Night Fall Page 10
If Chizobi had had a hat, he’d have been twisting it in his hands as he came forward to stand before the president’s enormous desk.
From Abi, Simon knew this man was a trusted employee, and had been for close to ten years. He was serious, diligent, and devoted to his boss. And this morning he was worried as hell. His face was shiny with nervous perspiration, his brow accordion-pleated.
“I am sorry to interrupt you, ubasi. I am sure it is nothing. But inkosazana Goodall, she is not at the Kagunda Hotel. The porter, he say the inkosazana left half hour after she was dropped off by ubaba Blackthorne.
“I checked, but inkosazana is not in her office.” The aide pulled the hankie out of his pocket again to mop his brow, his nervous gaze darting between Simon and his boss, his Zulu accent thick and almost unintelligible as he tried to relay his message as quickly as possible. “I also checked to see if the inkosazana signed into the building today. I regret she has not.”
“Don’t be concerned,” Abi told him, clearly distracted. By the mention of Noek Joubert perhaps? “Kess sometimes stops at the gym on Zizwe—”
“She is not there, ubasi.” It was apparent that Chizobi was hell-bent on showing his much-revered president that he had exhausted every logical avenue before reporting in. “I checked.”
Simon stood, a muscle ticing in his cheek. Where had the blasted woman disappeared to now? He wanted to be annoyed that she’d ignored his concern and not only walked to the office, but taken a detour. He might not know Kess well, but Simon was damned sure that she would have done exactly what he’d asked her to do: wait for Chizobi to pick her up and drive her to her city hall office.
If Kess hadn’t been waiting at the hotel, something had happened to her. And in Mallaruza that could mean damn near anything.
“I’ll find her.” Simon paused at the open door. “And Abi? Remember how you know Noek Joubert. We’ll talk when I get back.”
Tired of being filthy, Kess locked the door to her room and headed straight for the shower. The stall was tiny, rusty, and barely adequate, but it served its purpose. Ten minutes later, clean and wrapped in a towel, she emerged from the shower. She had a lot to process. “And Simon Blackthorne counterterrorist operative shouldn’t be on my To Do List.”
Something drew her gaze to the neatly made bed. She frowned.
An envelope, damp and grimy, was propped against the pristine white pillows on her bed. Not a love note from Simon, she bet.
Someone was in the room. Kess looked around wildly for her gun. The gun that had gone up with the Rover. Shit. The blood had drained from her head and the hairs at the back of her neck stood up in nervous anticipation as she looked around for the intruder.
Her room was on the fifth floor. How had any one managed to get in? Certainly they hadn’t rappelled up the side of the building in broad daylight on a busy street. Besides, the window was closed and locked, she could see it from her position in the middle of the room.
Bribed by the lazy-assed, sneaky doorman, Obi, she bet. Shitshitshit.
Of course there was nobody there—where would they hide? The bed had drawers under it, and there was no closet, just a few hooks on the wall. Other than the bed, an easy chair, a microwave oven, and a small refrigerator, there wasn’t any other furniture.
The room smelled strongly of cigarette smoke and stale sweat left behind by her uninvited visitor. Kess ran to the door and snapped the dead bolt back in place. Spinning around, she clutched the towel between her breasts and scanned the room again. She was alone. Just the thought that someone had been here while she was naked in the next room gave her the heebie-jeebies.
Whatever was in the damn envelope could wait until she had clothes on. Staring at the envelope the whole time she dressed, Kess wished that she’d asked Simon for his cell phone number. He must have a cell phone. He’d called to have a helicopter delivered, for God’s sake. Why hadn’t they exchanged numbers?
Grabbing up her dusty boots, she sat on the edge of the chair to put them on. Giving Simon her cell phone number wouldn’t have done her any damned good. It had been blown to smithereens in his Rover the day before along with her gun and everything else in her duffel bag.
Since there wasn’t a telephone in the room, she’d have to leave the hotel, find a public phone that worked, and try him via the president’s office. “Please be there, Simon. I’m totally freaking out.”
What would she have done if Simon wasn’t around? Called the local militia? Useless. They wouldn’t even bother coming to take a statement. They had much bigger fish to fry than a break-in. She didn’t have anything of value for anyone to steal anyway. Her most valuable possession was her camera, and that had gone kaboom with her phone.
She’d get another lock, of course. She’d already added the dead bolt when she’d moved in a couple of months ago. But that hadn’t kept the person out. Especially if assisted by a damn passkey. Chills raced across her still-damp skin. The second she was fully dressed, Kess snatched up the letter-sized envelope and opened the flap.
We have Dr. Straus and Dr. Viljoen.
Bring your camera to Café Ndebani
no later than 9:30 A.M. today.
Contact no one and come alone.
Any delay will result in injury to your friends.
As incentive, we have left you a little something.
Check the top dresser drawer.
“I’m going to freaking hate this.” The sound of her own voice wasn’t in the least bit comforting. Kess didn’t bother counting to three, or trying to talk herself out of looking. Without hesitation she yanked open the drawer, then sucked in a choked gasp.
It was a bloody, severed finger. The ring finger of Judy Viljoen’s left hand to be precise. Kess recognized the delicate engagement ring her friend had been so excited about receiving two weeks ago.
She closed the drawer carefully, swallowing bile as she did so. She rubbed her arms as chills raced through her body.
Her friends hadn’t been dragged away by either the Hureni or wild animals. Konrad and Judy had been kidnapped. A glance at the bedside clock showed her that she had twenty minutes to make the meeting. She didn’t have her camera. It had been blown up in the explosion the day before. Oh, God. What the hell was she going to—“I put the SIM card in my pocket!”
Upending the laundry hamper she retrieved the pants she’d been wearing and shoved her hand into the front-right pocket. Please be here. Please be here—“Yes!” Her fingers curled around the small disk.
She dragged in a ragged breath, holding her clenched fist to her rapidly beating heart. Now to call Simon and get backup. No way was she meeting these butchers alone. No matter what the hell they told her to do.
“Simon eats people like you for breakfast,” she said fiercely, running down five flights of stairs to the lobby. Obi was nowhere in sight. But Simon would help her track the son of a bitch down, and squeeze out the information of who’d broken into her room.
The public phone, tucked under the slope of the front stairs, was useless. Someone had cut the cord and stolen the receiver months ago. Damn. Damn. Damn. Her heart was racing so fast she felt sick to her stomach. There’d be a public phone in the bazaar. Somewhere.
Kess checked her watch, then speed-walked through the bazaar, heading for the small coffee shop tucked halfway down a narrow side alley. The marketplace was crowded with housewives doing the daily food shopping. The brightly colored cotton print dresses of the locals were mixed with western business attire worn by young, hip Mallaruzis grabbing a snack to take to the office or enjoying a late-morning coffee with friends.
Kess had no time to admire the colors and scents of the outdoor market. Wiping a raindrop off her cheek, she picked up her pace. She narrowly avoided colliding with a woman balancing a produce-filled basket on her head, a baby strapped to her back.
Adrenaline racing, she looked over her shoulder. Was someone following her? Watching her every move? Where the hell was a freaking phone? Simon? Help!
Kess shot a glance at her watch as she walked: 9:23. No time to track him down before meeting the kidnapper. She hesitated. Nothing good could possibly happen if she met these people alone.
Kidnapping anywhere in the world was a serious problem, but in Mallaruza, as in Italy, kidnapping was a way of life. Extortion of any kind was basically ignored since the entire country was rife with crime.
As crazy and foolish as she knew it was, she was Konrad’s and Judy’s only hope. She didn’t give a damn what was on the SIM card. The kidnappers could have it.
Praying that she’d spot a phone on the way, Kess started jogging. The small café was two alleys down on the left, but it was raining in earnest now, a curtain of water dropped and people covered their heads and raced to find shelter as the sky really opened up.
What could she do if the kidnappers took the SIM card, then killed Konrad and Judy anyway? How could she prevent them from doing any damn thing they wanted? Kess bit her lip as she half walked, half ran. She’d demand proof of life. She’d insist they traded the SIM card for the two doctors, or no card. That would work. Wouldn’t it? Would that give her enough time to get Simon on board and have him use his counterterrorist stuff to find the two doctors? God, she hoped so. Hoped, but suspected none of this would go as she hoped.
And even knowing that, she was caught between a rock and a hard place. Judy and Konrad were alive. She had what the kidnappers wanted. The only thing that made her not wet her pants with fear was that she was in a marketplace crowded with people. It was slim comfort and her heart pounded hard enough for the Hureni over the border to hear it.
Thanks to the rain the coffee shop was packed and smelled not only of the strong black coffee they served, but also of ripe produce and fresh-baked bread. She scanned the jostling crowd sort of lined up in front of the glass counter.
People were looking at her, but it was no more than the usual curiosity because the color of her hair was so startling. People crowded around a dozen small round tables, sometimes two people to a chair.
A scrawny dog leapt up, snatched a man’s breakfast roll right out of his hand as he got his order, then slinked outside to dine in the rain.
There was much shouting and arm waving, but no one came over to her and introduced themselves. No one made eye contact. Kess stood in the middle of the crowd with no idea what to do next. She again scanned the room from side to side, then saw a sight outside that made her heart leap with joy.
“Simon. Thank God.” Their eyes met through the grimy window.
How or why he’d decided to look for her, and actually find her, was immaterial. Kess started pushing her way back to the front door. A salmon swimming upstream. No one wanted to make room for her to leave. They were all trying to get inside.
“Uxolo, excuse me, excusez-moi.” Nobody budged. Kess considered yelling “Fire” at the top of her lungs in all three languages, but instead used her elbows and sheer determination to clear a path to the door.
She almost fell into Simon’s arms as a heavyset woman carrying two chickens in a basket on her head stepped aside more quickly than Kess anticipated.
“Simon. Oh, my God, am I happy to—”
He grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her several yards down the rainwashed alley. “What the hell are you doing here alone?”
Kess stopped walking, and yanked her arm out of his hold. “Knock it off. No yelling, no dragging. My hearing is excellent, and I can walk on my own just fine.”
“I sent Chizobi to get you, did you forget?”
“Doctors Straus and Viljoen were kidnapped.” This time it was Kess who did the grabbing; his arm was damp, but warm and solid beneath her hands. Oh, God, she was so glad to see him she could have kissed him. “Simon, someone broke into my room while I was in the shower. They left a note telling me—”
She looked up just as Simon pointed a gun at her head.
Eight
Simon shook her hands off his left arm, his shooting arm, firing a kill shot at the man directly behind Kess’s left shoulder. She let out an earsplitting scream as the guy crumpled at her feet. Grabbing her hand, Simon practically yanked her forward. “Run!”
“You can’t—What—Oh, my God, Simon!” Her eyes went wild as she tried to dig her heels in. “Are you completely out of your mind? What are y—”
“Move it! Now.” He started running, her hand gripped tightly in his, giving her no choice but to keep up with him. In his other hand was the Taurus. He pushed his way through people who had all the time in the world to dick around.
“Balela amathe indlal!” Get out of the way in Zulu. He hoped. By their response he might as well have yelled “Loiter right in our path and get us fucking killed.”
No one gave a damn that two people were running balls out down the main alley filled with stalls of fruit, vegetables, and leather goods. Those not safely tucked away inside stood out in the rain shopping, talking, visiting, and getting the hell in his way. His ubiquitous vision showed the men behind them, closing in fast. It also showed Kess, red hair flying around her head as she ran.
“Move. Move. Move.”
“I have to stay there!” she yelled, dragging on his hand. “Simon? Damn it, Simon, stop! We have to go back. The kidnappers—”
“Sent someone to shiv you,” he shouted over his shoulder. He’d shot one of them, and there were at least five more hot on their heels. Damn it to hell. What had she gotten herself into? “This way.” He turned her down a narrow space between the buildings. The passage, not wide enough to be called an alley, was littered with rank, stinking refuse. Refuse meant rats. And lots of them.
The furry rodents squeaked and scurried over their booted feet as they ran single file. Simon anticipated that their followers would miss this dark narrow pathway and keep going, giving him time to get Kess out of the middle of whatever the hell this was.
Yanking her into a small doorway, he kicked aside a rat the size of a small cat and peered down into her wide, terrified eyes. Teleportation was the fastest way out of this mess and with five guys right on their asses, he couldn’t think of a more expedient way.
“Kiss me,” he said.
She blinked as if he’d spoken in tongues. “W-what?”
Snaking his fingers through the thick, silken mass of her hair, Simon gave a gentle tug, forcing her head back slightly. As their mouths met, he closed his eyes for a nanosecond and envisioned her hotel room. He felt a small zing as his power flickered weakly.
Shitfuckdamn. He kissed her harder and tried focusing on a closer target. The basket shop beyond the west end of the market.
Zap. Fizzle. Fuck.
He’d have to do this the old-fashioned way. Just as he saw people moving about at the other end, indicating an adjoining alley filled with shoppers, Simon saw his luck had run out. Two of the bad guys had discovered their hidey-hole and were gaining fast.
There was no room to shift Kess in front of him in the tight space. Keeping a tight grip on her hand, he tried teleporting her to city hall where there were people and security guards. She might be confused as hell as to how she’d gotten there, but she’d be away from the present danger.
Fucking hell. Couldn’t do it. Her damp fingers clutched his hand as she ran forward, tired of waiting for him to move. Putting a protection spell on her, Simon tried teleportation again. This time only the short distance necessary so that he was between Kess and the two men.
It worked. Protecting her behind the shelter of his body, Simon turned and fired at the front guy. Mallaruzi, by his dress and features. He went down, much to the joy of the rats who used his body as a bridge. They swarmed over him even while the next guy kept coming. He kicked the rats aside, stepped over the body of his fellow assassin, and aimed his Smith & Wesson .40, firing from thirty feet away.
Simon fired at the same time. He felt the bullet crease his shoulder, but was more interested to see his target go down. “Stay here,” he ordered Kess, sprinting forward to see if the hit man
could give him any answers before he died.
“Stay h—Are you nuts? I’m not staying anywhere.” Kess followed him, standing inches away as Simon crouched down to feel the guy’s pulse at the base of his throat. “Is he—?”
“Dead, damn it.”
“Probably the whole point of having the guns,” she said dryly, her face pale, her eyes huge as he rose to stand beside her.
Simon wrapped his arm around her shoulders because she looked a little shaky. Or maybe because he just wanted to hold her. Or most likely, because he still had the taste of her on his lips.
“What did the kidnappers want?” Because there was no doubt in his mind that whatever it was, they still wanted it. There were a handful more guys out combing the marketplace. And they had been sent by someone. Who?
“SIM card from my camera.” Kess stuck her hand into the front pocket of her jeans and pulled out the card between two fingers. “Here. You take it.”
Simon stuck it in his pocket. “I have to take a look at this. See what you have.”
“Just pictures of day-to-day stuff at camp. A few grisly shots yesterday. Nothing to warrant two doctors being kidnapped for it.”
“Obviously you captured something someone didn’t want you to see.”
“I don’t know what it would be. Before we do anything else, we need to find a doctor for that shoulder.”
He was more concerned about finding a safe place to stash her. “I’ve had worse injuries.”
“I need you well,” she told him firmly. “We’ll find a doctor. Then look at my pict—”
“Pssst! Inkosazana?” A small boy, about nine or ten, darted into the alley from the other end, bare feet scattering rodents as he ran. “You come.” He tried to grab Kess’s wrist, but Simon held him off, a hand on his shoulder. Since that hand held a loaded weapon the kid dropped his hand and stayed where he was. The boy shot Simon an innocent glance from beneath long, curly eyelashes before he looked up beseechingly at Kess.