Deadly Interpretations

by Andie Alexander

  I pointed to the overflowing grocery cart. “Are you going to eat all of that?”

  “No, but you are.” He shot me a look I’ll never forget. Something that might be translated to mean ‘if you ask more, I’m going to draw my gun and I guarantee it’ll hurt.’

  I nodded. “Guess I’ll be hungry enough by tomorrow morning.”

  His hand went to my waist. “After so much sex-ercise tonight, there’s no doubt about it.”

  I shot him an ‘in your dreams’ glare, making him laugh. As we stood in the line to pay, I saw Boris meet with another man, then glance toward us. I recognized the man as a Russian guard I never trusted, but didn’t know his name. If I were a betting woman, I’d have made a mint in putting money on Jim’s predictions.

  Chapter 8

  After paying for the groceries, we put the things into the trunk of the sports car. Once we got into the front seat, Jim pulled the car out of the parking lot.

  “Where do you see yourself in five years?” he asked.

  “I don’t know. Probably empress of the world or something. How about you?”

  He kept his eyes on the road. “I think I’m going back into medicine. I’m tired of being a freeloader.”

  “But you’re hardly—”

  He slapped his hand over my mouth. “Since I just got back from touring Europe, Asia, and the Middle East with my millions, it’s time to finally use my degree to help people.” He shook his head as he removed his hand. “Do you see yourself settled down soon?”

  “Settled down? I think I’m already settled, unlike you, who feel the need to roam around in a desert. Are you insane? You’d think you’d at least want a real bed or something.”

  He grabbed my hand, resting it in my lap. “I meant married, kids, you know, settled down.”

  “Yeah,” I muttered. “Married and kids, making me just looking forward to diapers and those teenage years. I can hardly wait.”

  “You’re such an optimist. After we get married, how many kids do you want?”

  I let go of his hand. “Marriage? Hold on, bucko. I just met you. Aren’t you kind of jumping the gun a bit?”

  “With you, no. I see how other men look at you, and I’m going to have to move fast if I want to keep you.” He gave me his best puppy dog look before returning his gaze back to the road. “Don’t you want to marry me?”

  “Uh.” His glare was downright nasty, and I knew if I answered wrong, I’d be charged with treason or something. “Sure, honeybunch. Some day, but not today.”

  He kissed my hand. “I’ll hold you to that, too. I wish I had a tape recorder so I could play it back to you every day.” His smile and singsong voice were sickening. I was ready to throw him to the ground again, wishing I’d finished the job that morning. “So how many kids do you want?”

  As much as I hated the thought of having children with this man, I had to play along. “As many as you do, sweetheart.”

  “Dozens, at least. I want a house full of kids.” He raked his eyes over me. “I hope you’re up to it.”

  “Oh, we’ll talk.” After I made sure he realized who was boss.

  We got back to the apartment and took the bags inside. As soon as I walked in the door, one of the men grabbed my bags while another went over me with the electronic wand and earplugs in his ears. As soon as he got to my shoulders, he cringed and pulled the earplugs out of his ears.

  Jim searched around my arms and neck, and found two very tiny black dots on each of my shoulders. He handed them to one of the men who walked outside with them. They ran the wand over each of us again, but found nothing.

  “Harley, why did you get all this great food?” Scotty asked from the tiny kitchen.

  “It wasn’t me. It was Jim.”

  “Your fiancée?” he asked.

  I went into the kitchen. “Fiancée? Are you insane?”

  Scotty stuck a white donut into his mouth. “That’s what the guys told me.” White powder sprayed everywhere. “While we ate pizza, Chris said you two were off getting engaged or something.”

  “Engaged.” Jim entered the kitchen with a grin. “What a great idea. A real bozo getting engaged to you. Interesting thought, huh?” He leaned back against the sink and crossed his arms.

  “You understood the conversation between Boris and me?”

  “Yep. Every word. He thinks I’m a bozo but you don’t. This should be good.”

  “I figured you’d understand Russian.” I plugged in my cell phone to recharge, and then helped Scotty put the groceries away. “I had to make him think I was in love with you.”

  “You did a great job, too. Even I was almost convinced.”

  I shook my head. This was going to be tougher than ever. “Are you sure you want to go to Saturday’s party?”

  “Yep.” He pulled me into his arms, with only the steak in my hands separating us. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world and there’s no way he’s getting you alone.”

  “But how am I to make contact if I’m not alone?”

  He took the steak from my hand and gave it to Scotty, never moving his eyes off mine. “I’m not sure, but we’ll think of something. Now, Scotty and my guys can put these things away, because you have a date—in your bedroom—with me.”

  “I do?”

  “Are you two going to have sex?” Scotty asked.

  I turned to see him just as he took a big bite of a huge candy bar. “No. And you shouldn’t be talking about sex at your age. Besides, it’s not going to happen. I don’t know Mr. Bond that well and we’re not married so—”

  Scotty snapped his head toward me. “Did you say Bond?” He looked over at Jim. “Is that why your name’s Jim? Are you a movie star?”

  Jim sighed. “No relation and I’m not him. My last name is Manford and Harley just calls me that because it’s my nickname.” He grabbed my hand. “Your room, right now. We have some things to do.”

  I could tell from his expression that I wasn’t allowed to argue. I followed him and he sat me down on the bed after closing the door behind us.

  “Call Harold,” he said. “We have to get rid of all liabilities. The sooner the better.” He stood over me, just watching.

  “This is about Scotty, right?”

  “Yes.” He handed me the phone from beside the bed. “Call him.”

  “I can’t exactly call him. I have to call a store about three miles from there, then they check the messages a few times a week.”

  “Do you know where this commune is located? I could have someone go up there and take Scotty right now.”

  “No, I don’t. I know it’s upstate somewhere and they hide from everyone. I got a letter from Harold about two weeks ago, and he said many of the women are having babies because it’s springtime or something. It almost sounded like they were animals.” I searched Jim’s face. “Do I really have to call him? Isn’t there another way?”

  He nodded in thought. “Sure. We could put Scotty into a foster home if you want.”

  “A foster home?” There was no way I’d do that to my brother. A commune was one thing, but a foster home where he knew no one?

  “It’s that or he could die.” Jim crossed his arms. “It’s your choice.”

  There had to be another answer, but nothing came to mind. I had no choice. I pulled out my list of phone numbers from the drawer on the nightstand and dialed. As soon as the ringing stopped, the machine played a recorded message and a beep sounded.

  “This message is for Harold or Squirt Black from his sister Harley,” I said. “I need him to call me back, collect, as soon as possible. It’s an emergency.” I left the number for my cell phone and my home phone and said goodbye.

  “How soon before he gets that message?” Jim asked.

  “Probably tomorrow. Whenever I call, he either calls me back in the morning, or around lunchtime, because he knows I can’t talk during work.”

  “You have a weird life.” He touched the black curtains. “And a weird apartment.”

  �
��Do you live around here?”

  He turned from the curtains. “I live everywhere and nowhere. I’m like a nomad, running from hotel to hotel. My mail is collected in D.C. by the bigwigs and I’m told what’s delivered, but rarely see it. My bills are paid by the secretaries who have power of attorney over my money, too.”

  “So you don’t live a normal life, either.”

  He sat down beside me. “No, and I was being honest when I asked if you wanted to settle down. I could see myself marrying someone like you, if not you exactly.” He stared into my eyes and stroked my hair. “You’re tough, yet have your soft side.” He pushed me back to the bed, leaned over me, and kissed me with force. He nibbled on my lips, and then glided his tongue between them. Even Dieter was an amateur to this guy.

  “Oh, James,” I heard myself saying, just like the Bond women in the 007 movies.

  He finally pulled back from my face and smiled at me. “I want to make love to you so much, I can’t stand it.”

  I pulled myself back to reality and crossed my arms. “Wake me when you’re done.”

  He seemed shocked. “Wake you? You’re not going to cooperate?”

  “Nope.” I sat up and straightened my top. “I’ve had enough for one day and I really want to go to sleep. So, if you don’t mind, I’m going to bed. Alone.”

  “Not alone. I’m glued to your side. If you think otherwise, we’ll have to take you into protective custody. Boris made his first mistake, to contact you in front of me, and I’m sure he’ll make more. He doesn’t think of me as a threat, which is stupid. Considering I just met you, if I were him, I’d be all over me and my background.”

  “How do you know he isn’t doing just that?”

  Jim grinned. “He didn’t put a bug on me. He has no fingerprints to go on, either, and has no way to track me down.”

  “How do you know he has no fingerprints to go on?”

  “Mine have been removed. Permanently. There’s no way to track me, or pin me down. I even moved out of the hotel and am staying here now.” He pointed to a lone suitcase in the corner.

  “So you only have that one suitcase? That’s it?”

  He shrugged one shoulder. “It goes with the job.”

  How sad was that? This poor man had nothing to his name but his clothes and his car, which was probably wasn’t even his.

  “So are we going to fool around or what?” he asked, popping me out of my thoughts.

  “No.” I stood up from the bed. “I have to go to work tomorrow and can’t do something like that. Especially not with Scotty here. Not going to happen.”

  Jim moved behind me, nuzzling my neck with his lips. “Some day?”

  “Probably not.” He didn’t need to know that my eyes were shut, enjoying his touch as much as he was. “It doesn’t matter. The timing’s bad, anyway.”

  He spun me around. “You’re PMSing. How could the timing be bad?”

  “Not any more, since that trip to the bathroom after dinner.” I grinned. Chalk one up to the power of a woman. “This is your lucky day.”

  He snapped his fingers and sighed. “Darn. Foiled by hormones. Rain check in five days?”

  “We’ll see.” But it wasn’t going to happen. I didn’t sleep around for a reason.

  I grabbed some shorts, a t-shirt, and my purse, then went into the bathroom. Jim was close behind me.

  “Alone,” I said. “Trust me.”

  “You’re probably right. I’ll be outside the door if you need anything.”

  I shut the door in his face and proceeded to get ready for bed. I wished I had my cell phone with me so I could call Elizabeth, my coworker. I had to know if she was going to the party and if they’d contacted her for the private meeting as well.

  After changing into a black t-shirt and gray shorts, I opened my purse and pulled out a cigarette, flipped on the fan and lit up. Just as I put the cigarette into my mouth, the door flew open and Jim grabbed it from my mouth.

  “I see you’re done.” He threw it into the toilet, then emptied my purse, throwing the rest of the pack in as well. “No cigarettes.” He flushed the toilet in one final, cruel motion. “Do you have any more in this place?”

  I was dumbfounded. He’d thrown all my cigarettes away. “No.” He turned off the fan while I felt betrayed by the noise. He didn’t get it. I needed those things. He’d see me mean now, and I meant mean.

  “I’m glad they’re gone.” He helped me put the things back in my purse, picking up one of my pens. “Another pen from Geneva?”

  “Sure. They’re my favorites. Why?”

  “How many of these things do you have?”

  “Probably ten or twelve.”

  He shook his head. “Did Dieter give you all of them?”

  “Sure. Why?”

  “I asked for everything from Dieter, and you didn’t give me everything. One of these pens might be important. Get me all the pens and anything else you may have forgotten about.”

  “Fine.” I went into my bedroom and dumped my desk drawer on the bed. A bunch of pens fell out, along with a small black journal.

  Jim shoved all the pens into his pocket while I lifted the book. I dusted off the cover and studied it.

  “What’s that?” he asked.

  “A diary from when I first went to Geneva. I was a scared little girl, going to Switzerland, all alone. It tells about how I first met Dieter and how he toughened me up.”

  “By sticking you in the basement?” Jim asked.

  “Not at first. He was really nice to begin with, showing me around town, helping me find an apartment, you know, the usual. I even met some of his friends.”

  “Is all of that in the diary?”

  “Yes, but it’s written in different languages. I wanted to practice what I was learning, and eventually wanted to do written translations, because it was less stressful.”

  Jim held out his hand. “May I read it?”

  I handed it to him. “Sure, if you can stand the misspellings and ramblings of a young girl.”

  He sat on the bed and opened the diary, while I read over his shoulder. “You were young. Very naïve too, if I might say so.” He paged through a bit, stopping on the page written in French. “You met Dieter on a bridge?”

  I looked over his shoulder. “Sure. He was meeting with a co-worker and handed him some sort of envelope.” I read on. “I should’ve pushed him over the edge and into the water.”

  “Nice comment.” Jim read over the passage. “He wasn’t just meeting a co-worker. He kissed you right after he did that, and it surprised you, because you’d just met the guy and no one had ever kissed you before. Why did he do that?”

  I sat back and thought for a while. “I’m not sure. It was weird, now that I think about it.” Jim was in cop-mode and I had to keep it in check. “Do you think he was doing something subversive back then?”

  “Maybe, and he may have used you for a cover. Did anyone else walk across the bridge around the time he handed the other man the envelope?”

  I thought back to that day and remembered the kiss. “Let me think. I have a photographic memory, but that was a long time ago.” I put myself back on the bridge. “I’d just gotten to Geneva the day before and wanted to check out the city. There was a small park with a tiny arched bridge over a pond. It was so pretty; I just stopped and looked at the ducks swimming near the lily pads, when this man ran into me.”

  “Dieter?”

  “Yep. He said he was sorry and turned to stand beside me. He spoke English, which was nice, and kept glancing around him. His friend, Kristian—”

  “Kristian? What was his last name?”

  I took the book from him and leafed to the last page. “I kept a list of all the names so I’d remember when I’d hunt them down and kill them later.”

  Jim’s eyebrow rose. “Revenge?”

  “Not a strong enough word.” I stared down at the page. “Kristian Metternich. He was from the Netherlands.”

  Jim’s mouth hung down. �
�The Dutch Deathman? You met him?”

  Huh? “Who’s the Dutch Deathman?”

  “Kristian’s nickname is the Dutch Deathman. He’s a hit man who’s famous over all of Europe.”

  I felt my stomach fall. “Holy smokes.” I glanced back down at the list of names in my diary, then handed him the book. “Here are the rest of the names. Do you think any of this is related to why they want to use me now?”

  He looked down at the book. “I wouldn’t doubt it. Many of these names are familiar and on Interpol’s most wanted list, except for this one. Who’s Linus Wu?”

  “We were invited to a party for the U.N., and Linus kept talking to me, making Dieter mad. He was some high official in the Chinese government.”

  “With a name like Linus?”

  “He was originally from Hong Kong, but was well respected by my contacts at the United Nations. He didn’t talk to Dieter a lot, but had met him earlier. I wrote his name in case I ever needed to remember it, or if he became one of Dieter’s close friends.”

  “I see.” Jim flipped back to the beginning, to the page written in French. “Now, what happened after Dieter met you back on the bridge?”

  “Kristian walked up and Dieter handed him some folder, way down low, passing it at their thighs. I thought it was weird, but ignored it because right after Dieter did that, he kissed me and took me by surprise. While Dieter was kissing me, a cop walked by. Kristian started talking to the cop in German about the weather or something, and walked away. At least I thought it was about the weather. I don’t know German very well.”

  “He walked away with the cop?”

  “He talked to the cop, but turned and walked in the other direction. Then Dieter touched my hair and thanked me.”

  “Thanked you? What for?”

  “I don’t know. We went out for drinks and he helped me find a place to live. He was nice for a while, then started getting nasty. That’s when he bought me all those pens. He told me to keep one with me at all times.”

  “What for?” Jim asked.

  “I don’t know. To remember him or something. It was just another controlling thing for him, I guess.”

  “I think not.” He pulled a pen from his right pocket. “This one was in your purse.” He unscrewed it and dumped the insides on the bed. Out fell two small slips of paper. “Don’t touch these.” Jim stood up and yelled out the bedroom door. “Chris. I need bags.” He walked back to the bed, stared at the papers, then started to pace. “This isn’t good.”