Gambling With the Enemy: Horses - Mystery - Suspense

by Toni Leland

  In the back row, she caught a glimpse of Howard’s silver hair, his head bobbing as he talked to the mother of one of Faith’s students. The woman laughed, obviously charmed by his engaging conversation. Jess’s throat constricted with her desire to be the object of his attention, and she looked away. At that moment, Samir emerged from the dark innards of his Mercedes, and stood still, surveying the scene like a monarch assessing a kingdom.

  An emotion akin to hatred seethed in Jess’s brain, startling her with its intensity. She hadn’t seen him since the poker game and, in the face of this imposing attitude, her original perception of a small, ingratiating man disintegrated. Instead, she saw a huge man with a plan–a deadly scheme, carefully thought out, a blueprint for death. Her jaw tightened. Not if I can help it, you bastard.

  She glanced back at the arena. All the jumps were in place, and Mustafa and Hafez had disappeared. She took a few steps away from the barn door, scanning the area to find their whereabouts. By the carriage house, they’d spread their prayer rugs on the ground. On their knees, heads pressed against the ground, they remained still. Jess turned away, fighting the new, terrifying emotions clawing their way into her thoughts.

  “Boy, this thing is uncomfortable!”

  Jess jumped, then frowned. “As compared to what? A bullet in the chest?”

  Faith’s eyes widened, and she threw a frightened glance over her shoulder. “Shhh!” She squeezed Jess’s arm, took a deep breath, then headed for the arena, striding confidently toward the announcer’s stand. Jess turned to go back into the barn, glancing once more at the carriage house. She froze in mid-step as Hafez threw two duffel bags into the back of the van and closed the door. Then, the two men started toward the barn.

  Jess hurried inside, looking up and down the aisle for Mona. The men’s silhouettes appeared in the backlit door at the far end, then they disappeared into the feed room. Jess heard voices in the office, and walked briskly across the aisle. Mona and Kerr were deep in conversation when Jess stepped into the room.

  Mona turned, a frown knitting her dark brows. “What is it, Jess?”

  She lowered her voice. “I just saw the men loading their stuff into the van.”

  “Yes, we know. Thanks. You’d better go on outside. Your party’s about to begin.”

  Jess left the room, uneasiness edging into her chest. Something’s going on I don’t know about. She moved down the aisle, giving everyone a heads-up that the show was about to begin. Faith’s voice echoed over the PA system.

  “Please take your seats. We’ll start in a couple of minutes.”

  Jess hurried outside and scanned the far side of the audience, wanting one more glimpse of Howard. He looked directly at her, sending a small wave and an encouraging smile. A ripple of emotion stopped her breath for an instant, then she smiled back.

  Faith’s voice drifted on the crisp September air. “Good morning, everyone. Welcome to the fall gala at Easton Ridge.”

  She stood very still in the center of the arena, scanning the crowd. Her voice grew stronger.

  “We can never forget the tragedy of September Eleventh, 2001.” Her voice cracked, she swallowed, then continued. “Every one of us was affected by what transpired that day, and as we remember, our hearts and souls will stand forever frozen in time. Our show today is dedicated to the memory of those who died on that date, and to those who still fight for our freedom from terrorism.”

  She moved to the flagpole beside the announcer’s stand and, for a moment, gazed up at the flag waving lightly in the morning breeze. Slowly, she lowered it to half-mast. Turning back to the silent crowd, she spoke softly into the microphone.

  “It’s 8:45.”

  Not a sound could be heard. Even the normal murmurs of

  nature seemed to cease in reverence for the moment. Through lowered lashes, Jess watched the audience. Every head had bowed, but one.

  Cold black eyes gazed defiantly across the arena, arrowing straight into Jess’s heart. She raised her head and met Samir’s gaze, wanting to send him a message, but not daring to. She looked away and focused on the half-mast flag that filled her with renewed courage.

  Chapter 42

  Faith’s enthusiasm sparkled in the fresh morning air.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, enjoy the show!”

  Minutes later, she walked toward the barn, face flushed, eyes sparkling. “C’mon, ladies! First level, on deck!”

  She gathered the flock of little girls, who looked very much like tiny beetles in their black velvet riding hats, knee-high shiny boots, and flapping coattails. The three beginner lead-line students guided their ponies into the ring.

  With the first part of the event well under control, Jess returned to the barn to check on the next round of riders.

  “Alex, will you and Beth see that the B-group is ready to go out? I need to hit the restroom.”

  The teenagers grinned, delighted to be in charge. They immediately set about fussing after the younger girls, tweaking chinstraps, adjusting jackets and, in general, acting like mother hens. Jess chuckled and headed toward the office. As she approached the door, Mona came around the corner, a peculiar expression changing her sharp features.

  Her voice oozed sarcasm. “Wasn’t that a nice touch.”

  Jess glowered. “Think what you like, Mona, that was Faith’s battle cry.”

  An emotion flickered across Mona’s face. Remorse? A glisten of moisture slipped onto her lower eyelashes, and she looked away. Jess stepped into the bathroom and slammed the door. Mona’s raspy voice trickled through the barrier.

  “Don’t get your knickers in a knot. It was very moving.” A hesitation. “But I don’t remember any discussions about a patriotic speech being part of the plan.”

  Jess leaned on the sink and dropped her head. I can’t wait to get this woman out of my life! She opened the door and leveled a hard look at the grim-faced agent.

  “Then perhaps that was an oversight on your part. Don’t you think it would seem odd if we didn’t acknowledge that today is the anniversary of the most horrifying tragedy in American history?”

  Mona dropped her gaze and her shoulders slumped as she let out a long, slow sigh. “Yes, it would.” She said nothing for a moment, then looked up. “Sometimes I’m like a dog worrying a bone–this is one of those times.”

  Jess realized Mona’s earlier reaction was a knee-jerk, the instinct to cover up her feelings.

  “Mona, I honestly didn’t know she planned to do that. Sometimes, Faith surprises me–she does have a mind of her own.”

  Mona nodded. “Just see that you remember where you are and what you’re doing today.”

  10:00 a.m.

  Jess watched Zada’s subdued demeanor, the antithesis of her usual strong and self-assured attitude. Her gaze never left the ground, and when Samir addressed her, she nodded and bowed slightly. It’s almost like she’s been beaten up–she’s afraid of him. A sick feeling grew in Jess’s stomach as the reason became clear. Her comments to Samir had inadvertently placed Zada in a dangerous position–that of a Muslim wife who’d betrayed a confidence. She’d obviously paid dearly for her transgression.

  Jess turned away, unwilling to deal with the wide range of feelings raging through her head. Turning to the refuge of the barn, she immersed herself in the throng of eager young riders on their big day. Surrounded by the happy excitement of the morning, she pushed away all thoughts of Zada, and what the next two hours might bring.

  A child’s voice accompanied a soft tug on her shirttail.

  “Can you help me with Archie’s bridle? It’s twisted.”

  Jess grinned at the small face peering up at her. “Now, how in the world did you do that?”

  Listening to the long, detailed explanation, she followed the girl to the crossties, where a sturdy roan hunter pony stood patiently waiting to be untangled. Concentrating on the puzzle of the intertwined leather lines, Jess felt more serene than she had in days. Her fingers worked the soft leather, coaxing it bac
k to the correct position, her hands brushing against warm horseflesh. For a precious few moments, only the present mattered.

  Jess squeezed the little girl’s shoulder. “You go, girl!”

  Waiting by the barn door, Dania stood in front of Buster, clutching the reins against her narrow chest, and murmuring to him in Arabic. Her sorrowful expression sent a stab of sympathy through Jess’s thoughts. Samir must have told her. Jess could think of nothing that would ease the pain, but she stepped up beside the child anyway.

  “How’s Buster this morning? Ready to make you a champion?”

  Dark eyes regarded her for a moment.

  “Yes, Ma’am. We will win for Papa. Insha’Allaah.”

  The girl was subdued, beaten, sorrowful–a small rubber stamp of her mother. Jess wanted to reach out, pull her into a hug, tell her how sorry she felt about everything that had happened. Of course, she could not. Dania would never enjoy the bright future Easton Ridge had planned for her.

  “Good luck, Dania.”

  Jess turned away, unable to bear the child’s pitiful courage. A movement down the aisle caught her attention and she saw Mustafa emerge from Buster’s stall and hurry toward the equipment room. What was he doing down there? He was supposed to be at the arena, waiting to set up jumps. Zada’s horrible directive echoed in Jess’s head, and panic moved through her chest.

  She darted across the aisle. The roomy, newly-bedded stall smelled of fresh wood shavings, and everything appeared normal. She looked around carefully, inspecting the wooden walls, checking the ledge of the mesh-covered window, but finding nothing. The bedding. Something could be hidden there, but what? Using the toe of her boot, she brushed the shavings aside, clear down to the packed clay floor. Nothing. She exhaled slowly. What could he have been doing in here? She looked into the black rubber feed bucket. Empty. Buster hadn’t left even one grain of sweet-feed behind. Water bucket–full to the brim.

  She shook her head. Maybe she should find Mustafa and ask him why he’d been in Buster’s stall. Yeah, right. She was being paranoid. The Mahfoods had no good reason to destroy the horse. What would it prove? A shiver chilled her skin. A cruel warning of the terror to come?

  As she stared at the water bucket, a red shimmer appeared. She focused on the pearly film spreading over the surface of the water. Leaning closer, she peered into the bucket. In the bottom, a small white tablet bubbled slowly.

  Nausea rose in her throat–she’d almost missed it. In thirty minutes, Buster would be back in his stall, tired and thirsty. Then, dead. She reached for the clip holding the bucket, then stopped. No, better check with Mona.

  She left the stall and hurried down the aisle, scanning the length of the barn. Mona stood just outside the main door, smoking a cigarette and watching the show. Jess tried to walk normally, repressing her desire to sprint.

  “Mona, can you come in for a minute?”

  The agent stubbed out her cigarette and nodded. “Problem?”

  “Big one.”

  The two women moved into the barn just as Mustafa emerged from the equipment room and started toward them. Jess stopped and turned, raising her voice a little.

  “After the show, we’re going to move horses around. A couple of the stalls need some repair work.”

  Confusion flickered through Mona’s eyes, then comprehension.

  “Okay, what do you want me to do?”

  Mustafa walked past them, his gaze directed at the floor. When he was well out of earshot, Jess closed her eyes, suddenly light-headed.

  “You okay?” whispered Mona.

  Jess nodded, glancing again at Mustafa’s retreating figure. She walked over to Buster’s stall and lifted the latch. A moment later, Mona released a sharp breath.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “I don’t know, but I guarantee it won’t improve the quality of Buster’s life. I started to dump it, but I was afraid one of them would see me.”

  Mona thought for a minute, staring at the deadly water bucket. “We can’t move it. I’ll just have to make sure no horses get put into this stall. Leave it to me, I’ll think of something.”

  A burst of cheering and applause floated through the open doors.

  Jess shook her head. “I have to get back outside. Please, please, make sure no horses get to that bucket.”

  Chapter 43

  11:00 a.m.

  Buster flew around the jump course, sailing over each obstacle as though it were merely a bump on the ground. Dania’s face glowed with pride and joy, her skill taking her to an emotional level only enjoyed by talented athletes. The final jump was a two-foot hogsback–a real challenge for a beginner. Jess held her breath as Buster straightened out and gauged his take-off. Dania’s head was high, her eyes straight ahead. The horse launched his body and took flight, clearing the highest rail by inches.

  The audience rose as one, applauding and whistling, and Jess blinked back the tears as she watched Buster trot toward Faith in the center of the arena.

  “Ladies and gentlemen, Dania Mahfood, our show champion for Level One. Dania has only been taking lessons for five weeks.” Faith grinned up at the child. “As you’ve seen, she is a talented young lady, and we have big plans for her here at Easton Ridge.”

  Faith pinned a large purple rosette to Buster’s bridle, then handed Dania a gleaming silver trophy. As the girl and her horse trotted their victory pass around the arena, Jess’s thoughts saddened, knowing Dania was enjoying her last smile of freedom in America.

  Jess scanned the crowd, noticing several empty chairs. Her heart thumped twice under the sweltering body armor, and she glanced at her watch. 11:10. A wave of panic followed, and her gaze moved to the now empty spot where Howard had been sitting. Where had he gone? She needed to know he was close by. Anxiety began to creep in, pressing heavily on her earlier determination to make the plan work.

  Hafez and Mustafa moved the last jump out of the way, then Alex and Bethany entered the ring. The two young ladies were perfectly turned out in their matching burgundy hunt jackets and tan breeches. Polished black boots gleamed in the faint sunlight as the girls went through their paces, moving in perfect time to Faith’s commentary.

  Jess’s focus returned to her own role. In less than an hour, she’d see the fall of Samir and his murderous cohorts. Wicked pleasure warmed her thoughts as she imagined the three men behind bars–or worse.

  Music filtered through the loudspeaker, adding a festive air to the occasion, and the crowd began moving toward the food tent. The audience had thinned considerably, and Jess wondered where the undercover people had gone. Her pulse quickened. I hope to God they’ll act quickly if Samir and the boys get frisky.

  Faith appeared. “You okay?”

  Jess’s smile felt wooden. “I think so. Everybody did a great job this morning. Congratulations–you’ve worked really hard.”

  Faith’s eyes misted and her chin trembled. “Thanks. . .Jessie?” She swallowed hard. “If anything goes wrong–”

  Jess quickly slipped her arm around her friend’s shoulders and squeezed hard. The lump in her own throat made speech difficult.

  “It’s going to be fine,” she murmured, hoping she sounded convincing. “Don’t you worry–these people have everything under control. We’re more than covered.”

  Fifteen minutes later, Jess checked the crowd again. Howard had returned to his seat, but now Samir was gone. Zada and Dania sat quietly in the spectator section, balancing plates on their laps. The black Mercedes was still in the parking lot. To Jess, the air felt still and ominous, but a relaxed atmosphere seemed to surround everyone else.

  Behind her, Mona’s voice was low. “Time to get into position.”

  Jess nodded and took a deep breath. The vest pressed against her chest, reminding her that every move, every nuance, would count toward the success of the operation. A rivulet of sweat trickled down between her breasts. Her hands grew clammy, and every breath came with effort. She stepped into the shadow of the doorway, throwing
one more glance toward Howard. Their eyes met, and she prayed she’d see him again.

  The distance between the barn door and her office seemed the longest walk she’d ever taken, each step bringing her closer to the unknown. About fifteen feet from the office door, she spotted Samir walking briskly away from the carriage house. He did meet the nephews, just like Kerr said he would. Her confidence soared. Everything should go according to plan. She moved quickly into the office.

  A minute later, she glanced out the window and horror engulfed her. Hafez’s van disappeared down the driveway toward the highway. They’re getting away! Oh, my God, I have to–. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Calm down. The agents have eyes. They’ll handle it.

  The office door closed quietly, and she snapped back to attention. Samir leaned against the doorjamb, a patronizing smile directly contradicting the malice in his dark gaze.

  “Good afternoon, Miss Jessica.”

  She assumed a neutral expression, willing her thoughts to stay clear of her eyes.

  “Hello, Samir. Are you enjoying the show?”

  He smiled and pushed away from the wall. “Yes, of course. And my Dania is the star, no?”

  “She performed beautifully. We are very proud of her.”

  Jess’s breath caught as Samir reached inside his suit coat. “I have a check. Will that be acceptable?”

  She nodded, her pulse pounding in her ears. “Yes, of course.”

  Probably not worth the paper it’s written on. She looked at the check for a moment, her heart racing as she waited for the agents to make their move.

  Samir cleared his throat. “I would like a receipt, please.”

  Fright rose in Jess’s throat, and she chanced a quick look through the window. Where are they? Nothing but the ordinary scene of spectators returning to their seats. A hot flush crawled over her skin beneath the vest, and her breathing almost ceased.