To Deceive Is To Love (Romantic suspense)

by Lynne King

  Feeling a little guilty, Chantelle removed the phone from the bedside cabinet where she had hidden it and dialed Paul’s number.

  On hearing her voice, Paul sounded both relieved and concerned. “When the number you gave me in France was a dead line and your cell phone was the same, I almost contacted the French authorities.”

  “You didn’t, did you?” Chantelle interrupted.

  “No, but what’s going on? It’s so unlike you not to check up on Chat every day. Besides, you said a couple of days and it’s been almost a week.”

  “I can’t explain Paul, not now. Has anyone been around asking questions?

  “No, should there have been?”

  She gave a small sigh. “No, forget I asked.”

  “Listen, Chantelle, I’ve got a three day stopover in New York. I leave tomorrow early. What can I do with Chat?”

  Hearing those words finally made the decision for her. “Paul, I’ll be up tonight to collect Chat.” She took a small swallow before adding, “And, Paul, I need to ask a really big favor.”

  “For you, darling, anything.”

  “I need you to go into my apartment and pack a suitcase for me. Sweaters, trousers, underwear, pack as much as you can or at least what I can carry. I took my weekend case, so it will be the large suitcase under the bed.” She hesitated before adding, “Can I borrow some money? Just temporary until I get access to my bank accounts. My passport and credit cards are all in France."

  Paul was true to his word, she knew that, but it was obvious he had a million questions, especially when she added that he must make sure he told no one she had been in touch. She also warned him to be discreet about going into her apartment. If, as David claimed, her flat was being watched, they would not be able to see past the entrance door. Besides, Paul would hardly look suspicious to anyone besides David.

  “How clandestine and very intriguing. Tell me; is this to escape a lover or to hide with another? Chantelle, you have always been a little bohemian, so I won’t be shocked, I promise.”

  “Paul, this is important and believe me, is no game.”

  The serious, fearful tone of her voice as she continued with other instructions caused no more flippant comments. Instead, Paul ended the conversation by telling her to be careful and that he would expect her in an hour or so.

  Keeping hold of the phone and grabbing the ignition key to the Mini, which lay on the bedside cabinet, Chantelle came down the stairs. She froze when she heard movements from the kitchen. Quickly, she placed the phone back on the hallway table. The key she slipped into her trouser pocket and entered the kitchen.

  David was in the process of making a cup of coffee. “Want some?”

  “No, thanks.” Her eyes avoided his.

  “Look, Chantelle, about earlier. I didn’t mean to put it quite how it sounded. It’s just…”

  “Have you changed your mind?” she cut in.

  “Well no, but…” He stopped what he was doing.

  “Then there’s nothing more to be said, is there, David? You have made your decision and I have made mine.”

  “What do you mean by that?” In two strides, he was in front of her, grabbing hold of her forearm as she turned.

  “Damn it, Chantelle, don’t walk away.” He spun her around to face him.

  “Let go of me, you bully. It’s over. Do what you have to do, but from now on, don’t touch me.” The pure savagery in her voice caused him to drop her arm as if it was on fire.

  “Fine, if that’s how you want it. But that doesn’t stop what we feel for each other, what we have together.”

  Her hand came up and slapped him hard across the cheek, tears stinging her eyes as she turned and fled the house.

  As she hopped into the Mini, David hobbled toward her. Reaching the car, he clung to the door handle, trying to wrench it open as the engine roared to life. He yelled at her, but she couldn’t tell what he said through the closed window.

  She refused to see or hear him and crunched the gear into first and shot forward. David still clung on until he was forced to let go or be swept under the car as she skidded across the driveway and out onto the road, just missing an oncoming car.

  ****

  “What did you say to her to make her take off like that? It must have been pretty bad.” Tony had abandoned his meeting the second David called. Now, he was in the hallway, looking perplexed by David’s uncustomary indecisiveness. “What are you going to do? Do you know where she might have gone? She’s obviously sensible enough not to return to her flat.”

  “The way she was behaving, anything is possible. Especially because she was so bloody concerned about that damn cat of hers.” The discomfort in his leg had become nonexistent next to the anguish he felt.

  Between the time Chantelle had taken off and Tony returned he had placed another call to Hendersson. Instead of arranging for the meet to take place the following day as planned, David had insisted they meet that evening. It meant he didn’t have a lot of time to set things up, but he couldn’t risk the delay now Chantelle had disappeared. Damn the woman! He knew it was partly his fault. He should have realized how fiery and irrational she could get when upset and hidden the car keys.

  Now, he had to borrow Tony’s car to get to the meet, which was in three hours. He had wanted surveillance equipment already in place at the hangar and backup. Instead, he had to conceal a recording device on his person, something Hendersson would be looking for, and hope he reached his friend in time to provide the necessary backup. At least this friend was unconnected to Hendersson and had enough influence in Customs and Excise to make an arrest if Hendersson gave him what he wanted, which was a confession. The paperwork could be sorted out later.

  “David, what do you plan to do?” Tony demanded.

  “About what?” David replied, glancing again at his watch.

  “Chantelle. That is why I’ve rushed back here, isn’t it?” Tony walked toward the bar. “This isn’t me needing a drink in the afternoon, but you are making me damn nervous.” He poured himself a shot of whisky and held the bottle toward David. “Want one?”

  David shook his head.

  “Please yourself, but from where I’m standing, you need something. I’ve never known you to show your emotions. You’re always so calm and collected. What’s going on, David? Is Chantelle going to be all right? You don’t look so confident.”

  “I’ve got to make some phone calls. I’ll make them in your study if you don’t mind.” He paused at the doorway as Tony’s question registered. “Chantelle will be all right. I’ll sort it out between us when the time is right. For now, there’s something far more important to take care of.”

  “I hope she’s the patient type and can understand your priorities.” Tony raised the glass of whisky to his mouth as David stormed off.

  When David finally emerged from the study, he felt more confident. With just two hours to go before the meet, he had finally managed to track down his friend in Customs. It was an incredible story, one that his friend had called too bizarre not to be true. It helped that Hendersson and Customs had clashed in the past. With the location details and his friend’s assurance they wouldn’t move in until fifteen minutes after the start of the meeting, it looked like his plan might work.

  He could hear Jenny returning with the children from the loud voices coming from the lounge. When he walked in, Tony turned to him.

  “I was telling Jenny that Chantelle has returned to her flat now that she is convinced you’re on the road to recovery.”

  Jenny threw them both a distasteful glance. “I wish I could believe the two of you. For the sake of the children, we will talk about it later. Now, if you don’t mind, Tony, since you finished early today, you can help me prepare dinner.”

  David gave a discreet sigh of relief. He would be leaving straight after dinner, letting Tony to do the explaining. The accusing looks thrown in his direction as Tony left the room confirmed Jenny was no fool.

  Dinner was an awk
ward, silent affair with the children providing the barricade from a barrage of questions. When David finished his meal, he asked Tony if he could use his car for the evening. Tony followed him, directing him into the study and closing the door behind them. Nothing was said as David retrieved his knapsack from a locked cupboard and placed it on the desk. Bringing out the SIG 9mm pistol, he checked the magazine was in place and the safety catch remained on and then dropped it back into the knapsack.

  “Don’t do this. I’m pleading as your one and only best friend. I want you to live long enough to become a partner and yes, I’m talking about our own chartered airline.”

  David had placed his leather flying jacket on and was reaching for his knapsack when Tony’s words caused him to stop and look at his friend. “What changed your mind? When I talked about it before, you said the investment and risks were too great.”

  “Back then, you weren’t exactly what I’d call reliable. I couldn’t be sure you would stick around long enough for it to work. Now, I know you have finished for good with undercover work and I’m willing to give it some thought.”

  “That’s great, but I haven’t quite severed all ties with my former employer, so we can talk about it later.” David swung his knapsack over his shoulder. “Car keys?” He held out his hand.

  “Not until you tell me what’s going on.” Tony stood there with the keys clenched in his fist.

  “I haven’t the time for this,” David said through gritted teeth.

  In the background, the phone on Tony’s desk continued to ring. Tony stepped around David and snatched up the receiver, barking, “Yes, who is this?”

  His features became frozen as he held the receiver away from his ear and looked at David. “He’s asking for you.”

  “Who is it? Nobody knows I’m here.” For a brief second, he thought it must be Chantelle until Tony shook his head as if reading his thoughts.

  Snatching the receiver, David listened to that familiar and despised voice. It was like a knife twisting and turning. He said nothing, just listened until the line went dead. The receiver slipped through his fingers.

  Tony grabbed it and placed it on its cradle.

  “He has Chantelle.” The words came out slowly. Holding out his hand, he continued, “There’s a number scribbled on the pad, has a red circle around it.” He looked over at the desk. “Ring it for me and tell the person on the other end there’s been a change of plan and that his services won’t be required. “

  Tony dropped his car keys into the outstretched palm. “You can’t do this alone, David.”

  “I can’t risk doing it any other way.”

  Chapter 16

  Night was drawing in and it was drizzling by the time Chantelle pulled up near her flat. For five minutes, she scanned the quiet street ahead, looking for any unfamiliar cars or strangers loitering near her building. There were none.

  Leaves fluttered in the breeze and formed small, swirling heaps along the pavement as the wind gathered strength. It was the kind of evening people did not want to venture out in. Paul would no doubt be worried since the journey had taken her nearly three hours, the traffic coming into London hitting a standstill due to an earlier accident.

  She gave it a few more minutes and then slipped out of the Mini and up an alleyway adjacent to where she had parked. In her right mind, she would never enter this alley even during daylight. This way, anyone watching her flat wouldn’t suspect she would creep around the rear since it provided access to Paul’s flat only.

  Paul had left the gate unlocked as promised and opening it, she made her way across the paving slabs and up to the patio doors, breathing a sigh of relief that Paul had the sense to turn off his security light. She tapped on the glass several times.

  The curtain suddenly twitched and Paul’s face appeared. For a moment, he stood there, looking strangely nervous, his eyes fearful.

  Chantelle felt he was concerned at her late arrival and as he pulled the patio door open, she moved the curtain aside and stepped into the dimly lit room.

  “I’m sorry, Paul. You look worried and it must be my fault. You can relax now.” The smile faded from her face as someone else spoke, hidden inside the room.

  “On the contrary, Miss Duvall. I’m afraid he has every reason to fear for his life, as you do if you behave foolishly.”

  Chantelle immediately tried to step backward, only to find herself being pushed forward into the room, the patio door slamming shut behind her. The faceless voice finally stepped up beside Paul. He was a thickset, silver-haired man with a pitted complexion who appeared to be in his early fifties. Her nose wrinkled at the acrid smell of tobacco smoke that filled the room.

  She guessed he was Hendersson. His slate gray, tailored suit with a long trench coat worn over the top held the appearance of a government official, though, certainly not a killer. From behind stepped another, much younger man in his early twenties with very short, jet black hair, olive skin and sharp features. Dressed in denim jeans and jacket, he looked like a student. He held a lethal looking submachine gun at his side. If the first one was Hendersson, this was more than likely the Algerian, Abdul.

  Paul went to approach her, but was immediately stopped by a small handgun pointed at his temple.

  Chantelle gasped. She had no doubt Hendersson would use it.

  “Chantelle, I’m so sorry. They just forced their way in. I couldn’t stop them.”

  “It’s all right, Paul. This is my fault. I should never have gotten you involved,” she said, her voice strangely calm despite a pounding heart and that familiar taste of fear draining the moisture from her mouth.

  “Enough. You are right; ringing your friend here was a foolish mistake. The lines to this building have all been tapped.” Hendersson continued in a clipped, well-spoken voice, “I made it my business to know everything there is to know about you, Miss Duvall, including who babysits your cat.” He gave a sardonic smile. Drawing heavily on the cigarette, he blew the smoke out in a long, thin trail.

  Chantelle turned her head away, feeling nauseous, and her eyes smarting. Across the room, hiding in the shadows, she could just make out the shape of Chat crouching by Paul’s settee. Normally, he would have rushed up to her purring and crying his indignation that she had left him for so long.

  Hendersson noticed her line of vision. “Abdul here does not like cats and the feeling was mutual.”

  “Have you hurt him?” she cried out, not caring that she sounded more fearful for the cat than her own life.

  “Your cat struck out first.” Hendersson grinned at Abdul.

  Abdul turned his face to present the side profile she hadn’t seen, revealing a long red streak down his cheek. Chat wasn’t vicious unless provoked, Chantelle hoped he had been too quick and wasn’t injured. The malevolent glare thrown by Abdul caused her to look away.

  “What do you want from us?” she snapped.

  “From you two, nothing. From your lover, I want plenty. Now, both of you go over to the settee and make yourselves comfortable. No more chit chat.” The gun was by his side now, but noting their hesitation; he brought it up again and waved it menacingly in front of them. “Do it now. Alive or dead, it makes no difference to me.”

  Going over to the heavily cushioned settee, Paul and Chantelle sat close together and watched as Abdul placed his weapon on the glass coffee table and took out a long coil of rope from his denim jacket. He approached and proceeded to bind their legs. Next, he ordered their hands be placed in their laps. Tying first Paul’s wrists together, he then brought the remainder of the rope across to secure Chantelle’s wrists. The rope was so tight; they had to press their bodies close to prevent it from cutting into their wrists.

  Paul looked as if he was about to say something, only Chantelle shook her head, warning him with an unspoken movement of her lips to remain silent.

  “There’s no point in you being here. David won’t come. He’s keeping the diamonds and leaving the country. That’s why I’m here alone.” S
he tried to sound convincing. “Don’t you understand? He doesn’t care what happens to me.”

  Hendersson gave a small, contemptuous laugh. ”But you are so very mistaken. He risked everything for you once and he will do it again. You are his weakness.” Talking a handkerchief from his pocket, he leaned over her, his foul breath upon her.

  Chantelle tried to avert her face, but he forced the material roughly between her lips and fastened it at the back of her head.

  Leaning forward to whisper in her ear, his words came out cruel and mocking. “So foolish is a man in love that he will risk everything for nothing. I will remind him of that when I put a bullet in his heart.”

  Wide, stricken eyes met his, the gag stretching her lips apart as she tried to plead.

  Hendersson stood back and ordered Abdul to do the same with Paul using a tea towel. Glancing at his watch, he announced, “It’s time to make my call. You, my little dove, led me straight to him. Mobile phones have traceable account holders. It’s ironic that your cat’s welfare can achieve what the terrorists couldn’t -- an end to this charade.

  ****

  David pulled up on the hard shoulder of the motorway and put the hazard lights on. He had to stop and think instead of driving like some crazy fool into a trap that would seal his and Chantelle’s fate. Hendersson wasn’t going to allow Chantelle to live. She knew too much. There would be no bargaining once he handed over the diamonds.

  Hendersson’s words kept replaying in his head. “No tricks. Turn up without the diamonds and you sacrifice a life. It may not be of any consequence to you, but I’m sure your dove will find the death of her friend hard to forgive.”

  David guessed who Hendersson must be referring to, since it was the flat below Chantelle’s where he was heading. He might have known she would flee to the man who was always popping up when tea and sympathy were needed. He also knew Hendersson would carry out the threat and show no mercy.