To Deceive Is To Love (Romantic suspense)

by Lynne King

  Suddenly, the man leapt up and it was then that she saw what was gripped in his right hand. Her eyes widened in shock and horror. The gun was pointed straight at her and for a moment, Chantelle felt herself go dizzy, her breath catching in her throat.

  “I will not kill you. Sit down.” The words were spoken in broken English and Chantelle recognized his accent from the phone call. He moved away from the lounger and motioned with the gun for Chantelle to sit.

  For a moment, she felt unable to move, but her mother’s pleading broke into her shock.

  “Chantelle, please do what he says.”

  Her eyes remained fixed on the handgun as she backed her way to the lounger and nearly fell into it.

  A ruthless smile crossed their aggressor’s face and then he was shouting out, calling another’s name in a language she didn’t recognize.

  Chantelle tore a glance at her mother, whose expression mirrored Chantelle’s emotions. Helplessness had taken over the fear.

  Within seconds of the shouting, an older man with a fuzzy, graying beard and an unkempt appearance was rushing from the house, tying the cord on his baggy white cotton trousers. An argument developed between them, the coarseness and speed of the dialect making it impossible to understand.

  A soft hand reached over and gripped Chantelle’s, drawing her attention back to her mother.

  She spoke in a low tone. “I don’t know what they want. They arrived yesterday. There were four of them, but when they realized I lived alone, two of them went off. They won’t answer any of my questions and get angry if I press them, so I’ve learned to say nothing.”

  “Have they…” Chantelle’s voice wavered. “Tried to hurt you?”

  She felt her hand being squeezed again, her mother forcing out a reassuring smile. “No, they’re not here to rape or rob. If they were, it would have been done by now. What possessed you to turn up like this? I wasn’t expecting you for a month.”

  “A phone call.” They looked at each other with a sudden realization that it was Chantelle they wanted. She was silenced from saying more when the two men turned back to them.

  “You do as we ask and no one gets hurt. Understand?”

  They nodded their agreement to the one holding the gun. Chantelle couldn’t help feeling she was now under his scrutiny. Before, the surprise at her sudden arrival had preoccupied him. Now, he was looking at her as a man looks at a woman and liking what he saw, his tongue slowly sliding over his bottom lip.

  Chantelle felt sickness rise from the pit of her stomach. Her hands automatically drew her undone shirt together to cover the flimsy gypsy top she wore underneath.

  He had removed his sunglasses now and leered at her. “You take after your mama, very beautiful.” He came forward and stood close, looking down at her. A hand reached out and his dark eyes threw her a warning when she tried to dodge his fingers. With her body pressed back hard against the cushioning, her face turned away from his as she felt him take hold of her French plait. Tugging at the band holding it together, he freed the braids, his fingers going through it.

  “Such perfection, the color of passion.” He lowered his lips down to a chunk of hair, held it in his grasp and drew in a deep breath.

  “Please, leave her be. Do what you like with me, but don’t touch her please,” her mother’s distraught voice rang out. She clutched at his arm, trying to pull him away from Chantelle.

  A gruff, coarse laugh came from the other man as he said something in his language, causing the young man to laugh with him. Releasing Chantelle’s hair, he stepped away, pushing her mother from him.

  “I’m a soldier, I follow orders. Maybe later, those orders change and then we shall see, but for now…” He blew first Chantelle and then her mother a kiss. “I act with honor.”

  “Why are you doing this?” Chantelle blurted out.

  “I love my country. Let us hope your man loves you the same way. Otherwise…” He raised the gun and pointed it at Chantelle.

  Both men let out cruel laughter at the terror that swept across both women’s faces. Slowly, the younger one lowered the gun to his side and motioned for Chantelle and her mother to go in front of them into the house.

  There was only one man who could relate to animals such as these. If her captors thought love could be her savior, they didn’t know David Bishop at all.

  ****

  David hauled up the heavy metal shutters of the hangar and stepped into the semidarkness. On his left shoulder hung his knapsack. His right hand he kept free, his fingers clenching and unclenching. The gun belt strapped across his chest was visible. They knew he would be armed. In his line of business, it would be foolish not to. As a backup, he always kept the 9mm automatic hidden in his knapsack. If this was a trap, he was walking straight into it and no amount of weaponry would save him. The fear that his cover might have been blown at this late stage in the game was ever present. Perspiration broke out in small beads down his back, but the he kept the expression on his face calm, in control.

  He heard footsteps and three men came out of the shadows. One he knew was Abdul, the other was also Algerian going by the darkness of his skin, and the third was Hendersson. A muscle twitched in his cheek as he tried to keep control of his anger. The rest of his body tensed at the betrayal.

  “You’re surprised to see me.” A heavy cloud of smoke followed Hendersson’s words. He drew calmly on the cigarette again, then dropped the cigarette to the floor.

  David remained silent. A tiny ray of hope lit within him. Maybe Hendersson had infiltrated this group and was working undercover just like him. It seemed unlikely though; Hendersson wasn’t one for dirtying his hands.

  “Ah! You hope maybe my friends don’t know who you really are.” He gave a small smile. “I’m afraid I had to let them in on our little secret, Agent Bishop.” He paused, obviously enjoying the effect of the disclosure. “I had to put them in the picture, just as I had to hope I’d judged you right. Money is very important to you, as it is to me. The deal still stands, only double the amount promised and you can disappear as you wanted. After all, what did the agency ever do for you except try and get you killed on more than one occasion?”

  “Go to hell!” David was already contemplating whether he could take all three out. It was impossible odds; the two Algerians had TEC-9 machine pistols capable of spitting out thirty-six rounds each. Armed with only his handgun, he stood no chance.

  A sneer appeared on Hendersson’s thin lips as he studied David. “You disappoint me. If we wanted to kill you, it would be easy, but good pilots like you, who know the terrain, are difficult to find. So maybe we have something else to bargain with, call it my little persuader.”

  That gnawing in his stomach started up again, the unexplained fear he couldn’t identify. Eyes of flint fixed on Hendersson. “Enlighten me.”

  The glare seemed to unnerve Hendersson. He dipped his gaze and lit another cigarette. “The second deal stands, a tidy investment for you and your lady friend to live a very comfortable life on foreign shores.”

  David’s fists clenched harder, his eyes narrowing sharply, daring Hendersson to continue.

  “I see you already know who I talk about. Chantelle Duvall is a lovely lady, unlike the usual tramps you go for. It would be a great shame for that beauty to be marred in any way.”

  “You stay away from her.” His voice came out in a coarse whisper as he tried to hold his emotions together.

  “But we already have her.” Hendersson smiled back with predatory amusement.

  His anger erupted like a volcano. David lunged forward, his fingers already reaching for Hendersson’s throat. Murderous rage poured from him as his fingers grasped the sinewy neck and then tightened.

  He was out of control. All he could think of was Chantelle being harmed, of the man he was trying to kill being responsible for countless others dying. He was the traitor within the agency’s midst, the one who had betrayed the agent in Iraq.

  Even knowing rationally that he
might be sealing Chantelle’s fate, he couldn’t stop. His fingers squeezed into Hendersson’s flesh, pressing him up against stacked crates with no escape. Hendersson was turning a shade of crimson and spluttering, but his blows against David were bouncing off a man possessed.

  Suddenly, a searing pain shot through David’s temple. His grip loosened as his legs crumpled beneath him.

  ****

  David came around slow and painfully, a container of water thrown in his face speeding up the process. He slowly looked up from his position on the ground straight into the barrel of a machine pistol. Behind it stood Hendersson, the imprint of fingers clearly visible around his neck, his face red and angry.

  David’s gaze lowered and he noticed the contents of his knapsack were in a heap next to him, minus his knife, 9mm and ammo. His gun belt was also gone. There was no sign of the packet of cigars containing the charges. Hopefully, they were still within the lining.

  “You’re a fool, Bishop. You try anything like that again and I’ll make a phone call, let the men who have Chantelle enjoy some fun before they painfully remove her from your world.”

  Reluctantly, David nodded. He had betrayed himself by revealing his feelings for Chantelle. His worse fears had materialized. He no longer simply had his own life to worry about and to hell with the end result. They now had him just where they wanted him.

  “I was a little worried the lady might not be that important to you. After all, you have quite a reputation with the ladies. But then I noticed the way your eyes followed her. This one is different, isn’t she? You don’t need to answer me, I think your earlier performance confirmed as much.” He slowly drew on his cigarette, then flicked the butt within an inch of David’s face. “To business then. You fly the plane as arranged; unload the merchandise to the friends of these two” – he gestured to his silent companions -- “Who in turn will give you a package to bring back in payment.”

  “What, money?” David’s brows rose questioningly, unable to believe they would trust him or his feelings for Chantelle to that extent.

  “Something more profitable in the long term, but before you get any ideas, Bakir here will be accompanying you. The girl will be released and you will collect the other half of your money once you are back here and I have my merchandise.”

  “I have to see her in person, see that she’s unharmed. Otherwise, you find yourself another pilot.”

  One of the Algerians raised his gun, ready to strike again. David placed his arm over his face to try and protect himself.

  “No.” Hendersson stopped Bakir from using the butt of his gun again. “That’s not possible. She is not in the country.”

  “Then how do I know you have her at all? You know me; I care little for my own misfortunes. Death comes to us all.” David struggled to his feet and gathered up his possessions. Placing them back in his knapsack, he ignored the waving of the machine pistol and the shouted threats from the Algerians. He cursed them back in French until Hendersson had to step in and stop Bakir from firing his weapon.

  “You are one crazy son of a bitch. I will have the girl brought to the refueling stop in France on your return flight. You will see her from a distance then.”

  “Fine, but I want to hear her voice now before I even set foot near my plane.”

  A deadly silence followed his words. Finally, he reached into his mohair coat and pulled out a cell phone. Bakir started to argue, but Hendersson silenced him.

  Hendersson tapped out a long number and several minutes passed before words were exchanged, again in Algerian. Then the phone was handed to David.

  The line was so clear he could hear her soft breathing. “Chantelle, are you okay?”

  “David.” Relief and fear mingled in her voice. “Why have they done this to us? Please, what is going on? They won’t tell us anything.”

  “I can’t tell you, not now.” He spoke in a gentle tone, trying his hardest to sound reassuring. “Trust me and do as they say. They won’t harm you, I promise.”

  “How can you say that? You’re not here with a gun pointed to your blasted head! What have you gotten us involved in?”

  Her anger was a relief. He’d feared she might have broken emotionally. Tears would have done neither of them any good and the men holding her hostage would prey on it. Still, making them angry was just as dangerous. “Chantelle, remain calm. I know I haven’t given you any reason to believe this, but you are the one and only good to come into my life and it doesn’t matter what it costs, I’m not going to let anyone take you from me.”

  “Bravo, such touching sentiment. Let’s hope you are as true as your word.” Hendersson snatched the phone back, and cut the connection. “We have wasted enough time. Once the plane is loaded and fueled, Bakir will tell you where to land for refueling. He has marked the map for your final destination, which is a little different from the original location given.” He paused, that cynical smile appearing. “Just in case you’ve been passing information on already.”

  “Since you’re the only one I’ve been dealing with, I hardly think that’s likely, do you?” David bit back bitterly.

  As Hendersson had been the one who first recruited David, he had never questioned not trusting the man. He might not have liked him much, but loyalty was one virtue David did have. It was Hendersson who had convinced him that because there was a traitor doing deals with the highest bidder, all information should go through one route only -- him. Now that loyalty left the bitter taste of bile in his throat.

  “Smile, my friend. When this is over, you and your little dove can fly off to a new life, just as you planned and with plenty of money.”

  David was no fool. When he had done what was required of him, he wouldn’t be allowed to live and neither could Chantelle. Already they knew too much. Hendersson was going to have him watched every second, knowing he would just be waiting for an opportunity to make a move; it was in his nature to fight back. Making sure he didn’t get that chance was where Chantelle came in. They would keep her from him right up until the end.

  David did all the pre-flight checks under the watchful and impatient eye of Bakir, then started up his plane. The Islander was large enough to carry heavy cargo and versatile enough for short takeoffs and landings in and out of restricted areas. As he worked, he threw the occasional furtive glance at the machine pistol across Bakir’s lap, fingers resting heavily on the barrel. Bakir’s cold, beady eyes were always alert and suspicious of every movement. When he caught one of David’s glances, his fingers curled around the trigger.

  “Fam du calme!” David responded.

  “You can speak English. Your French is no good.”

  “Calm down. We’ve a long flight ahead of us, can you understand that?”

  “No more talk,” Bakir snapped.

  “Fine by me,” David muttered to himself.

  The private airstrip was contained in a field bordered by hedgerow; the hangar built into a disused farm building. Taxiing out of the hangar, the truck arrived with crates full of weapons, which were then loaded onto the plane. The surrounding area was silent except for birdcalls and the drone of the aircraft engines as the plane gathered speed. Hendersson and the other Algerian climbed back into the maroon Mercedes and drove off at the same time the plane left the ground.

  It wasn’t long before they were in French airspace. David knew the route well enough to keep to designated airspace, avoiding military and commercial airline restriction areas. It was a smooth flight, letting David concentrate little on flying and more on how the hell he was going to get Chantelle and him out of this mess alive. If that wasn’t enough, he couldn’t hand over weapons to a terrorist outfit fighting a bitter civil war against anyone that didn’t share the same beliefs.

  “We refuel here.” Bakir pointed to a red ring on the map east of the Pyrenees. It was a mountainous area, both remote and treacherous.

  “Are you crazy?”

  “You are a good pilot, no? There is a valley with enough room to land an
d take off. It has been used before. We land there.”

  “How the fuck is Chantelle going to be brought here on the return trip?”

  Bakir sneered. “Do not worry, she will be there.”

  ****

  Chantelle felt herself being roughly shaken. The object of her anger and passion was holding her in his arms, kissing her, telling her over and over that she was safe, that he had come to take her home. That just like when he had found her under the tree cowering and terrified, he would come for her. The image started to fade; the skin on her arm pinched painfully. “David.” Her eyes shot open to find a grinning dark face staring back at her.

  “You dream of your lover, but he does not come.” He dragged her up from the bed where she had been lying fully clothed and slammed her body into his. “Maybe I sample what your lips yield for.”

  Chantelle let out a scream, struggling frantically to get away. His fingers dug into the back of her scalp, grabbing a chunk of her hair as he yanked her face around and back, his mouth crushing her tightly pressed lips.

  Without thinking, Chantelle rammed her knee into his groin. A curse-laden cry rang out and he released her as he staggered back, clutching himself. Chantelle heard footsteps running from the hallway. Her mother appeared in the doorway with the bearded terrorist by her side just as the younger one regained an upright position and approached her again, murderous rage on his face.

  “Jabir!” his friend shouted. “She is not to be harmed, remember.”

  This halted him for a moment and then his arm came up, the back of his hand sweeping violently across her cheek. The force sent her crashing back down on the bed, eyes brimming with tears. Defiantly, she looked up, refusing to shed those tears as her mother rushed over, flinging her arms defensively around her.

  “Get into the kitchen and make up supplies. We leave soon and the journey will not be a pleasant one,” Jabir barked at them.