by Stuart Field
‘You know, I had it all under control,’ Samara said.
‘Really, ‘anyone else wants some?’ is having it under control, is it?’ Steel replied, their arguing voices fading as they hurried down the corridor.
‘Are we there yet?’ yelled Kane in a drunken voice, just before the sound of a door closing led to silence.
Chapter Forty-Five
An easterly breeze cooled the heat of the morning sun. Plans had been made ready, and assignments are given out, Aamir and his men were prepared. After nearly a year of planning, they had finally come to the day of judgment. The other team in Tunisia were on standby. Soon they would rain holy fire on their enemies, and it would be glorious.
Aamir sat and conversed with the Master over the phone, giving updates on their situation. In two days, everyone would know their name and tremble. Aamir had known they were not coming back, that was inevitable. He and his men were ready to die for the cause, and it was good. The Master had given them a holy task, and none questioned it, in fact, many had volunteered to carry it out.
Aamir looked closed down his cell phone, the Master had hung up after praising his men for their achievements and giving thanks to God. The Master was happy, and that was enough for Aamir.
He stood up and walked to the map that hung on the wall. Red pins marked points on Gozo and Malta. He smiled and nodded to himself. Everything was as the Master had predicted. Soon he and his men would be going into glorious battle.
Taking out his cell phone, Aamir pressed for speed-dial and waited. He heard the electronic ring and began to pace. Why wasn’t Falcon picking up? Aamir stopped walking and waited. The phone still rang.
Something was wrong. Aamir closed down the phone and began to tap the concrete floor with his foot out of frustration.
He had told all his men to have their phones with them at all times and pick up straight away. Aamir did not need problems, not at this point. He did not have time to go to Malta to find out that the idiot was busy with some hooker, or dead.
Aamir growled and tried the number again. It rang and rang and rang.
No answer.
They were not there.
Aamir yelled in anger and tossed a coffee mug from the table next to him. Brown liquid followed the cup like the tail of a comet. The ceramic mug smashed against the wall, shattering into a thousand pieces and scattered across the floor. A hugely built guy rushed in. Concerned at the sound of Aamir’s yelling and the sound of smashing.
‘Go to Malta, find Falcon,’ Aamir said, breathing heavily. The look of anger covered his face. The large man bowed slightly at the waist with his right hand over his heart, before backing away.
Aamir looked at his cell phone once more, pondering whether to dial again. Falcon had always been a hothead, not like the others. But the Master liked him for some reason and insisted Aamir use him.
Aamir had sent Flacon to Malta, away from everyone else – away from him. Falcon was a liability. Aamir hoped someone had killed Falcon. It would save him the bother of doing it himself later.
Aamir walked over to the small bed in the corner and sat on the oversized mattress. As he lay back. A woman’s arms and legs wrapped around him like a sea creature, pulling him close.
He closed his eyes and exhaled as a dark-haired beauty unbuttoned his shirt and lightly clawed his chest, her perfect white teeth biting at his neck.
She moved around until her naked body was on top of him. She purred like a kitten as she straddled and hardened him, took him to heaven.
Chapter Forty-Six
It was business as usual at the US Embassy. Information was passed back and forth through secured nets to Langley via the London office. Even though it was a few days until the new software was going online, there was a buzz of anticipation in the air. This unique program would change everything ‒ if it worked, of course. The contractors' production team had run test after test, and each one passed with flying colours. However, that was in a lab. Director Sloan wasn’t sure this new wonder program would work, no matter how many test results and reports they had given.
People lied, test results could be falsified.
And that was enough for him to know.
It was a billion-dollar contract that had plenty of contractors fighting for that place. But SteinTech Industries were the who secured it; possibly due to a backhander somewhere. But Sloan did not care about that; He would not let the infidels kill good American citizens. If it worked great, if not the systems would be down for hours while they rebooted, and that was a window when all manner of shit could hit the fan. He preferred the old system, it worked, sure it wasn’t a hundred per cent, but it worked.
Sloan was nervous, but he did not know why. He put it down to anticipation and nerves; the kind of sick feeling of waiting for test results. Sloan took a Robusto cigar from his inside jacket pocket and used his cutter to snip off the end. Sloan placed the thirty dollar cigar under his nose and inhaled the scent from the leaves. Sloan smiled wickedly and shoved an unlit cigar into his mouth and chewed on the end as if it were alight. It wasn’t the same, but he knew the rules about smoking in the blockhouse; after all, he’d made the damn law.
Sloan contemplated jumping in the elevator and heading outside to manage his craving. Instead, he settled for a dry smoke. Sloan sat forwards and leaned his elbows on the desk. Sloan needed something to do before the wait drove him crazy. He looked at his watch; it was only eleven, another hour then lunch. Sloan grumbled to himself and picked up one of the holiday brochures his wife had conveniently stuck in his briefcase. He smiled as he flicked through the many options, especially the ones his wife had drawn a star next to. Subtle she was not, but that’s what he loved about her, she was straight down the line.
‘Jeez, woman, could you pick anything more expensive?’ Sloan laughed as he noticed one hotel in Hawaii she had earmarked. ‘I could buy a friggin new car for that,’ he grumbled, tossing the brochure in the waste bin next to his desk. It was true, he did need a holiday, but if this program went south, on the rest of his life would one big holiday ‒ without the fun.
It hadn’t been his decision, but it sure as hell was his ass and his career. People in the right places had made damned sure the buck stayed with him. It was undoubtedly a kick in the balls if it failed, but if it went well if all systems functioned, he would get a pat on the back, and they would get the praise and the pay rise for a job well done.
Friggin politicians and bureaucrats.
Sloan lost his fight with the unsmoked cigar and stormed off to the elevator. He needed fresh air, the sun on his face and the smoke of the thirty dollar cigar on his breath.
Besides, there was nothing Sloan could do, in fact, sometimes Sloan thought he was just a figurehead for when the shit hit the fan. True, it opened many doors to those important dinners and garden parties, but he missed the States. Sloan had done an excellent job getting the blockhouse up and running, he picked a good crew to make it work. He knew that he’d done an excellent job and continued to do so. ‘If a manager can sit back and do nothing, that means he’s already done a good job,’ Sloan’s dad used to tell him, and he was right of course. A well-oiled machine takes care of itself. Sloan smiled to himself as he stepped into the elevator, the cigar still stuck in his mouth.
As the elevator reached the ground floor, the doors opened, and Sloan stepped out with a broad smile in anticipation for that first breath of hand-rolled tobacco. The sun was high in a light blue backdrop. Sloan leaned against the wall next to a wall-mounted ashtray and lit up the fat cigar. The first draw was like heaven, a smooth taste with a hint of burnt cocoa.
Typically, his cell phone started to vibrate, Sloan took it out and checked the message. He had at least six missed calls, all from the same number. Sloan smiled and placed the phone back into his pocket; he would deal with it later, for now, he was enjoying his moment.
Chapter Forty-Seven
It was late afternoon by the time Steel and Samara had gotten back to
his hotel suite. Steel had insisted that she came with him back to the hotel, arguing that it was safer for her than her apartment.
Steel said he would order room service, he had other business to attend to, so she should get cleaned up, then he’d showed her to the bathroom. The only time she’d seen anything approaching this size before, it was a communal shower. Samara stood under the cascade of water, letting the water wash the filth and grime away. She winced as the droplets of water fell against her wounds.
But even though they hurt at first, Samara felt the pain ease as the muscles relaxed. Her body was full of bruises. Her face had only a couple of cuts, but her captors had mostly concentrated on hitting her upper torso. Apparently, they had other plans for her face and wanted it unspoilt.
Samara smiled as she combed her fingers through her hair. Thinking about the scene at Manoel Island, six men sprawled out in various rooms. She figured Steel hadn’t killed them but made sure that they were out of action for a long time. One guy was in what appeared to be a kitchen. He was slumped over a square wooden table. Another guy had his right leg broken, another his left arm.
She was slightly disappointed she hadn’t seen it, or better still, participated. But Samara was grateful and surprised that Steel had come for her.
She remembered the reports on Steel from Mossad. They had made him out to be a ghost –wrath. But after seeing him first-hand, he was so much more – definitely a force to be reconned with.
Steel sat on the terrace and drank his fourth coffee of the day, the sound of seagulls playing in the bright blue sky. He still wore the clothes from earlier; allowing Samara to shower first. He had no idea what they had done to her, nor did he ask. All he knew was that she had broken free and paid one of them back for her mistreatment, it was a testament to her training and skill.
Steel looked at his watch; it was late, and he had things to do. Sleeping was a luxury he could not afford, but Samara could do with a rest after her ordeal. He remembered the second of his old sergeant’s orders, sleep when you can, you never know when you’ll be able to next.
Always excellent advise, Serge, he thought.
A noise made Steel turn. It was Samara, she was out of the shower and heading for the second bedroom he’d said she could use. Even in a bathrobe and a towel wrapped on her head, she looked good. She stopped and looked over at Steel.
He smiled, and she smiled back. The air was warm, but there was an uncomfortable tension. She stood rubbing the towel into her wet hair. Her eyes were large and welcoming, her skin glistened with dampness.
Steel walked over to her slowly. She looked up at him. She looked amazing, he looked like shit. Steel had put his contact lenses in, feeling she would need to look him in the eye rather than the sunglasses. Something he had learnt over the years. But he had to agree there were times for the glasses and then there were times, like this, where it would be – inappropriate.
Samara looked deeply into his eyes. Her big brown eyes were full of emotion and sensual – intelligent.
A smile cracked from the side of Steel’s mouth, he could feel the electricity between them, the attraction.
In the silence, her breathing became heavier.
They drew closer, slowly. Samara allowed the towel to drop from her hand as she inched forward.
Damn, she smells good, he thought. He could see that the bathrobe was slipping open naturally as she stepped towards him. Showing just enough naked flesh. They were inches away from each other. But neither rushed, savouring the anticipation of the moment. Thriving off the thrill, like a kiss about to happen, lips that are close, but not touching.
‘You dropped your towel,’ he said softly.
‘Did I?’ she said.
‘You’ll catch a cold,’ he said.
‘I better do something to warm up then,’ she said, closing the gap slightly.
‘I hear that the Eskimo people have a good idea how to keep warm,’ he said. Their eyes locked together, unblinking.
‘So I’ve heard,’ she replied, her voice was soft.’body contact isn’t it, recommended for in extreme cases?’ she said.
‘Absolutely,’ Steel said, pulling her to him. Her body warm and hard. Steel ran his fingers gently across her skin which was as soft as silk. He wound his arms around her, and she did the same. Steel leant down and kissed her softly on the lips. She kissed him back hard.
‘Shit,’ she screamed, holding her mouth, pushing slightly away.
Steel stood confused for a second. Then he noticed the wound on her lip had opened up and was bleeding again. They had kissed too hard too soon.
‘Typical,’ she said, looking around then grabbing the towel and holding on her lip.
‘I’ll see if I have something with me,’ Steel said. And headed for his case. He pulled out what looked like a wash bag, but was actually a small first aid kit. He took out an antiseptic and brought it over to her.
‘This is gonna hurt,’ he said. Sammara nodded as if to give him permission to apply the fluid. Steel placed the antiseptic onto the cut using some toilet paper. Samara winced but managed to mouth a thank you as best as she could.
‘I’m off for a shower, give you time to rest after today,’ Steel said.
Samara smiled and nodded. The moment had passed, possibly for the best.
Steel headed into the bathroom and turned on the shower. While waiting for the water to reach the correct temperature, he stripped off his clothes and tossed his dusty garments to the side. Hoping that dry cleaning could do something, other than suggesting Steel should burn them.
Staring into the big mirror, Steel checked his frame for injuries. Apart from a couple of new scratches and bruises, he was in good shape. He stepped into the shower cabinet and let the water run over his body. The water was hot and felt like tiny ballbearings massaging his skin. It felt good. Steel stood there with his hands against the shower wall, letting the water wash over him. He thought he could stay there all day.
Steel’s thoughts went back to Lucy. Trying to work out why she was at the Azure Window so late the night she died, and what had Brad found? It was like having a jigsaw puzzle with no picture for reference and half the pieces missing. Whoever killed Brad was a professional, not like the assholes who had taken both Samara and himself. Those guys were as subtle as a using a cruise missile to open a pickle jar. The people responsible for Bran and possibly Lucy were different. They had been professional.
Steel used the hotel provided shower gel and lathered up his aching body. He knew dinner was on the way. But his thoughts weren’t on food, there was too much going on in his head. Then his thoughts went back to what had almost happened with Samara. Maybe it was the excitement of battle or just the emotion of seeing her alive. Despite his undeniable attraction to her, he had to remain focused.
That thought lasted about a minute.
Because as he turned around to get the shampoo, there stood Samara. Her firm naked frame was more than he had imagined. Her body was as perfect as if it had been sculpted by the Gods.
Samara stepped forwards and wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him towards her. They kissed gently. He pulled her close, let their hands move tenderly over each other. Exploring every curve. Steel cupped her small firm breast him his hand, while she bit on his earlobe. She pushed him back against the wall and eased her way down his body, kissing her way down. Samara licked and bit at his hard flesh as she moved to her knees. Her long short nailed fingers clawed at his chest as she went.
Steel bent down and scooped her up in his arms, and carried her to the bedroom. He laid her down on the cotton sheets, her wet skin glistened as the droplets of shower water shone like tiny diamonds from the light of the lamp. Samara lay on the soft cotton sheet, her perfect form and large brown eyes beckoned for him to come to her. Her fingers clawed at the bedsheet with wild passion; like a cat, while being stroked. She was everything that Steel had imagined, and more. Steel slid onto the bed next to her and pulled her close. He kissed her hard,
his hand on the back of her head while his other hand ran across her body, caressing her breasts and taught behind. He felt her hands on his back; the tips of her fingers following the curvature of his back. She pulled him onto her. He felt her warm breath on his skin, their bodies entangled in a mix of arms and legs. He felt her legs lock around him and hold him in place, as Steel moved slowly, his hips grinding against hers. Their bodies moved together. Hungry for one another.
Steel felt Samara’s body convulse, her muscles tightened. He followed her over the edge. Panting for breath, they collapsed exhausted but happy. They showered together, which was followed by more lovemaking, but they remained in the shower this time. By the time their meals had arrived, they had worked up an apatite. After dinner, they fell asleep satisfied, and for that moment, without a care in the world.
Chapter Forty-Eight
A call at five in the morning woke Steel from his recurring nightmare. Steel reached over to his bedside cabinet and answered the call.
‘Steel, where the hell are you?’ asked a panicked sounding Foster. Steel sat up and paused before answering. Trying to work out what he was going to say, tell Foster everything or just see what Foster had to say.
‘I’m in bed,’ Steel said.
‘How quickly can you get to the embassy?’ Foster asked.
‘Depends – what’s up?’ Steel answered with interest.
‘We….I’ve got a problem.’
Steel thought for a moment, was this for real or another trap? But then the original ambush was meant for Samara, not him. And as they had found out later, it hadn’t been Foster at the house, but the guy Steel had dragged out of the pool.
‘I’ll get there as soon as I can,’ Steel said getting out of bed and moving towards the bathroom. Samara woke and watched Steel through the open bedroom door as he crossed the carpeted floor, her gaze fixed on the scared muscular frame. She thought he looked more like a gymnast, with his taught frame. She smiled with satisfaction as he disappeared into the bathroom. But the smile faded as she looked over at his cell phone that he had left on his dresser.