by David Cline
“Ye of little faith,” Wood said.
Danville laughed. “If the worst happens, let me know. Otherwise, call me when you are in a friendlier location and I can help arrange transportation.”
Wood hung up the phone. “What is the plan to get us out of the country?” Wilkins asked.
“I have no idea.”
They both spent the remainder of the day relaxing in the hotel. Wood’s head still pounded and the skin on his face looked like it had been deep fried. But despite all that, when the evening arrived, he felt like he had regained a lot of his former strength and was antsy to make their next move. How were they going to get out of the country?
They decided to sleep on it and reconvene the next morning. In the meantime, both Wood and Wilkins went down to the restaurant that was located on the ground floor next to the hotel lobby. No one gave them a second glance as they were seated at a small square table and given two laminated menus.
“I forgot Muslim countries don’t serve alcohol,” Wilkins said.
“I don’t think they produce, import or consume it,” Wood answered.
None of the food entrees looked especially appetizing so Wood ordered some fresh fruit. He looked around and tried to guess how many guests were locals and how many were foreigners. Besides a man wearing the Canadian maple leaf on a ballcap, he guessed most were residents on vacation like the good doctor.
The ambiance of the restaurant felt confusing. The owners obviously wanted to convey a party-like atmosphere while strictly adhering to local customs. The music choice playing softly over the sound system felt right on the edge of inappropriate. Everyone around them, other than a couple making furious hand motions, looked happy and content.
The food arrived and Wilkins attacked his bowl like a ravenous coyote. Grape sized balls oozed a heavy brown gravy that Wilkins wiped from his chin with the back of his arm. Wood caught the scent and retreated to the safety of his fruit.
“Any ideas yet?” Wilkins asked quietly between bites.
“We could go down to the beach with our thumbs out. Wait for a passing boat to pick us up.”
“Hitchhike our way to freedom? I like it. Can we wait until morning though? I am really looking forward to a soft warm bed. It’s been too long since I enjoyed a sound repose.”
“The airport and the side of the highway don’t do it for you?” Wood asked.
Wilkins put up his hands in protest while swallowing a large bite. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m normally all for it. The lifestyle we lead just makes me appreciate soft sheets that much more.”
Wood stared across the restaurant lost in thought. “I absolutely agree. Hard work gives leisure its sweetness.”
“What do you think we would be doing right now if we lived normal lives?”
Wood laughed. “Well, to answer that, I’d need to know what day of the week it is.”
Wilkins paused, fork in hand, as he thought about it. After a moment, he shrugged. “For conversation sake, let’s propose a Thursday.”
“Mountain time is nine hours behind us, making the time just before noon. I suppose I would be preparing to leave my desk job for lunch.”
Wilkins made the same face Wood did when he first caught the scent of Wilkins’ dinner entree. “Could you imagine working at a desk for the rest of our lives? Seeing the same faces every day. Doing variations of the same task for the next 40 years.” Wilkins shuddered as though caught in a cold rainstorm.
“Plant some roots?” Wood asked, like the idea had never occurred to him. “Maybe one day.”
Wilkins scoffed. “Tell you what. The day Nick Wood retires to a desk job is the day I will consider getting married.”
Wood grinned. “Don’t you need to find a woman first? I don’t know if your mating call, which I have heard on occasion, works as well as you think. Besides, who says I would ever retire to a desk job? Life is too short to make money for someone else. The only currency worth anything is time.”
“Spoken like a true philosopher. I can toast to that.”
They clinked their water glasses together.
A golden swirl caught Wood’s eye mid-drink. A stunning blonde woman had entered the restaurant. She was alone and seated at a table perpendicular to theirs, so she faced the two of them. She wore modest but flattering clothing. Wood noticed he was not the only one in the restaurant to gawk. Pretty much everyone had turned their attention to the newcomer. The woman was not fazed in the least. She projected confidence and elegance as she gazed down at the menu. Her countenance sparkled as she must have felt the room’s attention on her.
Wilkins had not noticed the newcomer and continued his assault on his food like a lion after a kill on the savanna. Wood kicked him under the table. After a confused look, Wilkins looked across the restaurant and his eyes widened.
“Remember all that talk of Brazil?” Wood asked. “You wished you were on the beaches of Coco Cabana so you could meet a girl. Here’s your chance.”
Wilkins wiped his face with the napkin and stared for a full minute. His eyes narrowed. “Something is wrong,” he said. “A woman who looks like that, doesn’t appear at random on the Saudi coast, alone. Honeypot.”
Wood’s eyes widened at the sudden change of Wilkins’ countenance. He ran a hand through his hair and glanced sideways as the woman looked up from the menu. For a brief moment, their eyes locked. She did not immediately look away but instead stared at him as if sizing him up.
Without a second thought, Wood stood and made his way across the restaurant.
“May I?” he asked, gesturing toward the seat across from her.
“Of course,” she said without any hesitation.
They looked at each other a long while before speaking. Wood hurried to extrapolate as many details as he could and commit them to memory. Her long blonde hair disappeared neatly behind her shoulders. She had some of the bluest eyes Wood had ever seen. Her clothes looked as though they had been bought only an hour before. She wore a slender necklace that disappeared beneath a tight black shirt. Despite a lean figure, Wood noticed strong arms. Her movements were precise and calculated. Something about her demanded his attention. But after a long, frustrating silence, he was still unable to pinpoint it.
“What’s your name?” she asked. She glanced over his shoulder toward Wilkins. Her accent was strangely familiar.
Wood reached across the table. “Nick,” he said. They shook hands. The firmness in her grip surprised him. The only person he had met with a grip like that was an old man who had worked with glass his entire life.
“My name is Gisela,” she said. She flashed him a shy smile, but it seemed forced. She was clearly not a person short of confidence. Wood wondered what the facade was for.
“Where you from?” he asked. Something continued to flash in the back of his mind.
“Little Alemania,” she said.
Wood grinned as all the pieces clicked at once. He could not help himself. “Little Alemenia?” he repeated, slowly. “Argentina?”
Her eyes grew wide with genuine surprise. “Yes,” she said after a brief hesitation. “Not many people know where that is.”
He shrugged. “I lived there for a few years.” His mind raced as he thought back to the group that had ransacked their jeep parked on the coast of the Red Sea. He remembered a blonde woman on the beach who had starred at them on the raft through the binoculars. He smiled.
“What brings you to Saudi Arabia?” Gisela asked as she took a refined sip from her glass.
Wood paused. His ears still ached from the underwater shockwave released by the explosive device she had dropped on them. “Same reason as you,” Wood said, with a flirty smile.
Her body stiffened for a fleeting moment. She looked at Wood like a poker player trying to guess if he was bluffing. “Which is?”
Wood let the tense moment hang. He guessed her Nazi cronies were just outside the restaurant doors waiting for some kind of signal to enter with guns blazing. With a wide grin, Wood l
ifted his arms. “To see the world,” he said.
Gisela let out a breath she had been holding and returned the smile. “And what have you thought so far?”
“The sites have been… breathtaking,” Wood said, with a little more sarcasm than he had intended.
“That’s wonderful.” She glanced toward Wilkins again who was busy talking to the waiter about the dessert menu.
“I find it hard to believe a woman as beautiful as you is traveling alone,” Wood said. “Are you part of a group? Or am I about to get punched by a jealous lover?”
Gisela laughed. “Oh no, nothing like that. I prefer traveling solo.” She stared directly into his eyes. “So I can have the pleasure of meeting people like you along the way.”
Wood feigned flattery with a smile and looked away. He wondered how many poor souls had met their doom, falling under the trance of those sparkling blue eyes and perfect features. It was unfair how much power women had over men. Gisela not only knew of the power she wielded, but she had weaponized it. The most lethal and dangerous kind of assassin.
“You plan to be in the Middle East long?” Wood asked.
“I’m only here until I can put an end to a couple things.”
“So, you are here on business?”
She took another sip of her drink. “In a manner of speaking.”
Wood wondered if she knew he was onto her. “Anything I can do to help?”
Her warm demeanor instantly turned cold. “More than you know.” With a quick motion, she knocked the salt onto the floor.
Wood kicked her as hard as he could under the table. She flew backward and crashed onto a round table cluttered with dishes and silverware. The sounds of glass breaking and screams filled the room. Wood spun around and dove onto the floor as a group of five men ran through the restaurant entrance. Wood braced himself for a volley of bullets, but it never came.
“Damn it,” Wilkins screamed over the noise. “What did you say to her? I was just about to get dessert.” He extended an arm, but Wood yanked him down to the ground.
He stole a glance at the advancing group, fighting their way through the pandemonium.
“These fools don’t have guns,” Wilkins yelled. “This isn’t the bloody Congo. Whatever leverage they used to get into the country ended at the request to bring in weapons with them.”
They hurried to their feet and glanced around for anything to help even the odds. Wood grabbed a heavy glass shaker full of an exotic spice he did not recognize and hurled it at the group. The man in front had seen it and ducked. The man behind him was not so lucky. He turned right into the approaching object as it hit him between the nose and mouth. With a sickening thud, the glass exploded against his face. Teeth disappeared into a bloody gaping mouth. The man clutched his face and fell to his knees.
Wilkins picked up a wooden chair and broke it in half. He tore off the remaining pieces he didn’t want and rose it above him with both arms like a medieval knight’s broad sword.
The man leading the charge revealed a large chef’s knife. Wood guessed he had nicked it from the kitchen. He closed the remaining distance fast and lunged at Wood like a fencer with the silver blade outstretched. Wood retreated backward and tripped over an overturned stool, crashing onto the floor. He looked up as Wilkins brought the heavy wooden club down onto the attacker’s extended arm. There was a sickening crack as the arm hung limp at a 90-degree angle. The knife clanged to the ground. Wilkins took a step forward, coiling the club like a baseball player and broke it across the man’s head.
Restaurant guests screamed in alarm as they scrambled to get out of harm’s way. Everyone rushed for the exits. Food catapulted everywhere as tables were overturned.
Wood paused and got a good glimpse of their assailants for the first time. They were dressed in casual clothing but something about them seemed off. Maybe it was the fact they all had similar haircuts. Short and clean. They were all tall and muscular. Wood could not see any visible tattoos.
His thoughts were interrupted when another man charged Wilkins and tackled him like a linebacker. They crashed into the wall causing pictures of landscapes to cascade down. Glass exploded all around them. They fought like pythons using their enormous arms to squeeze the life out of each other.
Another man reached the fray and pulled out a smaller knife. He walked toward Wilkins, looking for a window to strike. Wood jumped to his feet and snatched the stool he had tripped over. He swung with all his might. The stool splintered into pieces against the man’s back. He let out a howl and looked back, right as Wood’s fist found the man’s face. Wood felt something break but could not tell if it was the man’s nose or a bone in Wood’s hand. The adrenaline surged through his entire body.
Wood’s neck snapped backward viciously as someone from behind tackled him. Together they broke through an overturned table. Wood sprang to his feet and twirled around. It was the last man in the group who had pushed his way through the crowd of fleeing customers.
Wood sized him up. The man looked to be about his same height but possessed more mass around the chest and arms. The man cracked his neck to either side and stared at Wood with a tangible hatred. Wood could not help but grin when he noticed how sunburned the man was. Two white blisters the size of quarters looked like they were about to burst in a thick stream of pus and blood. Gisela and company must have forgotten sunscreen and cooked while they floated aimlessly after Wilkins had disabled their boat.
They circled each other like boxers until the man with surprising quickness and agility, hooked a ferocious punch. Wood instinctively threw his head back and heard the whoosh. The man’s fist struck the wall with so much force, it left a hole the size of a watermelon in it. Jagged pieces of plaster fell to the floor. Wood stepped forward and landed a punch into the man’s kidney, near the spinal cord and under the rib cage.
The man gritted his teeth and snarled at Wood, obviously in pain. He stepped back and his nostrils flared. Wood used the opportunity to steal a quick glance toward Wilkins. Both Wilkins and his adversary had streams of blood running down their arms. The glass littering the floor had cut them as they wrestled on top of it. The man broke free from Wilkins’ grasp, lowered his shoulder, and charged Wilkins like a rhino. Wilkins used the man’s momentum and hurled the two of them into the wall. There was a loud crack as the entire wall gave way under the stress. A cloud of dust enveloped the room as both disappeared through the hole. Wood heard cooks scramble out of the way as the brawl continued in the kitchen.
In the chaos, Wood sensed movement and ducked. The man threw a wild haymaker that glanced off the side of Wood’s head. White sparks erupted inside his brain. Wood closed his eyes and retreated backward to buy a few moments and try to recover. He felt another whoosh of air past his nose as he ducked and narrowly missed getting put to sleep.
Through the bedlam, Wood thought he could hear distant sirens wailing. The police would be there any minute. They had to get out of there.
Wood shook his head and cracked his jaw. Blood trickled down his cheek and dripped off his chin. He faced his opponent with his left foot forward and fists raised. The man punched ferociously with his right, which Wood blocked with his left. Wood channeled all his strength and buried his knee into the man’s groin. There was a soft popping noise. The man’s eyes grew wide as he keeled forward. Wood waited until the perfect moment and then connected a ferocious punch, dislocating the man’s jaw. The man fell into a heap, face first onto the floor. He coughed, choking on his own blood.
Wood performed a quick search of the man’s pockets but found nothing. He hurried through the hole in the wall and entered the kitchen. Wilkins stood in front of an industrial sized stainless-steel sink as he washed the blood off his arms. Wood stepped over a man’s body who was sprawled unconscious on the floor. Half his face was seared like a steak. Wood could even distinguish the grill marks.
“Any sign of the honeytrap blonde?” Wilkins asked over his shoulder.
“Of course not
,” Wood said. “Open combat isn’t her style. She’s the type who will kiss and kill you in the same moment.”
“Figured,” Wilkins said. He grabbed a few paper towels and dried himself off. “I have a strange feeling our welcome here has evaporated with our chance to sleep in real beds tonight.” He sighed. “A damn shame.”
They hurried out of the hotel through an emergency exit. The sound of sirens pierced the warm night air. Authoritative voices barked orders in the distance and approaching footsteps grew louder. The two of them disappeared into the shadows and watched as a group of armed police officers entered the hotel through the same door they had just passed through.
They made a wide arc around a few neighboring buildings to the front where a large crowd had gathered to witness the spectacle from a safe distance. The blinding lights of five police vehicles flashed all around. Wood noticed more were on their way.
They were about to leave the scene behind them when Wood spotted Gisela standing apart from everyone else, looking on. She watched, no doubt, hoping the police would exit the hotel with Wood and Wilkins in handcuffs. Or better yet, on stretchers. He pointed her out to Wilkins who whistled softly.
“I’ll bet you dinner I can hit her with a rock,” Wood said.
“No way,” Wilkins snorted. “That is at least 50 yards. You’re on.” He raised a finger. “You only get one chance though.”
“Deal.” Wood combed the ground, searching for the perfect stone. He selected a rock a little larger than a golf ball. He found some even ground and with a grunt, sent it soaring into the night sky.
“I lost it in the darkness,” Wilkins muttered. “I think you are way off target.”
There was a suspended pause and then Wood saw Gisela suddenly glance around toward them, right as her head jolted backward. Bright red glistened as the rock split her forehead open.