by I. T. Lucas
The man she was pointing to was indeed surrounded by four burly guys. About a hundred feet or so ahead, the five were walking in the same direction he and Carol were heading. Perhaps the high roller was on his way to the steakhouse as well.
The bodyguards dwarfed the guy they were protecting, and yet there was an unmistakable air of power around him. Of medium height and build, his posture relaxed, the man walked with the fluid gait of a gymnast or a dancer—his arms swinging slightly as if he was listening to some catchy tune and moving them in sync to the music.
There was something familiar about the man. Robert had seen that exact kind of walk before…
He grabbed Carol’s elbow, turning her around, and whispered while propelling her forward, “Don’t say anything and don’t look behind you. Walk a normal walk.”
“What’s going on?” she whispered back.
“Not now, later.” He gripped her arm even tighter.
“You’re hurting me,” she hissed.
He eased his grip, but only a little. Once they cleared the entry doors, he kept walking, Carol’s high heels clicking on the sidewalk as she tried to walk as fast as he did.
When they were about a thousand feet away from the Wynn, he dared to look behind him. A relieved breath whooshed out of his lungs. They hadn’t been followed.
“Can you talk now?” Carol’s voice shook.
“Keep walking. We’ll catch a taxi at the mall.”
After another few minutes, he glanced behind him again and finally relaxed. “The guy you saw. I think I know him.”
“Who is he?”
“If he’s who I think he is, that’s Sharim’s father.”
She glanced up at him with questioning eyes. “Who’s Sharim?”
“Sebastian. That’s his real name.”
A violent shiver went through Carol, and she listed to the side. She would have fallen if he hadn’t caught her. For a moment, he considered lifting her into his arms and carrying her the rest of the way, but that would’ve attracted too much attention.
Instead, he tucked her under his arm, propping her against his side. “You have nothing to worry about. He is not a sadist like his son. I heard that he is an even-tempered guy. But that doesn’t mean that he won’t kill me on the spot if he recognizes me, and then thrall all the humans around to forget it. He’s one of Navuh’s own sons, and they’re very powerful immortals with abilities the rest of us could only dream of.”
Carol shivered again, her slight body trembling all over. For a split second, Robert entertained the notion that she was worried about him, but then dismissed it. More likely, she feared recapture. They were both in danger, and it was best to get out of there as soon as possible.
The line for the taxi at the mall was no shorter than the one at the Wynn, but at least they were a safe distance away.
Hopefully.
Fifteen minutes later, they were sitting in a yellow cab and heading back to the MGM.
“Do you think he is looking for me? For us?” Carol whispered. She was clinging to his arm like a frightened kitten, her sharp nails digging into his flesh. He’d been wrong to assume she was over her ordeal.
Not even close.
“Not likely. He’s too important for a retrieval mission. I’m surprised he was allowed to leave the island. The other sons, the generals, only leave for short military excursions and only when accompanied by a battalion of soldiers.”
Carol tightened her grip on his arm. “I know why he is here; revenge.”
She was trembling so hard Robert wished he had a blanket to wrap her in. “I don’t think so. We are not important enough. But one thing is certain; with him here, we need to get out of town. It’s too risky to stay.”
Carol nodded her agreement.
The random encounter with Losham had put things in perspective for Robert. He’d been deluding himself thinking he could strike out on his own and make a home with Carol away from all other immortals. If he could accidentally bump into Navuh’s son and top adviser in Las Vegas, he wasn’t safe anywhere. And what’s more, he couldn’t guarantee Carol’s safety either.
“Do we rent a car or steal one?” he asked as they exited the taxi.
“Rent. The monster never learned my last name, and Carol is a common given name.”
“Let’s stop by the front desk and see if they can get us a car.”
She nodded. “Where are we going?”
To the only place that was safe. “You’re going home. I’m accepting the deal your people are offering me.”
Chapter 28: Anandur
Anandur cast Onegus a sideways glance. “I have to hand it to Kian; the guy knows how to get things done in record time.”
The chief Guardian tapped his fingers on the car’s armrest. “Money is a great expeditor.”
They didn’t have all the details yet and would get another briefing once they met up with Turner’s crew, but at least the major logistics of arranging the various modes of transportation had been solved.
It was early afternoon, and the drive to the clan’s airstrip was pleasant—after they had cleared the goddamned city traffic, that is.
Onegus snorted and crossed his arms over his chest. “Turner was no doubt invaluable to that effort and cost accordingly. The bastard knows people turn to him only when things get too complicated for anyone else to handle, and his pricing reflects that.”
“Yeah, the dude holds a monopoly on mission impossible. Imagine the movie scripts he can write.”
Onegus shrugged. “Turner doesn’t strike me as the creative type. Dry toast has more personality.”
“I don’t know about that. You have to think creatively to plan impossible missions.”
As Anandur parked the car near the clan’s airstrip, the jet they were going to use was already out of the hangar, ready and waiting for them.
It was such a waste of time to drive all the way out there. If not for Kian’s paranoia, they could’ve used a chopper and gotten picked up from the keep’s rooftop. The boss had gotten it into his head that there might be more criminals and traitors among his clansmen and that Alex might not have been working alone. A chopper would have raised questions; like who had arrived or who was departing and why. Kian preferred to keep their mission low key, with as few people involved as possible.
Total crap, but it was a blessing in disguise.
To keep things hush-hush, Kian wasn’t joining them, which Anandur was grateful for. A civilian pilot, one with a real license, was going to fly the jet to Mexico. With all due respect to their regent’s capabilities, no one who learned to fly with the help of a computer game should be allowed to pilot a real craft.
Not with passengers, that’s for sure.
They got out of the car, and Anandur locked his baby up, then tossed the keys to Jeff, the hangar supervisor. “Take good care of her.”
“Don’t worry, I won’t take her out on a joy ride… more than once a day.”
Anandur pointed a finger at him. “I find a scratch on her, and your baby gets double.”
Jeff had a love affair with his Cessna and treated her with as much care as Anandur his Thunderbird. The dude flipped him off, and as he walked away, he tossed Anandur’s keys in the air then caught them mid-flight.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Anandur called after Jeff, then slung his duffle bag over his shoulder and followed Onegus to the waiting jet.
A few moments later, their pilot revved the engines and they were off. The jet was one of the smaller ones and could seat five in addition to the pilot. The transport that would take the yacht’s crew together with the scumbag, Onegus, and Anandur back to Los Angeles had been chartered from a private Mexican airline, and it would be waiting for them at the Acapulco airport.
Once they were up in the air, Anandur pulled a couple of beers from the mini fridge and handed one to Onegus.
“Thanks.” He flicked the top off and lifted his bottle in a salute. “To a successful mission.”
They clinked bottles and for a couple of moments drank in silence.
A frown furrowing his brow, Onegus put his beer down on the pullout table. “Doesn’t it strike you odd that Alex is departing from his usual routine? Did Lana mention prior incidents of customers on board?”
Anandur shook his head. “No. From what Lana said, and also Amanda, I got the impression that he never invited men.”
“That’s what I thought. What do you think made him change his tactics?”
Anandur shrugged. “More money would be my guess. Maybe the buyers offered to pay more if they got to sample the merchandise before taking it off his hands.”
“That would mean that the girls aren’t thralled unconscious this time.”
Anandur scratched his beard. “I wonder if they are thralled at all. He might have told them that it was a yacht party, with some rich dudes who would wine them and dine them and buy them presents once they arrived at Acapulco.”
Onegus cast him a doubtful look. “You think this was enough to convince a bunch of girls to spread their legs for strangers?”
Anandur chuckled. “Onegus, my man, they do it for much less. Have you ever had to work at getting a girl at a club? They practically throw themselves at us.”
Onegus flashed him his movie-star smile. “That’s because we are so handsome.”
“Maybe. But I’ve seen dudes who were below average in that department succeeding with not much more than nice clothes and a thick wallet. That and buying a girl a few drinks was enough.”
“We’d better communicate this to Turner’s men. In addition to being mindful of the female crew, who know what’s going on and will take cover, we will now have a bunch of untrained civilians that can and will get in the line of fire.”
Onegus raked his fingers through his hair. “I didn’t want to even consider it, but I think we will need to use a chemical incapacitating agent.”
Bad idea. The thing worked like a charm, silent and efficient, but also potentially deadly. Not as in a remote chance of one in a thousand deadly, but in a staggering ten to twenty percent. Unacceptable, unless all other methods of rescue were estimated to yield even more casualties.
In the somber silence that followed, Anandur tried to come up with better solutions. Trouble was, he had a hard time estimating their success. They had no way of knowing what the situation on board the Anna was. They might be all hanging around the grand salon, or sunbathing on the top deck, or lingering in their bedrooms, each guest entertained by a girl. The most likely scenario was a combination of all three.
A tactical nightmare.
“I’m calling Kian. I don’t know if he and Turner considered the possibility that the girls are up and around, intermingling with the men.” Anandur pulled out his phone.
Onegus shook his head. “I’m sure they did. Neither is the type to overlook such an obvious possibility.”
One never knew.
Everything had been rushed, and plans had been hastily drawn. No one was infallible. Not even the infamous Turner. Besides, Anandur doubted Turner cared about casualties. To him, it was a question of numbers and probabilities, not individual lives. “I’d rather call and make sure.” He dialed Kian’s number.
Kian listened patiently for about thirty seconds then cut him off. “We are taking it for granted that the girls are with the men. The details are not ironed out yet. I’ll call you when we finalize the plan.”
“We don’t have time.”
“Yes, we do. We flew a drone out from Acapulco, and it caught up with the Anna. At her current speed, she is still a day away from reaching the port. Alex and his guests are evidently in no rush.”
“We have drones in Mexico? I wasn’t aware of that.”
“A few months back we sold a couple to a local customer. I called and asked for a favor in exchange for a substantial discount on future orders.”
“Good. So does it mean Onegus and I have the night off?”
“You wish. You are to rendezvous with Turner’s team and go over the plan.”
Chapter 29: Losham
For no apparent reason, Losham felt a peculiar prickling at the back of his head and turned around. Scanning the crowded Wynn casino, he spotted a tall, dark-haired guy holding a small, curvy blond by the elbow and rushing her out.
There was something familiar about the guy. Losham closed his eyes for a moment, letting his brain scan rapidly over every male he’d ever met. With his eidetic memory, nothing and no one was ever forgotten, but it usually took a second or two to retrieve the information. The other problem was that he didn’t see the man’s face. From the back, though, he looked a lot like Sharim’s second in command, whatever his name was.
It must’ve been someone with a similar build.
It couldn’t have been his son’s second.
Sharim and everyone else at that compound were dead.
Burned to ashes.
Losham turned his head back and resumed walking in the direction of the restaurant he’d been heading to, but then he stopped and looked again.
The guy had also moved the same way Sharim’s second had. Ungraceful for an immortal. His strides were heavy and his posture stiff, not fluid like that of most immortal males.
On the other hand, it was fairly common for a large human male. Pathetic creatures, these humans.
Losham shook his head. Grief was playing tricks on his otherwise infallible brain. Logic dictated that Sharim’s second was dead, like the rest of his son’s men, and not gambling in a casino in Vegas.
“Is there a problem, sir?” one of his bodyguards asked.
“No. I thought I saw someone familiar. Let’s proceed.”
Immortals were a superior breed, even such dumb meatheads as the males comprising his guard. They should be masters of this world, not fugitives living in secret, manipulating affairs from behind a smokescreen.
One day they would be.
He’d been working tirelessly toward that goal, but it was difficult. Not because humans were as numerous as ants while immortals were an endangered species. That was just one side of the equation.
The other was Navuh: a stubborn son-of-a-bitch who thought himself a god.
His father was charismatic, Losham had to concede, but as far as intelligence and cunning went, he couldn’t hold a candle to Losham.
He let out a quiet sigh. Unfortunately, Navuh was indispensable. You couldn’t lead people with smarts alone. Same as their inferior counterparts the humans, immortals needed a leader who could whip them into a mindless frenzy and unite them around a common goal, no matter how idiotic. A leader was the glue that held them together.
Without a charismatic central figure, their camp would dissolve into several militias, each headed by one of Navuh’s power-hungry sons. In no time, the infighting would decimate their numbers.
As much as Losham despised the pompous despot, Navuh had to stay. That elusive magnetic quality, the dramatic instincts that made his father the perfect central figure, were not something that could be learned or imitated; they were innate, and they were extremely rare. There had been only a few such leaders throughout human history. Their power over the masses had been astonishing. Not even the gods could’ve managed to sway millions using only the power of their personality and a few motivational speeches.
Losham would have to keep dancing circles around Navuh, seeding ideas in his head and making him believe that he came up with them on his own.
From the corner of his eyes, Losham caught a shimmer of a dress, covering something delightfully curvy, and when he glanced her way, she cast him the unmistakable come-hither look.
A hooker.
Sin city was full of them. This one was working the casino floor, a cheapie—good enough for the goons protecting him, but Losham had more refined tastes. A high-end service was delivering a first class trio to his suite tonight.
As much as he sneered at human males, Losham had no problem with the females. Very pleasing when well paid.
A beginning of an idea began germinating in his brain. Sharim and his predecessor’s method of attempting to capture immortal males had its merits, but they had gone about it all wrong.
Endless patrolling of night clubs and bars in the hopes of finding an immortal male was like looking for a needle in a haystack with a table fork. Instead, the smart thing was to lure those males into a trap.
As with his people, most of these males weren’t young. They had been frequenting whorehouses for centuries. But those establishments were not as prevalent and accessible as they used to be.
If he built them a quality one, they would come.
Not one, a chain.
A high-class chain of brothels run by humans who were enthralled to follow Losham’s instructions. He remembered Sharim telling him about a special sex club he’d been a member of—a place that catered to his deviant needs. It seemed there was a demand for places like that, and both those who wanted to inflict pain and those who wanted pain inflicted upon them paid hefty membership fees.
A sweet deal, and a perfect cover-up.
Who said that only deviant sex had to be practiced in a club like that? He could create clubs that catered to everyone. The vanilla crowd as well as the spicy crowd, or whatever the deviants called themselves.
And everyone would pay membership.
Naturally, he would keep a supply of beautiful hookers on hand, and let the men believe they were members just like them. The membership the others would pay would be steep enough to cover the expense.
Losham grinned. He liked this plan. Loved it, in fact. And selling the idea to Navuh would be a piece of cake. His greedy father would love a new profitable business that doubled as a trap for immortal males.
The idea was solid. The only missing part was a detection method that didn’t involve Doomers circling the premises. Perhaps hidden cameras would be enough. Extremely well-hidden. After all, if a male flashed a pair of fangs and it was caught on camera, there was no need for any other type of detection.