by Fiona Quinn
Christen released Karl’s lapel when she felt a hand brush down her back.
“Hey, Karl, remember me? I’m Lula LaRoe, we met when you came to see Christen winning her gymnastics’ medals at Nationals.” She grinned her happy friendly grin, but continued to pet Christen, trying to calm her.
“Oh, uh, yes. Lula. Lovely that you could join us this weekend.”
Christen patted her hand over Karl’s dinner jacket to smooth the wrinkles from where she’d gripped it. “Karl was asking about Kentucky. Such a beautiful state. Absolutely lovely. He’s bought a new horse from just south of me. Where are you stabling your horse?”
Karl seemed thrown by her sudden shift. “Oh – uh, Mimi. Mimi has him at her Virginia home along the James River.”
“She wasn’t able to join you for your dad’s gathering?” Lula asked.
“Well, no. I had brought these businessmen together, well, we. Father and I had planned a business gathering, and so we had just invited the men.”
Christen thought her head would explode. That last sentence was her existence within the family. The men did the business, the women were the coffee tables, something to put your feet up on to relax. The paintings on the walls to be discussed, “look at the lines and coloring, isn’t she beautiful?” The whirly gigs in the garden adding movement, something whimsical to smile at and nod. Females, in the Davidson world, were not actual sentient, intellectual beings. They were there for the pleasure they could provide. Quietly.
“London came.” Christen pointed out.
“She’s only with us for the day. Father wished to see her. She’ll stay here in Singapore with the twins and go shopping while we go on with our meetings.”
Father – not Dad. It sounded so fake to Christen’s ears. Cold. And distant.
“I understand that now you girls will be coming along on our adventure tomorrow to see the orangutans.”
“Women,” Christen said. “We women will be joining in. That’s right.” But her words were lost as Karl turned toward the man dressed in his calf-length white shirt over a loose pair of pants. He wore the traditional red and white gutra secured with a black rope on his head. The cloth was folded back on either side in the style specific to the men of Qatar. He reached out to hold Karl’s hand. A distinctly Arabic act of male affection that Christen was surprised Karl allowed.
“Orangutans,” the man said. “No. No orangutans. It deeply saddens me, but I have heard from your security that our plans have been changed.”
“Nadir al-Attiyah, of Qatar, my half-sister Christen, her friend Lula LaRoe.”
Christen placed her hand over her heart. “Assalam ualaikum.”
“Walaikum assalam.” Nadir returned the gesture. “You speak Arabic?”
“Only a little bit. I’ve been to Qatar. It’s truly beautiful,” she said with a smile. Maybe here was a place she could gather information.
Lula stepped on her toes. It felt like an on-purpose stepping, too. Christen bet Lula was rethinking her recommendation that Christen might find future employment in whatever alphabet organization Lula worked for. (Christen was still betting it was the CIA.)
“I haven’t heard anything about a change of plans,” Karl turned his shoulder physically blocking Christen from Nadir. “I planned that event solely with your interests in mind.” Karl seemed agitated. “Who told you this about the orangutans?”
“Your father did.” Nadir spoke excellent English with a generic American accent.
Taro Eto was walking past. Christen knew him from the photos and names that Johnna had gone over with them before they’d come down to the reception room. “No orangutans,” he said, stopping. No one bothered to introduce him to the others in the group, but he seemed indifferent to the women’s presence anyway. “There are bandits in the woods. We will go on a tour of an ancient village. Maybe we see orangutan in the wild.”
“Father.” Karl said reaching out toward his distracted father as he walked by with Gregor Zoric. “The visit to the refuge was called off?”
“The head of my security team deemed it too dangerous.”
Christen followed Karl’s angry gaze over to a neckless security guard. The man blushed beet red, and did a sweep of the room, then talked into his cuff like a secret service agent actor in the movies. No real-world secret service agent did that crap.
“I’m sure you’ll enjoy your tour, though,” her dad said. “I’ve made sure with your tour guide that there will be ample opportunities to take some wonderful adventure photographs. And the surfing beaches where you will spend the next day are spectacular.” He tapped Karl’s arm and Karl dropped his hand to his side. William Davidson turned his attention to Taro. “It will be your only opportunity on this trip to enjoy the beaches. I’m still developing those on my own island. Another year will see them done and be something really special.” He sent them a wan smile, and Christen thought she could see a headache thudding at his temples. “Excuse me,” he said and walked off before anyone could say anything in reply. Lula followed him. She didn’t bother to say good-bye. No one but Christen seemed to notice she’d left their conversation circle.
“I have researched the waters of this area. We must be very careful swimming in the waters,” Gregor sent a poignant look toward Karl and then a surreptitious glance her way. His English was thick and halting.
“The surf can be strong, but certainly the water is no more dangerous than any other,” Christen said. She was ignored.
“However,” Gregor said, “once apprised, once aware, one can work to avoid issues.” Again with the poignant stare toward Karl. This guy wasn’t exactly being subtle. Maybe it was cultural and she was misinterpreting. They had professionals at Langley who could decide. Her job was to look while looking pretty.
“There is actually a very interesting creature to be on guard for, the sea wasp.”
“Sea wasp?” Nadir asked. “I’ve never heard of this. An insect on open water?”
“The name hides the truth. A sea wasp is actually a box jellyfish and is known to be the most poisonous animal on our planet.” Gregor drained his tumbler then lifted his glass in the air. Within seconds a waiter took it from him, asking if he’d like another.
“Here? In the waters where we’re to swim?” Nadir pulled his head back and tucked his chin.
“The strong venom.” Gregor snapped his fingers. “It can kill its prey in a matter of seconds.”
“Oh, but its prey would be shrimp and fish. Things that are easily caught by such a predator,” Christen said. “Small animals.”
The men all swung their heads to look at her then turned back to Gregor.
“I have read that the venom can cause issues with the skin cells, with the nervous system, with the heart. Very painful. And since this may cause shock or heart failure instantly, if the victim is stung, people usually drown before they can reach the shore. They die a painful death alone in the water.” A slow smile seemed to want to stretch Gregor’s lips, but there was no movement.
“If they die alone in the water, how do we know they experienced pain?” Christen asked.
No one answered her.
“If you survive the sea wasp attack,” he continued, “—if—you will be marked for life. The scarring will tattoo your skin.”
“Well, at least that’ll make a great bar story,” Christen told the air, knowing no one was paying the least attention to her. She swirled her tumbler of bourbon, ordered because she hated the taste and wouldn’t be tempted to sip it. She was tempted, anyway. Anything to take the edge off. Christen considered the story that Gregor was sharing and what import it might have. She’d surfed these waters maybe a half-dozen times, and she’d never heard of this thing before, the sea wasp. She wondered if it wasn’t some made-up crap. She’d Google it later.
“How does one recognize this sea wasp from a regular jellyfish?” Nadir asked. “Should we just assume any jellyfish we see are lethal?”
“They, like the others, are transparent,
but with a light blue coloration. Two dozen or so tentacles, each three meters in length, grow from the underbelly, providing thousands of cells to sting the victim.” Gregor caught Karl’s gaze. “The sea wasp does not sting when it touches its target. Rather, when the sea wasp senses the chemicals of the prey’s skin, the wasp then sends the poison and kills the enemy. And the targets are instantly dead in the water.”
Was that weird to say? From Karl’s narrowed eyes and hard stare, he was getting some message loud and clear. Christen hoped that those in the know who were hearing this cryptic back and forth were able to find the metaphor. It was lost on her. But that’s not why she was on this mission. She was tasked with picking up this kind of information. It was someone else’s job to sift it and find the nugget of interesting information. She was on task, she reminded herself – though this was nothing like the kind of mission she liked to be on. She was helping. Maybe.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lynx
Thursday, Striker’s Apartment, Iniquus Men’s Barracks
Gator canted his head as he peered at the computer screen. “You look tired.”
Lynx answered with a loud yawn. She stretched her arms over her head then gave herself a shake. “Oh, you know how these things go. I’ll sleep when you sleep. But you’re twelve hours ahead, and I jumped on this band wagon already in motion. I need my clock to catch up with yours, that’s all. How’d it go tonight? Christen’s a bit out of her comfort zone. Did she fare okay?”
“As far as the fitting in, she did fine. She seems comfortable enough in this situation. It was a strange dynamic. The dad and oldest brother Karl seemed to engage with her, the step-mom and other siblings ignored her completely. She doesn’t seem to enjoy her family. Now I know who she is, flying as a Night Stalker and all, I’m confused on why her dad tells everyone she’s an artist? That don’t make sense.”
“Her dad knows what she does. Her dad doesn’t accept it. Those are two different things. You get that, Gator.”
“You don’t think that’s some kinda crazy? I’m being serious. Could he have dementia or something?”
“He doesn’t want to think his little girl is in harm’s way. This is easier for him, I’m guessing. I can try to get hold of his medical records if you’d like. It could be that they’ve already gathered that information, and it’s in the file at Langley. If not, once he gets on his island and laws don’t apply, Nutsbe can hack his laptop and see if there isn’t information on his hard drive.”
“I’d appreciate that. Yeah, I’d like to know. It’s got to be something. He’s either disoriented or he’s got a lot on his mind. Sometimes when he was speaking, he’d just drift off message or change the sentence mid-thought. He’s doing something and then just wanders away. I don’t know him well enough to know if that’s his normal behavior. I can’t ask Christen either, I’m still playing on the bad-guy team, as far as she knows. He could be distracted, but usually when there’s a big deal going down, folks get laser focused.”
“What’s going on besides there being something off in his concentration? What kind of character are we looking at?”
“Narcissistic. Needy. Surrounds himself with yes men. Likes the sound of his own voice. The brother Karl seems cut from the same pattern. The other two brothers, I don’t know that they’re rowing with both oars. Christen definitely won the gene lottery.”
“Intelligence. Character. Skills. Yes, I’m impressed with her. From our research, it looks like Karl is being groomed to take his father’s place, and the younger siblings look like they’re being groomed to enjoy their trust funds.”
“That seems about right.” He moved the computer onto the bed and shoved himself so he could lay back.
The energy Lynx felt swirling around Gator was intense. For her it had been an underlying hum of urgency and danger. She knew it was connected to him. She couldn’t block it if she wanted to. And she didn’t want to. She wanted to keep her fingers on the pulse of whatever was happening for him. It was coming. It was big. The fight of this lifetime. This? That was an odd word to insert. Not the fight of a lifetime. This. This? Huh. Not outside of Lynx’s paradigms. Not inside either. Spyder, her mentor, believed in a soul’s evolution through various lives. It had been part of the teachings she was exposed to in her varied educational career. That had felt like more of an intellectual game. A philosopher’s enigma. And this felt concrete. Whew! That was a lot to take in. Should she discuss this with Gator? Was it better for it to play out? “Let’s go back to Christen and her dad. How do they get along?”
“She’s quiet. Mostly just listens. I don’t know if that’s her natural personality, if it’s the mission, or if it’s the dynamic she falls into in these situations. She comes off as a socialite who knows her place in the old-boy world. Which, with the men coming in from these countries, makes sense. But the dad and the daughter? Night and day them two. Were you listening real time while we were at the party?”
“I was. Sounds like you’ve got an interesting excursion tomorrow.”
“William Davidson’s hanging back. Johnna White, well, Lula, made some excuse to hang with him. She’ll be our only eyes and ears. It seems to me his staying back is important. I’m glad someone from our team will have a chance to figure out why. The wife, London, and two of the kids have a spa day. William Davidson isn’t scheduled to join them for that.”
“Langley has an X on William Davidsons back. There will be little he can do without their knowledge. I’m told White will have backup teams from the area if need be.”
“Okay. He’s keeping his chauffeur and one security guard with him. He’s specified one for White I’m not sure if that’s to keep her safe or keep eyes on her. It seems an odd choice, is all. There will be fourteen guests and five security team members heading out on their field trip.”
“Noted. I’ll pass that along.”
“There was an argument about bringing all the security teams that travel with the other guests, but the yacht just can’t accommodate those numbers even with William Davidson and Lula hanging back. We had a security meeting. The Fire Hydrant’s name is Daniel, and he’s in charge. He’s focused on Karl. The rest of us will focus on the others.”
She scrawled those notes on her paper. “I’ll make sure everyone’s aware.”
“I know you have all this from the tapes, but I’m touching on the points of interest so you aren’t losing them in the hours of small talk.”
“Appreciated.” Lynx had her notes out and was checking the information Gator was handing her against the details she had gleaned from surveillance.
“We’re scheduled to take a private jet to Sumatra to do some hiking, and they’re setting up a lunch at one of the villages. I sent you the waypoints for our trek. I’d like you to check out the area and let me know what we might run into, threat-wise. Check the terrain and wildlife too. These guys don’t look like they’re out in nature much. Or in the gym. Blaze and me might end up piggy backing these guys around. I don’t think they know what they’re getting themselves into. The heat and humidity. We need to be ready with the right equipment, best we can put together from what their normal security team has on hand.”
“Wilco, I’ll hand that off to Nutsbe. We’ll have a full report up for you before you head out. What time are you leaving?”
“Zero seven hundred hours our time.
“Yeah, we have plenty of time to get this together for you. You’re meeting the Davidson yacht according to the plan you sent us. Is there a dock? I’m looking at the satellite image of the, area and I don’t see anything.”
“They’re going to be sending a dingy to shore, and we’ll help get everyone transferred over. They’re heading to an island for dinner. Swimming and enjoying the beach the next day. That’s where the surfing skills will come in. We may have to pull someone out of the drink. After dinner, we’ll set off for the Davidson island where they’ll have the rest of their business retreat. That’s when I hope to pick up some good int
elligence.”
“It’ll be interesting to have eyes and ears on the island. I hope your comms are good there. We’ll probably have some black out time until you get back on the mainland.”
“That’s what I figure.” Gator’s voice faded off. He swiped a hand over his eyes.
He suddenly looked exhausted, like the weight of the world was resting on his shoulders. Lynx felt fiercely protective. The ferocity was actually kind of stunning. She wanted to hand-to-hand battle anything that made Gator look the way he did. “Can we take a second and talk about the elephant in the room?”
Gator laced his hands and posted them behind his head. “The sixth sense crap I’ve been wading through?”
“Wading through? It’s like a full-blown hurricane. I can hardly stand it, and I’m just checking in on you.”
“Sucks for sure. Near as I can tell this has to do with Christen.”
“You feel like you’ve known her all your life. What else are you feeling?”
“A personal connection. And it’s rough. I have to keep constant vigilance.”
“Because…”
“Aww now, don’t make me say this. I’ll sound like a moron.”
“Gator, I’ve been wearing you like a coat since this assignment started. I know what I’m feeling. I need to get some affirmations from you that what I’m getting is what you’re getting.”
