by K. T. Tomb
Ethan left the dining room still shouting and the tall blond Norseman they had come to know as Hans stood and approached the professor. He righted the man’s chair and let him out of the ties. Then he put a gag in his mouth, a hood over his head and handcuffed his wrists behind his back. They watched as Hans and the Ukranian called Milos, lead Professor Cartwright from the apartment. Ethan watched them leave then he turned to the American, whom they knew as Jackson. There was an outburst and then Jackson went hurrying towards the door.
“They’re all on the move,” Chyna said to Anthony. “Is the tail in place?”
“He sure is. One car will stay to keep an eye on Doyle,” he replied.
Chyna nodded and swiped her code onto the screen of her phone. She opened the GPS app and started tracking the agent who was going to follow Doyle’s men and the professor. She pulled on the tactical vest that Anthony handed her, strapped her SIG to her shoulder and placed three extra clips in the vest pockets. Pulling on her leather jacket and a black baseball cap, she turned to her team.
“I want you guys to sit tight and get ready to move out fast if we have to,” she said swiftly.
“Aren’t you going to tell us what the plan is, Boss lady?” Lana asked.
With a quick glance in Fariha’s direction, Chyna replied, “Everything from here on in is on a need to know basis, Lana. I’ve been forced to involve Agent Stewart and the F.B.I. in this so we’re working under their rules now.”
Then to them all she said, “You all know what you’ve got to do, so just do it. Fariha, I need you to map those coordinates of the wreck, down to the square foot if you can. We haven’t got time to be out there guessing. Lana, I need you to call the guys at the salvage company in Cesme and change those plans. Make arrangements for just one person to have gear and a chopper to meet a ship. They don’t need to know anything more and tell them you’re calling from Reneseree. Give them Doyle’s number so they can call him to confirm the details. Oscar, keep your eyes on the monitor and your earpiece in, I’m going to need you to be my eyes in the sky. I’ll see you all onboard later. Please don’t forget my bags.”
With that Anthony, Chyna and the small team of agents left the brown house on ‘Embassy Row’ to follow Doyle’s henchmen and rescue Professor Cartwright.
They got to the warehouse in a rough part of Izmir’s industrial district just about five minutes after Hans did. From an adjacent street they watched as Hans and Milos took the professor, still handcuffed and hooded, out of a black car and in through a side door. Chyna could see F.B.I. snipers positioned above them on the surrounding rooftops. Anthony handed her a rifle which she carefully checked, loaded and put the safety on. She attached it to the strap on the right side of the tactical vest.
“Oscar, can you hear me?” she said into her wireless earpiece.
“Yes, boss,” he replied.
“I’m shutting down now. We’re about to storm the warehouse. Talk to you in a bit.”
Chyna took the ear piece out, then turned off the phone turned and placed them both inside her pocket, replacing it with the wired one Anthony had run up through her vest. Immediately, she heard his whispered instructions.
“Okay team, we’re going to do this fast and by the books,” he announced. “Snipers, keep your eyes open and your guns trained on all exits. Entry team, on my word you’ll break down that side door. Miss Stone and I will take point and everyone else follow closely behind. If we need to we will spread out but wait for my signal on that. Everybody clear?”
There was a general positive response which satisfied them both.
“Okay then! Entry team, Go!”
The four men ran up to the door and with one swing from the battering ram, the lock broke and the door fell open. They stepped aside and as Anthony yelled, “Go! Go! Go!”, the team fell in neatly behind him and they all went into the warehouse. It was an open room on the ground floor level and right in front of them was a startled Hans and Milos, who didn’t even have a chance to pull their weapons. Chyna looked about the room as the agents moved forward to secure the assailants and handcuff them. In a corner, she saw Professor Cartwright tied to a chair and beside him, similarly secured, were the six members of his student team. Breathing a sigh of relief, Chyna went to help untie them.
When he was free of his bonds the professor hugged her. He seemed relieved to finally be free of his captives.
“How did you find us?” he asked her.
“It was your cell phone.”
“But they took that and threw it into the canal.”
“You have two remember.”
“Ah yes, that university Blackberry® that I never use. It was in the jacket pocket the whole time right?”
“Indeed it was, professor.”
An agent came up and tapped Chyna on the shoulder. The time had come to leave and return to the base.
“Professor, I need you and these students to go with this Agent now. He’s going to get you back to the house so you can freshen up and have something to eat. Lana and Fariha are both waiting for you there. I’ll see you all later.”
“Thank you Chyna. I just can’t find the words to tell you how thankful I am. You could have just taken the next flight back to New York and called it quits but I’m so grateful that you didn’t.”
They hugged again and Chyna motioned to the students to follow the agent out to the cars. When they were gone, she turned her attention to Hans and Milos who Anthony already had handcuffed to a couple of chairs in the middle of the room. The room had been emptied except for the four of them. Chyna didn’t have any time to waste with pleasantries on the two men. She cut right to the chase.
“Listen up boys, this little stunt of yours means life in a Turkish prison for seven counts of kidnapping and holding against their will. I’m sure we could even convince the Greeks that you’re both international spies and we know how paranoid they get about those types of things.”
There was an instant of fear in both men’s eyes at the thought of being turned over to the authorities of either country. Having considered themselves the “Gateway to the Middle East” for centuries, Turkish officials had no tolerance for the sort of criminal activity that was usually synonymous with the extremist religious factions of the region and as for Greece, they were just in a constant state of suspicion against every other government.
“So, here’s the deal,” she continued. “You’re going to give us Doyle and we’re going to let you turn State’s evidence against him and get a sentence in a U.S. prison. How does that sound?”
The men looked at each other then nodded their agreement. Anthony ungagged them both and stood back with his arms crossed over his chest, leaving all the initial questioning to Chyna. He had later use for them but neutralizing Ethan Doyle’s scheme was paramount at the moment. Later, he would turn the tables on them and demand they help him infiltrate Reneseree Industries to gather the evidence he needed to prove they were laundering money for Balkan organized crime rings.
“First,” she continued, “where’s Jackson?”
Hans was the first to speak up. “He was supposed to stop and pick up lunch for us then back here to help with the...you know,” he trailed off.
Chyna looked at Anthony. He picked up his radio and spoke to the sniper unit that was still on the roof, everyone else had gone back to the house.
“Keep an eye out for a lone male approaching the building. He was last seen wearing a blue striped long sleeved shirt and blue jeans. He’ll most likely be bringing in some takeout with him. Alert me of his arrival but do not intercept him. That’s our third suspect.”
“Copy that. Ten-four.”
Anthony handed Chyna the cell phone he had taken from Hans’ pocket and she handed him her pistol. He took the safety off and chambered a round walking over to stand next to Hans. Then he put the gun to the man’s head.
“You’re gonna make a call to your boss, Hans. I’d advise that you say exactly what I tell you to or my friend is goi
ng to use my private issue SIG Sauer to put two into the side of your head and that’s just a precaution in case they ever piece enough of you back together to launch an investigation. Do you understand me?”
Hans nodded sadly. Chyna gave him the phone.
“Call Doyle and tell him that you suggest he hang back while you launch the platform vessel early tomorrow morning. Let him know it’s going to take you two days to make it around the peninsula and into the strait near Psara and another day to get to any port south of there. Tell him Jackson got a lead on where to find us and the map so you suggest he wait on that while you make your way down and then he can contact you with a rendezvous point. Got it?”
“Yes,” he replied.
“Good. Anthony, gag the other one. We won’t be needing him after all.”
“Now call Jackson and tell him you found out there’s a duplicate map that the professor hid years ago inside the Oglakcioglu Park Hotel. He’s to take his men and go retrieve it tonight for Doyle. Tell him he’s waiting for it.”
With both calls made, Chyna and Anthony led their prisoners out and put them into the custody of federal agents. They didn’t have much time to regroup and set up the sting at the hotel but they had to catch a thief and shut down Doyle once and for all.
Back at the house, everyone was in high spirits. The professor and his students were busy preparing Lana and Oscar for what they should expect on the undersea salvage of Artemesia’s fleet. It was certainly going to be quite a different experience than any dig site they had ever worked on before. The ship itself, he explained, would not be salvageable. Ships of that age were made completely of wood and after more than three thousand years at the bottom of the sea, it was likely to all be gone. What they saw on the map was a footprint of the ships. The area of seafloor that was “stained” with the remains of the old wood, what they would be focusing on would be the contents of the ships; figureheads, cannon and of course the treasure that Artemesia supposedly stole from Minos. He reminded them that they would not be there to attempt bringing any remaining parts of the vessels to the surface, they simply did not have the expertise for that, they would be operating the site as similarly to a land-based dig as they could, removing sand from the area to see what they could uncover on the ocean floor.
They bent over the half dozen maps in amazement as the professor spoke freely to them about how he had made his discovery and come up with the theories to support his investigation. He took them through his years of research and they were all understandably intrigued. Looking around the room, Chyna felt satisfied. Everyone was happy to be reunited with friends and colleagues; deep in fellowship with each other and enjoying good company. Even Oscar was engrossed in a jaunty exchange with the F.B.I. technical analysts from Anthony’s team about the latest gadgets and programs and techniques.
“Where’s Fariha?” she asked Oscar.
“I don’t know. I think she said something about going down to the orchard out back.”
The Greek girl’s absence puzzled Chyna but she decided it wasn’t any cause for alarm. She probably just needed a little air, the house was filling up faster than an air-conditioned movie theatre in the middle of a heat wave. Thirty minutes later, she strolled in carrying a basket of fruit, citrus, vegetables and herbs and started preparing a marinade for a huge bowl of cubed beef and lamb for what Chyna thought must be souvlaki. Even though she knew that they would be leaving for the Oglakcioglu Park Hotel soon, Chyna couldn’t stifle her groan. Her body felt like it was someone else’s. Her shoulders were tense.
He found her seated in a wing chair looking out the enormous windows at the darkening evening. Her hair flowed over her shoulders and onto one arm of the chair as she reclined deeply within its generous folds and stretched her legs out in front of it. Those long, lustrous tresses were the color of Kuwaiti crude shimmering as the light from the fireplace played along the length of it. She still wore the tight, black tank top and sleek leather pants from their raid at the warehouse earlier that day. The line of her long neck, her smooth shoulders and sleek arms sang to him as he approached her. She dipped her head to take another sip from the glass of whiskey she was drinking, breathed its oaken aroma deeply and let the amber liquid pass over her lips and tongue. The sight of her in the firelight caused an ache in his chest that Anthony Stewart had only known since his first encounter with Chyna more than five years ago. He continued to watch silently as she set the glass down and put her hands to her shoulders and rotated her neck in small deliberate circles. She must be tired, he thought. His breath was caught in his throat as her watched her place her hand under the straps of her tank top and rub each aching shoulder blade and the nape of her neck. She sat back in the chair again and raised the glass to her mouth sipping some of the strong liquid it contained before placing it back on the table beside her. He shook his head violently, trying to clear his mind and walked up to her chair.
“It’s time to go,” Anthony whispered in her ear, delighting at the soft moan his breath against her neck invoked.
***
As they drove across town, Chyna called the manager at the hotel to check on the progress.
He confirmed that the front desk had received a call check on the availability of suite 1945 but that reservations never got a call to reserve it. “Perfect!” she thought, and then asked him if he could have the card key ready and at the valet station when they arrived. There was no need to draw unnecessary attention to herself as she entered the hotel. The others would be going in the back way of course, considering all the heavy weaponry they were carrying.
Once they were in the suite upstairs, they all settled into the darkness of the master bedroom to wait. At around midnight, the call came. Surveillance had a visual of Jackson and two other men gaining access to the building through the unmanned staff entrance at the back of the building.
“On point people,” Anthony announced. “They’ve entered the building.”
Soon they heard the lock on the front door being blown and the men entering the suite. They waited until the door swung open and then an agent hit the light switch.
“Freeze. Don’t move a muscle.” Agent Stewart said.
Merrily, the agents cuffed the three men and led them out of the room. Agent Stewart advised them of their rights and they were escorted from the suite.
“You all go ahead back to the house,” he said to his team. “Lock them up downstairs with the other two and get some rest. We’ll tidy this place up and join you later. It’s back to business as usual tomorrow. Good job everybody.”
They all filed out leaving Anthony and Chyna behind. He locked the door behind them and turned to her.
“I’ve been waiting to get you alone all day you little tease,” he said.
“Me?” she replied coyly, unstrapping her gun holster and dropping it to the couch beside her. “I never teased you one second today. If I had you wouldn’t have made it this long.”
She pulled the tactical vest off, dropping it to the floor, turned and walked back into the bedroom. He followed, dropping his jacket and vest in a heap on top of hers and stepping out of his boots. As he stepped through the doorway, she put her arms around his neck and pressed her lips to his. Anthony’s hand ran over every inch of her back as he ravished her mouth passionately.
They didn’t get to see each other often, with all her travelling and his being reassigned to embassies and consulates all over the planet almost every six months or so, but they always knew each other’s whereabouts and did their best to see each other whenever they wound up in the same city. It wasn’t a real relationship by any stretch of the definition but it was the most either of them could hope for considering their chosen professions and the mitigating circumstances. They each knew that the other would wait a lifetime for a moment like the one they were having right now.
He pulled the sexy black tank top over her head and his nostrils were filled with the scent of her. She always smelt like that. A mixture of the perfume she al
ways wore, Cabotine de Grès, and the almond oil she used on her skin and in her gorgeous black hair. Today, it was mixed with a little sweat and maybe some adrenaline; she smelled awesome. He lowered his head to kiss her neck and shoulders, he remembered how she had rubbed them earlier and they were hurting from the stress of the day. Her hands went over his back and to his waist, clawing at his shirt and pulling it free of his pants. She moved back to lift it over his head and then nestled to him so he could kiss her on the neck again. He undid the clasp of her bra and slid the straps from her shoulders, pulling the garment away and free of their bodies. When his lips moved to her breasts, she put both her arms around his neck and threw her head back in ecstasy. They had hours to please each other, nowhere to be until four o clock that morning. They would take their time and make it last. Who knew when they would see each other again?
They were kissing again. He pulled the buckle of her belt and she pulled his, letting their slacks fall about their ankles on the floor. Anthony lifted her, she swung her legs around his waist instinctively, and he took the few steps to the bed. When she was gently nestled among the plush bedding he quickly dispatched the rest of their clothing and lifted her again. He sat on the edge of the bed, relishing the feel of her lean, strong thighs wrapped around his waist. She moved erotically on his lap as they kissed deeper and deeper. Then, unable to wait a second longer, Chyna raised herself and joined their bodies with one smooth motion. Her head went back and a moan of satisfaction and excitement escaped her throat. Her eyes were closed and she clung to his shoulders for support. Anthony watched her move her body against his in amazement. He lived to see her in these moments of complete abandon. As her colleague, he was too used to seeing her in full control. She was authoritative, commanding, professional, intelligent, maddeningly so; but here, with him, in these times, she was a goddess. Feminine, sexy, passionate, erotic; a woman. He kissed her breasts again and heard her pleasure in her moans. He would let her take her pleasure how she wanted, while he played her supporting actor before taking her body to the highest peaks of ecstasy over and over again.