Maltese Steel

by Stuart Field

  Steel returned to his room with a bottle of champagne and a couple of bottles of water. As he tucked the water into the fridge. Steel smiled as he heard the screech of tires and the slamming of the doors.

  ‘This is going to be a long night,’ he said. Steel went into the bathroom and took out the coloured HUD contact lenses. The last thing he needed was for Samara to see how his eyes really looked. Carefully, he slipped them in but did not activate them using the cell phone or watch. For now, they were just ordinary, blue contact lenses.

  Suspecting that she was going to be angry or worried about something when she got there. Steel hadn’t made a reservation for her, simply because he did not expect her to come over. Steel thought about going downstairs to see if there were any rooms available. But a knock on his door stopped him.

  Steel opened the door and found Samara and Kane stood there. Both looked equally unhappy. Samara seemed pissed about whatever she had discovered, and Steel figured Kane hadn’t eaten yet.

  ‘Oh, this is going to be a very long night,’ Steel said, as Samara barged into the room. Steel just stood there and looked at Kane waiting in the hallway.

  ‘Evening,’ Steel said to Kane.

  ‘Evening,’ Kane said, an awkward tone in his voice.

  ‘The restaurant across the road, I’ve…’ Steel looked over at Samara and smiled. ‘… got a tab,’ Steel said.

  Kane did not reply, he did not need any more information. He was halfway down the stairs by the time Steel had closed his door.

  ‘You really should pack a lunch for him, or have treats in the car,’ Steel smiled as he walked over to the small fridge.‘Drink?’ Steel picked out the bottle of champagne. Samara smiled and grabbed for water.

  ‘So,’ Steel said. ‘How bad is it?’

  ‘Not sure, but it could be very bad.’

  Steel nodded silently as he closed the door. He sat on the bed, and she followed. Samara looked into the blue contact lensed eyes. They were warm and welcoming.

  ‘What did the coroner say?’ Samara asked as she took a sip from the water.

  ‘He doesn’t think it was an accident, but he’s not going to hang his career on it.’

  ‘What now?’ Samara asked. She was beginning to calm down, relax.

  ‘I’m off to Azure Window tomorrow, check out where they found Lucy, I need to see it first-hand. Photographs are no good. I need to get a feel for the place,’ Steel said. ‘And you?’

  ‘I have – a problem to find, make sure that it isn’t one,’ Samara answered, her words drawn out as if she was unsure about something.

  ‘Well, that’s cryptic,’ he said. Samara looked up at Steel and smiled softly.

  ‘No more than half the shit you spill to me.’ Steel shrugged.

  ‘I better see about getting you a room,’ Steel said, as he went to stand up. She touched his hand and gazed into his eyes.

  ‘Maybe later, maybe, not at all,’ Samara grabbed Steel’s shirt and pulled him down as she leant back onto the bed. Their lips met. Steel kissed her hard, she kissed him back. Her hands pushed off his shirt and clawed into his back with her fingers. Steel’s had one hand nestled on the back of her head while the other fought with tiny buttons of her blouse. As he undid the last one, he pushed the cloth to the side, revealing her breasts and the black lace bra. Samara pulled Steel close, biting his neck and earlobes. Steel eased her onto her back and watched as she took off her trousers and underwear, just as he took off the rest of his clothes. Samara smiled at the sight of his tight muscular frame, even his scars. She lay there naked, her tanned skin glistened with sweat, she was beautiful with her athletic form and welcoming eyes. Steel eased himself down on top of her, but she pushed him onto his back and straddled him. Samara ground her hips into his, her tight butt rubbed against his upper thighs. She leant back and placed her hands on his legs for support as her movements became more intense. Steel reached up and took her breasts in his hands. She was warm and soft and in control.

  Steel had no idea why she was really here, she could have just phoned, but he was just glad she came.

  Samara ground herself against him, ridding him like a rodeo horse. She leant forwards, her hands grabbing his shoulders. Steel pushed upwards with his hips. Suddenly, they both cried out with release and collapsed side by side, panting. Steel looked over at Samara, she had her eyes closed, her breathing heavy, but she wore a smile. Steel laid back onto the bed, the sound of paper under his back. He had forgotten to clear the bed, but he did not care. He’d worry about it later. For now, he was in bed with an amazing woman.

  The rest could wait.

  Chapter Sixty

  Foster had worked late. For him, there wasn’t much reason to rush home. Lucy was gone, and Martha and Kim were back in the States, and he had nothing but microwave meals in the freezer and cold beers in the fridge to look forward too. And after Steel had explained what had happened to him and Samara, Foster was even less willing to venture home. Foster had phoned with a locksmith and general handyman he knew to go to the house and make it secure. The last thing Foster needed right now was more uninvited guests.

  The night shift had come on hours ago, and he had remained. Foster had tried phoning Edward Bryce, but it went straight to voicemail. The guy lived alone and was probably resting.

  But Foster had a bad feeling.

  It was another hour before Foster decided to head home. He considered stopping off at Bryce’s place. A quick detour to make sure the guy was OK. Foster looked down at his watch; nearly eleven. Foster shook off the idea but made a mental note to go around before work the next morning.

  Foster walked along the long stretch of corridor. The light from the fluorescent tubes above and the sterile paintwork made everything bright and clinical. It was like being in a hospital or a laboratory.

  Foster started his routine of bidding everyone a good night. Which consisted of a friendly wave as he wondered passed the partition windows of each section.

  Most did not respond, they were too busy or just did not care.

  Foster stopped at the elevator and pressed the call button. The round button glowed white, and Foster waited. There was no display to show the floor. The designers probably did not think it necessary. After all, who the hell wanted to be reminded about how far deep in the earth you were?

  Foster started to hum to himself; a little tune he had heard earlier but did not know where – or what it was.

  He stepped alone into the steel box and watched the door close. It wasn’t an unpleasant place to be, there were red marble tiles on the floor, and the side was half wood, and the top was a brass metal polished so much it was like a mirror. Foster did not mind being alone, in fact, at that moment, he preferred it. He wasn’t in the mood for polite conversation.

  Foster sighed as he looked at his reflection in the metal. He looked tired and worn down. He wondered how Steel was getting on.

  Foster leant against the cold metal, and his mind drifted. He started to remember times with Lucy. He remembered their last words together, there had been an argument over something trivial. Her last words had been unkind. ‘I hate you,’ she had said before, slamming down the phone. A tear ran down Foster’s cheek.

  Foster took out his cell phone. He hadn’t checked his voice messages for a while.

  He had been too busy. The truth was he was beginning to think that he was always ‘too busy.’ He had become too busy for his family.

  He wondered when he had become that person. Before, his family always came first, and now – he had no idea. Sure, he was still the loving husband and father, but not like before.

  He missed the old him.

  Maybe when this was all over, he would ask for a transfer.

  He looked at the display and saw there was a voice mail from Lucy. Received the day she had died. How had he missed it? But then it had been lost in a sea of other voice messages, mostly from other people or the States. Foster would average twenty messages a day, from various people. Most of the t
ime it was like spam mail on his computer.

  As he looked at the caller id and the date, a shiver ran down his spine.

  Foster started to hammer at the main lobby button, like hitting it would make the elevator work faster. As the buttons began to light up showing the floors, his feet began to dance with agitation. Mumbling to himself that the thing should move more swiftly. The doors slid open, and Foster rushed for the door, knowing there was no chance of a cell reception within the building duet to the signal dampeners.

  Foster ran to the pool house, which was near the Blockhouse entrance building and paused. His finger poised over the play button. Almost frightened to hear the recording. What if her actual last words were even more hurtful, they would be stored forever for him to listen to? But what if she phoned to make up, to arrange time together, the time he would never spend with her?

  Foster tapped the cell phone against his head and cried. He gazed back at the phone and swallowed hard.

  Then with a shaking index finger pressed the button.

  There was a clicking sound then a faint background noise.

  He swallowed again, his mouth was dry.

  ‘Hi Daddy, it’s me…I’m sorry…’ Lucy’s voice was sad but not distressed. A simple, heartfelt apology.

  Dropping to his knees, Foster screamed in anguish. Embassy staff and Marines looked on, but no one interfered. They had heard of his loss, and they left the man to greave.

  Foster picked himself up and wiped away the tears. He smiled gently. Relieved that the message Lucy had sent was something he could treasure.

  Foster looked at his watch and wondered how Steel was getting on in his investigation.

  Had he found anything?

  Foster smiled to himself. If Steel were anything like he used to be, he’d probably be sat somewhere sipping champagne with some woman he’d just met in a bar. He never judged Steel for it. Foster understood. In fact, he was one of the few people who knew everything from Steel’s past, and not just the stuff that could be found on the internet. How a team of invaders had butchered his family during a welcome home party. How his wife had died while he held her. He understood why Steel never committed to a relationship after that. If you’re alone, nobody can use someone you love against you. Foster remembered Steel’s words clearly. At the time he pitied Steel and his choice to remain alone.

  But now.

  Now – he really understood.

  Foster stood for a moment. Taking a cigarette from the packet with his teeth and using his Zippo lighter to ignite the tobacco.

  It was quiet, less for the usual sound of nearby traffic. It was for a better word – tranquil.

  The usual guards stood watch of the inside while another two made their patrol of the perimeter. Foster sucked in the fresh warm air. Foster looked at his watch again. It was getting late, and the pizza restaurant would be closing soon. Foster could almost taste the fresh salami and melted cheese as he walked to his car. A quiet night with the Baseball games he had missed on one of the internet sports channels, and a large pizza was all he had on his mind.

  Foster clicked the button on his electronic key fob to open his car. Suddenly, a blinding flash, followed by a powerful blast wave that knocked Foster and the nearby soldiers from their feet. The ground heaved, car alarms wailed. Windows smashed, nearby cars began to burn. Foster had been thrown through the air and landed on the hood and windshield of a vehicle seven feet from where he’d stood. His bleeding body, still and lifeless. The guards scrambled off the ground and ran back to the cover of the embassy. They kept low as red hot shrapnel flew in indiscriminate directions. They all watched from the safe distance as the red and orange flames billowed from the wreck that was once Foster’s Range Rover.

  Alarms whirred, and soldiers ran to their posts. Armed with M4 assault rifles and wearing body armour. A squad of soldiers rushed to Foster in single file. Each man covering left, right and forward arcs. The soldier at the back of the column, turning to cover the rear every five steps.

  They moved fluidly, each man knowing where he or she should be covering, each soldier with a designated arc of fire.

  First man front.

  Second man-front-left.

  Third man-front-right.

  It was a well oiled and professional team. There was no sound – no verbal orders. When there were commands, they were given by hand signal.

  Smooth and professional.

  The gates where shut and locked. Emergency lights came on lighting up the grounds like a football stadium. Soldiers poured out with sniffer dogs, each one having their own designated areas.

  The embassy on lockdown.

  Nothing in, nothing out.

  The sound of Blackhawk helicopters circled overhead. Two circled the perimeter using night vision and thermal. A third hovered just off from the scene, close enough, so it’s powerful floodlight illuminating the area. Still, far enough away, so the downdraft did not affect the scene of the explosion. Medics from the embassy’s infirmary raced towards Foster carrying medical bags, and two others pushed a gurney.

  Flashes of blue, lit up the area from light bars, and the glow of orange covered reflected off surfaces. The monstrous plume of heat and smoke radiated from the remnants of Foster’s car.

  From a window, a figure watched.

  The figure’s features were hidden by the reflection of the carnage below. There was an electric buzz from a cell phone. The watcher took a device from an inside pocket and answered the call.

  ‘Everything is in place – now it’s your turn.’ The voice of the Master. The voice of anger and impatience.

  ‘You’ll get everything you have ever wanted,’ said the figure before closing down the cell and placing it back in the pocket.

  The figure stood and watched.

  Not moving, just observing.

  The beam of the helicopter searchlight lit up the side of the building as it moved position. Suddenly the corridors were illuminated – and the figure was gone.

  The Master placed his cell phone down on the desk and stood up. Twelve men stood before him, each dressed in USAF flight uniforms.

  ‘Soon, my brothers, we will strike fear into the hearts of our enemies. Soon everyone will know our name and tremble.’ The Master said. ‘After so much planning, the day was almost upon us. Tomorrow we head for the transport – and our destiny.’ The men burst into a roar of chants and yells of jubilation. The Master smiled at the sight of his flock.

  A nod to his aide and the man ushered the others to leave. The noise of their war cries dulled as they left the room.

  ‘It seems all is going well, Master,’ the aide said, pouring a cup of green tea for his lord.

  ‘Yes. Soon we shall have our revenge and our greatest hour,’ the Master’s tone was soft as he picked up the photograph of his family. ‘Soon, they will weep for their lost ones.’

  The aide laid the glass cup down on the table and waited. The Master picked up the cup and took a small sip from the hot beverage.

  ‘You may go, take time for yourself. I wish to be alone with my thoughts tonight,’ the Master said.

  The aide bowed and left the dimly lit room going directly to his small room where he locked his door. Breathing out a heavy sigh of relief, he walked to a small dresser and pulled out one of the top smaller drawers, and carried it to his bed. Quickly he turned it upside down. Socks and underwear fell out onto the thin mattress. On the underside was a cell phone taped to the wood. The aide pulled the device from its hiding spot and turned it on. He waited until it had booted up then pressed a number on the contacts list.

  He waited while it rang.

  After a few moments, a voice answered with a simple ‘Yes.’

  The aide waited for a moment. His nerves shot to pieces. ‘They’re all ready to go here. Tango is due to leave location tomorrow. Estimated time of departure to be confirmed.’ The aide ended the call and taped the cell back to the wood. He packed his clothes away, then placed the drawer back.


  The aide was sweating hard. He did not know what was making him sweat more. The warmth of the tiny room, or the fact if someone heard his transmission, he was as good as dead.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  Steel woke early. Too early even for the usual chorus of bird song. Not that he had really slept. The sky was a dark purple with a blanket of stars. Steel looked up at the enormous full moon, and a shiver ran down his spine. The moon had been a bright white the night before; now, it was a dark orange. So dark, it was almost blood red.

  Steel thought back to his old nanny, who had been from Scandinavia. A tall blonde woman with broad shoulders and hands like a lumberjack. Despite the fact she had been in her fifties when she was his caregiver, she was still a handsome woman. She had shown Steel pictures of when she was younger. By all accounts, she could have been a model by today’s standards. But she lived on a farm and had to work with the rest of the family. She would often tell him the tales of Beowulf, Thor, Draugen and many other stories. He remembered her looking up at the blood moons and whisper something to herself, almost as if it was a secret prayer. She had told him once that legends said whenever there was a blood moon, blood had been spilt that night. Steel smiled and shook off the superstition.

  Steel decided not to shower, he would do that later when Samara was awake. For now, he needed fresh air. Her surprise visit had taken up most of the night, so he hadn’t had time to read through the files and notes properly.

  He figured, taking a quick walk around the block before breakfast would give him the quiet to think. He also needed coffee, but that wasn’t going to happen. He doubted that anywhere was open to serve it.

  Steel headed for the door, pulling on his jacket as he went, looking over at Samara who had taken over the bed. It was a mass of arms, legs, and bedcovers. Steel smiled at the sight of her. She had woken in the night and put on one of his shirts that were long enough to act as a nightshirt. They had talked for a while. Steel had told her what he had found at the morgue and about Foster. Samara told Steel that while she was doing the personnel check, she had come across someone who used to work for Mossad until he left under a cloud.