Kiss the Enemy (Slye Temp) (11 page)

Decent plan if not for one snag—what if whoever was behind the kidnapping sent in reinforcements with night vision gear and heavy artillery?

CHAPTER 12

Near Mainz, Germany. 9:00 am

Chatton leaned back against the aging stone wall of a castle built into the cliffs overhanging the Rhine River.

She had no cellular service here, but Wayan would not miss this meeting. He was arrogant. Not stupid.

She turned her face to the early morning sun that was trying its best to warm the frigid air still whipping through Germany in April. She preferred the cold for wearing her Burberry trench coat as a cover garment to conceal the HK USP Compact in her shoulder holster.

Not that she felt the need for a weapon when confronting Wayan, but they both had enemies.

Thus the reason for choosing this tower perched two-thousand feet above the river. Built in early 1100 CE, it offered an unhindered view for miles in every direction. Even with all the safeguards in place for this meeting, one could never be too careful.

Two men emerged from the stairwell, both in suits, but with distinct differences in size. The tall one carved of muscle wore no overcoat and moved with the powerful stride of a man who expected danger and faced it without hesitation.

The bodyguard.

Then there was the diminutive Wayan.

For a man who held a position of influence within the coveted circle of China’s party chief and whose opinion carried weight with the president of China, Wayan was disappointing physically. He had the easy mannerisms of a powerful businessman, sure of his place in life, but at only five feet tall and slender, he gave the impression of being too young for his position. He was forty-five.

Not very impressive overall until the first time you gazed into his predatory eyes. That was the moment an adversary realized Wayan was far more dangerous than his bodyguard, because Wayan could kill one—or a thousand—with a whispered word.

“I hope you have not wasted my time, Chatton,” Wayan warned in his soft voice as he reached her. The bodyguard hung back at a discreet distance. Close enough to react quickly to a threat, but far enough to prevent hearing sensitive information.

She quoted, “An inch of time is worth an inch of gold, but you cannot buy that inch of time with an inch of gold.” 

“Exactly.”

“If you thought I was wasting your time you wouldn’t be here right now, Wayan.”

“Keep in mind, I have not agreed to keep knowledge of this meeting from the General.”

“Telling him won’t be a problem for
me
, Wayan.”

The General was the third player in their secret, three-member club called Czarion. He was not a general, but he held a high position in the United States Pentagon. He influenced decision making in the US just as Wayan did in his country.

Neither of the two liked having Chatton in the mix, because she’d manipulated her way into the Czarion by possessing a rare artifact they both wanted. Wayan was convinced that once five specific artifacts were located and brought together, those rare pieces would reveal the bloody destiny laid out in Orion’s Legacy, a foretelling of the Final Conflict, the throw down of all throw downs by international superpowers.

Yeah, right. Chatton had stumbled across a lead on these two men while hunting for whoever was trying to wipe out her family line.

The General acted as though he believed in Orion’s Legacy, but, in her opinion, his eyes never backed his words. Maybe he’d tossed his Kool-Aid aside when Wayan wasn’t looking.

As for her? She didn’t go for mumbo jumbo, but the potential for world conflict instigated by men with skewed beliefs had kept her invested in remaining a Czarion while she hunted for answers on her family’s killers.

“I will decide what to tell the General once I hear what you have to say,” Wayan told her. He angled his chin with the arrogance of a man accustomed to all but his president bowing down to him.

The only time she’d bow to a man would be if she thought the position would give her an advantage in slamming him with a head butt. “The General is going after the Amber Room panel without your knowledge.
The
artifact that holds the majority of the message, if my research on Orion’s Legacy is accurate.”

He maintained an unconcerned expression, his words unhurried. “It is accurate. And you have learned about this how?”

Because my father taught me all he knew about being an MI6 agent and I surpassed his highest expectations.
She lifted away from the wall, rising to her full height of five-feet-eight when you included two inches of boot heel.

Shoving her hands in her coat pockets, she mentally cracked her knuckles, preparing to sell this. “One of the General’s
families
is trying to obtain the panel that slipped through our fingers last year. Or, I should say, slipped through the General’s fingers.”

Wait for it.

Wayan was not a man who liked to be surprised. His hesitation meant he either didn’t know about the General’s association with a specific group of notable families, or he didn’t know that one of them was after a specific panel from the Amber Room, considered the eighth wonder of the world that was believed lost during World War II.

This particular panel wasn’t even supposed to exist.

Choosing each word as carefully as one would decide which wire to clip on a bomb, Wayan asked, “Tell me about these families.”

“The General has strong connections to five families, some of whom control much of the world’s wealth. On occasion, these groups play nicely together when cooperation is needed to manipulate a political or financial outcome.”

“We all have associations of significance. Why would the General’s hold importance for me?”

“You and the General have known each other longer than I’ve known the two of you, and you may be convinced that he’s sincere about revealing Orion’s Legacy, but I’m not so sure. I, however, am dedicated to seeing this through. For that reason,  I’ve kept an ear to the ground on the Amber Room panel and discovered that one of these families has taken a serious interest in gaining the specific panel we need.”

His eye twitched a tiny bit. Not much of a reaction on anyone else, but on Wayan that was equivalent to an angry outburst. “The German rumored to possess this panel will trade
only
for the St. Gaudens coins. Those coins are supposed to be unavailable.”

“Right. Don’t you think everything the General told us about what happened to those coins last year was just a bit curious? They were stolen then recovered by the FBI. But with all the General’s resources in his own country, he claimed he couldn’t get his hands on those coins before they were locked away in a vault?”

Wayan pursed his thin lips, thinking.

She pressed her advantage. “The General said he could get his hands on the set of coins once things quieted down, but the set has been split up. Two coins are in a museum in New York, one is on display in Seattle and the rest have supposedly been moved to a new vault. If the General was going to produce them, he would have gotten them before that happened.”

“And you believe the General is negotiating for the panel without the coins?”

“Yes, but he’s not working directly with the German.”

“I see.”

No you don’t, but you will when I get through. “
I think the family trying to gain the Amber Room panel needs something from the General, and he’s agreed to make a trade of some sort that involves the panel. It’s a safe bet that one of the world’s power families can come up with something
else
the German will accept.”

“You have located this German?”

“No,” she admitted. “That’s what makes this even more suspicious. Any lead to him has vanished. I think the General has been working behind our backs, and gaining that artifact might not be his only goal.”

“What commitment has the General made?”

She had Wayan hooked and kept pulling him in. “That I don’t know, yet, but I just have to wonder why he has held this from you, in particular, unless he’s making a deal that would affect your country. The family involved has the ability to influence more than one country economically in a postive, or negative, way.”

“Who is the family?”

“I’ll keep that to myself for now.”

“I could find out myself.”

She’d thought about that and had sealed the information leak to keep it out of Wayan’s hands. “If that were so, you’d have already known this information before now.”

While he digested that, she added, “Once the General gains the panel, he’ll have the German killed. The minute that happens, the General will show up to our next meeting ready to boast of an unexpected opportunity which resulted in his getting his hands on the panel. That means
he
will control whether we learn about Orion’s Legacy or not.”

Wayan turned that black gaze up at her. “You have shown your value.”

She gave a tilt of her head in acknowledgment, letting him think she appreciated that he finally noticed. Right.

He asked, “What do you want?”

To drive a wedge between you and the General
. But that wasn’t the only goal in today’s meeting. She was after whoever had been systematically eliminating the entire Macintosh lineage over a period of six centuries.
Her
family, though no one knew it.

She’d uncovered a connection between three deceased Macintoshes and Orion’s Legacy, which led her to uncovering Czarion, the secret boy’s club which, at the time, had only two members—Wayan and the General.

And in finding them, she’d unearthed the very real potential for World War III if this Orion’s Legacy wasn’t kept in check.

She was ready to wrap this up. “What do I want? The General has been using the services of the Banker, who has interfered with a pet project of mine.”  She’d found the person who killed an uncle in Chatton’s Mactinosh family, a diplomat. The assassin admitted being paid by a man dealing arms to a terrorist, but she’d since found out the Banker had actually paid the arms dealer for that hit. “I want information on the Banker.”

“What makes you think I can provide that?”

“Because I know that you two were behind the failed attack on the Vatican last year, and the Banker was involved.”

Not a blink. Wayan had ice water running through his veins.

She laid it out for him. “Here’s my offer. I need to get inside the Banker’s operations. You have associates who work under the radar, much as I do.”  Such as the Triads, and the heads of organized crime syndicates in China. “Have them find a weakness I can exploit and I’ll keep the General from gaining the Amber Room panel, plus I’ll find out if whatever he’s up to will put your country, or its economy, at risk.”

And when she got her fingers into the Banker, he would tell her why he’d ordered her uncle’s death. Step by step, she’d eventually find the person or group who had murdered her mother and her father.

Wayan observed her with the same respect one gave an insect even though he had to look up to do it. “If I provide this information and you are unsuccessful, you will owe me.”

Deals with Wayan never came without a catch and she’d rather owe the devil, but she still said, “Agreed.”

CHAPTER 13

Margaux opened her eyes to find the half moon lower in the sky.

She was leaned against a chest bulging with muscle that two days of starvation hadn’t softened. He had his arm around her, too.

Did Dragan think she needed coddling?

She’d needed the catnap, but he was delusional if he thought she was going to turn soft on him at this point.

He was in no shape to play hero.

“The water’s ready,” Dragan murmured.

She sat up then slid off the boulder to stretch.
Shit.
Not so fast next time. Her body ached everywhere, the burns on her right hand and forearm stung like a mother, and a deep lash of pain streaked along her arm. How had she let that little prick cut her? She gritted her teeth against the throb and felt the makeshift bandage to see if it still bled. It was damp. She needed stitches, but wasn’t going to get them any time soon.

“Drink.”

Margaux turned in the direction of Dragan’s voice. Waning moonlight dusted across him, but he was so still he’d melded with the boulder. She kept her voice as soft as his. “Did you drink yet?”

“No.”

“What were you waiting on?”  She would hurt him if he said ‘ladies first.’

“You to get up so I could use both hands.”

She stepped over and reached for the water, but when she lifted it, she put the side of the plastic bag to his lips. He drank without arguing. She tilted it a little at a time, feeding it to him slowly. When he’d finished half the bag, he lifted a hand to stop her so she turned it to her mouth, greedy for every drop that slid down her parched throat.

She could drink ten of these right now, but so could he.

When she had the bag refilled with a tablet dropped inside, she tucked the bag down inside her shirt, hoping a stick didn’t hit her in the chest and burst it.

She could feel Dragan staring at her and through her. What was bothering him?

He asked, “Are you bleeding?”

How had he figured that out? Her arm had been on the other side of where she’d leaned into him. “Why? You got a Band-Aid in your pack?”

“How badly are you hurt?”

“Tattoo nicked my arm with his K-bar. Are we moving or not?”

Dragan took his time getting off the boulder, but he did it under his own power. Good sign, that.

He said, “We have to find somewhere to hide out until we’ve rehydrated. We’ll move along the river unless we hear someone coming. If we can find a place close to it, we rest a few hours, then we move again.”

No point in arguing with him, because Dragan clearly had jungle training. Smart money said to let him call the shots.

Margaux stepped over to him. “Lean on me, Tarzan. We’ll get farther faster.”

When he hesitated, she turned his words on him. “We need each other. Get used to it.”