02_Coyote in Provence (16 page)

In addition to being a very astute and successful businesswoman, Darya was well known to a number of people for a book she had published several years earlier on the inhumanity of female genital mutilation, entitled “
Female Genital Mutilation Victims – A Lifelong Hell.
” She particularly liked the Arabic word for hell,
Jahannam
, but decided people wouldn’t know what its meaning was when they read the title of her book. Although female genital mutilation was practiced by some cultures in Africa, the book was primarily aimed at Muslims.

Darya remembered the only time she heard her mother raise her voice in anger. It was directed at Darya’s great-aunt who told Darya’s mother that Darya would become a “
sharmuta
,” a “whore,” because Darya’s mother refused to allow Darya to undergo the ancient rite. It was shortly after that incident that her parents and Darya moved to the United States to begin a new life.

She’d studied at Columbia University and received a Master’s Degree in Cultural Studies. Her thesis became the basis for the book. From the time it was published, she became a target of hatred by devout Muslims, particularly those living in the Middle East where the practice was common. She’d been fascinated with cosmetics since she was a little girl and decided to get a Ph.D in chemistry. She knew she’d need it she was to fulfill her dream of having her own cosmetics company.

On one of her earlier trips to Kabul, she received a phone call about a problem at her manufacturing plant. Although it was late at night, she immediately left her hotel to see what she could do to resolve the problem. It was probably a life-saving decision. When she returned, the manager greeted her.

“
Madmozel,
” he said, wringing his hands. “I am so sorry. I don’t know how these people got into your room. Thanks be to Allah you were gone.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Someone broke into your room and went through everything, slashing your clothing and destroyed your personal effects. They pulled the drawers open and threw your clothes all over the room. Even your make-up and perfume bottles were poured out. The Afghan National Police are in your room now, getting fingerprints and looking for clues as to who did this horrible thing.

“The intruders, whoever they were, spray painted the walls of your room with the words ‘Death To All Non-Believers.’ Again, I apologize. Oh, there are the officers now. They must have finished.”

She wheeled around and faced two policemen wearing the drab green uniforms of the Afghan National Police. “What have you found? Anything?”

“Nothing. No one saw them and no one heard them. Based on what they did to your room and the death threat spray painted on the wall, it looks like you have become a target of their hatred. Do you have any idea what this is about?”

Yes, but I won’t be telling you. The first thing I’m going to do when I return to the United States is get a bodyguard. I am so lucky that just by chance I happened to be out of my room.

“No, I can’t imagine what this is about.” She turned to the manager, who was standing nearby, still wringing his hands. “I assume that I will be reimbursed for the cost of replacing everything, since this happened when I entrusted the hotel to protect my belongings.”

“Of course,
Madmozel
, just tell me how much we owe you and I will have our bookkeeper give you a check before you leave.”

“Thank you. I don’t want to stay here tonight. It’s almost dawn. Please have your concierge make a reservation for me on the first flight back to the United States. I would like you or one of these policemen to accompany me to my room to see the extent of the damage.”

”
Madmozel,
a thought. Did you leave your passport in your room?”

“No. I carry it and all my valuables with me. I will be able to leave the country with no problem.”

“Ahh, I am so glad. I will go to your room with you,” he said, nodding to the two policemen as they left.

Darya didn’t feel safe until she was back in her condominium in California. She vaguely remembered attending a business luncheon at the Beverly Hilton Hotel when a woman at her table was talking about a private detective she’d used when she suspected her husband of having an affair.

She remembered writing the private detective’s name down on one of the hotel’s business cards, but couldn’t remember what she’d done with it. She went into her office and opened the lower drawer in her desk. Darya pulled it all the way out and there, jammed against the back was the Beverly Hilton Hotel business card, the words “Slade Kelly” written on it.

Although it was already five-fifteen in the evening, she decided to call and leave a message to have him call her first thing in the morning.

The phone was picked up after it rang once. “Slade Kelly here.”

“Mr. Kelly, my name is Darya Rahimi. You don’t know me, but your name was given to me several months ago. For some reason I kept the card with your name on it, never thinking I’d need a private detective, but I think I do. I’m concerned for my personal safety. When are you free to come to my home and talk to me about this situation?”

“Right now’s good. Where are you?”

“I’m in Malibu, just off the Coast Highway on the ocean side.”

“Gimme your address and I’ll be there in a few.”

Thirty minutes later there was a knock on her door. “Who is it?” she asked.

“Slade here and lady, you need a peephole in this door if you’re concerned about your personal safety.”

She opened the door and stared at the seedy looking skinny man in front of her. He wore a fedora hat that had clearly seen better days. His blue suit had shine on the elbows that told of one too many times at the cleaners and there was a cigarette dangling from his lips.

“Mr. Kelly, please come in.”

“First off, Doll, the name’s Slade, like in blade, you know, knife blade. Har, har, har.”

What have I done? Anyone who looks like this can’t be any good, can he? Well, he’s here and I need some help.

She told him what had happened in Kabul and why she thought she was targeted. When she spoke about female genital mutilation, she noticed him shiver.

“You done a good thing, Doll, writin’ that book. I need to know a cupla other things. You got a business?”

”Yes, I’m the owner of Darya Cosmetics. My company ships all over the world and has manufacturing plants in Marseilles, London, New York, Hong Kong and Kabul. I’ll be expanding to several more cities in the near future.”

“So, ya travel a lot, right? Got your own plane or fly commercial?”

“I have a company plane for domestic flights, but I fly commercial for international flights. I’m thinking of buying a larger plane.”

“Anyone travel with you?”

“Occasionally my secretary goes with me. If I had a larger plane, I’d probably be able to take more people with me.”

“Who hires your people and are their references checked out?”

“Well, I have a Human Relations Department that does all of our hiring. I assume they check out everyone.”

“Here’s what I’m gonna do. You need a bodyguard, like right now, and at all times in the future. I’m thinkin’ round the clock, 24/7, here at your home, at work, and ‘specially when you travel. I guarantee sumpin’ like what happened in Kabul’s gonna happen here. Surprised it hasn’t already. Count on it. I’m gonna have one of my bodyguards come over right now. I’ll get two more tomorrow. They’ll work in shifts. If you got more than one with you, you get too many eyeballs lookin’ atcha. Keep it low key. You got an extra bedroom in here?”

“Well, yes, but…”

“No buts. Guards gotta sleep, but they’ll be wired. All you need to do is push a button and you got a gun there in two or three seconds. My guys are discreet, so if you wanna do whatever, ain’t no problem.”

“Thank you, but there’s very little ‘whatever.”

“That’s a damn shame with a body like yours. Better find some more ‘whatever.’ No use wastin it.”

Darya could feel her face begin to turn red.

Slade continued, “Coupla things more. I want to talk to them people in HR who’s doin’ the hirin’. Needs some names. Also, you got a car? Drive yourself to work?”

“I’ll get you the names of the HR people and yes, I drive myself to work. I have a Mercedes.”

“Sell it. Put it on Craig’s List or whatever. I don’t want you drivin’ ever again. Easiest thing in the world to fake somethin’ going wrong with the car and you and the car sail over one of them cliffs on Pacific Coast Highway. From now on you’re taking a limo. From what I’m hearin’ and seein’ you can afford to hire one. I deal with a good limo service. The bad guys can’t get to their cars to plant a bomb or play around with the brakes. They’re locked up and it’s a lot safer for you. What about a cleanin’ service here?”

“I have a housekeeper who comes in twice a week. She’ll be here tomorrow. Her name’s Molly.”

”One last thing, Doll. Who fixes your food and where do you get it?”

“Uh, often I just order in or have some cheese and crackers or something like that.”

“Oh, that’s rich. Like no one could poison the food being brought in. Not real smart, Doll, not real smart. What about lunch? Somebody at the company fix it for you or do you go out to eat?”

“Both. I’ve never thought about this.”“Doll, from what I know of some of these extremists, you’ve been livin’ on borrowed time. Actshully, I’m staying here until my guy gets here. I’ll text him. Gotta beer?”

“No, I have a chilled Sauvignon blanc or Cristal champagne.”

“Got any whiskey? Could use a cupla fingers. Been a long day.”

“No. What would you like?”

“Well, damn. Ain’t gonna pass this way ‘gin.  Might as well pop that Cristal. Ain’t never had none of that.”

Darya poured them both a glass of Cristal and before she could put it back in the refrigerator, Slade thrust his empty glass back in front of her. “That’s good shit. Want another one, Slade? Yup, don’t mind if I do. Why, thank you,” he said.

As he slurped another large drink from the glass there were four knocks on the door. Slade answered it. Standing at the door was the most average looking man in the world. Brown hair cut short, medium build, T-shirt, jeans, jacket, and tennis shoes. No one would ever take him for a bodyguard.

“Lou, come in and meet your new boss, Miss Rahimi, he said, motioning Lou in. “Miss Rahimi, meet your main bodyguard, Lou.

She pulled Slade aside. “This guy sure doesn’t look like a bodyguard to me. Is he really a bodyguard?” she asked.

“Yeah, in answer to your question, this man’s a killing machine. He spent ten years in Asia learning the art of killing and paralyzing people. I mean Lou could put a finger on your neck and exert pressure in jus’ the right place and you’d be lookin’ at stars layin’ on the floor. Trust me. You ain’t got no more worries. Lou’s here. By the way, the limo will be out in front at 8:00 tomorrow mornin’. Driver’s name’s Dave.”

“Doll, gotta leave. See you tomorrow. Fill Lou in on the routine and show him where to sleep. Nite, kids.” He handed Darya his empty glass, opened the door and walked out.

Darya simply stood by the front door for a moment, in a daze, not sure what to do next. She felt like she was losing any control she had over her life and now she was being asked to trust this stranger with her life. Her dazed condition was broken by Lou’s voice.

“Miss Rahimi, if you’ll show me where my room is, I’ll put my suitcase in there and I’d like you to give me a tour of your condo. I’ll check the exterior. Then I need to know your daily routine. Things like where you go and what you do. Will that be all right with you?”

“Yes, and I guess I should say ‘Welcome to your new home.’”

CHAPTER 26

Darya woke up feeling vaguely uncomfortable. Sitting up she remembered that Lou was in the room across the hall. She saw the small black button concealed on the side of the nightstand and it all came back to her. Lou had called a contractor who worked with Slade and insisted that he come and install the device at that late hour. It consisted of a thin wire which strategically followed the top of the molding to the bedroom door, down it, under the hall carpet, and into Lou’s room. It was invisible to the naked eye. While the contractor was there, Lou told him he needed to take care of some other things Lou felt were needed to improve security at the condo.

The contractor installed sensor lights on her porches and in the living room. Dead bolts were installed on all three doors, front, back and garage. A peephole was installed in the front door. After a while, Darya went to bed, leaving Lou to oversee the contractor. She was so exhausted and confused, with time changes, she wasn’t even sure what day it was or when she’d last slept. The last thing she remembered was pulling the sheets down.

She glanced at her clock and realized she had about an hour until the limo driver would arrive to pick her up. Two other guards were coming to the office today to meet her. She didn’t know what all this was going to cost, but figured the company could pick up the bill for protecting its president. With a strange man now living in the house and others to follow, she was very glad her bathroom was located within the bedroom suite. She wouldn’t have to walk down the hall half undressed. She sighed as she realized her days of drinking coffee and reading the Los Angeles Times at the kitchen counter in nothing more than a bra and panties was over. She’d always loved the tinted glass on her floor to ceiling windows. She could see out, but early morning beachgoers couldn’t see in. She decided that was probably good for security.

Lou was standing at the front door promptly at eight and after he checked the locks, they walked to the waiting limousine. A man dressed in a black suit who she presumed was Dave was standing by the open back door.

“Hi, I’m Darya Rahimi. I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other. This is all new to me so you’ll have to tell me what to do,” she said, shaking his hand and getting into the car.

“If you let me know in advance where you want to go, I’ll check the best routes so we don’t waste time. I can stay wherever I take you until you’re ready to leave or you can tell me to come back at a certain time. It’s entirely up to you.”