Sam said, “You’re right, Kyle, we shouldn’t be doing this. I just know you, Xander. If this is the man responsible for the death of your parents, you will go whether I help you or not. That is why I am saying I am in, but if we find out it’s not him, we have to stop. You are skilled enough to pull any job, especially with my help, but this is not a job; this is bloody war.”
“Sam.” Xander shifted in his seat. “Do you believe Khatib was involved with the murder of my parents?”
“There is no way—”
“Sam, do you think this is the guy?”
“I do; the coincidences are astonishing, but—”
“That’s the end of it, then. Prepare us for success. I don’t care if we have take out an entire army or not. Because I will.”
“Then let’s get started,” Sam said, ending her side of the debate. She then drew their attention to a screen on the wall. She had her laptop connected to a projector and the presentation she’d built on Khatib was now being projected there.
Sam gave the presentation. “Sanharib Khatib, born 1958 in Ramadi, Iraq. His father was one of the richest men in the country and friends of the Hussein family. He built an oil empire that he passed along to his son Sanharib, and Sanharib continued its growth in Iraq until the Gulf War in the early nineties. Because of US military insurgence there, he was forced out of Iraq and he moved his entire operation to Syria. His entire family was killed by US forces, including his wife and two children. Ever since that day he has made it his mission to have revenge on the United States, and it does not matter to him if it is the government or American civilians who feel his wrath. This is where I believe your father comes into play. In 2004 there was a bomb that blew up one of your father’s oil tankers. I believe that your father was targeted because of his success in brokering multiple deals with the petroleum companies in the Middle East. This was a massive spike for your father and a lot of Middle Eastern oil companies were edged out as a result. Intel suggests that your father was believed to be on that tanker the day it was bombed, and that is why it was targeted. Two of Khatib’s men were captured shortly after the explosion, and while awaiting trial they ended up dead before anything was resolved.”
“So it was him. Khatib had my parents murdered at their own house when he found out dad wasn’t on that tanker.” Xander stood up and paced the room. “Enough background, Sam. What is the plan?”
“All right, thanks to a relationship I have with a former MI6 mate of mine, James Churchill, who is stationed just south of Syria in Israel, we have an unbelievable amount of classified intel. James has been studying and watching Khatib’s every move for more than a decade. He’s been frustrated that they have yet to take him out and that is why he is cooperating with us. He has insisted that he help in the mission. Xander, he has seen Khatib murder thousands and train young children to carry out his orders for years. He will be a massive help and invaluable to us as we go forward.”
“Perfect. As long as it’s understood that I am in charge once we hit the ground there, I am fine with it. So, what’s the plan?” Xander urged.
Sam pointed to a map she had pulled up. “This is where Khatib has built his compound. A coastal Syrian city, Baniyas. It works well for him because it’s on the water, which he enjoys, and it is just south of one of the largest oil refineries in Syria. Obviously, this gives us an opening to go in under the cover of water. It is, however, heavily guarded twenty-four hours a day. We will fly into Rene Mouawad Air Base, less than one mile south of the Syrian border, in Lebanon. It was a tough trick for James to find an airfield close to Syria that we could fly a G6 into without anyone being able to trace it. Since this airport is military, and so infrequently used, he was able to bribe the controller there and they will let us land and leave undocumented as long as we land after midnight and we are gone by sunrise the next morning. This will be an almost impossibly tight schedule. We are currently having a speedboat modified to shorten our time on the water. The boat as it is now will take us two and a half hours of travel time each way. Sunrise is at 5:40 a.m., so obviously that will not work.”
“Forty minutes won’t be long enough?” Kyle asked.
“No. We will have to scuba in—”
“In the dark?” Kyle interrupted Xander.
“Yes, in the dark.”
“Jesus.”
Xander replied. “Dark water will be the very least of your worries, I promise. Anyway, by the time we scuba in, infiltrate security, find Khatib, and question him—”
“Wait, Xander. You will not be questioning Khatib,” Sam interrupted.
“Of course I will. I have to find out what he knows about what happened to my parents. I mean, why else would James come along if he wasn’t translating?”
“He’s coming along to help take out security.”
“Sam, you know I don’t need help with that.”
“You most certainly will. Khatib keeps a small army at his compound. Forty-five, maybe fifty soldiers.”
“Xander, fifty armed gunmen? This is suicide!” Kyle yelped.
“It’s not suicide if James and I accompany Xander in taking them out,” Sam said, very matter-of-factly. “These men will not have any where near our training. Even you, Kyle. Xander’s is the only shot better than mine that I have ever come across. Obviously, I only considered any of this because I assumed you were abandoning your rule of not killing anyone outside of the main target. All of these men will have to die if we wish to succeed.”
“Of course,” Xander answered. “This is a terrorist cell we will be eliminating. All bets are off. The government will just have to thank us later. But I don’t need James’s gun. He will translate for Khatib until I get answers, that’s all. I have never worked with him and I will not have him disrupting my flow. The only reason you are going is because you have been on missions with me before.”
“Xander, I love you, but we cannot succeed at this mission without James. There are simply too many of them. And you will not have time for interrogation. You will put a kill shot through Khatib’s head and we will immediately return to the jet. If we are documented coming or going at that airport, Khatib’s counterparts will never rest until you are dead.”
“I agree, Sam. We can’t be documented, but I will be interrogating Khatib. And James will stay on the boat protecting Kyle until I bring Khatib back for translation. That’s final,” Xander insisted.
“Xander, James must—”
Xander slammed his fist in frustration down on the desk in front of Sam. “Enough!” Xander jumped to his feet and paced the back of the office.
“Xander,” Kyle said calmly, “Sam is just trying to keep you safe.”
“K, not right now. I know what I need to make this happen. Sam knows what I am capable of, and the only thing that will jeopardize our safety is an unknown. I do not work with unknowns.”
“Xander, I understand your concern,” Sam said in a slow and even tone, “and I do understand what you are capable of. However, just you and I alone cannot take out this entire compound. Your entire SEAL team would struggle with it. I don’t want you to work with an unknown either, but James is not an unknown to me. He is a hell of an agent, and without him we will fail. We will all die.”
“That’s enough for today. Just let me know when we leave. I am going to work all week with Kyle on some tactical training to get him ready for everything. Thank you for the time you are putting into this, Sam. Sorry I lost my cool.”
“It’s all right, Xander. I know what this means to you. It means more to me than you understand as well. That is why if you let me do my job I will see to it that it is flawless. Like it is every bloody time we do this. Have I ever let you down?”
“Never,” Xander answered, still clearly frustrated. He opened the office door and walked away.
“Is all of this even possible, Sam?” Kyle asked, lowering his voice so Xander wouldn’t hear.
“If he lets me utilize James? Possibly.”
Kyl
e nodded and walked into the kitchen where Xander stood at the sink splashing water on his face.
“You all right?”
“I’m good. Just still a little hungover,” Xander answered. He knew Kyle meant if he was okay about the outrageous mission on which they were about to embark.
“Yeah, I know. You rarely go that hard.” Kyle let him off the hook.
Mind Meld.
One Lucky Girl
This is your captain speaking. We are making our final approach into Paris, France. Looks like it is going to be a beautiful day today. It is currently sixty-five degrees and lots of sunshine. Fasten your seat belts and we will be on the ground in about ten minutes. Thank you once again for flying Delta.
The ping from the 747’s intercom and the captain’s voice woke Natalie from a deep sleep. This was the first time she’d flown first class overseas with the sleeping pods. She was now officially spoiled. As if the private G6 plane ride to Lexington with Xander hadn’t already done the trick. It frustrated her that most thoughts throughout the day eventually led her back to him. Especially when it was her first thought of the day, and in Paris airspace, no less.
She sat up in her pod and looked around the aircraft’s cabin. The overhead lights were still dark but a glow of morning light filtered in through the cracks in the shades of various passengers’ windows. A jolt of excitement shot through her as she pondered what her stay here would be like. Not only was this her first time in Paris, but it had been a lifelong dream to shoot a movie here. And not just any movie, she really felt like this project was going to be special. She loved the script, and she’d really connected with her character. Besides, even if it is make-believe, who doesn’t want to find love in Paris? She smiled and cracked her window shade to get a glimpse of the city. The plane jostled a bit before she had the chance to get a good look, and that old familiar fear crept in. She looked down at her hands and they were once again grasping at the armrests as if she were clinging to a rock while dangling over a three-hundred-foot cliff. Then of course, she thought of Xander. Xander’s mother, really. She remembered what Xander had told her his mother’s trick to relieving flight anxiety was, and she let her mind settle on seeing the massive plane land perfectly on the runway below.
Ten minutes later, the 747 did exactly that.
Natalie’s driver pulled the car up to Hotel Le Bristol Paris on the corner of rue du Faubourg Saint Honoré. This normally would mean nothing to Natalie, except her assistant Jamie had told her the hotel sat in the heart of the fashion, design, and art district. Which were some great sell-words for Natalie, but Jamie went on to say that this hotel was where they’d filmed one of Natalie’s favorite movies, Midnight in Paris. As if that wasn’t enough, the production company had set her up in the Grace Kelly Suite.
The Grace Kelly Suite!
As she stepped out of the car she took a long, deep, satisfactory breath full of warmth and floral scents from all the nearby flowers. She was filled with excitement at the sight of her home for the next eight weeks.
The bellhop led Natalie into the grand entrance of the lobby, but she hardly got a chance to take it in as he rushed her through in order to avoid a gaggle of paparazzi who were awaiting her there. Although she had been dealing with this side of the movie business for years, it never ceased to amaze her that they always knew where she was, no matter how far from Hollywood the next movie shoot took her. Good thing she had touched up her makeup in the airport bathroom and changed into a cute Chanel top. They walked straight past the paparazzi with only a smile and a wave from Natalie. To a soundtrack of clicks and clacks of cameras, the bellhop guided her onto a glass and wrought iron elevator and straight to the top floor of the hotel.
Natalie followed the bellman off the elevator and down the hall of the eighteenth-century-designed hotel. They reached room 188, and as the door opened the first thing she saw was straight through to an open balcony and, in the distance, the Eiffel Tower. She let out a squeal and rushed straight for the balcony. Two large, long rectangular flowerpots were fastened to the top of the wrought iron railing, and she leaned out over the bar and laughed aloud with joy as she took in the romance of the city. As soon as she shut the door she turned and skipped around the suite, her feet barely touching the ground. The sudden urge to explore struck her and after a quick change she headed out to the city.
Natalie took a sip of her vanilla latte. Open markets with troughs of fruits and vegetables, bakeries, storefronts full of art and jewelry all surrounded her and the café. And so far, with the clever instructions from the concierge to slip out the back, she’d managed to avoid the all-seeing eye of the paparazzi. Although that was clearly the case, amid all of the beauty that engulfed her senses, she did have this very strange feeling in the back of her mind that someone was watching her. Was it leftovers from what happened Saturday night at Xander’s?
He would be such a great person to share all of this with.
She physically shook her head to try to eradicate thoughts of him from her mind. She took a moment to search her surroundings with a keen eye. What was she even looking for? Someone blatantly staring at her with a menacing scowl? She laughed at herself as she took another sip of her latte.
Laugh all you want, Natalie. You know someone is watching you.
All of a sudden she didn’t really feel like finishing her drink. She’d let her own worrisome mind get the best of her. Maybe a nap would do her some good. She paid her bill and started back toward the hotel. A man with a camera noticed her from a block away and with a heavy French accent he shouted her name. Four other members of the paparazzi rushed in from around the corner, and they began to follow her, shouting her name and snapping picture after picture after picture.
She made it back up to her room, and as soon as she shut the door behind her she felt comfort rush back to her. She walked through the open French doors into her bedroom and wondered if they still called them French doors in France. Wouldn’t they just be doors? She laughed and noticed a tray of chocolate truffles next to her white linen bed. She immediately took the tray of chocolates and dumped them into the nearest wastebasket. She was to be on set in just two short days. Calories were officially off the table for now. She went over to the small patio and with her phone she snapped a picture of the city as it sprawled out in front of her, wrapping around the Eiffel Tower in the distance. She uploaded the photo to her millions of Instagram followers with the caption: “One Lucky Girl” #Paris #Amazing. Then a text message came in from her costar and native Parisian, Jean Gerrard. She had worked with Jean before, and in her mother’s words, he was a hunk. They did have a lot of chemistry on the set of their last movie, and when she’d signed on to do the film, Annie asked her if there would be any offscreen hanky-panky. Natalie just laughed at her friend’s use of such an old-school term, but later when she had time to think, she wasn’t completely closed off to the thought. However, as she opened the text a vision of Xander’s handsome smile worked its way into her mind. She rolled her eyes and went on to the text from Jean.
Hello Natalie. I noticed on the tele that you have arrived in Paris. I am busy tomorrow with a previous commitment but if you are free Sunday we could brunch then I would love to show you around the city and maybe buy you dinner that evening?
Natalie texted her reply.
Hey Jean! That’s right, just landed today. Paparazzi here isn’t much different than in the States I see. I would love to meet up with you Sunday for brunch! Thank you for the invite!
To which Jean responded:
Perfect. I will come by your hotel at 10 Sunday if that is okay? There is plenty to see right there in your neighborhood and I will make a reservation for that evening at a beautiful little bistro around the corner from there.
Sounds great Jean! See you then! :)
After sending her reply, Natalie clicked off her phone and twirled around before landing on the bed. The soft fluff of the comforter enveloped her as she stared up at the ceiling. The light pour
ing in through the open patio doors began to take on an orange hue as the day began turning to night. A pang of hunger knocked at her stomach and she rolled over and grabbed the menu from the nightstand. Natalie just loved hotels. Gourmet food brought to your door on a whim and enjoyed in bed while watching a twenty-five-dollar movie on the TV.
Don’t mind if I do.
Despite her impulsive trashing of the truffles a moment ago and her plan to swear off calories, she ordered the cheeseburger and fries. Extra cheese, please.
“I’ll swear off calories for real tomorrow,” Natalie said aloud to herself, as if somehow actually saying it out loud would help it become a reality.
For Old Times’ Sake
Sweat hung on the brow of Kyle's face, and as he bounced in front of Xander with his MMA glove–covered hands held defensively out in front of him, it rolled down into his eye. Kyle wiped at his eye, and without hesitation Xander cracked him in the side of his stomach, just under his lower left rib with a stinging right hook.
“Come on, Kyle. You can’t lose focus, even for a second,” Xander said disappointedly as he huffed and puffed.
“I was just getting the sweat out of my eye!”
Xander stopped bouncing. “This isn’t going to work,” he said as he started to walk away.
“Come on, X. I’m sorry, I know I gotta stay focused. It’s just been a long week. It’s been a lot.”
“I know it has, but you don’t think after traveling ten hours by plane, then more than an hour by boat before we pull up to a terrorist’s compound full of gun-crazy terrorist pricks that it isn’t going to be a lot? I’m just trying to give you what you need.”
“I know, X, but I didn’t go through SEAL training. I’ve never done this shit before.”
Whiskey & Roses (The Xander King Series Book 1) Page 15