Deliverance (20 page)

Chapter Thirty

M
aliha went about the home invasion the easy way. She was invited in.

She rented a car for the drive—the Zonda would stand out too much in a back-to-nature area. Victoria’s credit-card records showed regular purchases of a premium dog food. Maliha wore a business suit with a jacket and skirt, carried a briefcase, and bought a bag of the food on her way to Carefree. The homes weren’t what she expected. There were large, expensive homes on acreage, many of them built into a hillside with a great view of Phoenix in the distance. True, they were made of adobe and had natural landscaping, but Maliha had already formed an image of earth homes with cacti growing on the roof. It was a tough image to shake, even when she pulled up in front of the Blakes’ three- or four-million-dollar home at the end of a long private driveway.

I didn’t have to rent a car. The Zonda would feel at home here.

She rang the bell. Looking up at the security camera, she put a big grin on her face and said, “Congratulations, Mrs. Blake! You’ve won a year’s supply of Tail Waggin’ Supreme Balance Kibble!”

When the woman opened the door, Maliha stepped inside, holding out the bag of dog food. When Victoria reached to take it from her, Maliha calmly shut the door behind her. Victoria’s hand reached out for a security alarm button on the wall, but Maliha caught it and twisted, then brought the woman’s arm up high behind her back. Painfully high.

“Anyone else in the house?” Maliha said.

“My husband, three of his friends and my vicious dog.”

Maliha shoved the arm higher.

“Ow! You’re hurting me!”

“Anyone in the house?”

“Just me and Barlett, but he’s a wimp.”

Bartlett chose that moment to wander in, demonstrating his tail-waggin’ outlook on life. He was a young golden retriever with a smile on his face and love in his heart for all.

“Stupid dog,” Victoria said. “We should have gotten a pit bull like I wanted.”

Maliha reached down and patted Bartlett on the head. He licked her bare ankle, after rejecting the leather glove on her outstretched hand.

Just the kind of guard dog I like.

“Good doggie.” The tail went wild. Victoria rolled her eyes. “Listen, Victoria, I need to borrow a couple of things from you. All you have to do is go along and you won’t get hurt. When I leave I’m going to give you an injection to make you sleep for eight hours or more. You’ll wake up feeling fine.”

“I’m supposed to go to a fund-raiser tonight. When I don’t show up, the police will come here.”

“Are you meeting anyone?”

“Yes . . .” Maliha wrenched Victoria’s arm. “No. Bugger off!”

Victoria struggled and Maliha waited her out. Bartlett danced at their feet, excited by the play. Finally, Maliha pulled a pair of handcuffs from her pocket, yanked Victoria’s other arm back, and fastened the cuffs. Tugging on the cuffs, she walked Victoria over to the security control panel. Without too much persuasion, Victoria told her the correct password and Maliha disabled the alarm.

“Okay. Let’s go up to the bedroom,” Maliha said.

Victoria’s eyes grew wide. “No you don’t. Not with me, you . . . you pervert.”

Maliha sighed and knocked her unconscious. Throwing the limp body over her shoulder, she went upstairs to the master bedroom, briefcase in one hand. She put Victoria on the bed. Barlett followed the two up the steps and jumped up on the bed. He circled a couple of times and settled down, his head resting on Victoria’s leg, happily watching Maliha poke through his owner’s possessions.

There were his and hers closets, so Maliha opened up hers. She was here to pick something to wear that belonged to Victoria in case someone who’d seen her before was at the speech or dinner.

Maliha chose a long black dress with a low neckline and a slit skirt, but one that covered her back completely. It was unlikely that Victoria had a hawk tattoo spanning her shoulders. There were sparkling crystals at the waistline of the dress, and a short jacket and matching high heels with the same crystals. She added a black silk scarf from a drawer in the closet. The jewelry box yielded a pair of diamond drop earrings. Maliha loved them, but set them aside.

Too expensive. These studs will do, since they’re not going to make their way back into the jewelry box.

Maliha set everything out on a dressing table in the corner of the bedroom. Then she went looking for Victoria’s admission ticket, and spent the next hour taking a photo of herself in the same outfit Victoria wore, same makeup, and delicately substituting her photo on the ticket. The photo was a good match, but her substitution job wasn’t perfect using just the items she brought in her briefcase. She put the ticket on the bed and sat on it. The slight curve and wrinkle distracted the eye and made the ticket seem more authentic.

Victoria was coming around. Maliha waited with her and helped her sit up on the bed.

“You didn’t . . .” Victoria said.

“No.” Maliha thought about the last time she’d been with Jake, the exquisite and gentle union of bodies and hearts.

He’s the man who broke through the barrier to my heart, but it was Lucius who created the cracks in that barrier.

“I did lie earlier, though. I’m not borrowing a few of your things. I won’t be able to return them.” She pointed at the outfit on the dressing table.

Victoria glanced over at it, then looked Maliha up and down. “You’re going in my place. Are you sure that dress fits? It looks like it would be a little tight through the waist. I don’t want to look bad.”

“Of course it will fit. My waist’s no bigger than yours.”

“Hmm. Prove it.”

Mumbling under her breath, Maliha stripped to her underwear, keeping her back to Victoria. The dress slipped on easily. “There. In fact, it’s a bit too big.” She pinched the material out at the waistline, illustrating.

“Good. If anyone notices, they’ll think I lost weight.”

I pity Norman. I’m not sure this woman has grasped the situation.

“You’re not going to do anything that will hurt my reputation, will you? Norman wouldn’t like that.”

“No.”
Assuming you have a reputation as an assassin.

“Would you mind turning on the telly? I watch some shows about this time.”

Maliha searched the room and Victoria for cell phones, confiscating two from atop a dresser. She unplugged the landline phone and set it out in the hall, along with the cell phones and a laptop. There were no weapons in the room Maliha was worried about except a straight razor, which went out into the hall. She propped Victoria up with a couple of pillows and turned on the TV for her. Pushing a chair in front of the bedroom door, Maliha sat in it so the woman couldn’t get to any of the items in the hall without going through her.

Maliha spent the next couple of hours going over the plans of the Comerica Theater that Amaro had provided and studying the map of its location in Phoenix. The theater wasn’t ideal for her purpose. It was primarily a venue for band appearances and was a large open space with a stage. No fancy seating, just chairs on a concrete floor. If she had a seat on the main floor, as Victoria’s ticket specified, Maliha wouldn’t have any height to provide a good view for a shot. For a clear line of sight, she’d have to be up in the catwalks of the theater, where the stage lighting was. Checking the plans, she saw that the stairs to the catwalks were behind doors backstage, as is typical for such places. With high security backstage for the president’s appearance, access might be tough, especially if she had to pick the lock. A digital lock would be worse, slowing her down too much.

Elizabeth’s sniper will likely have a government pass. Can’t rule out anything.

The dinner after the speech was in a hotel banquet room, the same situation—everyone on one level—minus the catwalks. For a sniper to get a high, unobstructed view in the banquet room, he’d have to swing from a chandelier.

Shooting isn’t the way to go for my attempt. Keep it simple. Elizabeth will probably have someone in the audience watching me, who will report to her—I would. Goal one: try but don’t succeed to kill the president. Goal two: eliminate the backup.

It was nearly time to leave. Maliha turned off the television and removed the prepared syringe from her briefcase. As she approached, Victoria eyed the needle.

“My arms hurt and I’m hungry,” she said. “I have to pee. You can’t leave me like this.”

Maliha considered. Victoria wouldn’t like to be found in a wet bed. Norman wouldn’t like it.

And I should care?

She looked at Victoria, who had a pleading look on her face. Bartlett was flapping his tail against the bed.

I’ll do it for Bartlett. He wouldn’t like a wet bed either—might get blamed for it. I can’t believe I’m doing this. If anybody ever finds out, I swear I will die of embarrassment.

“Stand up,” Maliha said. Victoria, who’d been lying down for several hours, stumbled to her feet. “Hold still. I’m going to put the cuffs on in front.”

Victoria swayed a bit but offered no resistance. With her hands cuffed in front, she could manage in the bathroom.

“Potty break,” Maliha said, walking her over to the door. She pushed Victoria into the room and politely turned her back near the door. She could see the woman in a mirror, so she’d have plenty of warning if Victoria decided to attack her. “Hurry up.”

“You’re making me nervous.”

“Five seconds.”

Ah. Success.

With Victoria back on the bed, Maliha injected her.

“Am I going to get high?”

“No. Just relax.”

When Victoria was sound asleep, Maliha uncuffed her and went downstairs. Bartlett padded along with her.

“Hey, you’re supposed to stay upstairs.”

He sat down and looked at her expectantly.

“You too?” she said. There was a leash hanging up by the back door. She took Bartlett outside, and when they came in, she opened the bag of dog food she’d brought and filled his bowl.

“Can I leave now?” In answer, the dog went back to the stairs. He was heading up to the bedroom to keep Victoria company.

Out in the car, Maliha slipped off the high heels for more comfortable driving and went to the theater. She didn’t use the theater’s parking lot. Instead, she parked several blocks away. She took a zirconia knife from her briefcase and fastened it high on her left thigh, where the dress wasn’t split, in a slim matching sheath. Zirconia, or ceramic, knives were usually detectable by security metal detectors because the manufacturers of the knives voluntarily put in a percentage of metal. Hers was custom-made, black, light in weight, and invisible to regular walk-through detectors. The knife was a superb weapon made for one thing only—killing.

If she were to go through the type of airport scanner that produced a full-body image, the knife would be visible under her clothing just like her breasts and butt. She didn’t expect to encounter airport scanners at the theater. She put the heels back on and wrapped the scarf around her neck, pulling it up over her chin. With her hair in loose curls that tumbled down to her shoulders, she pulled the curls forward, partially blocking the view of her face and eyes.

Who is that mysterious woman in black?

Maliha walked to the theater and breezed through the metal detector. She was escorted to her front-row seat. Mickey planned to arrive at the last minute, right before the entrances closed. Once the speech started, people were supposed to remain in their seats and not leave the theater.

Like a high-school lock-in, except run by the Secret Service.

There were two speakers before the president, local politicians basking in the glow. The audience listened politely and applauded at the right spots, but curbed their enthusiasm. They were there to see and hear Randall Millhouse. When he appeared on stage, the crowd gave him a long and vigorous standing ovation. Few probably noticed the increased presence of agents on the stage and in front of it. Maliha noticed that an agent was posted at each of the fire exits. Although locked from the outside, the doors were considered weak spots because they led straight into the theater, bypassing the metal detectors.

Maliha waited for her cue to act. She hoped that Mickey had made it into the building and was up to the job, which was spotting the backup assassin. That was crucial to her plan to blame Elizabeth as the reason Maliha’s attempt failed. She would be able to say that Elizabeth had brought in the backup and screwed everything up.

Just as she thought that the speech seemed to be winding down, a man in the audience stood up and yelled. It was Mickey. He was pointing up at the catwalk.

“Sniper! Up there!”

Maliha took a deep breath. The agents followed Mickey’s accusing finger. Although the sniper snatched back the barrel of his rifle quickly, the damage was done. He’d been spotted.

The agents on the stage crowded in close around the president. Maliha pulled the scarf up, leaving only her eyes exposed, and vaulted onto the stage—not an easy task in heels. She approached the president. She’d debated using Ageless speed, but it was a recording of her running at that speed that had resulted in Arnie’s death and Yanmeng’s kidnapping. Up on the stage, there were both security and TV cameras recording everything, and cameras sweeping the audience, too. She ducked her head a bit further, trying to look like a woman with no face.