To Deceive Is To Love (Romantic suspense) (27 page)

“Back then, you weren’t exactly what I’d call reliable. I couldn’t be sure you would stick around long enough for it to work. Now, I know you have finished for good with undercover work and I’m willing to give it some thought.”

“That’s great, but I haven’t quite severed all ties with my former employer, so we can talk about it later.” David swung his knapsack over his shoulder. “Car keys?” He held out his hand.

“Not until you tell me what’s going on.” Tony stood there with the keys clenched in his fist.

“I haven’t the time for this,” David said through gritted teeth.

In the background, the phone on Tony’s desk continued to ring. Tony stepped around David and snatched up the receiver, barking, “Yes, who is this?”

His features became frozen as he held the receiver away from his ear and looked at David. “He’s asking for you.”

“Who is it? Nobody knows I’m here.” For a brief second, he thought it must be Chantelle until Tony shook his head as if reading his thoughts.

Snatching the receiver, David listened to that familiar and despised voice. It was like a knife twisting and turning. He said nothing, just listened until the line went dead. The receiver slipped through his fingers.

Tony grabbed it and placed it on its cradle.

“He has Chantelle.” The words came out slowly. Holding out his hand, he continued, “There’s a number scribbled on the pad, has a red circle around it.” He looked over at the desk. “Ring it for me and tell the person on the other end there’s been a change of plan and that his services won’t be required. “

Tony dropped his car keys into the outstretched palm. “You can’t do this alone, David.”

“I can’t risk doing it any other way.”

Night was drawing in and it was drizzling by the time Chantelle pulled up near her flat. For five minutes, she scanned the quiet street ahead, looking for any unfamiliar cars or strangers loitering near her building. There were none.

Leaves fluttered in the breeze and formed small, swirling heaps along the pavement as the wind gathered strength. It was the kind of evening people did not want to venture out in. Paul would no doubt be worried since the journey had taken her nearly three hours, the traffic coming into London hitting a standstill due to an earlier accident.

She gave it a few more minutes and then slipped out of the Mini and up an alleyway adjacent to where she had parked. In her right mind, she would never enter this alley even during daylight. This way, anyone watching her flat wouldn’t suspect she would creep around the rear since it provided access to Paul’s flat only.

Paul had left the gate unlocked as promised and opening it, she made her way across the paving slabs and up to the patio doors, breathing a sigh of relief that Paul had the sense to turn off his security light. She tapped on the glass several times.

The curtain suddenly twitched and Paul’s face appeared. For a moment, he stood there, looking strangely nervous, his eyes fearful.

Chantelle felt he was concerned at her late arrival and as he pulled the patio door open, she moved the curtain aside and stepped into the dimly lit room.

“I’m sorry, Paul. You look worried and it must be my fault. You can relax now.” The smile faded from her face as someone else spoke, hidden inside the room.

“On the contrary, Miss Duvall. I’m afraid he has every reason to fear for his life, as you do if you behave foolishly.”

Chantelle immediately tried to step backward, only to find herself being pushed forward into the room, the patio door slamming shut behind her. The faceless voice finally stepped up beside Paul. He was a thickset, silver-haired man with a pitted complexion who appeared to be in his early fifties. Her nose wrinkled at the acrid smell of tobacco smoke that filled the room.

She guessed he was Hendersson. His slate gray, tailored suit with a long trench coat worn over the top held the appearance of a government official, though, certainly not a killer. From behind stepped another, much younger man in his early twenties with very short, jet black hair, olive skin and sharp features. Dressed in denim jeans and jacket, he looked like a student. He held a lethal looking submachine gun at his side. If the first one was Hendersson, this was more than likely the Algerian, Abdul.

Paul went to approach her, but was immediately stopped by a small handgun pointed at his temple.

Chantelle gasped. She had no doubt Hendersson would use it.

“Chantelle, I’m so sorry. They just forced their way in. I couldn’t stop them.”

“It’s all right, Paul. This is my fault. I should never have gotten you involved,” she said, her voice strangely calm despite a pounding heart and that familiar taste of fear draining the moisture from her mouth.

“Enough. You are right; ringing your friend here was a foolish mistake. The lines to this building have all been tapped.” Hendersson continued in a clipped, well-spoken voice, “I made it my business to know everything there is to know about you, Miss Duvall, including who babysits your cat.” He gave a sardonic smile. Drawing heavily on the cigarette, he blew the smoke out in a long, thin trail.

Chantelle turned her head away, feeling nauseous, and her eyes smarting. Across the room, hiding in the shadows, she could just make out the shape of Chat crouching by Paul’s settee. Normally, he would have rushed up to her purring and crying his indignation that she had left him for so long.

Hendersson noticed her line of vision. “Abdul here does not like cats and the feeling was mutual.”

“Have you hurt him?” she cried out, not caring that she sounded more fearful for the cat than her own life.

“Your cat struck out first.” Hendersson grinned at Abdul.

Abdul turned his face to present the side profile she hadn’t seen, revealing a long red streak down his cheek. Chat wasn’t vicious unless provoked, Chantelle hoped he had been too quick and wasn’t injured. The malevolent glare thrown by Abdul caused her to look away.

“What do you want from us?” she snapped.

“From you two, nothing. From your lover, I want plenty. Now, both of you go over to the settee and make yourselves comfortable. No more chit chat.” The gun was by his side now, but noting their hesitation; he brought it up again and waved it menacingly in front of them. “Do it now. Alive or dead, it makes no difference to me.”

Going over to the heavily cushioned settee, Paul and Chantelle sat close together and watched as Abdul placed his weapon on the glass coffee table and took out a long coil of rope from his denim jacket. He approached and proceeded to bind their legs. Next, he ordered their hands be placed in their laps. Tying first Paul’s wrists together, he then brought the remainder of the rope across to secure Chantelle’s wrists. The rope was so tight; they had to press their bodies close to prevent it from cutting into their wrists.

Paul looked as if he was about to say something, only Chantelle shook her head, warning him with an unspoken movement of her lips to remain silent.

“There’s no point in you being here. David won’t come. He’s keeping the diamonds and leaving the country. That’s why I’m here alone.” She tried to sound convincing. “Don’t you understand? He doesn’t care what happens to me.”

Hendersson gave a small, contemptuous laugh. ”But you are so very mistaken. He risked everything for you once and he will do it again. You are his weakness.” Talking a handkerchief from his pocket, he leaned over her, his foul breath upon her.

Chantelle tried to avert her face, but he forced the material roughly between her lips and fastened it at the back of her head.

Leaning forward to whisper in her ear, his words came out cruel and mocking. “So foolish is a man in love that he will risk everything for nothing. I will remind him of that when I put a bullet in his heart.”

Wide, stricken eyes met his, the gag stretching her lips apart as she tried to plead.

Hendersson stood back and ordered Abdul to do the same with Paul using a tea towel. Glancing at his watch, he announced, “It’s time to make my call. You, my little dove, led me straight to him. Mobile phones have traceable account holders. It’s ironic that your cat’s welfare can achieve what the terrorists couldn’t -- an end to this charade.

****

David pulled up on the hard shoulder of the motorway and put the hazard lights on. He had to stop and think instead of driving like some crazy fool into a trap that would seal his and Chantelle’s fate. Hendersson wasn’t going to allow Chantelle to live. She knew too much. There would be no bargaining once he handed over the diamonds.

Hendersson’s words kept replaying in his head. “No tricks. Turn up without the diamonds and you sacrifice a life. It may not be of any consequence to you, but I’m sure your dove will find the death of her friend hard to forgive.”

David guessed who Hendersson must be referring to, since it was the flat below Chantelle’s where he was heading. He might have known she would flee to the man who was always popping up when tea and sympathy were needed. He also knew Hendersson would carry out the threat and show no mercy.

Placing his head in his hands, he rested the weight against the steering wheel. He had to put emotion aside and think and act like a professional, but it was impossible. This wasn’t some faceless stranger he had been sent in to rescue and hell if it didn’t come off, no one lives forever. This time, he wanted to live and with the woman he loved.

With this thought in mind, he turned the ignition key and started up Tony’s BMW, joining the steady flow of traffic into London. Parking the car on the corner of a street opposite Chantelle’s flat, he turned off the lights and sat in darkness watching the lower part of the building. Dark, lined curtains were drawn tight across the Victorian bay, giving no indication of light or shadows behind them. Only the entrance hall was lit up and that was visible due to a small glass panel at the top of the doorway.

Opening up his canvas knapsack, he retrieved the 9mm pistol, took the safety catch off and placed it under the seat. It was no good trying to conceal the weapon on him; he would be searched. Going back into his bag, he hesitated on the metal box containing the diamonds. It was decision time.

His hand came away from the box as he placed the knapsack out of sight on the floor of the car next to his gun. It was a risk he had to take. Bluffing was an art to him, except to carry it out, he needed to feel confident. Right now, he felt the opposite, nausea sweeping over him. He had never felt this afraid before, because he had never had so much to lose.

Climbing out of the car, he crossed the road and walked up the few steps to the entrance door. He buzzed the ground floor flat. He suspected he was under inspection through the spy hole in the door. A minute passed and the door finally opened.

He stepped in, not knowing who was behind it until the door closed behind him and Abdul pushed him up against the wall, ordering that he put his hands up above his head. They entered the ground floor flat and David’s eyes instantly locked on the bound and gagged couple on the settee. An impassive mask hid the surge of feeling, as he turned away from those wide, emerald eyes filled with terror and looked at the gun barrel Hendersson held to Chantelle’s temple.

“Search him and make it thorough,” Hendersson barked at Abdul.

With David’s hands still raised, Abdul ran his hands up and down David’s body searching for signs of a weapon, not stopping until he had done all of his torso and each leg, pausing on the bandaged one.

“Is that why you limp?” Abdul questioned darkly.

“Top marks for clever observation,” David returned dismissively.

“Take the jacket off,” Hendersson ordered.

David knew he was revealing fear, his body exuding it out of every pore. Damp patches under his armpits seeped through the borrowed denim shirt he wore, a new, unwelcome experience. Dropping the jacket to the floor, he placed his hands above his head as Abdul checked him again, as if not convinced he would show up unarmed. He kept his features fixed in a cold, hard mask of contempt, his gaze boring into Hendersson. Finally, the search was over and he was told to lower his arms.

“You took my warning seriously, I see, but where are the diamonds?” Lowering his gun, Hendersson lit another cigarette and puffed heavily on it.

“Outside, in the car. Where is my money and passport?” David asked grimly. “You didn’t think I would walk in here and hand over the diamonds, knowing for a fact that once I had, you would kill us? You were never one to leave loose ends.”

“You know me too well.” A sardonic twist appeared on his lips as he took another draw on the cigarette. Fat, nicotine stained fingers paused in mid-air. ”And yes, maybe with all the attention recently focused on me, removing you might help the rumors die. Still, the damage has been done and I have enough funds now to take early retirement in a country that caters to my more indulgent tastes. Killing you might not be entirely necessary, since I won’t be around.”

David restrained himself from saying no country had a sewer big enough to accommodate him. Instead, he told Hendersson how it was going down. From the way Hendersson’s frown deepened and a muscle twitched angrily in his cheek, David felt it was working.

“So, you see, anyone touches those diamonds and half the street will go up with them. I have strapped them to enough explosives to make quite an impact and only I know the disarming code.” He rolled his sleeve back to inspect his watch, noticing how Abdul raised his gun at this action. “It’s also on a timer, so unless you have an explosive specialist reachable within the next twenty minutes, we’d better make this deal pretty quickly.”

“He is lying,” Abdul said. “I say we kill them now and be gone from here.” Raising his machine pistol, he pointed it at David, hatred emblazoned in his eyes.