No Girl Left Behind: A Jamie Austen Spy Thriller (THE SPY STORIES Book 5)

by Terry Toler

“I suppose he’ll be reimbursed by insurance,” Alex said.

  “He wasn’t insured. At least that’s what he said to me as I was leaving. You shoulda seen the look on his face when I walked out of the art gallery with the money. He didn’t have the painting or the money, and one of his girl’s was kidnapped. He was spitting mad.”

  “I made it back to the plane with no problems,” she continued, “and we took off shortly after. We’re somewhere over the Mediterranean Sea on our way to Switzerland. I took a nap for a couple hours and then called you as soon as I woke up.”

  “What are you going to do with the painting?”

  “Sell it to our buyer. I’m meeting Mr. Takumi in Geneva Switzerland.”

  “Jamie! You’re going to sell him a hot painting? Does he know that?”

  “It’s not hot.”

  “Please explain.”

  “I have a bill of sale. Sheikh signed it yesterday when we agreed on the price. He forgot to ask for it back.”

  “But he doesn’t have the money.”

  “That’s his word against mine. I’ve got a signed bill of sale. I also have a transaction receipt from the bank saying I got a cashier’s check for the same amount.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

  “Don’t worry about it. I have a paper trail. Besides, it’s never going to come up. Mr. Takumi is buying the painting for personal reasons. He wants to leave it to his kids. It’s not like it’s going up for auction anytime soon. Doesn’t matter anyway. Saad isn’t going to report the painting as stolen, and he certainly doesn’t run in those circles where he’d see it up for sale.”

  I was depositing the cashier’s check in Switzerland on purpose. If it ever did become an issue, the Swiss banks prided themselves on secrecy. Saad would never be able to prove that the money didn’t go to him.

  “Sounds like you’ve covered all the bases.”

  “I have. When I get to Geneva, I’ll deposit the thirty-two million in our account, plus the forty million from Mr. Takumi. That’ll give us a nice profit for the month.”

  “You can definitely make a good profit when you have no cost of acquisition.”

  “No doubt. Maybe we’ll make a living stealing artwork from dirty oligarchs.”

  “Hey! I thought it was thirty-two and a half million. Are you skimming some on the side?”

  “No. I’m giving Bianca a half million dollars. For her trouble. Although, skimming is a good idea. Thanks for that. I’m the one getting shot at. I should take a commission.”

  “I didn’t know you were shot at.”

  “I wasn’t. I just said that for dramatic effect. I should negotiate combat pay into my contract.”

  “Who’s Bianca?” he asked, ignoring my jokes. I owned half the company, so I didn’t have an employment contract. I could take whatever I wanted. AJAX had been so profitable our first year, we hadn’t yet dipped into the hundred million dollars allocated for our budget.

  “Bianca is a girl I rescued from the Sheikh.”

  “I don’t need to know the details. I’m glad everything went well. Good job. Does this mean you’re coming home to me soon?”

  “No. Sorry. As soon as I’m done in Geneva, I’m going back to Abu Dhabi.”

  “You’re joking!”

  “Not at all.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea? Showing your face around there again. What if the Sheikh figures out that you were the one who took the painting?”

  “I have to go back.”

  “Why?”

  “There are more girls to save.”

  ***

  The blueprints for the Sheik’s house were on a laptop sitting on a table in the living area of our jet. Bianca and I were at the table going over them. After I pried her away from A-Rad. The two had really hit it off and neither had barely noticed me since we left Abu Dhabi. She was clearly smitten by him, and he was like a starry-eyed schoolboy over her.

  Curly called it a “bullet romance.” He said that when bullets were flying, emotions ran high. When the fighting stopped, the emotions didn’t always go away immediately. It wasn’t unusual for romantic feelings to emerge between two people in the throes of battle. I’d seen it a number of times with my husband, Alex. The passion between us often intensified after getting shot at.

  I didn’t try to put a damper on it. I let A-Rad enjoy it. Bianca was a beautiful and sweet girl. She’d been through a lot though. She’d have a lot of emotional scars to get over once she got home. Letting them both have a break from reality and some fun together for a few hours seemed like a good thing.

  In the year I’d known A-Rad, I never once heard him mention a girl or even going on a date. Despite his manly exterior, he was a shy and introverted teddy bear on the inside. He’d never have the courage to go up to someone like Bianca and introduce himself. This opportunity fell in his lap. She was smitten by her hero, so to speak.

  Right now, though, I needed intel. The romance would have to wait for a few minutes.

  “Show me where the girls are staying?” I asked.

  “Right here. We each had our own room.”

  “You said Anya wanted to leave. Are you sure?”

  “Positive. I’m worried about her. I’m not there to protect her. We sort of protected each other. Or at least helped each other get through it. Are you going to try and help her as well?”

  “Yes. Which one is Anya’s room?”

  Bianca pointed it out.

  I asked Bianca a series of questions. How many guards were there? Where did they stay? How often did they change shifts? Was there a security system? Where were the cameras? Was there a motion detector system? How often were the girls there alone? Did the Sheikh have a routine?

  Bianca had little information, but asking the questions helped jog my memory of what I’d observed. When I had all the information I needed from her, I excused myself and told Bianca to wait there. That I’d be right back. I went and got a briefcase out of the vault.

  The vault was a secret compartment in the plane. Before we left Abu Dhabi, the authorities searched our plane. Standard procedure, and I had expected it. Bianca, the painting, and the cashier’s check were stashed in the vault, which was built specifically for that reason. A hiding place, but also a safe room. It couldn’t be detected without tearing out walls. We also had our stash of weapons and tradecraft spying gadgets in the vault. It had served us well on many occasions, flying in and out of hostile environments.

  Alex and I had even used it to smuggle Bibles into Senegal, Nigeria, Kenya, and Mali where owning one was illegal. It had certainly come in handy in Abu Dhabi getting Bianca out of the country undetected.

  I returned from the vault with a satchel in my hand. When I sat it in front of Bianca, she asked, “What’s this?”

  “Open it,” I said.

  When she opened it, her mouth flew open as she took some of the money and held it in her hands. When I went by the bank in Abu Dhabi, I also took out a half million in cash.

  “What’s this?” she asked again.

  “Let’s just say it’s your payment from the Sheikh for services rendered.”

  “How much is it?”

  “A half a million dollars. That’s more than the three hundred thousand euros you would’ve made had you stayed the full year. That’s assuming the Sheikh was even going to pay you.”

  “I don’t know what to say.”

  “Say that you’ve learned your lesson, and you won’t fall into one of these traps again.”

  “I can say that for sure.”

  “When we get to Geneva, Switzerland, we’ll go to the bank and set up an account for you. Once you get back to Paris, you can do whatever you want with it. Wire it to your own bank. Keep it in there. Take it out when you need it or all at once. It’s your money to do with as you wish.”

  She threw her arms around my neck and hugged me tightly.

  “I don’t know how to ever repay you. Thank you for the money and thank you for saving me.
”

  “You don’t have to. You helped me get the painting. That’s payment enough.”

  “What about Saad? Is he going to come after me?”

  “When you get home, wait a couple of weeks. Then send him an email. Tell him that your kidnappers let you go, and you went home. That you’re not coming back. You’re too afraid. If the authorities question you, tell them he was holding you against your will, and you escaped from your kidnappers and flew back home.”

  “What about my contract? He’ll have me arrested.”

  “Do you ever intend to travel to Abu Dhabi again?”

  “Never! I don’t ever want to step foot in that place. Ever again.”

  “Then it’ll never be a problem. He can’t enforce the contract in France. I’d like to see him try. All you have to do is tell Interpol what the Sheikh has been up to and what he put you through, and he would be the one with a warrant out for his arrest. I assume he’ll let the whole thing go. By emailing him, he’ll quit looking for you. He might even send you the six months’ pay he owes you. Although, I wouldn’t count on it.”

  The cockpit door flew open and A-Rad appeared. The plane was obviously on autopilot.

  “Are you guys done yet?” he asked. “I promised Bianca I’d let her fly the plane.”

  She looked at me and I nodded my approval. I almost felt like a mother telling her daughter she could go to the school dance.

  Bianca bolted out of her seat, and the two disappeared almost before I could blink.

  I felt suddenly tired again and went back into my room.

  “Sleep and eat when you can,” Curly always said. “You never know when you’ll get another chance.”

  I had no idea what was facing us back in Abu Dhabi.

  Amina.

  Anya.

  My phone rang interrupting my thoughts.

  “Hi honey,” I said with a yawn.

  “I did some checking on that girl from Canada. Odille Coste.”

  Odille was the girl Bianca said went missing one day after she refused to service the Sheikh anymore. The Sheikh took her out to his yacht, and Bianca hadn’t seen or heard from her since. I’d asked Alex to see what he could find.

  “What did you find out?” I asked.

  “She’s missing. Her family hasn’t heard from her in over a month. They’re starting to get concerned.”

  Add Odille to the list which kept getting longer.

  Another girl who needed saving.

  If she was still alive.

  Were there others?

  12

  MJ

  The International Evangelical Community Church of Abu Dhabi

  MJ’s 18th birthday and wedding day

  MJ had counted down the days to her eighteenth birthday with excitement and trepidation. Now the day was here, and she felt unspeakable joy that she was marrying the boy of her dreams. Christopher and MJ took the attorney’s advice and didn’t see each other until the wedding. The first time she’d see him was when she walked down the aisle in a few short minutes.

  On the other hand, she saw his mother, Ivory, every day. She took it upon herself to plan every aspect of the wedding and tried her best to make it special for MJ. They went dress shopping, shoe shopping, and by the time they were done, MJ had an entirely new wardrobe including a white wedding dress that was the most extravagant piece of clothing MJ had ever seen, much less worn. Together they went to a spa, and MJ had her hair, nails, and makeup done by a professional for the first time ever.

  “You’re like the daughter I never had,” Ivory had said.

  “You’re like the mother I never had,” MJ replied.

  MJ almost couldn’t believe her good fortune. Every morning, she’d wake up in a panic thinking it all was a dream. Then she’d run to the bedroom closet at her Aunt’s house and see her wedding dress hanging regally next to her new clothes, above her torn and tattered old clothes lying on the floor in a heap, and realize it really was happening to her.

  Fortunately, she only saw her father twice in that time. Once in passing when she went by the house to pick up some things, and again when he came by the Aunt’s house to go over the wedding plans with Abdul Sham. On that occasion, he behaved nicely to her. She guessed so as not to abuse his possession from which he was about to make a mini fortune.

  He gave her permission to miss school that day. He’d pick her up at noon. Take her to the mosque. They’d say their vows, and she’d be out of his hair for good. Those were his very words. She couldn’t expect him to be completely nice.

  MJ almost couldn’t keep from smiling. She wasn’t going to school that day anyway. In fact, she’d never go back there again. After the wedding, Christopher and MJ would go to the passport office and pick up her papers. From there, they’d catch the first flight to America. Then she’d be out of her father’s hair for good.

  Those were her words.

  MJ imagined her father’s face when he came to her Aunt’s house and MJ was nowhere to be found. When he finally figured out she wasn’t coming back, he’d have to return the dowry. Some of which was probably already spent. He’d be beyond furious.

  Her main concern was Aunt Shule. Her father would want to take out his rage on someone. Auntie would feign ignorance, of course, and it’d take her father days, if not months, to sort it all out and learn the truth. If he ever did figure it out. As far as he knew, she’d just disappeared like a vapor in the wind. He’d never think to look for other marriage documents or a passport application. Hopefully, he’d think she just ran away, maybe file a police report, and then eventually give up looking.

  In a few hours, it’d all be a distant memory.

  MJ was in a backroom at the church getting dressed with Auntie helping her. Ivory was out in the chapel making sure all the preparations were properly taken care of. She seemed almost as excited about the day as MJ did.

  When the finishing touches were put on her hair and makeup and she was finally in the wedding dress, her Aunt gushed compliments, and MJ could feel herself radiating emotion like a bright sun lamp.

  “I’ve never seen anyone as beautiful as you,” Auntie said, “You’re glowing.”

  “It’s the makeup,” MJ said. “It has glitter in it. Can you believe it? I feel like a princess.”

  “You look like one.”

  Auntie gave MJ an affectionate hug, trying not to displace any of the great care that had gone into the preparations of the bride.

  “I want you to have this,” Auntie said, handing something to MJ in a small box.

  “What is it?”

  “It was my mother’s. She gave it to me. I’m giving it to you. I never had a daughter. You’re the closest thing… ” Auntie teared up and her voice cracked as she couldn’t complete the sentence.

  MJ opened the box and gasped. A beautiful necklace. A cross. Gold with a small diamond in the center. Elegant. Her grandmother’s.

  MJ threw her arms around Auntie’s neck.

  “It’s so beautiful. I love it.”

  “You can only wear it at the wedding. Then take it off until you’re out of the country.”

  “When I get to America, I’ll wear it every day,” MJ said, fighting back the tears. “It’ll remind me of you.”

  “Don’t cry, honey,” Auntie said. “You’re going to ruin your makeup.”

  “I’m going to miss you so much.”

  “I’m going to miss you, too.”

  A slight knock at the door and Ivory entered before they had a chance to say anything more. She must’ve seen them teary eyed, because her eyes suddenly teared up too, and she rushed next to them, putting her arms around Auntie and MJ.

  “I know,” she said. “I’ve been crying all morning. My baby boy’s getting married. Can you believe it?”

  She stepped back from MJ and looked her over from head to toe. With her hands clutching both of MJ’s arms, she said, “You look stunning. You’re the prettiest bride I’ve ever seen.”

  ML beamed like the bright d
esert sun. She could barely contain her excitement.

  “Are you ready to do this?” Ivory said.

  MJ’s hands were shaking.

  “I guess I am.”

  ***

  The wedding was a blur.

  MJ barely remembered it. She knows she said, “I do.” A ring was on her finger, so she must be married. She’d signed the marriage certificate, so it was official. Or at least would be once it was filed with the court. The preacher pronounced them man and wife. So, she was married in the eyes of God, which ultimately was the most important thing. She could hardly believe it. For days, she’d worried unnecessarily that it’d never happen. Now that it had, she was trying to let it sink in and feel the joy of it.

  Truthfully, until they were on the plane, she wasn’t going to let herself feel all the excitement. Something could still go wrong.

  Christopher and MJ left the church in her Auntie’s car to much fanfare. She drove them to the passport center. MJ made an application a couple of weeks before but couldn’t officially get her passport until she turned eighteen. Without the passport, she couldn’t board the plane and leave the country. Christopher had a copy of their wedding certificate in case they needed it. They’d definitely need it to enter the United States.

  MJ wasn’t sure what to think. Mixed emotions swirled around inside her like a blender. Things were going too well. She wanted to let the feelings of happiness loose inside of her, but she still had an ominous feeling lurking.

  Auntie pulled into a parking space, and they all entered the building together. The line for a passport application was long, but they moved right through the one for picking up a passport quickly. MJ gave the lady who had what looked to be a permanent frown on her face, her name and information.

  “I’m here to pick up my passport, please,” MJ said.

  “I need your birth certificate.”

  A bolt of panic hit her like a lightning bolt. I knew this was too good to be true.

  “I gave a copy to the lady when I made the application,” MJ insisted.

  “It’s not in the file.”

  MJ looked at Auntie who only shrugged her shoulders. Auntie was with her when they made the passport application. MJ specifically remembered giving it to the lady because she’d gone to great lengths to secure it. The birth certificate was in her father’s files. She had to rummage through them to find it. She never took it back home. The original was at her aunt’s house for safekeeping.