Freedom's Promise: Task Force 125

by Lisa Pietsch

  “I see. How did you know we’d take care of him?”

  “Please. I’m not a fool. After Hassan, it was too much of a coincidence. Miss Stevens proved herself a Black Widow once again. I have to commend her. Few people would expect so much danger from such a pretty package. She played it very well.”

  That explains how Nikolai was one step ahead. It’s probably a good thing Sarah is retiring. She’s already too conspicuous as the glamour girl, although she could be respected in organized crime circles, if she ever wanted to go over to the dark side.

  The bruised girl in the abaya entered the room carrying a large tray and began to serve dinner.

  Shocked by the sound of his own stomach as it growled, Vince savored the smell of the steak, baked potatoes, and grilled vegetables. He smiled slightly as he wondered what the meal cost Nikolai since none of those items could have possibly been locally grown.

  Great. Digesting steak after a couple days of not eating at all is going to be torture. This isn’t going to be pretty.

  As if reading Vince’s mind, Nikolai spoke. “Now we will have a nice dinner and then, you can sleep on your decision in a comfortable bed. What you tell me at breakfast will determine how well you are treated for the duration of your stay, as well as how long your stay may be.”

  Vince didn’t miss his emphasis on the word stay. This was a life or death decision.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Sarah ran a brush through her hair as they waited in the sedan outside Davidson’s home. “Will, I don’t like this. That guy is an ass. And his wife? Please! I’ll bet good money she’s got more boobs than brains.”

  Will scowled at Sarah.

  She recoiled from his stare. She had never seen him look at anybody that way, and it made every hair on her body stand on end.

  “Sarah, you are the last person on this earth who should be judging a woman’s brains by her beauty. You’re a damned trophy girl if ever I’ve seen one and trust me, I run in circles that are big on having trophies draped on their arms.”

  Speechless, Sarah closed her mouth and listened.

  Rather than stop, Will barely took a breath as he continued to light into Sarah. “You aren’t the only intelligent woman in this world who uses beauty as camouflage. Davidson is our only lead on Vince. If the Agency knew what we were up to, we’d be burned just like Guinea was. We are in no position to be selective here.”

  Sarah nodded. “Point taken. Hey, why did the Agency burn Guinea anyway?”

  “He and his partner were on a mission in South America, and his partner got snatched. The Agency told him to continue with the mission, but he decided to go get his partner first. They still finished the mission, but his handler was a real asshole and burned him anyway.”

  “What happened to his partner?”

  “He retired early and became a contractor.”

  “Contractor?”

  “He runs a major private military company now.”

  “So does he know Guinea is alive?”

  Will grinned. “Oh, yeah. Who do you think helped him fake his death? Brock is the one who sends him his smokes and coffee by the case now.”

  “That’s pretty generous.”

  “Sarah, when a guy pulls your ass out of a South American prison where you’re getting the crap beat out of you every day, you don’t think twice about sending him care packages for the rest of his natural life.”

  “I see your point.”

  Brian fidgeted in the front seat. “They’re ba-ack.”

  They’d been sitting in the sedan outside the Davidson’s house for nearly an hour. After talking to Buffy, both Will and Sarah knew that hanging around the embassy was inviting trouble so they stayed in the car with Brian and drove around the city for a while to be sure they weren’t followed.

  “Okay, let’s go see if they have any information.” Will stepped out of the car and held the door for Sarah.

  They walked together up the front steps of the grand house and rang the bell.

  A maid answered the door.

  “Mr. and Mrs. Davidson are expecting us.”

  “May I tell them who is calling?”

  “Mr. Adams.”

  “And?”

  “Just Mr. Adams. This is important so, if you don’t mind?”

  “Yes, of course, sir.” The maid scurried away and left them standing in the front hall of the immense house.

  Mark Davidson appeared at the top of the stairs with a smile that seemed to happen mostly on one side of his face. “Hey, there you are! Come on up. We’ll have our drinks in the library.”

  Sarah and Will climbed the stairs quickly and followed Davidson into a large library. Dark wood bookcases lined the walls. Glass doors on all of them protected the aging leather books inside. It appeared to be an impressive collection—likely all at the expense of the State Department. The brown leather furniture set off the dark woodwork and provided a magnificent frame for the most exquisite Persian rug Sarah had ever seen. A small fire burned in the fireplace and rich, sweet cigar smoke scented the air.

  “Should I close these doors?” Will was the last one into the room.

  Davidson waved a hand nonchalantly. “No, no. Leave it open, please.”

  “What would you like?” He walked over to the bar at the far end of the room. “We’ve got everything here, and Buffy makes a mean martini.”

  Buffy glowed with that pageant smile again.

  Sweet Jesus, if I could pull off a smile like that I could rule the world.

  “Just Scotch for me. How about you, Sarah?”

  “I’ll try one of those martinis, thanks.”

  Will and Sarah sat on the coffee-colored leather sofa and waited for the information they’d come for about Vince’s whereabouts.

  Buffy brought them their drinks and then said the last thing Sarah expected. “So, are you enjoying your visit to the kingdom?” If the cluelessness was an act, it was a damned good one.

  Sarah and Will shared a quizzical glance, and Sarah’s mind spun with how ridiculous this couple seemed.

  Do these people think we’re here on vacation or what? What the hell are we doing here?

  Will nodded politely. “Yes, very much. Unfortunately we have pressing business elsewhere and really can’t stay.”

  Davidson stood and walked to the desk. “That’s a shame. We’re going to the races tomorrow. It’s a big social thing here. We’d love to have you join us.” He picked up a small box from the desk and turned to face them again. “Will, can I interest you in a cigar? I just received some great Cubans from one of the princes. Too damned many princes in this country, but I really can’t complain when they’re so generous.”

  “Don’t mind if I do.” Will took a cigar from the humidor Davidson offered.

  Sarah was becoming unnerved by the small talk and stalling. She crossed her ankles to the left and then to the right.

  Will placed a steady hand on her knee. “As much as we’d love to stay for the races, we really do need to hurry back.”

  “There is some wonderful shopping in Riyadh. Sarah, do you enjoy shopping?”

  “Uh, yes.”

  “You’ll have to come back again soon so I can take you to a few of my favorite shops.”

  What the hell is up with these people?

  Will gave Sarah a resigned look and stood.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I think there’s been a misunderstanding. We meant to meet someone at the party tonight and thought it was you.”

  Sarah followed his lead. “Thank you very much for the drinks. It was lovely meeting you.” She and Will walked toward the door.

  Buffy said something in a language that sounded to Sarah as though it could be Greek. In the blink of an eye, two Roman mastiffs appeared in the doorway, complete with bared teeth.

  Will put his hand in front of Sarah, gently pushing her behind him, and spoke calmly. “Look, I don’t know what you two are up to, but you’re making a very big mistake.”

  Buffy spok
e sternly in English this time. “Sit down, Mr. Adams. Sarah, you too.” With another foreign command from Buffy, the monsters at the door sat and transformed into adorable but massive puppies. Buffy walked over to them and stepped outside the room.

  Sarah sat and fixed Davidson with a glare that promised violence at her first opportunity.

  Son of a bitch set us up.

  She heard Buffy speaking to someone in the hallway and then soft footsteps walked away. Sarah reached into her purse and held tight to her phone with one finger waiting precariously over number three, her speed dial for Brian.

  Buffy reentered the room and nodded at Davidson.

  “All clear, sugar lips?”

  “She’s gone.” Buffy nodded and then gave Will and Sarah an apologetic look. “I’m sorry about that. We had to wait until the maid left. We’re pretty sure she’s a plant.” Buffy took a seat on one of the dark leather chairs.

  Sarah and Will sighed their relief in unison.

  So that’s it.

  Davidson stood and walked to the desk, unlocked a drawer and pulled a large black and white photo out of it. He handed the photo to Will and sat back in his seat. “That’s where he is. It was confirmed this afternoon. As of that time, he was still alive and surprisingly unharmed.”

  Sarah’s breath caught at the thought of Vince being tortured. It was likely to happen. She just hoped they could get to him before it went too far.

  Will examined the photo. “Do you know anything about the compound? Any information on security or scheduled comings and goings? Anything else you can give us?”

  Davidson shook his head. “That’s all I have for now. I’ve got somebody on the inside working on getting us more information. I’ll contact you as soon as I get anything.”

  Will sat up and examined Davidson. “Why are you doing this? Do you know Vince?”

  Davidson shook his head. “I’ve never met the man in my life. When you get him out, I’ll be happy to explain it to him though.”

  “Good enough.” Will stood and shook Davidson’s hand. “Thanks for helping us.”

  Buffy stood and appeared more of a seasoned operative than the ditzy bimbo she’d been earlier. “We’ll be in touch. We should have more information for you soon.”

  Sarah rose and looked at Buffy. She couldn’t shake the feeling that she’d seen her before. “Have we met?”

  Buffy nodded. “I was a military cop stationed at RAF Lakenheath, too. A dog handler. I left a few months after you arrived. We crossed paths in the armory a few times.”

  Sarah smiled. “That’s it.” She shook Buffy’s hand and chuckled. “That explains the well-trained dogs, too. Thank you.”

  “Good luck, Sarah.”

  Davidson held his handshake with Will. “Let me know if you need anything. I can muster up a few resources if I have to. We need to get him out of there.”

  “Will do. Thank you, Mark.”

  Sarah and Will practically ran out the door and down the stairs.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Nikolai walked over to the bar and picked up a crystal decanter. “Would you like a brandy?”

  “Sure. Might as well.”

  Because it may be my last.

  Vince sat back in the comfortable dining chair, full from the big meal he’d just eaten. He knew it could be a while before his next meal so he ate as much as he could without hurting himself. He casually took one more of Nikolai’s cigarettes.

  Stay cool. The more time you can buy, the better the chance of the team getting here before he goes Red Mafia and starts trimming your fingers off.

  Vince recalled a young Russian he’d done business with a few years ago. He’d been missing digits above the top knuckle of three consecutive fingers. Vince had assumed it was a grenade throw gone bad, but, after a little too much vodka, the Russian explained how the Red Mafia liked to send messages and persuade people to see things their way.

  Vince looked at his hands and then shook off the thought. “So let’s talk about this buy-in opportunity you’re offering me.”

  Nikolai returned to the table with two crystal brandy snifters. “Yes, let’s talk.” His mood seemed more congenial now that Vince was asking questions and showing interest.

  The amber liquid sloshed in the wide belly of the glass as Vince accepted it from Nikolai. “Thank you.”

  Nikolai closed his eyes and inhaled deeply from the fat, round glass. “So what can I tell you?” He settled back into his chair and appeared ready to talk business.

  Vince took a sip of brandy and let it warm his mouth before swallowing. “You can start with what you want me to tell you.”

  “I want the names and cell phone numbers of the other people involved in killing Victor, and I want to know why you targeted him.”

  “Cell phones? You want to chat with them?”

  “You know very well that people can be tracked by their cell phones.”

  Yes, I do.

  “What else do you want?”

  Nikolai shook his head and raised his hands slightly. “That’s all.” He smiled as he sat back in his chair and crossed his legs. “Then you do business as you have been only you’re working for my organization. You’ll continue to maintain your current clients as well as Victor’s. I’ll even give you a generous piece of the action. My organization can also offer you protection you don’t currently have. After all, if you’d had a competent bodyguard, you wouldn’t be here, would you?”

  Vince smiled at the irony. “Well, that goes without saying.”

  Damned if I do and damned if I don’t. At least if I don’t, the only one who dies is me.

  “I think it is time we say good night. Ian, would you please escort our guest to his new room? He has some thinking to do, and I’m sure he’d like his rest.”

  The big Aussie answered. “Right, Niko. No problem.” He nodded his massive head toward the door. “Let’s go, mate.”

  Vince grabbed Nikolai’s cigarettes on his way out of the room. “You don’t mind, do you, Nikolai?”

  “Of course not. Sleep well.”

  ~~~

  Vince stumbled into the room with the help of a push from Ian. Golden stucco walls were offset by the red velvet curtains, bedding, and Oriental rug.

  Blood red everywhere I look. That doesn’t bode well.

  The queen-sized brass bed looked inviting and more than comfortable. Any other time he’d be wishing Sarah was here to share it with him. Today he was glad she wasn’t. Seeing the bed made Vince suddenly realize how tired he was. After being drugged for several days and sleeping on a small cot, he could almost feel the bed’s gravitational pull.

  A window.

  A flash of hope crossed his mind when he saw the window on the other side of the bed.

  Ian didn’t move from the doorway. “The bathroom is off to the left there, mate. Don’t get any ideas. We stripped it of mirrors so don’t go looking for any weapons.”

  Exposed plumbing could work.

  “That window has an alarm and bars so don’t even think about opening it. Sweet dreams.” The Australian slammed the door as he left and the sound of a deadbolt on the other side ended any thoughts Vince had of busting out.

  So much for that. Might as well take advantage of the bathroom and wash these clothes. Nikolai isn’t going to like my answer in the morning. I’ll probably go back in the cell tomorrow, or worse. At least I can buy a little time for Will to figure this out.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Sarah was the first to walk into the house as Will and Brian were busy tucking the helicopter back into the hangar. She kicked off her Manolo Blahniks and breathed a sigh as her toes dug into the plush living room carpet.

  Jason was sitting on the couch, watching Sky News and drinking a cup of coffee.

  “Hey, Jase.”

  He looked up at Sarah while setting the television on mute. “So it went well?”

  Guinea called from the kitchen. “Welcome back. You want some coffee, Sarah?”

&n
bsp; “Looks like she could use some tea and I’m not talking Darjeeling.”

  Guinea’s voice sounded muffled as though he had his head in a cupboard. “I think I have bottle of Cuervo back here somewhere.”

  Sarah began pacing barefoot in front of the large, marble fireplace, still wearing the long black gown she’d worn to the embassy party. She walked, absent mindedly smoking, and wondering how long it would be before she could pick up a gun and blow Nikolai’s head off.

  Okay, so it’s a little extreme but just when I get the great guy, the house, and the money, some frigging Russian makes off with my man? What the fuck kind of cosmic joke is that?

  A voice thundered through the front door. “Chris!”

  Jason looked up wide-eyed.

  Sarah jumped at the commanding tone of Will’s voice. The man never spoke loudly and certainly never yelled. It surprised her that he did now.

  Will spoke to nobody in particular. “All right, listen, if Nikolai is as connected as I think he is, we’re gonna have a hell of a fight on our hands. We aren’t going to be able to do this alone. Guinea, is Brock still running that P.M.C.?”

  Sarah mouthed the letters to Jason in the hope he could translate for her. “P.M.C?” She’d never heard the acronym before.

  Jason flicked an inch-long ash into a nearby ashtray. “Private military company, commonly referred to by the uninitiated as mercenaries.”

  Sarah opened her eyes wide. She knew they existed but had never met one. She had no idea you could just call them up.

  Maybe I went into the wrong business.

  Guinea walked out from behind the kitchen island with a bottle of tequila, a shot glass, and a cigarette hanging from his lips. “Old Thunderbunny?” Guinea laughed without dropping the cigarette. “He sure is.”