He stuffed the paper in his pocket and did a thorough check of the room. Whoever he was, he’d left in a hurry, but he’d taken almost everything of importance with him. None of it was matching what the super had said. The evidence he saw was looking like the tenant wasn’t coming back. Ten minutes later, he was finished. He’d found nothing except the one name that led him into the shadows of his past—to when he was a boy.
He paused in the doorway as he contemplated the abject poverty so in opposition to the homes that anyone who had gone to his primary school had come from. Had the unsub contracted this man to attack him? And how was Habib linked into all of this, or was he? Had Habib hired someone to attack him? That made no sense, but if he hadn’t, who had? What motivation did he have? The connection, the link, was the dead boyfriend, Tad. But dead men didn’t talk.
He left, closing the door behind him, making sure to leave no evidence that he’d been there. Despite his belief that his parking-lot assailant was gone, he made sure that no one saw him as he left. But there was no one around, the cramped, age-greased corridor was as silent as when he’d arrived.
Outside, the narrow street was crowded with people and the occasional donkey. A slight man on a Vespa wound his way slowly through the throng.
Talib slipped into the crowd. His clothes were as worn as anyone else’s in the area. He’d made sure to haul out the clothes he used to do some of the mechanic work on his vehicles. This wasn’t an area where designer clothes and pressed shirts would fit. He wasn’t much of an actor and he knew that how he presented himself was different than the working class that held the majority in the area. If someone questioned his appearance... But it didn’t matter much anyway—the man he was after had already run.
He passed another alley, and saw a man of average height and build, and in faded jeans and an olive-green T-shirt watching him from the shadows.
Then the man motioned to him.
What the hell? Talib thought as he watched the man jerk his head to the alley, as if indicating he should follow.
The man disappeared again into the shadows.
He moved into the head of the alley. There was no one around him. He had his gun in one hand and yet it seemed like overkill. But he wasn’t taking any chances. The man seemed to have disappeared. He could go forward or back out—this could be a trap. Just as he decided to back up and return to the busy shopping area behind him, he felt the presence of someone. He had no time to turn or duck.
The blow came before he could react. It was silent and even more lethal because of it. As Talib fell he could only think of one name—Sara. He had to get up. He had to go to her. Instead he kept falling, down, down as if the spiral was out of control and would never end. It finally did end as consciousness left him.
Chapter Seventeen
Sahara Sunset Hotel
Thursday 1:30 p.m.
Sara looked at her watch and gritted her teeth—her stomach clenched and she felt sick. She hadn’t heard from Talib since early this morning. She’d counted on him and somehow, in some way, he was letting her down.
She kept thinking the worst and it was making her crazy. That and the fact that she was trapped, imprisoned by a promise she’d made to Talib to stay in her suite. There was nowhere to go and no one to talk to. It was maddening.
Talib hadn’t called as he had promised and he’d been gone for over seven hours.
“Where are you?” she murmured. Her worry and boredom were building in conflicting degrees.
She told herself that she shouldn’t be worried, Talib knew what he was doing. She shouldn’t be bored, either. She wasn’t being held in a barren cell. She had every amenity. And if it wasn’t available, whatever she might need was only a phone call away. There was a bodyguard, security Talib had called him, who, although not at the door at all times, was usually in the vicinity. One of the men that Talib had assigned, Andre, was the only one she’d seen so far. Andre knocked on her door at regular intervals to ensure that they were fine and that they weren’t needing anything. He didn’t lurk in the hallway, but she knew that he was always somewhere close by. He was amiable enough and she’d even teased him about a girl when he’d taken a call that was clearly not business. He had an easy smile, dark cropped hair, intense dark eyes and a physique that would deter most villains. He looked exactly like what he was—muscle for hire—unless you got to know him as she had. She’d learned that there was a soft spot with Andre and it was children. It was only with Everett that he turned completely to mush. His smile softened as he spoke baby talk to the boy and made him smile with his exaggerated facial expressions. Some were so absurd that Sara even found herself smiling.
But the visits from Andre were brief and the confinement was driving her crazy. She took a breath and then another as if to calm herself, or at least to redirect her thoughts. But there was no getting around it, the suite was claustrophobic despite what initially had seemed its expansive size. They’d been here too long. While there was no lack of things to watch on television or games that had been delivered to her room, everything had been toddler-centric. Despite Talib’s company last night, she was alone now and feeling it. She was about to go out of her mind.
If nothing else, they needed to get out of this room. They were both restless and with Everett that meant his mood was going south fast. In the last five minutes he’d gone from whimpering to tears and she knew that a screaming fit wasn’t too far away. The terrible twos had hit and sometimes there was just no calming him.
Soon, she was desperate to stop his screams and tears. He hadn’t had one of these fits in weeks and really, she’d experienced this kind of meltdown only a few times in the past. What she knew was that without diversion, this was poised to become epic. Everett was stubborn, as toddlers can be, and was testing the edges of his world and his own sense of autonomy. She knew she’d been lucky so far. Thanks to the long trip, the strange environment and her own stress, she knew Everett was on edge. She was surprised that this hadn’t come sooner.
Everett shrieked louder and higher, and then gulped, more than likely gaining energy for his next howl, and within a minute she was right. She needed a solution fast. This hotel might be luxurious and well-built, but insulation only blocked so much noise. In a regular hotel, someone would already be pounding on the walls for them to be quiet. She was betting it was only a matter of time here.
They needed a break from this suite. The hotel was safe, Talib had said so himself. She wouldn’t do anything foolish, like step outside or stray from any areas that weren’t well trafficked and secure. Her thoughts broke off as she smiled at that. Talib had told her that the hotel had security cameras on every floor, and in every area. Add to that a security team, one of whom she was on a first-name basis with, and there was no reason to worry. Besides, she wasn’t planning to be gone long—ten, maybe fifteen, minutes. Just enough to calm Everett and regain her sanity.
There was no one that she needed to tell where she was going or what she was doing. Andre was on a late lunch break and it would be another thirty minutes before he returned. He’d knocked on the door only fifteen minutes ago to see if there was anything she needed. She’d assured him everything was fine, but it was the calm before the storm.
* * *
“WHEN DID YOU speak to Talib last?” Emir asked one of their office staff, and her answer had him concerned.
“The police had an identification on the man who attacked him at the Desert Sands parking lot. From that I found an address. Barb gave the information to Talib just after six this morning and we haven’t heard anything from him since. I left a text for him to call four hours ago, but I haven’t heard anything.” The dark-haired, petite woman was their latest hire. Rania had turned out to be quick and efficient, digging up information in record time.
Emir shook his head. He didn’t like the passage of time. That was a problem. He ex
pected their agents, brothers or not, to check in when flying solo on a case. Especially one where he really should have been assigned backup. It was only Talib’s request and the nature of the case that had him holding back from assigning another agent.
His brother had been out of communication for over seven hours. Again, considering the nature of the case and the fact that it was contained within the city limits of Marrakech, a lapse in communication was troubling. As a result, his senses were on alert. If everything was going right, then this didn’t happen in their business, not on a case like this. They were all too well-trained, too conscientious. There was only one reason for this and it didn’t bode well—something had happened.
Rania gave him the address that Barb had earlier given to Talib. He was pulling on a bulletproof vest as he headed out the door. He reached for his gun to make sure it was tucked in place under his waistband, ready at a moment’s notice.
Chapter Eighteen
When Talib woke, the banging in his skull made him want to close his eyes again. He didn’t have that luxury. He needed to stay awake, stay focused and figure out where he was and what kind of dung pile he’d landed in.
The pain was blinding.
He gave in and briefly closed his eyes, but only in an effort to get control of the pain. When he opened them again, he could see nothing but darkness, or at least that’s what he initially thought. His eyes were barely open, not enough to get a good visual on anything—light, dark, nothing. He took conscious breaths, closed his eyes and opened them again. Wherever he was, he was in a place that smelled of dirt. Graveyard dirt. Bad image, he thought. Must, he was smelling must and lying on something hard. There was a flicker of light overhead. Where was he? How long had he been out and was he alone? They were questions that all needed to be answered before he made a move.
He remembered bits of what had happened. The man, smaller than he, had come from nowhere. He hadn’t had a chance to get a good look at him. He could have been the same man from the parking lot attack, or someone totally different. Because before he could turn and confront him, he’d been hit on the back of the head. It was only his earlier injuries that had slowed him down and allowed this to happen. After that there had been nothing, until now. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed or where he was.
He should have asked for backup. That was his oversight.
He reached up with his bound hands to where the thin line of light sifted into his prison. A board was what was over his head. He could feel the wood. From what he could piece together, it was the floor just above him, some sort of trapdoor over a shallow storage area. Had they decided that taking out the father was better than the son? His mind whirred with possibilities. Were they just taking him out, out of the way so that they could take his son next? He bit back pain and panic. He needed to get control of both his emotions and the pain.
He lay still, trying to get his bearings, trying to figure out his next move and how he was going to get out of here. He was used to thinking on his feet, but not with his head thumping the way it was. He took a breath and then another. He’d learned a long time ago that in a crisis one should get a plan together. He couldn’t burst out of his prison not knowing what lay on the other side. A thin shard of light grazed across his arm, bouncing off of broken tile just to the left of him. It was like someone had begun a cellar and then stopped and what remained was a shallow hole beneath the floor. It made no sense unless one had planned this in advance. Or was this a temporary prison? But that made no sense, either.
He stilled his thoughts, listening. There was no sound. There hadn’t been any sound in the minutes he’d been conscious. He was fairly certain that wherever he was, he was alone.
He let his thoughts shift from his current predicament to his greatest worry.
Sara. He had to get to her, to warn her. More importantly he needed to protect her, for this was much more deadly, much more immediate, than he had thought. She was all that stood between their son and danger. He knew that she’d defend him with her life. He couldn’t allow things to get to that point.
His thoughts were clearer now. They knew who he was. That was the only explanation. It had taken two attacks but their intent was to take him out. It was his own fault that they were close to succeeding. He’d let emotion fog the case and in doing that he’d underestimated the opponent. He needed to get back in the field to protect what he cherished most—his family.
* * *
“LET’S GO FOR a walk,” Sara said to Everett, who was sniffling and red-faced. She spoke to him as if he was an adult. She often did that, speaking as if he understood the idea that walks often calmed him down. Her thought was to go to the hotel gift shop, maybe even a snack shop. Whatever stores were available here, she didn’t know, as she’d had no time to explore. She was like a prisoner within the opulence of her suite. Somehow she’d never thought her visit would turn out like this. For that was all it was, a visit. She hadn’t thought beyond that. It had been a flight of desperation, a cry for help that was turning out far different than she could ever have imagined. But she hadn’t changed plans, this trip had an end date—return tickets booked and no resolution to her problem in sight. She pushed that thought from her mind.
“We’ll go to the store,” she said. In all probability they would be stores selling high-end products and designer goods. Even that would be helpful. Oddly, Everett always liked shopping. He was distracted by all the different things he saw on the shelves. It often made it a challenge for her, but it was exactly what she needed now. She imagined that the shelves might be filled with expensive trinkets. Shiny things that would only cause her grief as he reached for them, but would, more importantly, provide a distraction for him.
“Cracker,” he demanded, waving his chubby hand. He hiccupped before bursting into a fresh bout of wails.
The fridge had been restocked, but crackers hadn’t been included. She could phone and they’d be brought up immediately, but that wasn’t the point.
She smiled at Everett and he snuffled and rubbed his eyes with the back of his fists. He was in a lull. Right now, his mood could go either way.
Five minutes later they reached the main floor without incident. There, the lobby was a pleasant surprise. The staff was courteous and willing to help, and directed her to a small snack shop that carried the animal crackers Everett loved. She also found a few shops that were entertaining enough for a small boy. She let Everett walk. She held his hand but her attention was fixed on everything around her. She watched for danger, trusted no one and paid attention to her environment. Someone had tried to kidnap Everett once and she wouldn’t let it happen again.
Twenty minutes later they were heading back to their room. It was a different elevator ride than their earlier one, where Everett had hiccupped and sobbed the entire descent to the main floor. Now, he was smiling and she had managed to relax somewhat although she would never—could never—tone down her vigilance.
She stepped out of the elevator and turned to her right, heading for their suite. She passed one door, the carpet no less soft and luxurious beneath her feet than it had been the first time.
Twelve feet from her room, she stopped.
“No,” she murmured.
“No,” Everett repeated with a smile.
“Shh,” she said as she put a finger to her lips and juggled him in one arm.
He nodded his head and smiled. He was slipping from her grip. She boosted him higher and his smile broadened. He put a finger to her lips.
She left his finger there, barely noticing. Instead her gaze was caught by what she saw in front of her. She took a step backward.
The door to her hotel suite was open.
She’d shut and locked it.
Her first thought was that it could be hotel staff.
She knew that didn’t fly even as she thought it. There was
no reason for them to be checking her suite. The maids did the rounds in the morning and no maid visited their suite unless requested. One had yet to be requested.
Sara started to move backward, away from the suite, away from the possibility of a threat. She was being overly cautious, but considering everything that had happened, she wasn’t taking a chance.
She looked at Everett and winked while mouthing shush. She was grateful for the silly game she’d created in the hours they’d spent alone. She had taught Everett how to play spy, and how to be extra quiet while doing so. She’d done it because of all that was happening, just in case. But to the boy it was a fun game. Now his striking, light brown eyes sparked with the anticipation of playing his new favorite game and he clamped his lips with a tiny finger on them.
She shifted him in her arms. He was almost too heavy, but she had to soldier through. She couldn’t chance putting him down. Whoever had been in her room could still be there. She’d hung a Do Not Disturb sign on the door. From what she could see, it was still there. She had all her important papers with her, she always did. There was nothing for them to steal but the clothes, baby things and some cosmetics and toys that Talib had had delivered early yesterday.
Something scuffled, like a footstep sliding over paper, making it rustle, and it was coming from their suite. She remembered the newspaper that Andre had brought her earlier this morning. He had laid it on a small table by the door and only an hour ago, Everett had thrown it off. She didn’t remember picking it up, she’d been distracted and...
Her thoughts broke off.
She backed up faster, smiling at Everett, being careful not to frighten him. He was still clutching an animal cracker and seemed more fascinated by the fan that turned slowly over their head than what she was frightened of. She backed away from their suite quietly and headed for the fire exit. She’d slip down that way. The elevator wasn’t a thought. The last thing she needed to do was get trapped in an elevator or caught while waiting for one.
Son of the Sheik Page 12