Pussycat in Peril (Pussycat Death Squad Book 3)

by Roslyn Hardy Holcomb

  The hotel was a large glass-fronted structure with uniformed doormen helping guests exit vehicles in a formal manner. Most of the guests were in expensive business attire and she and Kaeden stood out. He at least was wearing what could be called business casual in khakis and a black polo shirt. She, on the other hand, looked a wrinkled mess in her repeatedly slept-in clothes. Fortunately her hijab covered the messy braids she’d been wearing for weeks now which were in desperate need of a re-do. Everything else though, was disreputable in the extreme. She eyed the doormen warily. One of them was bound to call law enforcement or run them off himself.

  “We can’t stay here,” she said to Kaeden.

  “I assumed as much from your look. I wasn’t lying about the lack of contacts,” he said. “Where else can we go?”

  “Come on,” she said, hurrying toward the line of taxis queued up outside the hotel. After entering the taxi she gave the driver an address in French. When a blank stare was his only response she switched to Arabic then resumed speaking to Kaeden in French.

  “He might be faking, but I don’t think our driver speaks French. I didn’t dare try English as my English is irretrievably Americanized,” she said.

  He nodded in agreement with her observation. “Where are you taking us?”

  “A friend of my father’s.”

  “Do you think that’s a good idea? From what I understand everyone at the university has either been arrested, killed or under such close watch as to be useless.”

  “This friend is not a professor. He is one of my parents’ childhood friends from long ago. It’s doubtful anyone would ever remember my father’s association with him.”

  Chapter Four

  As the taxi traveled into increasingly lower class neighborhoods Astaria realized another benefit as well. She doubted anyone would think to look for her in the area and such people would be accustomed to minding their own business. They took two more taxis to other hotels in an effort to shake any followers they might have picked up, but in truth the guard probably wanted to be as far removed from them as possible.

  When the driver stopped at a small white washed building Astaria remembered from her childhood, her eyes welled with tears. She hadn’t been here in too many years. When a grizzled old man answered their knock at the door she hesitated. What if they didn’t remember her? But she was immediately embraced and drawn inside. Only her Amati Sarai and Ami Dawood Hamadi would welcome visitors in the middle of the night this way.

  “I need to explain,” Astaria began as she was smothered in Sarai’s embrace. Sarai was not a large woman. Indeed she was significantly shorter than Astaria’s just over medium height, but her hugs hadn’t changed—they were full-fledged gestures that enveloped the whole body. Dawood was more reserved. The tall lean man had always been less effusive than his wife but tonight his hug was nearly as generous.

  As she stepped out Dawood’s embraced Astaria took Kaeden’s hand and drew him forward. “Amati Sarai, Ami Dawood, this is my husband, Kaeden. Kaeden Nassir.”

  “Pleased to meet you. Thank you so much for your hospitality,” Kaeden said.

  “We are delighted to meet the Astaria’s husband. She is like a daughter to us. Most unfortunate that we weren’t able to attend the wedding ceremony. These times make maintaining traditions, or even little niceties almost impossible,” Dawood said.

  “We were married at the courthouse, Mama and Babba weren’t there either. But let me explain…”

  “No. No. No. Explanations are unnecessary. First you eat. Then you rest. Explanations can wait, but you child, you look exhausted. I think maybe your husband has not been taking good care of you.” Aunt Sarai gave Kaeden a scolding glance.

  “It’s not that. He wasn’t here,” Astaria immediately felt the need to defend him.

  “He allowed you to come into such a situation alone? No? Well we can discuss all this tomorrow. I know you must be exhausted. Obviously you’ve been through an ordeal. Astaria you remember where the washroom is. You and Kaeden go wash up and I’ll warm up some food for you,” Sarai said.

  Astaria led Kaeden up the stairs and down the long narrow hall to the second floor lavatory. She had always loved this house with its white plaster walls and high dark-beamed ceilings. Every room, even the halls had ceiling fans to circulate the air, a lifesaver in the desert climate. Sarai had a love for color and the floors were all adorned with amazing local floor tiles in bright blues and yellow. So cool and refreshing after a long hot day. Being that she hadn’t been to the house since she was a child she was surprised she remembered it as well as she did.

  She turned to ask Kaeden if he needed to use the toilet, only to find herself suddenly wrapped in his strong embrace. Though she was surprised by the gesture, it didn’t come at all amiss. She’d spent the past couple of months frightened out of her mind and convinced she’d never make it out of Laritrea alive. Though she could barely admit it to herself she had missed him terribly. Given the fierceness of his grip, he had felt much the same. He was murmuring something against side of her neck and it took a moment for her to understand.

  “I was so goddamned scared. I can’t believe I got you back. Don’t ever do this shit to me again,” he said in English. They’d been speaking Arabic since arriving at the Hamadi home.

  She looked up at him with a gasp. “Well, I like that. It’s not like I got into this situation on purpose.”

  “I didn’t say you did. I said don’t do it again.”

  “It’s what I do, in case you’ve forgotten. It’s what you do too—”

  “Astaria. Shut up. I’m going to kiss you until we both run out of air. I’m going to come up for air, then I’m going to kiss you again. Do you have a problem with that?”

  Apparently he took her look of astonishment for consent because he lowered his mouth to her and suddenly she wasn’t capable of thought or even breathing. Fortunately neither was necessary at least for the moment. His lips were firm and dry against hers and when he whispered, “Let me in, baby,” her knees almost buckled.

  He slid his tongue against the seam of her lips until she granted his demand then his tongue tangled with hers again and again in a delicious motion of sensuality she felt it in every cell of her body. Inhaling the rich masculine scent of his skin, Astaria could feel her breasts swell and her nipples harden in response to her arousal. As promised he did pause to catch his breath, but his mouth descended on hers once again, this time with even greater urgency. He pressed his hips against hers and she could feel his erection hard and questing through their clothes. She was a virgin, but she was no innocent she knew exactly what her body wanted. Just when she thought he would give it to her right there he raised his head. Resting his forehead against hers he whispered.

  “Ya Allah I missed you.”

  “I missed you, too.”

  “Don’t do that shit again.”

  “Crudities are hardly necessary,” she said pursing her lips in disapproval. When he didn’t respond she continued, “Assuming we get out of here alive I promise I will never do this shit again.”

  Before long they were seated at the table having a late evening meal. Astaria felt a rush of homesickness when she saw the lamb tagine and the fresh from the oven pita bread. Lamb with carrots and olives was her favorite dish; it was the centerpiece of every birthday celebration as far back as she could remember. The familiar scent of caraway, lemon, harissa and parsley was irresistible, literally making her mouth water as she realized just how hungry she was. She’d had nothing to eat since noon, nearly eight hours before.

  She began to eat, and it was all she could do not to shovel the delicious food in her mouth. She glanced over at Kaeden who was attacking his food with similar ferocity; not even bothering with niceties, he scooped up the last bit of his casserole with a piece of pita bread. When he realized she was watching, he grinned and gave her a slow wink. Sarai and Dawood, having eaten earlier, simply watched while drinking some fruit juice as she and Kaeden finished off the
food before Dawood spoke.

  “I am so sorry for what happened to Faisal. It is just tragic that a man like Al Hakam, -- an art thief, a common criminal, a man without conscience -- has been given so much power,” Dawood said.

  Astaria stared at him in surprise.

  “You think I wouldn’t know? That your father would not share this information with a simple shopkeeper?” Dawood asked.

  Astaria sighed. She’d forgotten Dawood’s sensitivity about his lack of education. Even so, he was anything but a simple shopkeeper. Her father had always said Dawood was the most intelligent and crafty man he knew and Faisal Ibrahim was a man who greatly admired both traits. With or without book knowledge, Dawood was a survivor as evidenced by his continued survival when her parents hadn’t made it. They had loved him and Sarai deeply but he had always been touchy about her father’s advanced degrees and higher status. “No, I knew you and Babba were close. But antiquities theft was a university matter and I didn’t know whether he would’ve shared that information with anyone. He chose not to prosecute Al Hakam, a decision he came to regret.”

  Dawood sighed. “Your father was always a man of great compassion. He told me most of the stolen antiquities were recovered, and most importantly the pipeline had been cut off, he saw no benefit in imprisoning the man. We were brothers. Not of the blood, but of the heart. And your beloved mother. I couldn’t have loved her more if she were my own Sarai.”

  Astaria closed her eyes as the pain of her loss seared through her with the viciousness of a new wound. Kaeden took her hand in his. Any greater display of affection would be inappropriate in front of their elders.

  “Dawood. You speak of this now. The child is still grieving,” Sarai said, taking Astaria’s other hand.

  “No. No. Amati. I mean, yes, it hurts. The pain is intense, but I love hearing about them,” Astaria said.

  Dawood nodded. “It is good to speak of those who’ve left us because then they are forever with us. Faisal, he didn’t tell me the details until Al Hakam had risen to power. He was concerned about the vendetta he was sure the man would wage.”

  “If he was so worried why didn’t he leave?” Kaeden asked.

  “I think we were both complacent. Farah was ill. I think she did not wish to die in a foreign land. But mostly we grew complacent. We’ve been through bad times before. The Civil War.” Dawood shook his head sadly. “The war nearly destroyed this country. Indeed I think it did destroy it, we were just too stupid to realize we were holding onto a corpse. Even so, I don’t think either of us predicted the depth of depravity IJIWO would display. It is almost inconceivable that such evil could exist.”

  “We will not be here for long. We just need to make contact with a ship,” Kaeden said.

  Sarai shook her head. “No. We are under quarantine here.”

  “Quarantine? There’s been an outbreak?” Kaeden asked.

  Astaria frowned. How much more could go wrong? All they needed now was a disease outbreak. Of course, she should’ve considered it. War and disease went together in a vicious pas de deux of death and destruction that was as old as mankind.

  Dawood pursed his lips as though he wanted to spit but was too polite to do so. “That’s what they’re calling it. No one is allowed out of the city. No ships. No airplanes.”

  “But we drove in. Can we return to Amaru?” Astaria asked.

  “People are allowed in, at least automobiles are, but no one is allowed out,” Sarai said.

  “For how long? This is insane. No one can keep a city this size under lockdown for any length of time,” Astaria said.

  Dawood shrugged. “Who knows? Everyone seems to have run mad. IJIWO is advancing as is the LOV. The fighting around Amaru is moving in the LOVs favor, at least that’s what we’ve heard. A siege on Laria seems inevitable, but instead of preparing for it, there is nothing but chaos. We have two governments, and neither seems capable of running anything. Indeed, both seem to have taken leave of their senses. You need a pass to exit the city, but everyone is afraid to issue them. And if you find someone willing to issue a pass, some minister from another government might well cancel it. Madness. Utter madness.”

  “But what will we do?” Astaria asked.

  “I have some friends in the regime government I can approach...” Dawood began.

  “No, Ami,” Kaeden said automatically slipping into the honorific “uncle” as Astaria had, though, like her, he was not related to either of the Hamadis. “That would draw unnecessary attention and frankly, I’m not sure our documents are up to that level of scrutiny. This quarantine cannot last very long. Let’s wait it out, if necessary we can go to the American consulate.”

  “They closed the embassy three days ago. An American air campaign is expected at any time,” Sarai said, her large expressive brown eyes conveying a magnitude of sorrow.

  “American air campaign?” Astaria gasped giving Kaeden a sharp look.

  He shook his head. “I think that’s just a rumor. After all, who would they bomb? Right now there’s the Regime Government, the Revolutionary Government, the LOV, IJIWO and who knows how many other rebel groups out there. Did I miss any?” he asked, looking at Dawood.

  “No. That sums up the situation nicely. Even so, I also have connections through less official channels. Though those may prove more difficult,” Dawood said.

  “No Ami. We don’t want to get you involved any more deeply if possible. Kaeden do you think we should leave? We’re bringing more danger.”

  Kaeden pursed his lips as he considered what she’d said. “I don’t think so. I think we did a decent job covering our tracks. If we come up with a good cover story—a visiting relative. That’s not unreasonable. We should be able to stay a week or two with no trouble,” he said.

  “Do you have someplace here where we could hide until the quarantine is lifted?” Astaria asked.

  “Hide? Why should you hide, daughter of my dearest friend?” Dawood shook his head fiercely. “No we realized this during the Civil War: hiding is the best way to be discovered. With the wars going on there are displaced persons everywhere. No one is going to question a couple more.”

  “He does have a point Astaria. Sometimes it is better to hide in plain sight. I will speak as little as possible to hide my accent,” Kaeden said. “Though my Laritrean is improving rapidly.”

  “Actually, it’s not that you have an accent. It’s the lack of one that sometimes gives you away,” Astaria said. “But really, your Laritrean is excellent. Better than your French anyway,” she said with a smirk. “Besides, this is a port city; people are accustomed to hearing many different dialects.”

  “Yes, you can be my dear nephew, coming to me for assistance in these trying times. You can even work in my shop. Do you have knowledge of electronics? That’s what I do, sell and repair small electronics.” Astaria didn’t ask why Kaeden would be the relative instead of her; the answer was obvious. Her blackness might make some question the relationship. Her father was Arab while her mother’s family was originally from Kenya. She looked distinctly more Kenyan, though she’d never lived there. Her mother had been born in Laritrea as well. Though unlikely to be a concern in such a cosmopolitan city, it made more sense to keep any questions to a minimum.

  “I’m a bit of a tinkerer...” Kaeden said as color rose on his cheeks.

  “Kaeden’s being modest. He’s really good with electronics and can repair pretty much anything. I’ve often thought he was much like you in that way, Ami,” Astaria said with a smile in Kaeden’s direction. She knew he was uncomfortable with the knowledge that he’d gained much of his electronics ability from dismantling IEDs in Iraq. She was fairly certain her father hadn’t told the Hamadis that her husband was an American Marine, even so, his knowledge would help with their cover now. “Uncle, do you really think this quarantine will last a long time?”

  “Who knows? Though I doubt more than a few weeks. Your father left some money and some papers with me. I haven’t examined them too cl
osely, but it is clear that he’d planned to use them to escape if necessary. I think he just misjudged how rapidly things would disintegrate.”

  “Poor Babba. Though it’s a relief to have some money, I don’t suppose the papers will do us any good.”

  “That is true, my daughter. It is dangerous in these times to even have identity papers signed by the wrong government official. People are not just losing their ministerial positions, they’re losing their heads. And you could be arrested or worse if someone who is now discredited signed your papers,” Sarai said.

  Astaria didn’t even address the insanity of blaming a person for having papers signed by the wrong official. After all, who knew one bureaucrat from another, or generally had any idea who their papers were signed by? “Is the money in duvoes?” The Laritrean currency was practically worthless.

  “No. No. Your father was far too clever for that. It’s in American dollars mostly. With some Euros. Using it might draw unwanted attention, though,” Dawood said.

  Kaeden nodded. “I understand, but the people we would be dealing with would probably be in the black market and the underworld, and such things are a part of doing business.”

  “Of course,” Dawood said. “I myself don’t like dealing with such men. But in current circumstances…”

  “Husband, husband. Here we sit at table and our guests must be exhausted. Poor Astaria is practically asleep in her chair, and Kaeden is not much better. We can talk more tomorrow or even the next day. Somehow I do not believe this quarantine will be lifted anytime soon. Anyway, you come upstairs with me. Our home is small, but you will have your own private toilet as our daughter married last year and is now in Paris with her husband,” Sarai rose to her feet, drawing Astaria up with her.