by Terry Toler
She screamed.
The masked man pulled her close and had his gun to her head. All the blood had left Bianca’s face, and she was white as a sheet.
“Anybody moves and I’ll shoot her,” the man yelled out. Violently. Like he meant what he said.
Saad recognized the man’s voice. It was the same one on the phone that morning.
“Don’t shoot,” Saad shouted. “Take the painting, but don’t harm the girl.”
He needed to diffuse this situation. Surely the Turks didn’t intend to harm anyone. They only wanted the painting. But why was he threatening the girl? While the girl had been frustrating last night, she was still his property. He considered this a personal attack. One that the White Wolves would pay dearly for. It took a lot of nerve for them to come into his city in broad daylight, threaten his girls and him, and steal his property. If the White Wolves wanted a war, he’d give it to them.
Right now, though, he needed to get out of this alive.
Mrs. Steele was shaking. Her arms were on his back, and she peeked around him. Saad kept himself between her and the gunman. With his right hand, he placed his arm on her for reassurance.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Saad said to everyone. “Just take what you want and leave,” he said to the gunman.
“Where’s the painting?” the gunman shouted. “Give me what I want, and no one gets hurt.”
“It’s by the door,” Mrs. Steele said, pointing at a package by the entrance, inside a sturdy, wooden box frame. Safely wrapped for Mrs. Steele to take with her after they finalized the transaction.
The gunman inched back toward the door dragging Bianca with him. He swung her around, so she was behind him. Then backed her out the door. With his free hand, the gunman grabbed the painting. The man was big and strong. Bigger than most Turkish men. He picked it up with one hand like it was a toy.
The gunman backed out of the gallery with the weapon still pointed in their direction.
“Count to two minutes,” he said. “Don’t follow me. If anyone sticks their head out the door, I’ll shoot it off.”
Saad believed him. The man was clearly Turkish, but Saad couldn’t place what region the gunman’s accent was from.
Less than a minute later, Saad saw a white van flash by the front of the building. He rushed to the entrance.
His worst fear was realized.
The gunman had taken Bianca hostage.
10
A-Rad opened the back door of the van and carefully set the painting inside. He’d just exited the art gallery with his gun drawn, dragging Bianca along with him while clutching the painting. He ordered Bianca to get into the back of the van.
She hesitated.
“Now!” he shouted.
From the look of utter terror on her face, she clearly still had no idea what was going on.
“All the way to the back,” he said.
She navigated around the painting and sat down on the floor of the van, which was clearly not easy to do in her high heels and tight dress.
Now was a critical time in the plan. A thousand things could go wrong. A-Rad had to hurry. He’d left the van running for a quick getaway.
They sped off.
Once he was out of sight of the art gallery, he ripped off the ski mask and threw it in the back. Bianca was still crouched on the floor, but now facing him, staring right at him. Panic gripped her face as every muscle from her chin to her forehead were tensed. So hard, lines were showing, which he doubted she actually had.
“Please don’t hurt me,” she said.
A-Rad smiled. He meant to comment, but the beauty of the woman and her vulnerability left him momentarily speechless. That, and he had to get his eyes back on the road or he’d crash the van which would put a significant glitch in the plan.
“I’m with Mrs. Steele,” A-rad said to her. “You’re safe now.”
He heard her let out a huge sigh and say, “Thank you, God.”
That wasn’t entirely true. Bianca was in more danger now than she’d been in ten minutes ago. It still felt good to say it, though. A-Rad felt like her knight in shining armor saving the damsel in distress. While he’d risk life and limb for this woman he’d just met simply because Jamie asked him to, he hoped to keep further risk to a minimum.
“I thought… maybe,” she said, stuttering somewhat. “You know. I thought you might be with her. But I didn’t know. I was scared. You made it seem like you really were a bad guy.”
“I am. For them. I’m their worst nightmare. My job was to get you out of there and take the painting. I’m glad it worked out.”
Jamie had put together a good plan. Something A-Rad wasn’t good at. He was better at executing other people’s plans. In his mind, rushing in brandishing a gun wasn’t the hard part. He had the element of surprise on his side, and the two guards were easy enough to disarm. The real challenge was getting Bianca and the painting to the plane without getting caught. He figured the police were already looking for a white van.
He wouldn’t allow himself to relax until he had both safely on board. A task he figured would take about thirty minutes. He actually wouldn’t rest until Jamie was on the plane too, and they were all safely in the air. Jamie had her own issues to deal with.
The important thing for him to do was get the van off the road as soon as possible. His route had been planned out in detail. Jamie forced him to memorize it. Something he wasn’t good at doing. Fortunately, the preparation paid off, and he found the parking garage right where Jamie said it would be. It looked familiar because they had been there earlier in the morning to park a second getaway vehicle in one of the stalls.
A four-door white sedan was parked in level D, space 23. A-Rad backed the white van into the space next to it. The van had been stolen before dawn from a dry-cleaning pick-up and delivery service. The parking lot of the business had more than thirty such identical vans, and the hopes were that they wouldn’t miss this one. They took one of five that had no lettering on the side.
“Put that burqa over you,” A-Rad said to Bianca.
The black, traditional Muslim garment was laying on the floor next to Bianca. If somehow they were discovered, Bianca was to simply walk off wearing the burqa and blend in with the rest of the women walking around Abu Dhabi City in the same attire. A-Rad would deal with the threat while she got away. Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that, and Bianca could stay hidden in the van, and they could stay together. A-Rad would feel a lot better if Bianca never left his sight.
He explained the plan to her and where to meet Jamie if they got separated for any reason. He could see her tense up, probably feeding off his own concern. The thought of being separated from him was probably terrifying to her as well. Fortunately, she did what he asked and had the garment on in a matter of seconds.
“Stay out of sight,” he instructed her. The last thing they needed was for someone to see an American male with a Muslim in a burqa sitting in a van. A police officer would arrest them on the spot and ask questions later. A-Rad wouldn’t let that happen. While he wouldn’t kill an innocent policeman just to get away, he wouldn’t let them take him willingly. A-Rad touched his hip to make sure the gun was still there and within reach.
“I’ll have us out of here and on the road within five minutes,” he said. That was being optimistic.
A-Rad went around to the back of the van and opened the double doors. He ripped off the packaging on the painting and flipped it over, so the back side was facing up and the front side was lying on a protective cloth spread out on the van floor. With a screwdriver, he pried the painting out of the frame. Then broke the frame into pieces and put them on the ground next to the van.
He took out two layers of smooth, archival glassine paper, chemical free so as not to damage the painting. The paper was already cut to dimensions two inches larger than the painting all the way around. That’s what he loved about Jamie. She didn't leave any detail to chance. Even though she’d been up all night dealing with some girl in a
hospital she was trying to help, she never went to bed. Instead, she stayed up getting everything ready so things would go easier for A-Rad.
“I can sleep when I’m dead,” Jamie had said.
Something A-Rad heard Curly say in training on more than one occasion.
A-Rad continued to work with the painting. Now came the tricky part. Jamie had shown him how to do it, but it still made him nervous.
“Roll it up like a sushi roll,” she’d said. “Don’t fold it. Roll it.” She’d demonstrated the technique a number of times until he got it. Or at least got it enough to where she was satisfied. He still wasn’t sure he could do it properly.
“It’s okay. I trust you,” Jamie said. “Don’t even think about the fact that it’s a forty-million-dollar painting, and that you’ll ruin it if you roll it wrong.”
By the sly grin on Jamie’s face, he could tell she was joking. By the narrowed eyes, he could tell she was nervous about it.
“I’m just kidding,” Jamie said. “We can restore it if we have to. But we won’t have to if you roll it properly. Don’t roll it too tightly. Do it gently. Like you’re changing a baby’s diaper.”
“I’ve never changed a diaper before!”
“Picture your hands on a pretty girl’s face. You’re about to kiss her for the first time. That’s how gently I want you to treat the painting.”
“That I know how to do.”
He tried to do it exactly like she’d said. Sweat was about to drip off his brow, so he wiped it with the sleeve of his shirt. Though hot outside, he was mostly sweating because he dreaded having to touch the painting. He’d much rather be touching a girl’s face. That didn’t make him nervous. Well… girls made him nervous, too. Not like this, though. He might as well be getting ready to perform surgery on someone. That’s how nervous he felt.
Bianca was still crouched in the back of the van looking on. The only part of her body he could see were her eyes and hands. Even her eyes were stunningly gorgeous peering through the slit in the burqa. Olive colored. If that was a color.
Focus dummy.
He finished rolling the painting and felt like he’d done it right. At least the best he could under the circumstances. He took two steps back from the van to make sure the coast was still clear and that no one was around. The garage was mostly abandoned at that time of day.
The next step was to wrap a thin sheet of pre-cut bubble wrap around the painting and tape it in place. Then slide the painting into a tube and seal it shut.
After one last glance around the garage to make sure no one was watching, A-Rad said to Bianca in a serious tone, “Let’s move. Take off the burqa and get out of the van.”
He opened the passenger side door of the sedan and told her to get in. In the seat was a blonde wig and a pair of designer sunglasses.
“Put those on,” he said.
While he didn’t like ordering her around, time was of the essence, and she needed to act without hesitating. He took out all of the contents of the van and put them in the trunk of the sedan. The gun he kept on him. He put the tube with the painting in the backseat.
They sped out of the garage and headed toward the airport. He felt better and actually allowed himself to take in a few deep breaths.
“I’m Willy,” he said, holding out his hand for Bianca to shake. Willy Shoemaker was his nickname on missions.
Her hand was trembling as she shook his which caused him to smile.
“You’re going to be okay, now,” A-Rad said reassuringly. “I won’t let anything happen to you. We’re going to get on a plane and get you back home.”
“Thank you,” she said with her voice cracking. A-Rad could see a tear or two escape her eyes and flow down her cheek, leaving a streak in her makeup. Wearing the wig, she actually did look like Jamie. Hopefully, the security guard at the airport would be fooled. If not, A-Rad would have a mess on his hands.
“When we get to airport security, you’re going to pretend you’re Mrs. Steele. In the glove box is her passport. Get it out and hand it to me. Mine’s in there too. Give ’em both to me.”
A-Rad pulled up to the security gate, rolled down the window, and handed the man both passports.
The man had an assault rifle over his shoulder and a firearm at his side. Another armed guard was in the guardhouse.
A-Rad could see their plane out on the tarmac, fueled, and ready to go. They were so close to safety.
They arrived at the entrance to the section of the airport where the private planes were parked. Security wasn’t as tight as it was at the main airport, for obvious reasons, and A-Rad and Jamie had been there for several days and had come in and out of the gate multiple times without incident. The only difference this time was that they weren’t in her Lamborghini. The security guard studied them closely. He looked down at the passports then leaned in and looked over at Bianca who was staring straight ahead.
“We’re going to be leaving soon,” A-Rad said to the man. “That’s our plane over there. This is the last time you’ll see us.” He pointed in the direction of their jet.
Generally, passengers leaving didn’t get the same scrutiny as arriving passengers. At least that’s what he was hoping for. It would help if the man remembered him. A-Rad didn’t recognize this particular man, but all the guards looked similar to him with their dark hair, scraggly beards, and thin faces with pointy chins.
“Have a good trip,” the man said as he handed the passports back to A-Rad. He wanted to express the sudden elation he was feeling but maintained his stoic but friendly demeanor.
They drove through the guard gate and past the guard. As the gate closed behind them, both let out a collective sigh of relief. A-Rad parked next to their plane. Bianca was almost giddy, and her demeanor totally changed. She clapped her hands together and rocked back and forth in her seat with delight. A-Rad could only imagine the joy she must be feeling. Almost like she was getting out of jail. In a weird kind of way, she was.
A-Rad didn’t completely share her enthusiasm. Although he was pleased this part of the plan had gone well and Bianca was safe, he wouldn’t rest until Jamie was on the plane and they were in the air.
A number of things could go wrong for her. Would the police be called? Would she get caught up in an investigation? Would the Sheikh suspect anything?
A-Rad had tried to be believable with his accent on the phone with the Sheikh and again at the art gallery. Was Saad fooled? For whatever reason, A-Rad had a gift for sounding middle eastern. They’d discovered it during training on the Farm as A-Rad was constantly making fun of terrorists. Trying to talk like they talked as a joke.
Curly said it could be used on a mission. So, he made A-Rad study Arabic and Turkish and practiced speaking them for months until he perfected it. This was the first time he’d used it in the field. He thought it went well, but he wasn’t sure. He tried to assure himself that everything would be okay, and that the Sheikh was duped.
If for whatever reason he wasn’t fooled, Jamie could handle herself. Even if she ran into trouble, she could fight her way out of it if she had to. A-Rad would make sure the plane was ready to go in case she came speeding into the airport, crashed the gate, and was being shot at. Admittedly, his imagination was running wild. Still, he couldn’t help but be concerned. When Jamie was in harm’s way, he always felt whatever she was feeling as if he were right there beside her.
The biggest issue she might face was the security guard at the airport gate. A blonde-haired woman named Jamie Steele had already gone through security once. A-Rad had her passport. Jamie said she had a plan to get through a second time. He could always bring it out to her if she ran into trouble. The guards generally took a lunch break at the same time every day. As long as Jamie timed it right and arrived while they were on break, the new guards wouldn’t know about the first Jamie.
Once the painting was securely in the plane and Bianca was comfortable, A-Rad took a seat by one of the windows. An assault rifle was now over his shou
lder.
He kept his eyes peeled on the front security gate.
Just in case.
11
Somewhere over the Mediterranean
Five hours later
“You stole the painting,” Alex said to me. The tone was between a statement of disbelief and a question. I wasn’t sure which he intended.
“Yep,” I said.
“You took the painting without paying the Sheik for it?”
“Yep.”
“Just so I’m clear, Jamie, you left Abu Dhabi with the painting and the money?”
“Right.”
“The Sheikh is out the painting, and he’s also out—”
“Alex! How many times are you going to ask me the same question, just worded differently?”
“I’m just trying to understand what happened.”
“I’ll explain it to you.”
“This I’ve got to hear.”
“First of all, the Sheikh’s a bad guy. He’s trafficking women or at least holding them as sex slaves, so to speak. Against their will anyway. It’s complicated. I don’t feel bad about taking the painting without paying for it.”
“How did you manage to do that?”
“I’m getting to that!”
“Sorry. Continue.”
“A-Rad called the Sheikh, pretending to be a member of the White Wolves.”
“The Turkish Mafia?”
“Right.”
I wished he wouldn’t interrupt me. It broke my train of thought. Alex knew who the White Wolves were.
“Anyway, A-Rad offered to buy the painting from the Sheikh at a lower price. Of course, he refused. So… we stole it from him. The Sheikh thinks the White Wolves stole it. So, we’re in the clear.”
“Won’t the Sheikh call the cops?” Alex remained as serious as a preacher delivering a Sunday morning sermon.
“I don’t think so. What are they going to do about it? I think the Sheikh will try to seek retribution from the White Wolves. Maybe start a little mini war over it.”
I couldn’t help almost laughing out loud about that.
