"Oh, Anya. I'm sorry. I thought it was David. He's next door." A shadow crossed Anya's face, and Natasha hurried to explain. "He brought us back from the hospital…John and I. You know…the monk…from the abbey. John's next door. We're going to watch a movie. Would you like to join us?" She was babbling, and she couldn't stop. Must be that pain-killer.
Anya stepped all the way inside, carrying an enormous bouquet of lavender roses. "No, I shouldn't stay. The hospital sent these over. I wanted you to have them right away." She looked at the red roses on the table. "Oh, I see you have more than one admirer."
"I got those this morning. These are probably from my parents. Only they know I love silver roses." She opened the small, attached card.
The red roses conveyed a message. But these are your favorite.
Ever Yours,
Dirk 24-7
Natasha squealed. "We're both wrong. Get the card on the red roses and come sit down."
Anya gingerly climbed on the bed beside her.
Natasha offered both cards. "Here, read them."
Anya read quickly then looked up with a question in her eyes.
"Oh, red roses mean I love you. And that's not all. He wrote me a letter asking me to wait for him, because we have something to discuss when he gets back…He's on a mission."
"How the mighty have fallen."
"Well, he's good on paper." Natasha held up her letter. "We'll have to see about the real thing when he gets back."
They both laughed at once. Of course, David chose that moment to return.
"John said…What are you two hens cackling about?"
Natasha waved a hand at the silver roses.
David shook his head. "Show-off."
"What did John say?"
"He'd love to see a John Wayne western."
"Is that possible?"
"Yes," answered Anya and David together.
David backed for the door. "We have a small library of movies. I'll get one. Anya, would you like to stay and watch it with us? Dirk requested I baby-sit Natasha."
Before Anya could decline again, Natasha joined in. "Great idea. I'd love some female company. I've been surrounded by testosterone for weeks."
Smiling self-consciously, Anya agreed.
"Would you care to accompany me to the movie library?"
Anya blushed. "Natasha and I have much to discuss."
David scowled, and his face reddened. "Should I bring anything to eat?"
"Yes, lots," Natasha demanded. "And make sure it's horribly fattening. I haven't eaten since breakfast. Most of the time they barely fed us in that prison, unless you're into falafel and figs."
David saluted. "Your wish is my command."
Once he was gone, Natasha became serious. "There really are some things I wanted to ask you about. How is your family taking the loss of Orin?"
"Do not be anxious, they don't blame you. We cry, we remember, we laugh. It will take time. How was that pig?"
"When last I saw Yaakov, he was lying on the ground where he'd fallen after I kicked him in the face." She smiled. "How's your bullet wound?"
"Healing. I'm on light duty. You should know…when your kidon found out about your kidnapping, and about Orin, they wanted to go after you. They asked to be placed on active duty. David said no. He wanted a small contingent. Sloan would never agree to be left behind, so that left room for only the pilot, a medic, and one other."
"That's nice to hear. I wonder how much more training I have to go through."
Anya shook her head. "I see no reason for you to continue. You're different from regular Mossad. It's not as if you'll be sent undercover in some foreign country for months on end. Your value is another area. I'll tell David to send you home."
"Anya, that's wonderful! My parents will be so happy! And so will my brother. He's been covering my job for months."
"You deserve it. I am proud of you. Now that I'm no longer your teacher, I can tell you so." Anya grasped Natasha's hand.
"Before I leave, we're going to streak that hair of yours."
Minutes later, David arrived. "Is it safe to come in?" he called from the doorway.
"Yes."
He and John entered, bringing the movie and the aroma of enticing foods.
The rest of the evening was like a celebration. John enjoyed her friends, laughing and smiling at times. And Natasha thought she detected a spark of attraction between Anya and David.
There was so much to celebrate. John was safe. He might not return to the abbey. Dirk was interested in her, and he knew the Lord.
Yaakov could never find his way into the Garden of Eden. Her dream had shown her that. He might have a copy of the manuscript, but so did the Israelis. They could beat him to any further discoveries. And now that the Mossad had put a public face on Yaakov, he'd be easier to track, especially with Hassan/Jadon on the inside.
If only Yaakov hadn't threatened to plague Israel.
But her family was home and safe. God had blessed her in ways she'd never imagined when she started this. She'd stepped out in trust, and God showed Himself faithful. She felt closer to Him in a whole new way. And David would find the Lord. He'd already begun to question.
And Trinity Pictures. Natasha felt she had a lot to offer. Dirk and David were vital parts of that organization, and she was looking forward to working with them. There was so much to be thankful for, especially if Dirk's mission ended soon. Maybe she would go to London and meet Dirk's parents when she left Israel. Her future suddenly looked incredibly bright.
~The End~
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~Felicia Mires
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Read the first chapter of the next book in Natasha's continuing adventure, The Blood Plague.
The Blood Plague Chapter 1
Natasha Kelly sat on the early Friday morning flight out of Tel Aviv, fidgeting with her seat buckle. It wasn't returning to the States that twisted her stomach in knots, but the layover in London. How had she gotten into such a predicament?
One moment she'd been a simple courier on a job, the next, her face jumped off the cover of nearly every tabloid magazine in the world.
She blamed Dirk Sloan for the whole fiasco. Kissing her before his fans. Of course, they sold the pictures to the tabloids. Who wouldn't?
Hollywood's most elusive bachelor declares himself engaged to a complete unknown. What a coup!
If only his announcement affected the world in general, not people who knew them personally, more specifically, Dirk's parents. After seeing the tabloid photo, his family assumed Natasha and Dirk were getting married. He did nothing to dissuade them. Now she had to act the part of the loving fiancée to maintain his cover.
She stared out the window at the white clouds blanketing the horizon. Had they reached the British Isles yet?
The telegram in her pocket said his parents looked forward to her visit and would be waiting at the airport. Meeting them was daunting enough, but what if they brought other relatives? She could just see herself surrounded by a slew of Sloans.
Yet, she longed to make a good impression. Someday, she and Dirk might get married. They grew closer each time they worked together on a mission. After their last dive into danger, Dirk had sent her roses with a card saying he wanted to ask her something. Perhaps when he returned from his current mission, whereabouts unknown, they really would become engaged.
She checked her wa
tch for the fourth time. If she hurried, she could visit the Ladies' room and inspect her appearance before the captain turned on the seat belt sign.
Natasha rose and walked down the aisle, scanning for hostile persons. Getting kidnapped by a terrorist had left her with a distaste of strangers. Something else with which she needed to trust the Lord.
With a flick of the wrist, she locked herself in the bathroom. What she saw in the mirror reassured her. No trace of her recent injuries marred her smooth complexion. She tilted her head and smiled. She resembled any small town girl. Not that you could ever call Houston, Texas, small. Still, no one looking at her would suspect she traveled the world as a spy for Israel's Mossad. Her long, wavy blond hair, blue eyes, and wide smile made her come across more like a dumb blond than a lethal weapon.
She smoothed her pale pink pantsuit, Dirk's favorite color, bought just for this occasion. This suit made her feel like she was meeting his family with him. If they expected one of the starlets Dirk usually dated, they'd be disappointed. She turned away from the mirror. Dirk's family would either like her as she was, or they wouldn't. She'd done her best.
After returning to her seat, Natasha inspected her ticket to verify the length of her layover in London. She'd managed to stretch it to eighteen hours. She could spend the night with Dirk's parents and catch an early morning flight the next day.
The seat belt sign flashed, and Natasha straightened her seat back and grabbed the bag at her feet. It held everything she might need for one night. Her remaining luggage would wait at the airport for transfer to her next flight.
In approximately fifteen minutes she would meet Dirk's family. She tensed. As the minutes ticked down, the butterflies in her stomach took a kamikaze dive.
Lord, help me.
The serenity of God's presence settled on her. Forgive me, Father.
Relying on God instead of herself still required practice. During the past months in her struggle to stay alive, she'd discovered that too much of her life had been dependent on her own abilities. But now she had a burning desire to walk by God's direction every minute of the day.
The plane touched down for a landing, and Natasha flinched. The moment had come.
Most of the passengers reached for their carry-ons and parcels. As soon as they moved, she'd make a dash for the door.
In no time, she stood in the lobby, hoping someone would notice her. Dirk's parents seemed assured they'd recognize her from the newspaper pictures.
When a mature couple and an extremely pretty, young blond made a beeline for Natasha, she took a deep breath and held out her hand. The young woman hauled Natasha into a full body embrace.
"Oh Natasha, it is you, isn't it? I can just see me grabbing the wrong woman and makin' a fool of myself. I'm Dirk's sister, Renee, and this is Mum and Dad."
When Renee released her, Natasha turned to face Dirk's parents. A diminutive blond woman in a demure gray pantsuit clasped Natasha's hand in both of hers.
"We're delighted you could stop off with us, Natasha. Did you have a nice flight? Please call me Ann, and this is Joseph."
Joseph Sloan peered down from a height of well over six feet. Bushy gray brows rose over eyes equally gray. He took Natasha's hand in a firm grip. "How do you do? Please, call me Joe. Are there any trunks we need to retrieve?"
"Uh, no, thank you." At last, someone who actually expected an answer to their question. "I appreciate you picking me up. Dirk's told me wonderful things about you. I'm happy to meet you."
Renee tittered behind her hand. "I love that American drawl. Dirk said you were from Texas. Can you teach me to do that? My friends will adore you."
Ann Sloan took Natasha by the arm as they walked outside toward the underground parking garage. "Slow down, Renee. You're not allowing Natasha time to adjust. She'll think you haven't a brain in your head."
"Here, here," said Mr. Sloan, though Natasha caught the trace of a smile under his finely trimmed moustache.
They meandered through the garage until they came to a dark blue sedan.
"Here we are," said Mrs. Sloan. "Natasha, would you care to place your bag in the boot?"
Natasha blinked several times, her mind racing. "I'm sorry?"
"In here." Mr. Sloan pointed in the empty trunk.
"Oh, thanks."
Renee reached out and motioned Natasha toward the back seat. "I can't wait until you meet Joan. You're ever so lovely. But then, Dirk said you were gorgeous. I thought you'd be another of his stuck-up actresses, but you're nothing like that."
"Thank you."
Dirk said she was gorgeous? Nice to hear, even if it was an exaggeration.
She gave Renee's hand a squeeze. "You're just as pretty as Dirk said and…'loads of fun.'" She mimicked Dirk's voice and manner.
His family laughed, and everyone seemed to relax.
Mrs. Sloan cleared her throat. "Natasha, we'd like you to join us later at a restaurant for High Tea. Joan and the children will meet us…if you're up to it."
"That would be lovely. I've never had high tea…or any other tea."
"Oh. Then you've never been here before? Dirk didn't mention."
"Once. When my parents were on the mission field, we came through London to meet someone. But I've never seen any of the sights."
The two women brightened, talking at once.
"Oh, I'd forgotten your parents were missionaries."
"We've got to take her to the palace."
"And the changing of the guard and-"
Mr. Sloan broke into their excited chatter. "Why don't you ask Natasha what she'd like to see?"
Renee giggled, and Dirk's mother covered her mouth with her hand. "Of course."
"Where would you like to go?" asked Renee with a hopeful expression on her face.
"Actually, I'm having so much fun listening to all of you, we don't have to go anywhere. I want to talk."
"We can talk while we look. I haven't spent the day like a grockle in a long time."
With a satisfied smile, Mrs. Sloan had settled the matter and faced the front again.
Natasha leaned toward Renee and whispered. "A grockle?"
"A tourist."
Traffic was crazy in London. How did one master the art of the roundabout? The circling maneuver might forego the need for traffic signals, but Natasha wasn't sure a few lights might not be helpful, especially in a London drizzle.
By the time they arrived at their first destination, the rain had stopped. They toured the Tower of London, and Natasha gaped at the diamonds and stones in the Crown Jewels. Under the watchful eyes of the Jewel House Wardens, she read the brochure.
The Imperial State Crown held the world's second largest cut diamond, the Cullinan II, a cushion-shaped stone weighing over three hundred and seventeen carats. Not to mention the two thousand, eight hundred and sixty-eight other diamonds, two hundred seventy-three pearls, seventeen sapphires, eleven emeralds, and five rubies.
"That crown sparkles like a lighted Christmas tree," she whispered to Renee.
"Yeah, and look at the sceptre. You could crack someone's skull with that thing."
"Whew! The brochure says that's the largest cut diamond in the world, the Cullinan I. A pear-shaped stone of a mere five hundred and thirty carats. It makes the small diamonds I carried a couple of months ago look like beads for decorations."
Mrs. Sloan pointed at a display case. "Like those salt shakers."
Natasha laughed. Foot-high salt shakers covered in diamonds. "Imagine that at your next dinner party."
Renee chuckled, laying a hand on Natasha's arm. "I didn't know you transported diamonds. How glamorous!"
"Not at all. You pick up the package. You fly to the next stop. You hand them over. Being here is a lot more fun."
Particularly since someone wasn't trying to shoot her.
"Speaking of here...Did you know the Tower of London is the oldest building in London?" Natasha shook her head, and Renee nodded. "Supposedly there are ghosts. But the main occu
pants of the tower are the ravens. They feed them bloodied meat every day to keep them 'round. It's said if the ravens ever left the Tower, the monarchy would fall."
"No wonder they feed them." Natasha peered up at the raucous birds.
Creepy-looking creatures.
St. James Palace and then Buckingham Palace were almost a blur as they rushed from one to the other to get a view of the mounted guard. But it was worth it to peruse the Royal Treasure, where Natasha got to see her first Faberge egg. From there, they drove to Windsor.
As the castle came into view, Renee nudged Natasha in the ribs. "Look at the turrets."
Natasha obediently leaned to gaze out her window.
"See that flag?"
"Mmm-hmm."
"That means the Queen is in residence."
"So if the flag isn't there, she's not home."
"Exactly. And there's a chap who's only job is the flags. Can you imagine?"
Natasha laughed. "Not really. But I wouldn't want to climb all those stairs to the turret just to hang a flag on a pole."
"Everyone there is just barmy for the queen. They say she's quite grand to work for. Demanding, though."
"I can imagine."
As Natasha snapped picture after picture, her head began to reel with all the history and grandeur. Mr. Sloan pulled her aside as they strolled out of the souvenir shop. "Ann and Renee will be in there yet a while. Why don't we sit?"
Though he acted more reserved than his women folk, he'd treated Natasha as part of the family all day. She never paid for a thing, from entrance fees to postcards.
They settled on a bench, and Natasha stretched out her long legs.
"I'm not surprised Dirk…noticed you. You have a presence about you."
"Thank you." Natasha gave him a lop-sided grin. "I'm not sure what you mean, though."
"Confidence. No…more than that. Serenity. As if you know where you're going."
Ah…the Lord. And at the perfect time, she'd tell him so.
"I'm surprised. If you knew how nervous I was about meeting you…"
The Syrian (Natasha Kelly, Mossad Spy) Page 18
