Still trying to recover from near drowning, she yelped a soft cry as her hair pulled at her scalp. She walked her feet backward in her attacker's direction, attempting to alleviate some of the tension on her scalp, but the man yanked harder and dragged her onto her knees to face him. She studied his shoes. Judging from his skillful torture method, she’d assumed he'd be wearing black combat boots but instead he wore polished tan leather shoes and taupe suit trousers. Confused, she tried to look up at his face, but he pushed her head down, forcing her to remain kneeling with her eyes facing the floor. She did as he demanded and suddenly became aware of someone else walking behind her. She was certain two men had held her down in the bath, and both of them stood in front and to her left. It was apparent there must be a third attacker in the room. She waited on her knees with her gaze downward, taking in every sight, sound, and smell.
"Who are you? What do you want?" She attempted again.
Her question went unanswered. Instead, Alex felt the sharp sting of her attacker's hand against her cheekbone. The thrust only pushed her slightly off balance but deciding to seize the moment, she amplified her fall and intentionally swung her body around. She caught a glimpse of a well-dressed man staring out the bathroom window with his back toward her.
Her dirty tactic angered her attacker, and he kicked at her lower back, slamming her face hard into the tiled floor. Blood ran from her nose. She pinched her eyes shut trying to absorb the pain while she tried sneaking a second look at the man by the window, but her attempt proved impossible from behind her tangled, wet hair that now formed a thick curtain around her head.
She listened closely when the man moved away from the window and leaned in. His raspy voice spoke close to her ear in a soft but urgent whisper.
"Stay out of our business or the next time we meet we'll kill you."
His words were barely cold when Alex felt a hard blow against the back of her head, and everything went black.
A faint beeping sound grew louder and louder as Alex regained consciousness. She forced her heavy eyelids open and took in the blurry vision of a room that didn’t look like the bathroom at her apartment anymore.
“Doctor, she’s waking up,” a female voice spoke next to her.
“Can you hear me?” a male voice added at her feet.
“Where am I?”
“You’re in the hospital. Can you remember your name?”
“Alex.”
“Good, and your last name?”
“Hunt.”
“What year is it?”
“2019.”
“How many fingers am I holding up?”
“Four.”
He leaned in and shone a bright flashlight into each of her eyes and mumbled something to the nurse who responded by holding out two pills and a blue plastic cup with a straw.
A moment later, two men in black coats stood at her feet.
“Miss Hunt, I’m Chief Inspector Shawn McDowell from Scotland Yard. We need to ask you some questions, please?”
The nurse propped a pillow behind her back, and Alex nodded.
“Can you tell us what happened?”
Alex stared at the bald, middle-aged man with the red beard and strong Irish accent. A younger wide-eyed more handsome man stood next to him, ready with his black notebook and pen.
“Ma’am, can you remember what happened?”
Alex paused, gathering her words before she continued in a croaky voice.
“I arrived home from the office, and they were already inside my apartment.”
She paused, searching through her blurry memory.
“Then what?”
“They grabbed me and tied my hands behind my back.”
Alex swallowed as the events became less vague. She recalled hearing them fill her bath.
“They dragged me off to my bathroom and shoved my head under the water in my bath. I tried to fight them off and the next thing I knew I woke up here.”
“Did you see how many there were?”
Alex nodded. “Three, I think.”
“Did you see their faces?”
She shook her head in reply.
“Is there anything you can remember about the attackers? Clothes, shoes, scars, accents.”
“They wore suits. Expensive suits. Couture and they had French accents.”
“Outstanding Miss Hunt, what did they say to you?”
“Nothing much. I asked them what they wanted, and one of them just told me to stay out of their business, or they’d kill me.”
“So they gave you a warning?”
“I guess so.”
“Do you have any idea what they might have meant when they said you needed to ‘stay out of their business’? What business might that be?”
“I have no idea, chief inspector. I’ve never met them before.”
“How would you know if you never saw their faces?”
“Because they had French accents. I don’t have any French-speaking clients.”
“And what exactly is your line of business?”
“I’m an independent antiquities recoverer.”
The inspector’s assistant lifted his head from his notebook and looked at his boss. Visibly as confused as his sidekick, the chief inspector cleared his throat.
“So you restore antiques?”
“Not quite, I get hired to recover and return looted or lost artifacts after determining their authenticity and origin. I used to be an archaeologist.”
“I see. Who hires you?”
“Governments, private museums, universities, private collectors, anyone really.”
“So let me get this straight Miss Hunt. You’re a relic hunter?”
Alex smiled. “No inspector. Treasure hunters find lost pirate treasures for personal financial gain. I recover historical artifacts that have gone missing or got stolen and return them to their original owners.”
“I see. So would it be safe to say these artifacts are of great value then? Financially that is.”
“Some of them, yes.”
“Are you working on recovering anything of significance at the moment that might have triggered this attack?”
Alex reached for her plastic cup of water while rehearsing her answer in her head. She knew full well that in her line of business, there was high risk. As much as she’d like to find her assailants, getting the police involved now would prove detrimental.
“Nothing important enough to warrant someone breaking into my house and torturing me, no,” she lied.
“They threatened to kill you, Miss Hunt. That sounds like a warning to me— a serious one at that.”
Alex dropped her head back against her pillow. Her head hurt where they’d hit her.
“Inspector McDowell, I think that’s enough for now. We’d be happy to make an appointment to come see you once she feels better, but for now, I think you’ve got enough to go on.”
Alex instantly opened her eyes and sat up when she heard Sam’s voice.
“And you are?” Inspector McDowell swung around to face Sam.
“Sam Quinn, Dr. Sam Quinn. Miss Hunt’s former colleague and fiancée. I’m the one who found her and called the police.”
“I see,” said the inspector tapping his fingernails on the bed railing. “All right then. Thank you for your time, Miss Hunt. If you remember anything else, please let me know,” the inspector added, handing her his business card before leaving the hospital room.
“Hey, how are you feeling? That was quite a knock to the head.” Sam leaned in and planted a kiss on her forehead.
“I’m fine, honestly. In fact, you can hand me my clothes so we can get out of here,” Alex replied, pulling back the hospital blanket.
“Uh-uh. Not so hasty, missy. You’re not going anywhere just yet.”
“I’m fine, Sam. It’s just a bump.”
“Not according to your file.”
Sam had taken her hospital file from the wall above her head. “Says here you have fluid in your lungs and a c
oncussion; quite a serious one too. Get back to bed.”
“Yes, well, I feel fine. I can rest at home.”
“You and I both know that won’t happen.” Sam’s tone turned more serious. “They almost killed you, Alex.”
“If they wanted to kill me, they could have. They didn’t. Trust me. This will all blow over.”
Sam walked across to the door and closed it behind him.
“Okay, out with it. What’s really going on here?”
“What do you mean? Nothing is going on. I told the police the truth. And why exactly is Scotland Yard involved in this anyway?”
“Good question,” Sam answered, “the police found evidence beyond their jurisdiction. No idea what. They won’t tell me.”
Sam pulled Alex’s legs back onto the bed and under the covers before propping himself onto the bed next to her.
“I’ve known you long enough to know you’re hiding something, Alex. These guys meant business. If I hadn’t stopped by, you’d still be lying unconscious on your bathroom floor. I’m still not convinced it is wise for you to run this business on your own. It’s not safe.”
“Not this again, Sam. I thought we’d settled this.”
“That was before you got tortured and left for dead. I’d say that changes things. You should consider taking the ICCRU position, Alex. It’s safer.”
“What, and sit bored stiff behind a desk all day? No, thank you. I didn’t work this hard to play it safe. Besides, I only got blindsided because I had my mind occupied with the wedding. Once that’s over, I’ll be back to my old self. I still think we should just elope.”
“You’re avoiding the question. What are you working on, Alex?”
Sam was right. He knew her too well.
“I can’t tell you. It’s classified.”
“That’s a load of crock if ever I heard any. You work for yourself Alex. Last time I checked you didn’t have anyone else you needed to run anything by.”
“I can’t tell you, Sam. It’s for your own protection. You’re going to have to trust me.”
“So there is more to this than you’re letting on, isn’t there?”
Alex refrained from answering.
Knowing full well her stubborn nature would merely push her further away if he persisted, Sam moved over to the recliner in the corner and settled down into it.
“Well, I’ll wait it out. I’m not letting you out of my sight for a second, and just so you know, I have some torture tactics of my own. Don’t make me use them.”
Alex laughed. “So you’re staying here now?”
“Yep and when you get discharged, you’re staying at my place until they catch the guys.”
“Nice try, but we’re not yet married Sam Quinn.”
Chapter Two
When Alex and Sam walked into her top floor apartment a few days later, the place had been turned upside down.
"Was it like this when you found me?"
"You mean, ransacked? No, they must have come back," Sam answered while doing a quick sweep of the rest of the apartment.
"They were looking for something. All the cupboards are open. What do you think they're after?"
"Not sure, Sam. Can't say I have anything of interest here."
"And at the office?"
"Don't think so either."
"Well, there's no doubt in my mind they were looking for something. It's obvious they think you have it."
Sam looked at Alex where she stood behind her Edwardian roll-top desk in the corner of the sitting room.
"This isn't going to blow over Alex, and you know it. Whatever you've gotten yourself into, you can't pursue it on your own. It's too dangerous."
Sam paused, placing one hand on his hip.
"I'm going to resign from the uni and team up with you."
"That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard, Sam. I'm quite capable of looking after myself, you know. Not to mention the fact that we have our wedding around the corner. How are we supposed to afford the huge guest list your mother wants? I can't pay you what the uni does."
Sam moved over to Alex and cupped her bruised face. "Your safety is more important to me than my mother's guest list, Alex. I'll have a word with her. Heck, we'll elope like you want to, but I'm not prepared to trade your life just so my mother can invite all their country club friends to our wedding. Now let me in and tell me what this is all about."
Alex stared into Sam's dark, comforting eyes. Feeling secure with him was effortless. She trusted him completely, and they had always worked well together. It would be effortless to tell him everything, but that would put his life at risk too, and she would never be able to live with herself if something happened to him.
She turned away from Sam and stared through the window blind’s slats down into the street in front of her apartment building.
"Alex, talk to me. Please? I can't protect you if I don't know what you're involved in."
Without answering him, Alex suddenly stepped away from the window. She hastily pushed her desk to one side and flipped over the corner of the rug underneath it, catching Sam's feet as she did so. Stepping aside, Sam observed as she pushed down onto the floorboard. A barely audible click sounded before a rectangular hatch in the floor released to reveal a metal safe filled to the rafters with an assortment of weapons. Stunned into silence, Sam watched in awe as Alex retrieved two Colt XSE's, clicking their loaded magazines in place before putting one in the front of her waistband and the other in the small of her back. Next, she slipped a Glock 17 inside her ankle boot and pulled out a black backpack from the bottom of the box.
"Who are you?" Sam asked as he watched his fiancée transform into someone representative of an undercover MI6 operative.
"Here, take these. “She handed him two Berettas before flipping open a smaller box and retrieving several passports and bundles of cash.
"Seriously? Have you turned into a secret government agent or something? And where did you get all this money?"
"Hurry, we don't have much time."
"What? Why? What's happening?"
Alex ignored him as she disappeared down the passage into her bedroom and came back with two black hooded jackets.
She threw the larger one against Sam's chest. "Put this on and zip it up with the hood over your head," she said as she slipped into the smaller one.
Doing as he was told, he put the jacket on and looked down at what appeared to be more like a shiny tight-fitting wetsuit than a designer item. "Not quite my idea of a fashion statement but all right then."
"It's a bulletproof jacket, Sam. Now let's go!"
"Why would we need bulletproof jackets? Who are we running from, Alex? What's going on?" Sam probed as he followed her back into the bedroom.
"There's no time to explain, Sam. Just trust me. We need to get out of here."
The tension in Alex's voice was enough to let Sam know she wasn't fooling around and he followed her as she climbed through the bedroom window facing the back of the apartment out onto a narrow Juliette balcony Sam knew hadn’t been there before. As puzzled as he was, he didn't argue. He trusted her.
Alex slid her fingers into the grid openings of a nearby air vent in the wall and as she did this, a rope ladder dropped from the roof above their heads.
"Unbelievable, when did you do all this?" Sam prodded for an answer, but Alex was already halfway up the ladder and onto the roof.
"Hurry!" she shouted down at him, and once Sam made it onto the roof next to her, she pulled him down beside her. "Stay down."
As quickly as the ladder appeared, it retracted back into place the instant Alex pulled back another hidden lever from inside the gutter.
"Now what?"
"See that door over there? It'll take you down to the boiler room. Keep your head down."
"And you?"
"Right behind you, now go!"
Sam didn't hesitate to do as she told him even though he felt he had no idea who this woman he thought he knew and loved had
morphed into. But trusting her came easy. Something told him she knew exactly what she was doing, and that was all he needed to know, for now.
Sam crouched down and bolted for the door while Alex made her way to the front of the building and carefully popped her head over the ledge. In the street outside her apartment, the black sedan was still there, and a little further down the road, another two had arrived and parked up. As six armed men got out from their cars and crossed the street into her apartment building, she turned and headed for the door to the boiler room from where she and Sam exited shortly after into the road behind the building.
"This way.” Alex motioned for Sam to follow her to where a dirt bike stood hidden underneath a silver tarp.
"Of course," Sam commented with sarcasm. "Any other surprises you want to spring on me today?"
"Nope, but I'd get on if I were you."
When the pair eventually approached Sam’s apartment, Alex circled the block twice before finally bringing the bike to a stop.
“You’d be better off at your parents’ house, Sam. You were seen entering my apartment with me, so you’re not safe here. It’s a matter of time before they find you. You have to leave right away and watch your back. Don’t go anywhere else, got it?”
“And what about you? You’re insane if you think I’m going to leave you on your own. We have to go to the police. You’re in over your head, Alex. We’ve been in many sticky situations, but my gut tells me this one is different.”
Alex kissed her fingers and touched Sam’s mouth through the opening of his helmet. “I love you Sam, but this mission might get you killed, and for that, I’m not prepared. I’ll be back in time for the wedding. Promise.”
The Dauphin Deception Page 2