And it had worked.
Brilliantly.
They had staged their fight, she had jumped from the cliff and been taken successfully aboard one of his ships. At least he assumed so. If something had gone wrong, the ship was to return to port with word, but the fact they had continued north, told him everything was fine.
And the sooner they left this place, the sooner he’d be reunited with the love of his life.
And the less chance their deception might be discovered. For there would be questions. Her family was about to lose everything, and he was gutted with the knowledge.
Perhaps you can make them whole once things have settled.
It was a possibility. When they were safe, he could return, and in the guise of buying more favorable terms, pay Fatima’s father back whatever dowry had been lost, and still offer him the exclusive contract. If things worked out perfectly, and they were to get away with their lie, and if he was able to elevate her family to the station they had been hoping for, he wondered if they might not be thrilled to discover that their daughter was alive, safe, and happy in the north.
Could a reunion be possible? Could all be forgiven?
He frowned.
Unlikely.
It was a foolish fantasy. For now, he had to reunite with Fatima and get her safely to her new home. Then the future would unfold as it should, and Odin willing, the actions taken today wouldn’t prove foolish.
And deadly.
19 |
Hilton Rome Airport Hotel Rome, Italy Present Day
Interpol Agent Hugh Reading yawned for the umpteenth time. He had forgotten his CPAP machine at home, and was kicking his proverbial ass ever since the realization at the airport. There had been no going back for it, nor was there any popping into a store in Italy to buy one.
They were expensive, and needed a prescription.
And his idiocy was killing him.
He was so accustomed to the machine now, that without it, he had difficulty psychologically getting to sleep, then when he did manage it, he’d wake up minutes later gasping for breath.
He couldn’t believe how reliant he had become on the life-saving device. He had been diagnosed with sleep apnea in time, avoiding the potentially deadly consequences, though he could only keep heart damage, stroke, and a myriad of other things at bay with the machine’s constant use.
Next time make a list with it on top.
He yawned again.
Yeah, but you’d have to remember to make the list.
He stared at the hundreds of people surrounding him, a talking head at the front of the conference room prattling on about the importance of international cooperation in the fight against human trafficking, merely rehashing platitudes that everyone in the room was fully aware of.
This was merely an excuse for functionaries to gather and socialize, like so many other junkets governments and NGOs were responsible for.
And he hated every minute of it.
His partner at Interpol, Michelle Humphrey, loved them, convinced they were necessary for her to be upwardly mobile, something he had no interest in. He was at the end of his career, she had yet to peak. But she had the flu, and he had been sent in her stead.
I’d rather have the flu.
He frowned, thinking of the last time he had been erupting from both ends.
Maybe not.
His phone vibrated and he prayed for an alert informing him the world was about to end, instead seeing a number he didn’t recognize, but a message that had his heart racing.
It’s Jim. Don’t reply. Don’t do anything official. Interpol might be compromised. Contact KD. Professor Viggo Karlsson of Stockholm University kidnapped by Saudis at embassy. Forcing us to steal ring he discovered. We think we’re being watched. Hugs and kisses. J.
The last few words confirmed it was his friend that had sent it, and because he knew him so well, he knew it wasn’t a prank. Since he had met them, he had been under more fire than when he served in the military, had seen more of the world than he ever imagined he would, and made two of the dearest friends he ever had.
He would die for those two, and they would do the same for him.
He just tried his damnedest to make sure that was never the only option left on the table.
KD was their code for Dylan Kane—Kraft Dinner. If they needed his help, then they were up shit’s creek, and the fact they were concerned about Interpol meant his hands were tied somewhat. And they were right to be concerned. Saudi Arabia was a member of Interpol, so they had internal access. If the Saudis had indeed kidnapped this professor, then it had to be at the behest of someone in Riyadh.
Nobody bought the BS that Riyadh didn’t order the murder in Istanbul, and he had no doubt that whatever had just happened in Stockholm was fully sanctioned.
That meant his friends’ lives were in danger.
He excused himself to no one in particular, shuffling down the aisle and out of the room, activating the secure app on his phone that Kane had provided for just such occasions. He forwarded the entire message to Kane, with a brief explanation of how he received it, then figured out how to book a plane ticket on his phone, on his own dime, for Stockholm.
He had access to an account that Laura had set up for him several years ago for these situations, though he didn’t want to risk using it as he couldn’t be sure of the level of surveillance they were under. Normally, he would use the account in emergencies to buy tickets when they needed help, or just for a vacation if he wanted one. He always felt guilty using it, and never did for a vacation unless they insisted on him joining them on one of their own. His rationalization was that them buying him a plane ticket was like him buying them a coffee.
They were just so bloody rich.
He was envious of his friend. Not that he wanted Laura for himself, though he’d be a lucky man if he did, but because he would never have to worry about money again. Reading rarely did. In fact, he couldn’t remember worrying about money since he was a new father. Though to know you could leave your situation if you wanted to, and suffer no financial consequences, had to be a liberating feeling.
And to know you could help a friend or family member in need, without a second thought, would be comforting.
Like his friends had helped him enjoy life a little more these past few years, especially since the disappearance then death of his best friend and former partner, Martin Chaney.
Oh, Martin, you bloody fool, I wish you were here!
He stared at his phone, the confirmation for his ticket to Stockholm confirmed, an alert vibrating a moment later about the unbelievable charge to his credit card.
Bloody hell!
20 |
Al Lixbuna, Islamic Iberia Caliphate of Córdoba 989 AD
Rafiq found himself inexorably drawn toward the cliff where his sister had committed the ultimate sin only hours before. He stared out at the ocean, a ship sailing south in the distance, then froze. He twisted around, staring back at the port where he had just been, another Viking ship departing the inlet’s natural shelter from the fury that could be the ocean.
Shelter north of where he now stood.
If they were heading home with a wounded man, why would they have gone south?
He stared back at the harbor, his eyes narrowing as he searched for some explanation as to why the ship would have gone south before going north.
Finding none.
It made no sense. Why had that ship been near this particular cliff? And why had it been sailing away from it, as opposed to past it?
Could she have jumped to the boat?
He frowned, chastising himself.
Fool! She’d die from the fall.
There was no way she could have survived the fall into the waters below. Even the strongest of men couldn’t have. And besides, the ship was too far from the shore to have had time to collect her, then sail away from the base of the cliff.
It simply wasn’t possible.
He had to resign himself to t
he fact his sister had jumped to her death, and it had to simply be coincidence that the ship was there for some reason he just wasn’t aware of.
“You heard it too?”
“Yes, it was strange, and lasted for quite some time.”
“So did her scream.”
“What do you mean?”
“Didn’t you notice her scream seemed to last longer than you’d expect?”
Rafiq spun toward the voices, startling the two men walking past him. “Do you speak of the girl who fell from the cliff earlier?”
The first man nodded, eying his robes, the men clearly Christian. “Yes, but she didn’t fall. She jumped.”
His much shorter companion agreed. “It’s true. I saw it with my own eyes.”
“I wonder what that Viking said to her.”
“I’ll tell you what he said. He—”
Rafiq held up a hand, cutting him off. “You spoke of hearing something. What was it?”
The taller one shrugged. “I’m not really sure. It lasted for a good minute or two, and it sounded like something rubbing.”
Rafiq’s eyes narrowed. “Rubbing?”
The man’s head bobbed. “Yes. Like one thing rubbing on another.”
“An anchor!”
He stared at his shorter companion. “Huh?”
“An anchor! Like when you drop an anchor and the rope is pulled through that ring thing. I don’t know what it’s called. The sound the rope makes on the ring. It sounded like that, but as if the rope were long enough to reach the bottom of the ocean, let alone the port.”
Rafiq stared at him for a moment, processing this new information when his heart nearly stopped and he battled to keep his jaw from dropping. “Come with me, if you would.” He marched toward the edge of the cliff before the men could have a chance to refuse. When he reached the site of his sister’s tragic death, he knelt, beckoning the men to do the same. They reluctantly joined him on the ground as he lay flat, crawling toward the edge. He looked back at them, waving his hand. “Come closer. It’s right here.”
They exchanged nervous glances but complied. Rafiq pointed at the post with the hook on it that he had noticed earlier.
“What do you make of that?”
The taller one shrugged. “What of it? They’re used to raise and lower goods.”
Rafiq stared at the unforgiving sea. “Here?”
The other edged forward, staring below. “Well, perhaps not here.”
His companion agreed. “No, not here, but you’ll find them all along the coast. Normally there’s flat land below like a beach.” He stared at the ring once again, then the raging waters. “Not sure why there’d be one here.” He shrugged. “Maybe there was a beach down there once.”
His friend shook his head. “Not in my lifetime.”
“Mine either, but maybe long ago.”
Rafiq considered their explanation, and dismissed it, pointing at the shiny inner edge of the ring. “Then why does it look like it has been used recently?”
Both men paused then leaned back over the edge to reexamine the discovery. “Huh, will you look at that!”
The taller one nodded vigorously. “Definitely been used recently. You don’t get a polish like that without some activity.”
Rafiq stared at them. “Like from a rope, a long rope, like what you heard earlier when my sister jumped?”
The short one’s eyes shot wide. “She was your sister? Oh no! You have my condolences!”
Rafiq bowed his head slightly, but pressed on. “You heard this noise after she jumped?”
“Yes,” they answered in unison.
Rafiq thought for a moment. “And during?”
The men stared at him, the tall one replying. “What do you mean?”
“When did you start hearing the sound? While she was screaming, or after?”
Another shrug from the tall one. “I can’t honestly say I heard anything but the scream.” He frowned. “Until I heard the rope, of course.”
Rafiq remembered something else they had said. “You said her scream lasted longer than you expected?”
Both nodded, the short one beating his friend to the punch. “Yes, much longer. Almost as if she were falling twice as long as you might expect.”
“And then you heard the rope?”
“Yes,” they both agreed.
Rafiq stared out at the sea below, where the Viking ship had been. Could she have been tied to a rope? It made no sense. If she was planning to run away with this Viking, why not just do so? Why the elaborate deception? Why fake a suicide?
His jaw dropped and his eyes widened.
Because you don’t pursue someone you think is dead!
“What are you thinking?”
He flinched, forgetting he had company. “Nothing. I, umm, must go.” He scrambled to his feet, stepping back from the cliff. “Thank you for your time.” He hurried back home, picturing how the deception might have been accomplished. If his sister had been tied to a rope and jumped, there was no way the ship could have come close enough to the shore to collect her, then make it out to sea as far as they had been when he spotted them.
And jumping from that height, tied to a rope, would have snapped her in half. And where was the rope? Wouldn’t it still be tied to the ring?
That wasn’t what had happened, he was sure of it.
She had to reach the boat. That’s the only option.
He smiled, his eyes flaring as he realized what had happened. A long rope would have been threaded through the ring from the top, both ends allowed to fall to the waters below. A smaller boat would have collected both ends then carried them out to sea, looping them through another ring on the ship he had seen, then tying them together, creating one continuous rope. His sister, using some sort of harness, would have slid down the rope to the boat, then they would have cut it, tying off one end, then dragging the rope along with them until it was clear of the ring.
Leaving no evidence behind.
Except a polished ring that should never have been there, and perhaps was to have been removed later by their accomplices.
It all made perfect sense. Because she had been moving diagonally toward the boat instead of straight down to the waters below, her scream would have lasted longer. Then the sound the men had heard afterward was the rope pulling through, hiding their deception.
It was brilliant.
And as far as anyone was concerned, his sister was dead by her own actions, his family would be left to mourn, and she could run off with the man she obviously loved.
Rage flared in his stomach at the selfishness of it all. His sister was promised to another man, a wealthy, powerful man about to change all their lives, but only if she fulfilled her duty to her family. This selfish act would put an end to the deal his father had worked out with Sheik Al-Musawi, and not only would they be denied their increased stature, they could very well lose their business should he take out his annoyance on them.
Fatima, you foolish little girl, do you not realize what you have done?
A hatred he didn’t know possible grew in his heart, and he didn’t know what to do with it. He wanted to tell his parents the truth, yet it would devastate them. He wanted to track down his sister and drag her back by the hair to fulfill her duty.
And another part wanted to simply slit her throat so he could restore the honor to his family that she was about to cost them.
He had no idea what he should do, and decided that prayer and his father might provide the answers. Surely, by now, Al-Musawi would have indicated his intentions toward his family, and perhaps his worrying was for naught.
Though he doubted it to his core.
21 |
Park Hyatt Beijing Beijing, China Present Day
CIA Special Agent Dylan Kane moaned as the gorgeous Zhi Ruo moved her magical mouth from one part of his body to the next. His eyes closed, he imagined it was the love of his life making him feel so good, and not a target he had been pumping for information, lit
erally and figuratively, for years within the Chinese government.
It was part of the job, a part he had always found pleasurable, but now found uncomfortable, despite his girlfriend’s blessing. Lee Fang had been in the business as well, though less on the clandestine and more on the Special Forces side than him. They had met when he had rescued her from her own government, and their professional relationship had transitioned to friendship then much more.
He wanted to marry that woman.
He hissed with pleasure, Zhi Ruo knowing everything he liked after all these years, and he felt a touch of guilt that Fang had yet to discover all his sensitive spots.
Though no matter how expert the sexual partner, he’d sacrifice it all for just one night with Fang.
His CIA issued watch, a perfect Tag Hauer replica, sent a coded electronic pulse into his wrist, something only he could sense, and something that would only work when activated on his wrist—take it off, and the signal would never be sent.
He looked down at Zhi Ruo, his choice something most men would never face.
Continue making love to a beautiful woman, or take a call that could mean life or death for someone.
The choice should be obvious, though making it wasn’t. How does one interrupt what was happening to take a call that by its very nature no one knew about?
He smiled.
“Ow!” he cried, reaching down to grab his calf. “Cramp!”
Zhi Ruo stared up at him. “Now?”
He shrugged, rolling out of bed and stretching out the calf, wincing in fake pain. “Just give me a minute, and I’ll be right with you. I think I’m just dehydrated from all that partying we did.”
She grinned. “Drink up, baby, I have plans for you that go way past breakfast.”
He limped to the bathroom. “Be back in a few.”
He closed the door, entering a coded sequence in the watch by pressing the buttons in a specific pattern, and the message scrolled across the display, indicating a secure communication from Interpol Agent Hugh Reading.
The Viking Deception Page 7