Sam glared at each member of his team. He’d made it plain. No heroics. No fancy footwork. Take out and get out.
Team Aphrodite nodded, understanding the position that faced them.
“It’s going to be a heavy day tomorrow. Get some kip now. You’ll need it!”
Chapter 16
Cool air touches my skin. My eyes are open but they can’t see anything. Around me is dark. I squint, desperate to make out something save for a slither of light along the bottom of a door on the far side of the room, I can’t discern a single outline. I feel naked. The cold, hard metal underneath my buttocks tells me I’ve been stripped completely. The burning, stretched feeling in my anus informs me that Al Nadir’s search has been invasive.
My wrists and ankles are in metal handcuffs fixed to the front and back legs of the chair, and a rather smelly rag has been shoved into my mouth. It is as much as I can do not to retch.
At least they haven’t blindfolded me. Not much good it did me.
I look around and try to get a fix on my location. Illumination is so weak that the walls appear to be of ebony wood, and the floor and ceiling is painted black.
Through my soles, the concrete floor feels cold and damp. I shiver.
I try to recall what happened after Sabena knocked me out in her room, but nothing surfaces. Did they use drugs on top of the assault? My memories feel weird, clogged up like my brain has been replaced with polystyrene stuffing.
Did Sabena believe what I’d told her? Or is this to be my short life? Destined to remain in this dark dank hole? Literally freezing my bollocks off and starving to death?
A sudden noise toward the door signals answers may yet be forthcoming.
“Fucker’s woken up.”
A male voice. Maybe one of the heavies in Sabena’s room. The owner of the voice comes into view, silhouetted against the brightness of the light from the room beyond. He’s a massive guy, all muscle and no mind. I don’t recognize him. He reaches down and yanks out the disgusting rag. I grimace as its taste lingers in my mouth.
“Miss Sanantoni wants to see you.”
I look down and feign annoyance.
“Oh, but I have nothing to wear!”
The heavy sneers but doesn’t respond. A lamp above me switches on, bathing the room in immediate light. At once, my exposed state is amplified by the sudden illumination and I feel deeply uncomfortable. The heavy looks toward the door at a faint tapping of heels on concrete.
“Mr. Kinley, you have been a sleepy head.”
I turn at the mention of my name. I know the raspy Sicilian voice. I look down at my situation and then shrug. Nothing left to do but brazen it out.
“I do enjoy a good forty winks.”
“Forty winks? My, my, Mr. Kinley, you’ve been out for hours. We’ve had a good old time with you, darling.”
Sabena enters with four operatives who take strategic defense positions around the room and smirk at Sabena’s words. Sabena strides forward, staring between my legs, and then up into my eyes. I try to block out what may already have happened to me. Trains of thought like that don’t help achieve mission objectives.
“Pleased to oblige,” I say, keeping my tone on the edge of playful, a trick to mask the fear filling me. I fix my brilliant blue eyes onto Sabena’s. She’s still in disguise with the pretty blond woman’s look of beguiling innocence in tow.
I know the effect my eyes have on women. Sabena isn’t any different. I hear her swallow hard, and she turns to the heavies.
“Leave us!”
With some reluctance, clearly hoping to observe some of Sabena’s sadistic sexual violence, the Al Nadir heavies slouch off.
Sabena flicks her head back down to take me in. Her dark brown eyes examine every inch of me. The tip of her tongue nips out, snake-like, to lick her top and then her bottom lip, and she pads softly toward me.
“You know, Mr. Kinley, I don’t know whether you’re cool as a cucumber…” She glances at the jewels between my legs, and smacks her lips. “Or just plain fucking dumb.”
“I’m neither. I’m just me. At your service, like I told you. There’s no need for any of this, sweetheart. We can play nicely. You can destroy MI6 and the British Government in one go, and I can get my revenge on those inflated, self-opinionated wankers.”
I deliver my line with as much calculated aplomb as I can muster. I hold her gaze. Sabena the Slayer is caught in my tractor beam of ice-cold seduction. She moves forward, staring hard, watching every twitch in my face.
“You really do hate them, don’t you?”
“I told you I did. It’s you that’s losing the chance to take them all down.”
“I wouldn’t say losing. But you have added a touch of something else,” says Sabena, now standing directly in front of me. “And it’s a touch I rather like.” She reaches down, planting her lips on mine.
“Mmm, juicy,” Sabena moans. She swings her leg over my naked lap then straddles across me, smirking.
I stare at her and then motion down to the cuffs. Sabena shakes her head.
“No way, baby-blue eyes. Not until I know you’re the real deal.”
I tip my head to the side, mimicking her coquettish behavior. “We could have more fun?”
“Oh, I’m still going to have fun.”
Sabena loops one arm around me and kisses me hard, pushing her tongue down my throat and sucking the very energy out of me. At the same time, her hand grips hold of my manhood and massages vigorously in time with her vicious tongue action.
With the Slayer in my lap doing her thing, despite my intolerable situation just one step away from death, I can’t help but grow with aroused fascination.
Oh, shit, Angie! Forgive me!
“There we are,” said Sabena, and she maneuvers with a clear adeptness.
Pulling her dress up to her hips, she thrusts herself upon me. As she rides me faster, her internal muscles squeeze so painfully tight, I believe my dick will snap off. For one horrible moment, I think this will be my end. To bleed out. My dick ripped off by this sadistic temptress.
And then, she comes in strong convulsions. Her sharp nails dig into my back, scratching downward, and her mouth locks on mine, virtually cutting off my air. She shudders with a few more waves of ecstasy, and then slips off my lap and pulls down her dress. She stands in front of me. I take a few seconds to get my breath back, but Sabena needs no time. She places her forefinger underneath my chin and lifts it up.
“I’m going to keep you around for a bit longer, Mr. Kinley. You could well prove to be quite a useful addition.”
I struggle a smile. Sabena makes it sound like I was some kind of exotic pet.
“I did say I had a lot to offer,” I say.
“Mmm, you certainly do,” purrs Sabena. “I hope what else you have to offer comes up to your current standard. If it does, British Intelligence really will be RIP.”
Chapter 17
The low drone of the Embraer’s PW535E turbofan engines resounded in Sam’s ears, knocking out his chance to get some shut eye. After the initial mission briefing, they settled in to rest awhile. Sam stretched back in the leather swivel chair, yawning. Greg snored softly. Jim read something on his phone, his eyelids slowly drooping. And Dan, with buds in his ears and fingers tapping on the armrest, closed his eyes.
Despite telling his team to get some rest, Sam couldn’t. The mission brief chomped through his mind biting big chunks out of his carefully planned approach. A waterfall of what-ifs washed through him. He hadn’t heard a thing from Kinley since he’d collected his family phone. He didn’t expect to, not really. They’d agreed to go dark since the last rendezvous in the café in Putney. Kinley was to get to Florence his own way. Sam didn’t want to know.
Team Aphrodite knew nothing of Kinley whatsoever.
As far as they were concerned, it was an A2 mission, the acquisition of Summanus technology and assassination of Sabena Sanantoni.
He stared at Dan, and then Greg and Jim, and hel
d in a deep sigh of concern. He wished it was only him on that flight, but the risk assessment on the mission objectives had specified a minimum of a four-man team. He couldn’t get around Six’s process. As it was, he was already running at a minimum.
Sam swung around to the Smart Table and pulled up the mission specs again. Intel on Sabena Sanantoni under her current persona of Eva Morricone came up and he focused on the images. According to current surveillance at the hotel, Morricone hadn’t left her suite. She hadn’t even attempted to engage with Ilya. Sam knew this was against Sabena’s MO. By now, she should have made a play to meet with Ilya and secure the goods before bidding even started, or else just try to take Summanus and kill Ilya.
All of those options were in Sabena’s playbook. Her not doing anything felt wrong.
Sam stared at Morricone’s blurred image and then at the analyzer’s probability report. Eighty-nine-point two. Was that enough? Could they bet the missions on that number?
Sam stuck his fingers in his eyes and wiped away the tiredness. It vexed him that the number wasn’t higher. If this was Sabena, the number should be higher. Shouldn’t it? He pushed back the Smart Table, frustrated, and stood up.
The small bar at the back of the plane was well stocked, and he poured a good measure of JD, dropped in some ice cubes, and took a sip. He looked at his team. They were all enjoying their moment of relaxation. None seemed to be worried about the mission. Of course they weren’t. To them, it was a straightforward takedown and theft of high-tech weaponry. Greg and Jim had experience behind them. They could do this kind of mission in their sleep. Dan was much more the unknown variable, but even he couldn’t screw up this mission if he took orders and did as he was told.
But Sam knew everything rested on Kinley. He had to save Sabena in time, before her assassination. Sam didn’t have specifics on how Kinley would do it. Sam’s ignorance kept the intel chain lily-white. All he knew was that Kinley would save Sabena, and she, hopefully, would be grateful for this act enough to bring him into the fold. Then Operation Snowdrop could really start.
Sam took in his men, innocent to the mission within a mission, and fixed hard on the fact he was doing this for the greater good. To save the lives of so many in the future. To bring down Al Nadir from inside. He was fully aware Team Aphrodite perhaps wouldn’t survive once Kinley had made his entrance. He shut his eyes and breathed deeply. Dear God, forgive me for this. Sam had never been religious, but suddenly, he felt the need to ask the Almighty for mercy. He’d seen agents die before. On missions, it was commonplace, but this mission was akin to sending lambs to the slaughter.
If he could clear enough of the room before Kinley came in, the others may get away. Sam shook his head as he reconciled future visions in his mind. That was a big ‘if.’ He didn’t even know what Kinley was going to do, or what he would have to do, to convince Al Nadir.
Of course, the biggest unknown, and one Sam didn’t want to face, was his own survival. If he survived unscathed, it would be a complete miracle.
Chapter 18
After Sabena’s interlude with me, I’m left again, still butt naked, and in the dark. Thankfully, they left the rag out of my mouth. But I’ve been given no food or water. My throat is raw and scratchy, and my stomach rumbles angrily for sustenance. I’m not sure how long I’ve been incarcerated in this room, but I feel many hours have passed by.
My buttocks ache from sitting on the cold metal chair, and my tied hands and feet have gone numb, and now pins and needles are pushing up my arms and legs, having been pulled back in a constant stress position for so long.
Time seems non-existent. In this blackness, I almost forget I am human. I’m just staring into the darkness. Even the illumination from the room beyond, which gave me the slither of light before, is switched off. Such a situation can rip and twist a person’s soul. I recall my life. The things I have done. The lies I have told to darling Angie. The hurt I have caused to others. Is this now my penance? Have I now actually died? Did Al Nadir kill me, and I didn’t know, and this is some kind of hell I’m to endure for eternity?
“Hello, I’m still here. Sabena, do you want round two? I’m up and running.”
I call out and wait but hear no sound. I was sure my provocative words would inspire an appearance from Sabena again, but I hear nothing. No cough, no sound of an action on a gun, no clink of heels on concrete.
Nothing.
Oh, fuck! What if this is it? I’ve been abandoned, left to rot.
Sam and Team Aphrodite will be massacred, and I can’t do anything to stop it. As desperation sets in, I pull at the metal cuffs. But as I pull, they become tighter as the internal mechanism detects my movements and grips around my skin. I tug at the chain to break it from the metal chair legs and breathe in quickly as I realize the cuff is now cutting into my wrist. I know that any further movement from me, and the radial vein will be severed. I refrain from moving, but the cuff does not loosen.
I sit, unable to move, and listen to the sound of my breathing. I fall into its gentle soporific rhythm and my eyes start to close. I struggle to keep awake, but I feel I just want to melt into slumber. Stress conquers me, leaving every limb exhausted, and I just can’t continue. I welcome a greater darkness as sleep takes me over.
“Time for a ride!”
I jerk up out of a dream where Angie is in my arms. The sound of the angry voice and the light blazoning in unison throws me into a state of initial discombobulation.
The angry male comes forward. He’s carrying some clothes and a pair of loafers. Not the clothes I had. These are new. They look classy and expensive.
Another three guards approach, their Heckler and Koch MK5’s trained on me. Another guard brandishing a small remote device enters. He presses something on the device and the cuffs around my wrists and ankles loosen. The mechanism pulls back and with a soft ping, they open. I flex my fingers and toes, pushing my arms and legs outward, but the guards indicate with their guns for me to keep still and maintain my arms at my side.
“Get dressed, and don’t fucking try anything. I’d hate to have to stick this where the sun don’t shine.”
I swallow gently, knowing he’s not jesting, and take the clothes. A dark grey suit and pale blue shirt. I notice the label is Tom Ford. Someone has taste. I get dressed swiftly and slip on the dark grey Loake leather loafers.
As soon as I’m dressed, my arms are pulled back and re-cuffed again by the guy with the weird device. The end of an MK5 is pushed into the small of my back and I walk out of the room that I thought would be my final resting place.
I’m pushed through a corridor and into an underground tunnel with fluorescent lighting. I can hear a noise; it sounds like a heavy mechanical burring sound, and then I realize it’s an engine. I’m prodded to continue and not to dawdle. We reach a door. The guard opens it and we all stride through into a wide space like a gigantic hangar.
Waiting on the side of the hangar in front of the open doors is a beautiful sleek private jet. From first glance, it looks like a Gulf Stream 550. I’m pulled toward the steps and as I start to embark, in the doorway, Sabena shows herself. Or rather her new self.
She smiles and does a little turn for me as I enter the cabin.
“Like my new look?” she purrs, and gestures for me to sit down. “I rather like yours,” she adds, eyeing me up and down.
I sit down where I’m told and stare at Sabena. She’s now got the mask of Eva Morricone. I try to figure out the game she’s playing. She stands, looking down at me.
I raise my eyes up.
“Interesting. Much better than the Greek wall flower,” I venture, recalling how GCHQ’s AI Analyzer was linked to my SmartLens contacts in Boston. At the time, they had given me a ninety-five-point-eight probability analysis that Dr Megalos was, in fact, Sabena.
She grins; Sabena knew I knew who she was, despite her Dr Eloisia Megalos nanomask. Still, she ignores the comment, and moves to sit in the chair next to me.
“Do
you like the suit? I chose it especially for you. It goes with those gorgeous eyes of yours.”
“Very nice fit. You got my size spot on.”
“I’ve got a good eye for detail, darling,” says Sabena, stroking my cheek, and she pulls me toward her open mouth. She lands a deep kiss on me, thrusting her tongue down my throat, and then growls in my ear. “You’re my new obsession.”
Her hand grasps my thigh in a vice-like squeeze.
“Don’t wear me out too quickly,” I respond, my eyes twinkling with forced playfulness.
“Baby, I want to wear you 24/7,” says Sabena, rubbing between my legs.
I fidget away from her hand. This time, I don’t play on Sabena’s lascivious intentions. I need to know what’s happening.
“Where are we going?” I ask, and realize I’ve played the wrong card.
“Florence, of course,” Sabena snaps viciously, then pulls her hand away. I see a flicker of violent anger in her eyes.
Realizing my mistake, I try to get her back into seduction mode. I can deal with that side of her better than I can with her bat-shit crazy, sadist side.
“It’s a romantic city, sweetheart.”
But she doesn’t respond. She looks toward the cockpit and yells out, “Get this tin fucking can airborne now! I’m not waiting any fucking longer!”
She sounds like an unruly, petulant teenager, but the flash of evil in her eyes tells me she’s something far, far worse. Sabena turns away from me, gets out her seat, dives into her bag and pulls out her Sig Sauer P226. She points it at me, scowling with hatred.
“Don’t you like this look?”
I can hear the Rolls Royce twin engines rev up. Two guards come into the cabin, and the steps are pulled up. The guard sneers at me and belts up in his own seat.
“Yes, I do.”
“Then why don’t you want to play?”
“The plane is about to take off and it’s not safe to do that sort of thing.”
I sound suddenly very prim and proper.
Sabena laughs out loud.
Operation Snowdrop Page 8