The Enigma Series Boxed Set Page 7

  The road was already dusty from the lack of rain. Another lazy breeze picked up a cloud of red dust and swirled it up and over her head as she reached for the door handle of the truck. She quickly slid into the passenger seat and opened the glove box, looking for a map.

  “So? Did you talk to him?” An unconcerned masculine voice broke the peaceful rhythm of the rustling trees and bird songs.

  Honey looked at the driver. Short and stocky, her partner reminded her of Jabba the Hut from Star Wars. Unlike Jabba, this man was olive skinned with dark circles under his eyes. His nose was long and too big for his chubby face. The thick fingers that gripped the stirring wheel looked like burnt sausages. Several days of not shaving left a dark shadow encircling his face from ear to ear. His greasy black hair had been dampened and combed straight back. Honey could smell body odor. He repulsed her.

  “Yeah. I’m going back tonight to cook dinner.”

  The driver turned narrowed eyes to examine her beautiful body. He chuckled. “Keep him busy while I look around.”

  “He’s married. There’s kids,” she snapped knowing he expected her to seduce Robert Scott.

  “Fine. Make sure he has a little too much wine so he’ll sleep soundly.”

  Honey frowned. “Let’s go, Mansur. By the way,” she said looking down at her map of California and Nevada. “What does Mansur mean?”

  Mansur turned his emotionless eyes back to the road and started the engine. “Divinely led,” he said through a forced smile.

  Chapter 7

  T essa knew how to pick the lock on a pair of handcuffs after reading the biography of Harry Houdini to a sixth grade class she’d volunteered in several years earlier. She offered the challenge for students to read three more biographies and promised to escape from a pair of handcuffs like Harry Houdini as a reward.

  Her research online and practice with a friend of the family who had been a Grass Valley policeman, helped her learn the art of escape. It was simple really. All you needed was a bobby pin. If her hands had been cuffed behind her back the trick wouldn’t have worked. Then there was the advantage of having only one hand cuffed to the chair. She didn’t have a bobby pin, but managed to lift a paper clip from the desk next to her when the man in black’s eyes had looked away momentarily. When her captors left her alone Tessa got to work on the cuffs keeping one eye on the inner office where a heated conversation kept the attention off her.

  Since the sparsely furnished office space where she had been forced to sit was dimly lit, Tessa felt confident she could slip out undetected. Unoccupied empty desks in the space, maybe ten or eleven, showed no evidence of ever having been used. All were clean and unoccupied. Chairs sat neatly against the lip of each desk like a display scene at Office Max. No trash. No waste baskets for that matter. No office supplies or computers. Empty gray walls, nondescript carpet and low ceiling tiles made the room seem less expansive, than it really was.

  More importantly, there were no other people except for her captors. If these people were Homeland Security why wasn’t this place bustling with nervous activity considering a dirty bomb was somewhere in the city?

  Tessa knew these men were dangerous. Even that seemingly nice kid, Vernon, had a quirky look in his eye. Too eager to please, she thought. That scary man in black must have been a demon in another life. The icy stare he dropped on her had sent shivers up her spine. Then there was Chase Hunter. She wasn’t sure what to think of him. Obviously, he commanded this group. But who was the suited man that reined them in? She gave him only a passing thought as she slowly rose from her chair and gave one final glance around the room that seemed to be a work in progress.

  She’d stayed close to the wall rather than run across the room which would have drawn attention. Even though it took longer to reach the double doors, Tessa knew her chances of escape lay with a cool head and patience.

  At first the doors seemed to be stuck. Tessa pushed her hip into it and the door squeaked open. She held her breath at the sound, glancing back at the men deep in discussion. Just as she started through the door, her eyes fell on a discarded fountain pen with the engraved letters B.C. lying on a nearby desk. The sharp point might just be a needed tool or weapon to continue her escape from this building. With eyes on the inner office and one foot propping open the door, Tessa strained to reach the pen. She slipped gently through the doorway and turned to find herself in a short hall that ended with an elevator.

  She ran to the metal doors, and quickly pushed the down button four times hoping that would bring escape sooner. Looking down at her weapon, she read the inscription, “Benjamin Clark.” Tessa turned it around with her fingers. What if someone else was on the elevator? Where were the stairs? She looked for an exit sign as the elevator dinged its arrival. The doors slowly opened as Tessa’s eyes turned back to her attempted route to freedom.

  Tessa’s heart skipped a beat when a tall woman dressed in high heeled shoes, a designer jacket and dress glared out at her. Her beauty took Tessa’s breath away. A long, black braided ponytail fell to the middle of her back. Wide full lips painted red made her look like she was pouting. High cheekbones on a perfectly heart shaped face with flawless olive skin made Tessa a little green with envy. Tessa noticed the same hard look in those beautiful exotic eyes that she’d observed in her captors. This one took everything in as if ownership of the world was hers for the asking. Her slim, firm body moved with the agility of a tigress as she slowly moved off the elevator making bewildered eye contact with Tessa.

  “Hi!” Tessa smiled, forcing a pleasant voice. “They’re waiting inside for you. The powwow has already started. Chase is mad as hell too.”

  The woman continued past her without acknowledgment or emotion.

  Tessa casually slipped into the elevator and poked the close button several times. Before she could move to the rear of the elevator she watched in horror as the exotic beauty froze in place and appeared to straighten to what seemed to be an inch taller. Slowly she turned her head to look over her shoulder at Tessa who lifted her hand in a friendly salute.

  Before Tessa knew what was happening the woman turned and plowed toward her like a launched torpedo. The doors began to close as a slender hand with well-manicured nails pushed the doors back with a determined grunt. Tessa raised the ink pen and rammed it into the hand that blocked her escape to freedom.

  Only a small gasp escaped the woman as she forced her hip against the door which opened. Unconcerned, as if removing lent from a cashmere sweater, the beauty pulled the leaking ink pen from her hand. When the pen connected, ink had sprayed over her red and white dress. She turned killer hazel green eyes toward Tessa as she cocked her head in surprise. With her long firm arms, the woman reached in and grabbed Tessa by the front of her shirt and yanked her from the elevator. The strength in the woman’s arm caused Tessa to stumble back down the hall toward the office where she had been a prisoner moments before.

  “I think...” Tessa stammered, hoping a woman would be more sympathetic.

  “Shut up!” the woman hissed as she shoved Tessa again into the closed double doors. With one hand flinging the doors open and the other pushing Tessa through, the dangerous beauty caught sight of her team exiting the office with great concern and speed.

  Tessa’s body made contact with one of the desks with such force that it screeched, echoing across the half empty office space. She cringed as she became encircled by the mysterious people who had tossed her into a whirlpool of conspiracy and treachery.

  Her breath, ragged and short, whispered a prayer of protection for herself and her family. They were all looking a little shocked and irritated at her. Tessa guessed they weren’t used to dealing with civilians. She backed away from them along the edge of the desk until a chair on wheels was shoved toward her, blocking any further thought of retreat.

  “Betty Crocker here was on her way to the elevator!” the beauty snapped, pointing a finger toward her as if it were a loaded gun. “Look what she did to my dress!” Th
e blood on her hand didn’t disturb her as much as the ruined clothing.

  Chase eyed her body with appreciation. “How did that happen?” He nodded toward the ink and blood trailing down her generous bosom.

  Everyone seemed to hold their breath except Benjamin Clark. His focus remained on Tessa.

  “She stabbed me with a fountain pen!” How could such a beautiful woman growl like a pit bull, Tessa wondered?

  Tessa straightened as if by doing so she’d gain some composure. “I’m so sorry!” Tessa tried to sound apologetic. “If you’ll send me the cleaning bill, I’ll…”

  “You idiot! This cost $800! It’s ruined!”

  Tessa bristled at her angry, rude manner. “Really? I bought one just like it off the rack at Target,” she said off handedly.

  The woman started to take a step toward Tessa with a doubled fist, but stopped as Chase burst out laughing. Tessa didn’t know quite what to think about the scene before her since everyone now stared at Chase in astonishment. He laughed so hard a tear squeezed from his left eye. Slowly, the other men began to chuckle. Tessa thought the laughter must be contagious but she wasn’t getting the joke.

  Only the woman didn’t laugh. Her breathing matched Tessa’s. Then without warning the woman lunged toward her with two doubled fists.

  Tessa gasped or screamed, she wasn’t sure which, when Chase slid in front of the beauty and grabbed her around the arms tightly.

  “Let me go!” she demanded still glaring at Tessa. “I’ll teach the little bitch to…”

  Chase shoved her back into Zoric. “Lay a hand on Mrs. Scott and you’re off my team,” Chase warned firmly. “You can well afford another dress, Sam.”

  So the Amazon had a name: Sam. Samantha?

  Sam appeared to be startled by Chase’s rescue. The others tried to hide their amusement by turning from her. “Why is she still here?” She toned down her anger and looked to Benjamin Clark. Sam appeared to hesitate in speaking with disrespect to him.

  Tessa cleared her throat, but her voice still cracked when she spoke. “Are you going to kill me?”

  Benjamin smiled patiently and offered his hand as part of the introduction. “I’m Benjamin.” He withdrew his hand after she took it hesitantly for a moment. “Now why would you think we were going to kill you, Mrs. Scott? We’re the good guys.”

  Something in his eyes reassured Tessa. His voice, calm and even led her to believe this man could be trusted. She took a step closer to him for what she hoped would be security. Chase’s large presence loomed too close, unnerving her beyond anything she’d ever experienced. His penetrating gaze unsettled her even more.

  She’d witnessed those pools of chocolate brown eyes go from control to a black murderous rage just hours earlier. “I watched him,” she nodded toward Chase with a shaky finger, “kill two injured men this morning. Same as murder,” she choked. Her knees were shaking so she reached back to steady herself against the empty desk.

  “Mrs. Scott,” Benjamin’s voice lulled her into a safe place, “those men were already dead. Captain Hunter is no murderer. He had to convince the remaining one that he had everything to lose.”

  Tessa glanced back at the other men who still looked amused and nodded some kind of assurance to her so she would believe. When her eyes shifted to Chase she had the uncomfortable absurd sensation he could probe her brain. She felt naked and exposed on a level she’d never known before.

  Remembering his sudden kiss in the truck burned her cheeks with embarrassment. He must have thought of it as well because his eyes darted recklessly to her lips. A slight grin toyed with the edges of his mouth. He had saved her life. Why would a killer do that? But ultimately it was Sam that convinced her Benjamin Clark was telling the truth. The rolling of her eyes and the obvious jealousy that sprang into her body language showed irritation at the gentle treatment another woman was being offered.

  “I want to go home,” she pleaded.

  “And you will, Mrs. Scott. Tessa,” Benjamin Clark was a little disarming with his coy smile. “May I call you Tessa?” She nodded keeping a skeptical eye on the remaining team. “There’s just this one thing.”

  Tessa straightened. “What thing?”

  Chase dropped his hands from his hips and folded his arms across his chest. “We need you to help us one more time.”

  Tessa reluctantly met his eyes with hers, trying desperately not to be intimidated by their dark depths. It felt like drowning, looking into those dangerously hypnotic eyes. “And if I refuse?” Tessa jerked her chin up in defiance even though only she knew it was a ridiculous attempt at standing strong.

  Chase narrowed his eyes as he cut them toward Zoric. The man in black stepped forward as if hearing a silent command. “I think you’ve met Nicholas Zoric.”

  Tessa feared the choice set before her. The implication now appeared to be: refuse their request and deal with the man called Zoric or cooperate in order to be returned home.

  ~ ~ ~

  Jamaal lay on his simple army issue cot trying to get comfortable with the cuts and bruises he’d sustained in the accident. A doctor had seen to his wounds, but his whole body ached from being tossed around in the rolling van when it had plunged off the embankment, thanks to that reckless truck driver. He needed a hospital, not some doctor who clearly patched him up only to be broken apart again when these people chose to interrogate him.

  With no blanket to cover his bare chest, the chill of this place made his anxiety grow. At least they had not taken his pants. The cold cement floor added to his discomfort against his bare feet. The silence grew deafening. Concrete and silence. Cold steel bars and dim light coming from outside his cell. Nothing to remember. No sounds or sights to give him direction. This place was a void for prisoners who weren’t supposed to know where they had been taken. Even his sense of smell betrayed him. It was too antiseptic.

  There were two other cells in this abyss of nothing. His cell sandwiched between the two. The one to his left, the last cell, had become some kind of storage unit for a table and two chairs stacked neatly against the far wall. Something reddish brown stained one of the legs of the table. He guessed it to be blood. The first cell, to his right, mirrored his own. Nondescript. Empty. Clean.

  A faraway sound reached Jamaal’s ears. They must be coming for him. Would he be strong or cave with the interrogation Americans had become so proficient at? Jamaal wasn’t good with pain. He didn’t pretend to be brave. Antagonizing his keepers with lowered eyes and defiant silence would be almost impossible for him. Just the thought of that dark man dressed in black made his skin crawl. Then there was the big man who had pulled him from the wrecked van; no hesitation at emptying his gun into his fellow martyrs. His cold, dark eyes held no emotion or fear. Men like that were not so different than the people who had recruited him months ago.

  The sound of a heavy door closing and echoing footsteps began to filter down to his hell. More than one voice now. A woman? Angry voices grew louder as did the sound of resistance. The sound of dragging, then grunts, and more dragging suddenly filled the small room as a woman was shoved violently against the first cell. She sobbed as the man in black appeared. He reached down carelessly and jerked her to a standing position by the collar of her shirt.

  “Please! I don’t understand! Just let me go home. I won’t tell anyone!”

  Jamaal pushed himself into the far dark corner of his cell as if by doing so he might just become invisible. Let the woman suffer the brutality of the man in black. After all, what could he do to protect her?

  Then he recognized the woman. It had been her home he’d invaded. An innocent? No such thing in America. Jamaal remembered how roughly the big man had treated her at the helicopter. She had been blind folded before him then told to be quiet and she wouldn’t get hurt. Perhaps they had changed their minds. Maybe she wasn’t so innocent after all.

  He watched as she grabbed the dark man’s arm that held her while he unlocked the spring-loaded bolt to the cell with his key
. The man pulled her body so close to his that Jamaal could see his breath move the hair that fell in her eyes.

  “Maybe I’ll come back later when everyone is gone, sweetheart.” The woman tried to push away but was yanked back and crushed against his chest with both arms. “I like a fighter. Rest up. You’ll need your strength, I’m thinking,” he laughed with sinister satisfaction.

  He pushed her hair back with his bony hand and lowered his mouth to hers. Just before contact the woman rammed her knee into the dark man’s groin. Stumbling backwards with an anguished moan, Nicholas Zoric managed to hold on to Tessa’s shirt. It ripped where the sleeve met the shoulder as she tried to twist free. Tessa tried to shove free, but Zoric’s fingers lost none of their vice-like grip as he recovered from her attack.

  Zoric took a deep breath and jerked her after him as he limped into the cell. He shoved her to the floor onto her sore hip. With a satanic smirk, Zoric removed a piece of cord from his back pocket and began to twist it around both his hands. “I think now is as good a time as any to get better acquainted.”

  Tessa crawled to the corner of the cell nearest Jamaal’s. Tears began to flow once more as she held her hands up in defense. “Please!” she begged sniffing and shaking her head in denial of the impending attack.

  “I like the begging. It’s a nice touch,” Zoric chuckled.

  Jamaal made a slight movement in the cell next to Tessa’s which drew Zoric’s attention. His head jerked up and squinted into the dimly lit space until he made out a man cowering in the farthest corner. Zoric looked back down at Tessa and appeared to reverse his decision of an attack. Slowly he unwound the cord and replaced it in his pocket.