Autumn Anthology

by Heather B. Moore

  “No.” Mia kept her face blank; she wasn’t going to let him goad her.

  “Neither was I,” he said, a slight smile on his face. “I’ve seen you around.”

  Mia’s heart froze. “No you haven’t.” She hadn’t been in Jerusalem in over four years, not since her mom had died in a car bombing. Mia had since worked mostly in Turkey, and only because of the delicate nature of this job did she agree to come back for a trial run.

  His eyes stayed on hers, making her feel self-conscious, which was not easy to do.

  “Maybe I should rephrase... I know who you are, and I know who you work for,” Omar said. “And I’ve seen you in video surveillance from the Israeli Preservation Department, which I illegally confiscated.”

  Mia blinked. She’d never been speechless in her life. Apparently, there was a first time for everything.

  He leaned closer, his mouth next to her ear. “What do you want, Mia Golding?”

  Before she could answer, Omar released her with a push, hard enough to send her stumbling backwards. She caught her balance, furious at him, but before she could ask what his problem was, Omar had crouched to the ground.

  A man swung at him, missing. Omar jumped up and drove his fist into the guy’s face. The man went down, out cold.

  A few clubbers screamed, and people backed out of the way. Omar didn’t look flustered at all but simply knelt by the man, turned him over, and handcuffed him. The music was as loud as ever, drowning out excited conversation all around.

  Since when did anyone carry handcuffs around? Apparently Omar did. Mia stared in disbelief as Omar rose and crossed to her. She said nothing as he grabbed her hand and pulled her toward the exit near the restrooms, leaving the cuffed man to writhe on the floor as he woke.

  They stepped into a back alley, and the brisk fall air shuddered through Mia. Omar kept hold of her hand and walked quickly down the narrow street. He pulled something out of his pocket and turned it on.

  “You have a flashlight?” Mia said.

  “My phone,” Omar said. “Shh.”

  Mia fell silent, letting this man lead her to the street, where they crossed together, moving away from the club and its music. Above, in one of the apartments, a woman sang off key in Hebrew.

  Sirens sounded from a distance, and Omar slowed as they reached a parked black Mercedes. He pressed something on his phone, and the doors unlocked. Apparently they wouldn’t be sticking around to find out if the sirens were heading to the club.

  “Get in,” he said, and Mia climbed into the passenger side of the two-seat sports car. It seemed Omar did well with bonuses.

  He fiddled with something under the steering wheel.

  “You’re hotwiring it?” Mia asked, incredulous.

  The engine started. “Yeah.”

  “I thought it was yours.” Which of course was ridiculous now that she thought about it. This car must cost more than 100K. “How did you unlock the doors?”

  “With a really cool app.”

  Mia stared at him as he pulled on to the street and sped down the road in the opposite direction of the sirens. “You’re stealing this car?”

  “I’m not going to hurt it.” He flashed a smile. “The owner will have it back as soon as I figure out who’s following you and why you were watching me tonight. Want me to guess?”

  Mia folded her arms, shaking her head. The stories she’d heard about Omar’s eccentricities came back to her now— apparently they were all true. “You had to steal a car to ask me a few questions?”

  “No,” Omar said, his tone amused. “I stole a car because I didn’t bring one, and a car is the fastest way to leave a location unless you have access to a helicopter.” He paused, his gaze sliding to hers with definite interest. “Do you have access to one?”

  Mia didn’t know whether to laugh or to punch him. “Why would you think that?”

  “Because it seems that David Levy thinks more of you than he does me. He sent you to check up on me, didn’t he?” he asked. “So it’s a natural conclusion that Levy would provide you with a helicopter, even though I’ve asked him for one for more than three years.”

  Mia wanted to laugh, but would it bring out the crazy even more? “I don’t have a helicopter.”

  “Good,” Omar said. “Or I’d really be mad.” He looked at her, but she kept her gaze forward. He seemed to be studying her, and Mia was curious to know what he was thinking.

  “I’m getting fired, aren’t I?” he said.

  Mia looked at him then, but his eyes were back on the road. “How would I know?”

  “Because you’re here, and I listened to your interview.”

  The more he talked, the more curious Mia became, but the best thing for her to do was get out of the car and report to her station. “I don’t know anything about your job. Why don’t you ask Levy?”

  Omar scoffed. “Now there’s the rub. Levy doesn’t tell my anything, yet I see the signs. First he brings you into my city. Then he sends you to spy on me.”

  “I wasn’t spying.” This had gone on long enough. Mia was riding in a stolen car in the middle of the night with a man who was considered unstable... Now that she thought about it, he probably was on the chopping block. One thing was clear— he was smarter than she’d thought, and she’d give him the transfer, if only to get out of this car. “Okay, I was watching you, but it’s because I have to give you the key.”

  Omar veered to the left and came to a stop in front of an empty shopping complex. Aside from a few security lights, it was completely dark. “I’m not taking it.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m the one who uncovered the trail to the stolen Olympian artifacts. The Greeks are already mad at me, so I put in hundreds of hours to make this recovery go right. The key is traceable… in fact, our contact is expecting it.” He latched on his seatbelt. “By the way, we’re being followed. You might want to put on your seatbelt.”

  Mia looked in the side-view mirror. A car crept around the corner, no lights on. She latched her seatbelt a half second before Omar peeled out and tore down the street. Mia gripped the armrests as she was thrown into her seat.

  Omar didn’t seem to notice her discomfort. “I’m so glad this Mercedes is an SLS. If it were an AMG, it wouldn’t have nearly as much power.”

  “You are crazy,” Mia said, staring at the side-view mirror. “Who’s following us?”

  “I thought you knew.”

  “No,” Mia said, bracing herself as Omar whipped around a corner then drove straight through a red light.

  “Do you have the key with you?” he asked, his voice calm.

  Mia’s breath was short as panic crept in. “How else would I make the transfer?”

  Omar braked suddenly, throwing Mia forward. He backed into an alley then turned off the engine. “You should have established a pick-up location. They know it’s on your person.”

  “Who?” She wanted to look around the corner to see if they were still being followed.

  “Jamil’s men, of course. The ones behind the stolen artifacts.”

  Mia was about to answer, but a car drove past, going about 80 kilometers an hour. It didn’t even slow down. Mia exhaled with relief. They’d lost the car.

  “Go ahead… verify with Levy,” Omar said.

  She pulled her phone out and texted her boss. Seconds later he replied. Yes on Jamil. But he knows nothing. We have 48 hours.

  “What does Levy say?” Omar asked.

  She looked over at him. “That Jamil knows nothing about this. Levy is giving you forty-eight hours to recover the Greek artifacts after you get the key.”

  Omar’s hand clamped down on her arm. “Listen to me. It’s a set-up. Levy knows it’s too dangerous, and I told him so. Whichever agent goes in will be dead in minutes. The whole place is wired, and they’re waiting for us to show up with the key.” His grip relaxed.

  Mia exhaled. “Levy said you’d try to push back, that you refuse to do anything by protocol. This is
too important to blow off Levy’s instructions. The prime minister of Greece resigned because of this theft. If we restore the artifacts, it will buoy Greece’s sagging economy.”

  But Omar shook his head, his eyes black and intense inside the dark car. “I owe Greece; I know that. But this isn’t a typical recovery mission. Jamil’s man followed you inside the club. He was there the entire time, watching you watching me.”

  “What, so Levy is setting me up, now?”

  “Levy is an idiot. He put you in the middle of something I’ve already handled,” Omar said. “He has no faith in me, for whatever reason, even though I’ve never failed at a job.”

  Mia had heard otherwise, but maybe Omar gauged failures differently than most people.

  Omar inched the car forward and pulled onto the street when there was no sign of any other cars in either direction. “This is Levy’s style,” he continued. “Tells me to do a job, and when he thinks it’s taking too long, he sends backup. Comes up with a plan like transferring a key that leaves a trail straight back to you and to me. Welcome to my life, Mia.”

  She stared at him, not knowing what to believe. Her boss had told her the job had gone south, and if the recovery wasn’t made within a couple of days, the entire mission would be compromised. But if she had been followed to the club, it already had been. She had no choice; she’d have to return to headquarters and report a failed mission.

  “Ready?” Omar asked.

  “For what?” She glanced over.

  A smile played on his lips. “I just thought of a way to make the recovery tonight, without the key. You’re coming with me.”

  Chapter Three

  “You’re out of your mind,” Mia said as they pulled onto the main boulevard. “If what you say is true, and Jamil knows about us, then we have to abort.”

  “Not necessarily,” Omar said. “It just makes things more interesting. Like I said, I complete all my assignments, no matter what.”

  This guy was crazy for sure, but she was curious. “Tell me what happened in Athens.”

  Omar was quiet for a moment as he took the exit to Highway 1. “I was sent in to recover the Picasso and Mondrian paintings, which I did. Hadn’t planned on getting lit on fire and burning up the Mondrian in the process.” He lifted the right side of his shirt up to show a patch of mottled skin. “Still hurts.”

  Mia winced at the sight of the red and bumpy skin, but she wasn’t there to commiserate with him. The paintings had been the beginning of Greece’s struggle with the security of their museums. Soon after the paintings had been stolen, dozens of priceless items, including bronze, clay, and gold artifacts used by ancient athletes during the Games, were also stolen.

  Those thefts pushed the country over the edge, bringing about the resignation of the culture minister. Omar had recovered the paintings, so to speak, but the Games artifacts were still at large. “Levy said you got too close to the source.”

  Omar barked a laugh. “He’s just jealous. Big deal if I kissed the female security guard and it was caught on surveillance. She gave me pointers with a bonus thrown in. Since then, I’ve been more active in the surveillance department.” He smiled, throwing her a wink. “Which is how I found out about you, so it’s all good. Nothing has been wasted.”

  “Burning up a priceless painting isn’t a waste?” Mia folded her arms.

  “The value the free market dictates to citizens is ambiguous.” Omar switched lanes, passing an Israeli bus, which traveled mostly empty. “Although the commission would have been nice, it’s not like I was planning on buying a boat or anything.”

  Mia caught herself laughing then wondered if she should relax around an obviously unbalanced man.

  Omar’s gaze met hers. “So now that you know everything about me, tell me about you.”

  “Oh no,” Mia said. “I want to know your plan… and why I should stay in this car with you.”

  He grinned. “You’ll just have to trust me.” Their eyes locked for a couple of seconds then Omar returned his attention to the road.

  “I don’t trust anyone,” Mia said.

  “Too bad.” His gaze flicked to hers. “I’ll admit that I do know some things about you, and I heard about what happened to your mother. I’m very sorry.”

  Mia exhaled. It had been four years since her mom’s death, and the pain hadn’t faded. Each morning it seemed to start fresh as the memories returned. She closed her eyes for a second and was surprised when Omar reached over and squeezed her hand. The touch showed a lot more than anything he could have said. Maybe he wasn’t so crazy.

  “There were never any official charges,” Mia said in a hesitant voice. “But I believe it was connected to the assignment I was on at the time.”

  Omar remained silent, waiting for her to continue.

  “Yeah, I know there were a lot of coincidences,” she said, trying to steady the shakiness that had crept into her voice. “I mean, the bomb went off at the corner of my street at the exact moment my mother was walking by.”

  Mia shook her head, looking out the window as the nightscape sped by. “She was visiting for a few days, and she offered to go to the grocer’s. We were out of cooking oil.” She blew out a breath, remembering the sound of the explosion and the way her heart had stopped. She’d been in denial at first, but then her pulse raced like mad as she ran down the stairs and onto the street. It was like she knew… she knew that her mother was gone. Everything inside her had turned dark, heavy, cold.

  “Mia?” Omar’s hand was on hers again, bringing her back to the present. “I read the report— everything that was connected with the case you were working on— and I agree. I think it was connected.”

  She sucked in her breath. No one had ever agreed with her, and now that someone did, the pain sharpened like a knife.

  “I’m sorry. That’s probably not what you want to hear,” he said, his voice soft and totally lucid. This was a different Omar than a few minutes before.

  “I’m glad someone agrees with me.” She paused. “But it scares me too. I’m used to people discrediting my theories.”

  Omar turned on the blinker. “After we get through with this job, I can go over my theories with you.”

  Mia glanced at him, her heart thudding. He couldn’t know how much that meant to her— to have someone believe her— to have someone want to help. “All right.”

  Omar took an exit Mia wasn’t familiar with. She straightened in her seat. “Where are we headed?”

  He checked the rearview mirror before replying. “A place that used to be a military compound.”

  Moments later, he pulled into a neighborhood, drove through several streets then slowed near a rundown collection of stores. He pulled around behind them and parked next to a group of trees. “We walk from here,” he said, popping his door open.

  “Wait,” Mia said, licking lips that suddenly felt dry. “If it’s not safe to use the key, what’s your plan?”

  “It’s better that you don’t know, in case you get caught.”

  “What about you getting caught?”

  “Then it would still be better if you don’t know anything.” Omar held her gaze. “Can you trust me?”

  It was the second time he’d asked that, but this time, something inside her softened. “All right. For now I’ll trust you.”

  They met at the front of the car, and Omar led her through the trees, out into the back parking lot of the buildings.

  “Where’s the compound?” Mia whispered.

  “We won’t get there until morning, but that van over there is our way in.”

  Mia looked where he’d pointed, at a beat-up van parked behind one of the shops.

  “Every morning it delivers pastries to the compound. Tomorrow it will deliver a lot more than that.”

  Mia slowed her step. “We’re going to be the delivery guys?”

  “Too transparent. We wouldn’t get past the gate.” He opened the rear door of the van.

  Mia peered inside the mostl
y dark vehicle. A shelving rack was welded to one side. Otherwise, just a few cardboard boxes lay scattered around.

  Omar climbed in and held out his hand.

  “What are we doing?” she asked.

  “Hiding back here until the delivery route starts.”

  Mia looked from Omar to the night sky. “That’s hours away.”

  He gave a shrug. “It’s the best chance we have.”

  Still, she hesitated. “So we’re going to wait in this van for hours until someone shows up. Then what?”

  Omar kept his hand out, his gaze on hers.

  Finally, Mia took it and allowed him to pull her into the van. The inside was dank and smelled like stale bread. All of the bench seats had been pulled out, leaving the driver’s and passenger seats up front.

  Omar turned on the flashlight from his phone and pulled the back hatch closed.

  Looking around, Mia thought it was even more dismal than she’d first thought. She moved a box to the side and sat in the corner of the van near the driver’s side. It wasn’t too comfortable in her fitted dress.

  Omar rummaged around for a few moments. He found a couple of flour sacks and slid them over so they could lean against them.

  “How are we supposed to stay hidden when the delivery man comes?” Mia asked.

  “If he notices, I’ll have to convince him with my gun to stay quiet.”

  Mia exhaled. This plan wasn’t solid. It was liable to change at every moment. She drew her knees up to her chest and tugged her skirt, wishing she’d brought a jacket, or even a thick, warm blanket. It wasn’t freezing, but the autumn night wasn’t warm, either.

  “You can use my shoulder if you want, or even my lap, if you need a pillow,” Omar said, sitting about a meter away.

  “Funny,” Mia said, pulling her legs in tighter. “I don’t plan on falling asleep.”

  Omar just smiled, leaned his head back, and closed his eyes.

  Chapter Four

  Mia opened her eyes, realizing two things at once. First, she was leaning against Omar’s shoulder with his arm around her, and second, she’d heard a door bang shut.