Polar Opposites (In Aeternum Book 4) (11 page)

Bailey and his mother. “She’s very busy as well, so—”

“I don’t want your excuses, Ivan,” she snapped. “Bring her so I can meet her. We will have a party and it will be like a reunion because my son has been away for far too long.”

“I can’t just grab her and go, Mama. Besides, she’s not here right now. She’s off on business and I’m not sure when she will be back.”

“Do you not talk? Is this just about sex?”

“Okay, not talking to you about my sex life.”

“So it is about sex.”

“Enough, Mama. It’s not just about sex. She travels a lot with her job and doesn’t always know when she will be back. But— But I will ask her if she will come with me to St Petersburg when I see her next.”

“See you do. What does she do?”

“I’m not letting you get all her information from me, Mama. You can ask her yourself when you meet her.”

“Good.”

Ivan rolled his eyes and let his mother continue talking. She had to fill him in on all the family drama. And in their home, it wasn’t something that was lacking. Only after he had heard about aunts, uncles, cousins and even the neighbors did she let him off the phone.

He put his dish in the sink then went to his bedroom. After brushing his teeth, he crawled into his bed, closed his eyes with a groan, and succumbed to the exhaustion wearing on him. He had to get some sleep for this was about to start all over for him again. If he wasn’t rested, he might miss something, and that wasn’t a chance he was willing to take.

* * * *

Ivan slept heavily and woke when his alarm went off. Slapping a hand on it, he muttered some unpleasantries in Russian before rolling off the bed and stumbling to the bathroom.

I said rested, not well rested.

He reached in the shower and turned on the water. As it heated up, he stripped out of his shorts, rolled his shoulders, then stepped in. He braced his hands along the wall and allowed the heat to seep into him and loosen up his tight muscles.

The water ran down his skin, slowly waking him up. He tipped his head into the spray then stepped back to pick up his soap and cloth. Ivan got out of the shower about fifteen minutes later, more awake and less stiff.

Wearing just his towel, he made himself some breakfast and stared out of the window overlooking the busy street below. He could hear the vendors hawking their wares, children laughing and more.

He watched a woman accept a flower from the man with her with a smile and a kiss. Then she placed it in her hair. Bailey had had a flower in her hair the day he had found her again.

Bailey. He turned from the window.

How is she doing? What is she doing? Is she going to kill someone else?

He hadn’t quite figured out how he felt about what she did for a living. She wasn’t a mercenary. She was a killer. But one could argue they were all sanctioned kills.
Right?
All he knew was what she’d told him and that hadn’t been much at all. Bailey was pretty close-lipped about what she did.

Regardless, I hope you’re safe where you are, Bailey. Come back soon.

* * * *

Coffee in hand, Bailey gazed around the street. People went about their daily business without paying her any attention. She’d been here for a few days now and on each one, she took her morning meal at this location.

Across the café was the man she had to get. He looked a lot like his picture—it hadn’t been hard to recognize him. For a man who wanted to be in hiding, he didn’t appear like he was avoiding the general public.

Perhaps he’s confident no one knows he is here.
She wasn’t stupid—he might appear without a care but she wasn’t green enough not to see the men who were around him, blending in as best they could.
Ex-members of Unit 777, I’d bet anything, except for the white man closest to him—I would say ex-spec ops from America for him.
Unit 777 was Egypt’s Special Forces group.

They were good, real good. She was better. He had six of them around him. This man, Theodore Ramsey, had no intention of going anywhere without his consent.
All plans have a wrench in them. I will be your wrench, Theodore.

She sipped slowly and smiled at some antics the children nearby were doing. Two minutes before she knew he would leave, Bailey finished her drink and made her way out to the street, looking as if she was minding her own business. In truth, she was—just her business had to do with the man seated at the corner table.

Why this man was wanted, she didn’t have a clue. That wasn’t her business or concern. What was is that her boss had told her to bring him back to the States. Alive. So she would. Or die trying.

She walked away, down the route he took, and stepped into an alley. Then she looped back around to the building across the street from the café, making her way to the roof. Once there, she withdrew her scope and watched. Knowing his pattern for every day of the week was important. The men with him were good and they varied but everyone had a pattern.

While they had and utilized seven different routes for coming and going from this location, she would learn them all. Then take him.

Kevin had said fast but obviously if he’d sent her in he didn’t want this to be a smash and grab operation. Still, she wasn’t positive why he had sent her as opposed to, say, Anabelle Lee. There were other operatives who would be better.

Maybe he suspects a leak somewhere. I don’t know.

She readjusted and continued her vigilant observation. Sure enough, he finished his drink, wiped the corners of his mouth with the white linen cloth then rose to his feet. The white man went with him while the other six trailed a bit farther behind.

He and the one who’d left with him didn’t converse. She ran her gaze over the muscle. He packed some heat. She’d say two in shoulder holsters. SIGs or Glocks. And he also had a backup on his right ankle. A revolver of some sort. Perhaps a .38 special.

The one thing Theodore did every other day was go into a small door and vanish for a good hour. This was what she was looking at. Not even the one man was allowed in with him. While she didn’t know what went on in there, she had a pretty good idea, having seen the women that came out in the evenings.

Perhaps her best bet would be there.
Damn it. Why can’t I just sight down my scope and do my job? I hate all this damn planning for this kind of thing. I much prefer my kind of planning. Or waiting.

Sure enough, he vanished in and came out one hour and ten minutes later. Just like clockwork. Bailey let them go, deciding instead to figure out a bit more about that little place. She went to the alley that led to the back of that row of buildings and sought the entrance. When she found it, she looked at the lock then continued on her way without slowing. She would come back tonight.

She wore black and made her way through the shadows to the door. A minor wait and she’d picked it, allowing herself entrance. When the smell hit her nose, she scowled but continued on.
Nothing like the smell of old sex and sweat to get the juices flowing.
Avoiding the ones who worked there, she familiarized herself with the layout. It was actually the office that held the most promise in her mind. From the closet in there, she could make it to the laundry next door and get him out that way.

Bailey counted the steps from the room closest to the front door to the office and figured out how long that would take. Any of the other rooms, it would be less. There was always the chance of running into someone but from what she observed here, it was more about keeping out of the way of those there to utilize the service. All points that worked in her favor. If she did run into people in the halls, they would just seem like another drugged, happy couple. She could dispatch the one person in the office if necessary.

The laundry was closed but this establishment remained open all day. No surprise really. It was, after all, a brothel and men came when they could. She snuck into the closet and did some calculating. It would all be ready in two days.

As cautiously as she had snuck in, she left, just not through the same door. She made her exit via the roof. Five streets over, she caught a taxi back to her hotel.

Taking a seat in the lobby, she withdrew her phone then placed a call.

“How are things?” Kevin McNeal’s greeting was gruff.

“You know how I feel about doing this. It’s not my area but I’ve got it figured out. Will be going down in two days. I may or may not be out of touch for twenty-four with him before we call for pickup. It all depends on how swiftly they learn he’s gone.”

“They?”

“He’s got seven that I’ve seen around him. Ex-spec ops. American and Unit 777.”

Kevin muttered under his breath and Bailey waited. It was her policy not to ask questions. She went in and did her job but she had to be honest with herself. This was making her wonder a bit more about who this Theodore Ramsey was.

“As soon as you can make it possible, Bailey. One day would be better than two.”

While it was rare for her, it wasn’t unheard of—a flash of annoyance spurted through her. “You wanted it done faster then perhaps you should have sent someone here who did retrievals. Not me. I’m not upping my timetable because you want it done faster. I am checking and double-checking my exit routes. Again, this isn’t just me I have to get but this man as well. This isn’t my area of superiority. You know this—why are you acting like I do these all the time?”

“You did this with Dr Vinokourov.”

“I rescued him. This man doesn’t look like he wants to be rescued. I’m assuming this is a man you want. I don’t care to know the details but you should not expect me to do this like someone who does it often. You wanted him sooner, should have sent anyone else. I’m doing this my way. Back off.” She ended the call and stood.

After several deep breaths to calm down, Bailey strode to the elevator and rode it up to her floor. In her room, she packed her bags. Correction. Bag—by the time she had finished it was all in one. It wasn’t a lot nor was it heavy and she took it back downstairs and got directions on where to go to mail it home.

Once it was on its way back to her place in Southern California, she returned to her room and stared over the items she’d not packed away.

“What the hell was I thinking? Extracting a man I know nothing about to take him back to the US with this little bit of stuff. This is going to be fun,” she stated sarcastically.

She spent her night in preparation for the next day. She grabbed around three hours of sleep before she shoved the stuff she was taking into her pockets. One final eyeball sweep of the room then she exited and made her way to the counter where she checked out.

“We hope you enjoyed your stay.”

Bailey nodded. “I did, thank you.” She signed her bill and walked away with a wave. Outside in the late morning, she gazed around Cairo. She flagged down a taxi and hopped into the back seat when it stopped. “The Egyptian Museum, please.”

The driver nodded and she reclined as they entered the flow of traffic. Bailey paid him at the museum and got out. She meandered for a while then walked inside the building and took her time enjoying the displays.

Once the nightlife began, she melded into that as she made her way back to the place she needed to be for tomorrow. She snuck in the same way as before and got to work setting everything up.

* * * *

She heard loud voices and she froze in the office, debating on where she needed to hide—out here or in the closet. If they found her in there it would totally compromise what she had planned.
On the other hand, if I’m caught and killed it’s really a moot point.

They grew louder and she made out three different male voices. The group spoke Arabic and she stepped into the closet, leaving it cracked open as she sought her hiding spot in the small dark space.

The trio entered the room. Two in jeans and shirts, one red and one blue, and the third wore a linen suit. Suit Wearer closed the door behind him and went to pour everyone a drink.

Bailey watched, frozen in her spot. She wouldn’t move until these men were gone. She took it all in. The knowledge took a minute to formulate but it did and she realized the man with the blue shirt was familiar.

He’s one of the six who guarded Theodore.

Was there a plot against that man from those who were tasked with protecting him?

She listened to them discuss wives and girlfriends. Even mistresses. Blue Shirt drained his drink and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

“So, his women will be here tomorrow?”

Red Shirt withdrew a large knife and began cleaning his nails. “We said they would. They have always been here for him.”

Blue Shirt shrugged. “I had to check.” He paused and stared in her direction. Cool calculation appeared in his brown gaze. He drew his sidearm—an IMI 9 Jericho pistol—and tapped it against his thigh before making his way toward the closet door.

Bailey’s breathing slowed as she remained still. He was good, he’d felt her gaze and that something was off. The other two watched him with a look of suspicion on their faces.

“Come out or I fill you full of holes,” Blue Shirt ordered, his voice brisk and no-nonsense.

The other two pulled their weapons as well. Bailey refused to move and kept her heart rate slow and even, breathing so shallow it was barely there.

“What is it?” Suit asked.

“I thought I heard something,” Blue Shirt responded. He grasped the door handle.

“No one is in here,” Red Shirt spoke. “You have to come in through the front and get past the two guards out there to get back here. You worry too much.”

Blue Shirt shot him a look of condemnation. “No such thing as worrying too much. The truth is, you don’t worry enough.”

“Look, I can’t have you firing off your pistol in here. It will create panic and bring police.”

After a long look at the door, Blue Shirt acquiesced and backed away. “Fine.” He sat where he could stare in her direction. “Let’s get the details worked out. I want him in room five this time. He’s not been in there for a while and it’s more centrally located.”