidden in the cistern on arrival.

  ‘Very useful,’ she said, handing it back to him. ‘We will need to dispose of it before we leave tomorrow, though.’

  She saw a moment of confusion in his eyes as he took the weapon. She had started down a path, only to turn away without explanation.

  ‘What are you doing?’ he asked as she reached for the phone by the bed.

  ‘Ordering dinner. Even I need to eat sometimes,’ she replied, careful to avoid eye contact. She didn’t want to encourage him any further. ‘Then I’m going to bed. You should try to rest too. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.’

  Chapter 49

  THE CUSTOMS OFFICIAL stared at the passport for a few seconds before looking up at Drake. She was a black woman in her fifties, short and rounded, with a severe look in her eyes that suggested she was just waiting for an excuse to haul him off for a full body search.

  ‘And what’s the purpose of your trip to Saudi Arabia, sir?’

  ‘Business. I work for a consultancy firm. We’re there to advise on a construction project,’ Drake replied, reeling off the cover story they’d both memorised over breakfast earlier. If pressed on the matter, he even had business cards courtesy of Anya’s contingency fund.

  He had done what he could to transform himself into Lewis Henderson, donning a business suit, styling his hair in a severe side parting just like in the man’s passport photo, and ‘borrowing’ his glasses. The man must have suffered from severe myopia, because anything more than 20 feet away was visible only as a painful blur.

  He swallowed hard, trying to fight back the tide of nausea that seemed to be rising from the pit of his stomach. Just before leaving their room, Anya had thrust a glass of water into his hands and urged him to drink. When he tasted the tang of salt water, he knew what she’d planned.

  Their facial features might have been a broad match, but their physiques were not. Drake was leaner and fitter than Henderson, his skin tanned by years of operations in equatorial countries. Both issues had to be addressed, and for Anya, it was the perfect solution.

  After being violently sick, Drake had glimpsed himself in the bathroom mirror, shocked by how pale and ill he now looked. It was as if all the blood had drained from his face.

  He’d been sick again in the restrooms after arriving at the departures terminal, and had thought that was the last of it. Maybe he’d been wrong.

  ‘Are you okay, sir
?’ She looked suspicious.

  ‘Yes, thanks. Well, more or less. Been a bit ill lately,’ he added with an apologetic smile. ‘Ever since I ate at that Mexican place last week. Spicy food doesn’t seem to agree with me, I’m afraid. Or tequila.’

  Her expression softened a little. No doubt she thought he was a stupid asshole, but a harmless one, and that was just fine with him. He’d learned a long time ago that if in doubt, always play the hapless, bumbling Brit abroad.

  ‘Maybe that’ll teach you to go easy in future,’ she remarked.

  A moment later, she had swiped his passport through the magnetic scanner and handed it back to him, along with his boarding pass.

  He couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

  Anya was waiting for him beyond the security checkpoint, holding the laptop bag she’d purchased from one of the countless electrical retailers in the main terminal to further her cover as a businesswoman.

  ‘Glad you made it,’ she said, offering a tentative smile.

  He said nothing as he brushed past her, heading for the nearest restroom.

  Part Three

  Confrontation

  Know thy self, know thy enemy. A thousand battles, a thousand victories.

  Sun Tzu’s The Art of War

  Chapter 50

  Miami-Dade County Police Department

  ‘HIS NAME’S LEWIS Henderson,’ the police sergeant explained as he, Frost and Dietrich hurried down the corridor, their shoes squeaking on the cheap linoleum flooring. ‘Works for a British investment bank. Last night he was approached at the hotel bar by a blonde woman speaking with a Russian accent. They went back up to his room, then she pulled a gun on him and left him tied up in the bathroom.’

  ‘How did he get the word out?’ Frost asked as she struggled to keep up with Dietrich. Despite his limp, he moved at a formidable pace.

  He didn’t. He was due to check out today but he didn’t show at the desk. Security found him when they opened his room, duct taped from head to toe. We brought him in to take his statement.