Inked [From the CIA 1] (BookStrand Publishing Romance) Read online

  Rabad answered, “We’re in the middle of a shipment. Take Hasari.” Rabad motioned to Agent Ranier. The guard stood firm. Rabad grunted, rolling his eyes. “What does he want?”

  The guard sneered. “I wouldn’t consider yourself too important not to jump when he calls.”

  Rabad pushed his chair back as he logged out from his computer. The screen flashed from a tallied list of guns, ammunition, and quantities to darkness. Agent Baier continued to unwrap packaged guns of high caliber, illegal in most nations.

  The guard repeated the demand. “Follow me. He wants you now.”

  Rabad leaned into the guard’s shoulder, and spoke in a low tone. “Stay with him and watch that he doesn’t turn the computer on.” He shrugged his arm toward Baier.

  The guard huffed and squared his shoulders. “Chenzira said to bring you back.”

  “And now I’m telling you to stay here, or else you’ll find a bullet from one of those guns between your beady eyes and out the back of your greasy head.”

  The guard scowled without taking his stare from Rabad. He towered over the squarely built man, waiting until the guard moved to the table of imported weaponry. Ignoring the power struggle, Rabad said, “I’ll be back soon. Don’t touch a thing.”

  Rabad cleared his throat as he left the secured storage room. The others cooperated smoothly this afternoon, yet he wasn’t sure of their value and loyalty to El Rahir, Chenzira’s men. Ahmir Rabad chuckled to himself on how easy to manipulate the Americans when they believe they are the manipulators. Americans ask too many questions and give themselves away. He was almost sure at least one of the men he had just been working with was an American. If they both were American, they’d stick tight. Fortunately, Americans preserved their people. One wouldn’t run out on the other, so he could get them at the same time. If a soldier of Chenzira’s failed in a mission or part of a mission, they are even more easily disposed of, oftentimes by themselves to preserve their respect.

  As his thoughts picked at his part of the plan to obtain knowledge of all infiltrates of the compound, he arrived at Chenzira’s lush office.

  Without a knock, Rabad pushed the door wide and strolled to Chenzira’s desk. Chenzira whirled his chair to face the visitor as he had apparently been taking the time to soak in the dark beauty of the manufactured terracing his windows exposed.

  “Rabad, where do we stand? I need an update and we must plan for unseen circumstances.”

  Rabad smiled as if he had all the answers

  “Do not become too satisfied with what you know. The Americans have tricks up their sleeves and we must stay ahead of their game.”

  His smile remained intact. “Sir, I have men on both the American agent and his female counterpart. They will be brought back alive as requested.”

  Chenzira jumped from his seat, slamming his fisted hands on the dark wood of his ornate desk. “How can you be sure? When did you last hear from ‘your men?’”

  Rabad’s lips dropped a notch from their smiling placement high on his waxy cheeks. He demanded that Chenzira treat him as an equal. He was in charge of stopping the Americans who so brazenly thought they could disband the largest, most self-sufficient, and best antigovernment movement in the middle countries.

  Chenzira came around his desk and stood so close to Rabad that Chenzira’s garlicky, sour breath shot at Rabad with every next word. “What happened here at the compound and at the embassy in Cairo? Whose fault?” He didn’t wait for an explanation. “And the boat. Your imbecile died as he should have after his careless attempt to bring them back.”

  Rabad forced his chin to remain high.

  “And now, where are they? In Turkey still or have they moved on with the help of your incompetent choice of men?”

  “Sir, I have them located in Antalya, Turkey.”

  “Liar.” Chenzira’s face grew red underneath the olive exterior. “You do not know for sure where they are. How could you when the Neshonites, our enemies amongst many, claim victory over your moves?”

  Rabad paled and forgot to hold the smile he carried through the door. The Neshonites of Israel held a strong fort of terrorism. Chenzira’s El Rahir and those from Israel did not mix well and only countered when an unspoken boundary had been ignored. He wasn’t sure what boundary was at stake. “Sir, I don’t have…”

  “You don’t have what? The balls to admit you lost them?” Chenzira backed off and pulled out a drawer from the lower section of his desk. With a furious urgency, he grabbed a document. “Here.” He shoved it at Rabad. “This is what is happening as you stand idle in front of me.”

  Before he could focus on the document his superior thrust at him, Chenzira pulled it back and jammed it into the same drawer.

  “I’ll tell you, Rabad, what is going on. Israeli’s Neshonites have the female, Jendayi—we still haven’t gotten her real name—and your men think Calvin Guevin is still in Antalya. They only think it. You must know where they are and bring them back.”

  Rabad gulped and felt perspiration build over his dry lips.

  “You understand what happens if you fail?”

  “Sir, I won’t—”

  “That’s what I thought. And that’s why I have chosen another to head this predicament. You will follow his lead.”

  Anger burrowed through his nerves, yet Rabad forced himself to take the order. “Sir, who will be working with me?”

  “You will be working with my understudy.” Rabad steeled his reaction. “Hasari. I want Hasari to lead.”

  Chapter 27

  Before the day was wasted, Cal decided he couldn’t sit idly until the next message arrived, if it would be sent at any rate. He grabbed the bag he’d rushed to stuff with their belongings, borrowed a cloth from the bathroom and wiped his prints from surfaces along with the door handle as he shut himself out of the room.

  The first thing on his agenda would be simple. Find another hotel and rename himself once again. The names and hotels preferred and briefly discussed with Mary stuck in his memory. He prayed Mary had the same pattern of thought as him and that she’d expect the transfer.

  He wanted her to locate him, yet he couldn’t be careless and assume Chenzira’s men weren’t looking for them, or at least him if they’d already abducted Mary.

  As evening touched the light of the sky and the air remained comfortable, he felt a chill of reality slither down his back. He promised to protect his partner, to protect her. In the eyes of many he had failed at this once before. Only he knew the reality of the former shoot-out. She claimed to know his side, but he doubted it. Would it happen again? Would the outcome be worse? Would he not even find her and she’d be left for dead?

  He didn’t need to spend time thinking of the worst, but rather time to avoid it.

  Reaching the street, he glanced around and took a left. No particular reason except that he’d normally choose a right turn. Restaurants and pubs lined the street for the next few blocks. He began to wonder if he should’ve stuck to his normal right turn.

  Spotting a vacant seat beneath a canopy and in the shadows with few patrons nearby, he maneuvered between the scattered tables and acquisitioned the spot. He needed to think without the distraction of the possible knock on the door, or of a gun pointed at his head.

  With a clear view of his surroundings, Cal ordered a Foster’s. It might be his last lager for a while and he felt he deserved a few minutes of downtime. Not that it would actually take place because as soon as the server propped the beer on his table, smiled flirtatiously, and left him for another table, he pulled out his only means of contact.

  He popped the battery into the cell phone as if everyone took there’s out between calls. No power, less likely to be detected. His stomach fluttered as he waited to see if any messages had been sent while inoperable. A swig of beer and no messages eased his nerves. He had a few things to accomplish before responding to any orders from a message.

  Mainly, he needed to find the rented Audi. He should’ve done that a
couple hours prior. Hating to admit any miscalculation or error on his part, he could only accept the excuse that it wouldn’t have been safe at all to make or take calls so near Mary’s disappearance. Calling the police, that’d be a different scenario, but he couldn’t alert them. He’d have to reveal his passport and ID, and then he’d be caught and detained for who knew how long. Leaks in Cairo and his suspicion of a leak in the US made it difficult to imagine a call for help.

  He dialed the number of the rental agency. After a number of rings, a bored clerk greeted him with an offer to rent at a special rate, which would expire in two hours.

  “I don’t need to rent a vehicle.” He interrupted the sales litany. “I need to locate an already-rented Audi under the name of Johnson.”

  The clerk sighed and requested his license number and day of rental. He gave the information after digging in his bag for the correct license he had used, knowing full well they could track the vehicle in a matter of minutes. A computer chip is commonly planted in most rentals, especially the more expensive vehicles.

  “Mr. Johnson, if you will hold for a moment, please.” She clicked him to ads at their discretion.

  He took another drink of his lager and breathed a slow rush of air, feeling the alcohol burn his empty stomach. After a long moment, the clerk returned. “Mr. Johnson, I’m having trouble locating this vehicle.”

  She asked a slew of questions regarding where the vehicle was last seen, how many miles he put on it, and how it left his control. He conjured up a lame story of his wife getting lost while he had a business meeting. Kind of true in reality, yet he didn’t care as the snakes twisted his stomach.

  It wasn’t as easy as it should be to find the vehicle.

  “Sir, we’ll call you back tomorrow midday. I have to run extra checks on the vehicle. I’m afraid our office satellite isn’t set up for all points in the area. Would you like to rent an additional—”

  He ended the call. His taste for the beer vanished and he returned to walking to the next hotel.

  She, assuming Mary was in the car, had to have traveled far, possibly into the mountains. Mountains or forests were more likely to cause a satellite to lose their target.

  As he passed a handful of dark and forbidding alleys, he watched for street sellers. He needed security in the form of more weapons and ammunition. He wanted them untraceable.

  He turned down the third alley as it looked to afford a haven for what he wanted. Twenty feet into the cavernous route, the sun disappeared as rusted balconies protruded from the sides of either building. Draped with ratty clothes and linens, the darker side of the tropical city needed a place to exist as in all populations. He skirted waste that was beginning to pile up along the walls and avoided the scattering of mice foraging for crumbs.

  Around the back wall he hit home. Two young men who wore tattered combat-issued attire sat together on upturned plastic buckets.

  “Can you help me?” Cal commanded authority as the men looked up to a stranger who dared to intrude in their alley.

  The men stood, both shorter than Cal, and held aggressive stances. One held his hand inside a side pocket of his jacket. “What are you doing here?” the spokesman demanded as he waved his hands to his sides.

  “I have money and I need what you have.” Cal watched the man’s eyes shift to his partner with the gun protruding from the ripped pocket. Cal didn’t want to highlight the faction he needed the weaponry against, not sure which side of the fence these men held. “I don’t want to know your names, where you get your supplies, or anything else.”

  This seemed to ease their minds as they relaxed their positions. The second man spoke as he pulled his Luger into view. “What kind of candy are you looking for?”

  Cal stayed a safe distance away, not intending to appear as a threat. “High adrenaline and anything that’ll fit in this bag.” He held out the bag he carried.

  The first man grabbed the bag, tore the zipper open, and dug through the contents. He pulled out one gun, bullets, the computer, and other personal items Cal had hurriedly stuffed in it. The street man pocketed the gun. “Follow us.” They turned without a response and shuffled through the grime of the alley.

  Cal followed, knowing he had no choice. They crossed a brightly lit and relatively clean street only to enter another blackened passageway. Stopping at the far end, they unlocked a side door and motioned for Cal to enter ahead of them.

  Cal stepped into the doorway, blinking as the total darkness blinded him. The street men came behind. One reached to the side and flicked a switch. A dirt-covered light bulb from the ceiling revealed a brick-encased room lined with shelves.

  Looking around, Cal noted he couldn’t have picked a better path to his needs. Racks of guns crowded half the room. The other half housed ammunition and other illegal devices. A half a dozen shelves supplied access to remote possibilities and technical advantages.

  “How much do you have?” The first man got right to business.

  Cal gave an indirect answer, playing the game. “I want two handguns, ammunition, detection bugs, and whatever else you have that’ll keep me alive.” He held his breath, waiting to see if he’d chosen the correct game.

  After a moment of thought, the first man walked over to the shelves of handguns, perused the lot, then turned back to Cal. He looked Cal up and down. “We have everything. What money do you have?”

  “I’ve got enough. Nine thousand pounds. No dealing. That’s final.”

  The men returned looks. The gunman nodded. The other answered, “Not enough. We know you have more.”

  Cal turned his back and began to leave.

  “Wait, wait.” The first man grabbed his shoulder and yanked him back. “We’ll take it.” He chuckled nervously and Cal knew he’d played to win.

  “I now only have eight thousand pounds. Take it or leave it.” Both street men scowled before they repeated the shrug and selected Cal’s request. Cal remained silent as the transaction developed.

  The men set the items on a metal table to display the exchange. Cal picked up the first gun, looked down the barrel and disengaged the clip. Shoving the clip back in place, he released the safety and shot toward a bare spot on the wall.

  The men ducked as if Cal had intended to shoot at them. He repeated the scenario with the next weapon.

  Setting the guns back on the table, Cal dug in his pocket and laid the money out. They all nodded in agreement and Cal stowed the purchases into the bag along with the other items.

  “I want my gun back.” Cal held out his hand.

  The men smirked and held back. “Fair trade. Leave while you have the chance.”

  Cal expected the same and backed out the doorway. He shut the hollow metal door and half-smiled as he’d had a successful find. He heard the men begin to talk excitedly in a foreign language. They all had a good exchange.

  Street men of this nature scattered themselves in the cities and were left to their own devices by the authorities. They respected each other’s territory as long as certain lines weren’t crossed.

  Cal directed himself through contingent alleys to return to the original avenue. No one followed. Carrying his much heavier bag, he walked another three blocks.

  He came upon an average hotel with a familiar name that he and Mary had considered. It didn’t stand out, yet appeared clean. He’d spend the night in here with another identity to hide his whereabouts. After a quick stop at the service desk, his mind trapped the new lie into memory as he headed for the appointed room.

  This time he’d be alone. It made it harder and made him detest his job. A rare feeling, yet he played with the idea that the CIA no longer backed him. His current mission had little to do with his and Mary’s original purpose for leaving the US. He couldn’t count on Vic Grant’s help or availability, whether Grant intended it that way or not.

  Chapter 28

  The captor slammed the door shut with his hand still gripping Mary’s bicep. The light in the room, only from the brief
opening of the door, scarcely allotted a hurried scan of the few tables, cabinets, and chairs. The one-room shell of a building smelled like mold and wet decay, and probably hadn’t been used in many seasons.

  Kicking the legs of a chair to spin it around, the dark and violent man shoved her onto the hard seat. Her arm hurt from his grip as it pulsed when released.

  “If you move, you die.” As if he needed to remind her of his rules.

  She needed to see what actually made up this building, what she would have to work with. Her plan already contained an escape. She wouldn’t give in to this barbaric treatment by a man obviously with an uncivilized belief in whatever he stood for. Or whoever.

  He flipped a switch and a bare-bulb light flashed in her eyes from the ceiling. She squinted until her eyes adjusted to the change.

  Around her stood the few furnishings she had quickly noted when pushed inside. The surprising part consisted of their construction and probable purpose. Stainless tables, two on the back wall and another centering the left side of the room, were covered with technology. Technology in the form of dark screens and mysterious boxes she guessed held ignition switches, satellite controls, and the means to hear private conversations in secure buildings.

  It took a lot of control to appear oblivious to the equipment surrounding her. He diverted her attention when he backed up to a drawer at the center table, his eyes remaining focused on her. He slowly pulled the drawer open as an evil grin spread across his lips.

  “You don’t think I will leave you unrestrained, do you?” He laughed as he pulled a roll of cord from the drawer.

  Breathing deeply, her chest rose and fell significantly. His eyes roved over her, stopping at her breasts as he licked his lips. “Do what you want. You will get nothing from me,” she told him with a nasty bite to her voice.

  He laughed, starting slowly until it echoed in the hollow room. “Yes, I want something from you. Yes, I will get it.” He walked around the chair she sat in and pulled her arms behind the back of the seat. “You might be alive after I complete my mission with you, and you might not.”