Saving Brigit (21 page)

“All of the women gather in the bathing and exercise areas for a couple of hours each day. That’s when we should move. Rashid and I will be inside the common room, ready for when the spec ops guys come in through the air vents.”

“What about the missiles? That’s the reason we’re here, remember?”

“Rashid was right. The Claw has made arrangements with the Iranians. I put a tiny dent in those plans by telling him he doesn’t have the launchers to make the missiles work—and I do.”

“What the hell? He doesn’t need specific launchers for those missiles.”

“We know that.” Derek shrugged. “So far, he doesn’t. Or he didn’t when I sprung the news on him. He’ll show me the missiles tomorrow, and I’ll plant the homing device. I’ll also give one to my agent. We’ll use it to find the women so we can get them out and then use the other to paint the missiles for the air strike.”

“Are you sure he won’t go for our offer?”

Derek thought for a moment, then shook his head. “I don’t think so. Regardless of the money, I think he enjoys the idea of selling stolen American goods to our enemies.”

Rashid spoke up. “I heard the Iranians have promised only three million for the missiles, far less than we are offering, and still he is willing to sell to them. They have trucks on the way now. It will be best to strike as soon as possible.”

Harrington paced the small room. “How will you smuggle the homing device to your…uh, agent?”

Derek held up a woman’s hair comb. “This was a quick fix, but it’ll work.” He turned it on end and pointed to the mother-of-pearl head. “There’s a homing device on the microchip between the layers.” Holding up a black box with a button, he said, “The signals for both devices start only when I trigger them. She should be in range in either the bathing room or courtyard. As long as the comb is with her, I’ll find her and the other women before the strike begins.”

“I’ll go for the Claw and his lieutenants,” Rashid said. “He and I can discuss our common history as I escort him out.” His mild tone belied the fire that flashed in his eyes and the deadly look of the knife he toyed with while speaking.

“Once we start, there’s no backing off,” Harrington said. “As it is, we’re risking an international incident. Once the planes are ordered in, they won’t be circling. You won’t have much time.”

“I’ll have enough,” Derek assured him.

Harrington walked the room again. “For all the time we’ve spent trying to gain access, this seems like a rushed ending.”

Derek tried for one more assurance. “We have no choice. My story about having the launchers made him think, but I could tell he isn’t happy about dealing with us. Once he discovers I lied, who knows what he’ll do?”

“I don’t know, but I can’t believe he’d pass up such a large amount of ready cash. It’s his business, after all.”

“It’d be a hell of a lot better for us to buy the things and not have the military take part, but there’s something else.” Derek stood and faced the colonel squarely. “From the beginning, it’s irritated me to pay money for our own weapons. This plan won’t get us the missiles, but it keeps them from the Claw and the Iranians. And it closes down this bastard’s operation.”

Harrington smiled. “There is a certain satisfaction in all that.” He strode back to the table. “I can only give you the men I’ve brought with me. Can you do it?”

“A team for me and one for Rashid, plus the two operatives I brought with me.” He nodded to the two men he’d brought from San Francisco. Also flanking the table were six special operations men, tanned, bearded, and ready to kick butt. Fighting alongside the best always exhilarated him.

“Any more and we’ll be tripping over each other. Rashid and I will be here, in the common area. The spec ops guys will come in through the air ducts here” —he pointed to a place on a sketch of the compound— “and we’ll meet up here.” He indicated a different place on the map.

“The time of attack?” asked one of the men.

The colonel slapped the table, signaling the end of the meeting. “Let’s do this and get out of this godforsaken country.”

The Claw sat at his desk when Derek arrived back in the Claw’s study the next day. Once again, a fire snapped in the hearth, and Derek had the sense of being anywhere but inside a mountain in a remote, hostile country. He stood before the fire. With his tanned skin, beard, and loose-flowing robes, he might have been mistaken for a Mideastern man—if not for his blond hair. That alone screamed his Westerner status, and therefore, his being one of the enemy.

The Claw looked up. “Mr. Lowry, I see you found my rooms again.”

Derek smiled wryly. “It would be hard not to with such good guides.” He cast a glance over his shoulder at the omnipresent hulk of a guard who stared without hiding his animosity.

“Just so,” the Claw replied. “Well, I have considered your offer of two million US dollars per missile—”

“One and a half.”

The Claw raised his brows. “Really? I heard two.” He paused, waiting.

Derek slowly nodded his head. Why not acquiesce to the little prick? He wasn’t taking the missiles with him anyway. “Perhaps you’re right. Two mil for a total of twenty million. But I must see them first.” He spread his hands. “Just to be sure of what I’m buying.”

“Of course. My Iranian friends were most disappointed when I told them I was considering a different buyer. Only my assurances that I was still considering their offer calmed them. I fear when they find
you
are the other buyer, they will not be happy.”

“I make many people unhappy in the course of my business.” He hesitated. “I would like to make someone happy today, however. I enjoyed your gift very much yesterday. She was exactly what I’ve missed from the States.” That much was true. He withdrew the comb from the folds of his white robe.

“I look forward to seeing her the rest of the time I’m here, and I’d like to give her this.” He held out the comb. The Claw took it, his black gloves making the mother-of-pearl shimmer even brighter in contrast.

“Where did you find such a thing here in the mountains?”

“I didn’t find it here. I purchased it in China off a street vendor. It has little value, but I thought it was something my younger sister would like. Now I would rather give it to this woman.”

“It is lovely.” He gave it back. “But my women have no need for trinkets.”

Derek snorted a laugh. “Maybe the women in your world don’t, but this woman is American. And I plan to be a regular, if you know what I mean. Not just now, but after I get rid of the missiles. I’m sure I’ll be back for other weapons. Your place is remote and well-protected. That you have a good bar and now this woman, well, it seems like a decent place to do business.” He held up the comb. “If I give her a present now and then, she’ll remember. Then she’ll repay me in other ways. You understand?”

“My women do what they are told now, without gifts.”

Derek stared. “But what’s the harm? I want to do it. It’s nothing but a cheap little comb for her hair. Something that would make her feel prettier, and
that
would please me.”

For a moment the men faced off, the tall blond and the shorter, dark man.

“Very well,” the Claw finally said. “But let me have it. You understand that I must have it checked out.”

“Of course.” Derek smiled and handed back the disguised homing device. When he first knew he’d have to get Thia away from the Claw, he called his office in San Francisco and had them contact a company they often worked with in Silicon Valley. Their scientists were geniuses not only in state-of-the-art spyware, but also in camouflaging it. The office had couriered it to Islamabad, and one of their contacts had brought it to the house only yesterday.

The Claw handed the comb to his guard and whispered something.

“In the meantime,” he said, turning. “We can examine your missiles.” He led the way to the door hidden in the bookcase that Derek had seen before. The Claw reached out to one of the shelves. He didn’t seem to touch anything, but the door sprung open. He stepped through into a lighted, rock-lined corridor, and Derek followed.

He’d hoped they would leave by the main door to the study. He already had his bearings to that point, and it would have been easier from there to find his way to some other place in the compound if they had. In the mountainous passageway, with the many twists and turns they made, he was completely lost.

At last they came to large steel doors where the Claw stopped. They must have been far underground—surely the prick wouldn’t have kept such treasure anywhere but in the greatest depths—but Derek had the feeling they weren’t far from open air.

The Claw signaled, and two men pushed open the doors. He waved Derek through. Lighting was dim, but not so low Derek couldn’t distinguish stacks and stacks of crates covering a warehouse floor. Opposite where they entered, another set of steel doors stood closed. The spacious room was cool, but a thin stripe of daylight shone around the door edges. He was right. They were close to the surface.

The Claw had started toward a corner of the area, and Derek hurried to catch up. There, finally, in the shadowed perimeter of the room he found his quarry: ten stacked and banded missiles marked US Government.

“Very nice.” Derek walked the length of the metal-encased war machines, stroking his beard and trying to look pleased. Somehow, these weapons had been taken off a military base in America, right out from under the noses of security. The investigation into that fuck-up was going on while he and Colonel Harrington were in Tajikistan trying to prevent their falling into the wrong hands.

“Well? Are you satisfied I have what you came for?” The Claw sounded all too pleased with himself.

Derek crouched beside the stenciled identification on one of the tubes. Rubbing his hands across the marking as though to test for fresh paint, he said, “They look real to me.” He started to stand, but his heel caught in the robe and tipped him onto the stack. He caught himself just before hitting hard.

“Shit!” Derek barked out the expletive to cover the fact the trip was staged. With the microchip on the tip of his finger, he slipped it under the band holding the missiles together and against one of the metal tubes.

He struggled to stand, pulling the white folds of fabric from his feet. “I’m all right,” he said, waving the Claw off. When he turned his head, he saw there was no need. The Claw hadn’t moved a muscle to help, only to ensure that Derek didn’t do what indeed he just had. His insolent expression only hardened as he watched Derek gain his feet.

“Are you quite well?” he finally asked. He turned and made a gesture to someone behind him. The same hulk who’d guarded the study strode across the room and up to Derek.

“I’m fine, really.”

But the man bent to inspect the missiles, not to help Derek.

Derek dusted his knees and hid his own worried expression. Had the Claw seen him plant the chip? And would his cretin find it?

He moved off. “Hey, I didn’t dent them. They almost dented me.”

“My man is searching to make sure you didn’t lose anything from your pockets when you fell.” The Claw’s flat voice left Derek’s blood cold. He nearly sighed when the guard stood and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.

“See?” Derek said. “I just tripped over these robes. Even after all these weeks, I’m not used to them.”

The Claw regarded him through narrowed eyes. “You must take care then, Mr. Lowry. I wouldn’t want you to be hurt while you’re my guest.”

Like hell, you bastard. You’re thinking after I transfer the money into your account, you might give the Iranians a map of how I’m leaving the country.

The guard stopped beside the Claw and said something in Tajiki. He handed him the comb and slipped out of sight.

“Let us go and see your special friend, shall we? And you can give her your gift.”

Let
us
go and see Thia?
Derek had planned to give her the comb in one of the pleasure rooms, but he hadn’t expected the Claw to be an audience. If that bastard had some notion of sharing Thia, Derek would be hard-pressed to know what to do. Would he grit his teeth and have a threesome, or bash the son of a bitch in the nose? He followed the Claw at a rapid pace. It wouldn’t be too long before he’d have to make the decision.

During her hasty preparations for the client who had requested her, Fatima explained to Thia what would be expected of her. She was to sit in a cage and not move or speak or react, no matter what she saw Fatima do.

Earlier, Fatima had told Thia that she had been surprised at Thia’s being allowed to entertain a client alone the previous day. To send a new server to a client so soon was almost unheard of, she’d explained. Thia assumed what was happening now was far more typical. Then a guard pounded on the door and handed Fatima clothing for Thia as well.

Fatima looked at Thia in confusion and a little fear. “I do not understand. Who
are
you that our master sends you to serve so soon, untutored and unprepared?”

“He’s nervous, Fatima. First that damn Omar brings him Brigit and then me, in little time. He wonders if I’m who I claim to be.” Thia took the silky material from Fatima’s hand and held it up. The simple gown fell in liquid folds, an unsubstantial piece of fluff designed to conceal nothing.

“Here,” Fatima said, dragging Thia to the bed. “We must apply your makeup.” With deft strokes, she added color to Thia’s eyelids and lips, and then seductively to her nipples. “Lie back,” she commanded.

To Thia’s surprise, Fatima’s fingers gently stroked her pussy lips. “A little rouge makes them redder and attractive to the man. Like a bee is drawn to the brightest flower, you see?”

No.
In her experience, Derek was drawn to her pussy quite well enough without all the hoopla, but she didn’t say anything.

“And are you, Thia?”

“What you seem. Brigit’s aunt. Just a woman who came into a dangerous part of the world to find her niece.”

“Of course.” Thia was proud she didn’t feel a single qualm in lying. She didn’t know this woman or the strength of her loyalty to the Claw. Until she knew more, she wouldn’t give her trust. “Who would wish this place on themselves? If not for Brigit and my obligation to her, I wouldn’t be here.”