Pretenses (20 page)

I put the videotape in the VCR and hit the play button. What I saw rekindled my anger with a vengeance. Coco had tied Keyth to our bed and stripped him naked. She had the needles strategically placed, giving him a permanent erection. Then I heard Coco ask, “Should we make her watch, Keyth? Or should we let her drive herself crazy wondering what I was going to do to you? Or will she wonder where Savannah is while we're in here taking care of an itch that just won't go away.”

Keyth looked into the camera and closed his eyes, then shook his head. Coco laughed. “Can't bear to watch, huh, Keyth? I know what you must be going through, wondering how this is going to look with your wife knowing that as much as you tried to resist, you couldn't. And then wondering if your marriage will ever be the same after she sees you thrusting yourself inside me with reckless abandon. I just can't wait to ride you. It's so long and thick. Looks like it'll completely fill my love box. I think I'll start off with a little appetizer.” I heard her smacking her lips as though she were eating something very tasty. “I wonder how much of you I can take.” She smacked her lips again. The videotape became snowy.

I sat at the edge of our bed and cried, wondering if this nightmare would ever end. She had killed my father and kidnapped my husband and daughter. Now she was fucking my husband with my daughter somewhere in the house. I needed to talk to someone. Kelly was the first person who came to mind.

“Hello,” Kelly mumbled through swollen lips.

P
OURING OUT
my soul to Kelly helped, but it didn't get rid of the images that would be forever etched in my mind. I knew it wasn't Keyth's fault, but I still blamed him. He should have fought harder or died trying, I thought. I realized I was blaming him unfairly, but I was powerless to stop myself. Coco Nimburu had gotten to me like no other person had gotten to me—ever. She was pulling my strings and, like a puppet, I did whatever the puppet master commanded. The stress that the bath had relieved was now back and in control of my waking hours.

Fortunately, I had been able to sleep after crying for about an hour. It was a new day, and maybe something good was going to happen. I needed to eat, but my appetite was gone. The sight of seeing my husband and another woman in our bedroom had caused my stomach to flip. I still felt nauseated at the memory, but I needed to press on. After showering, I turned on the television and watched The Morning Show on CBS. My cell rang.

I had left it in the bedroom, and I scrambled to get to it before it stopped ringing. “Hello,” I said urgently.

“Get to Union Station immediately,” Coco said in Mandarin. “I know you speak Mandarin, so don't pretend you don't. You will be given further instructions once you're there. I'll be watching your every move. I know the FBI is listening so do exactly as I tell you.”

I
FELT FOOLISH
. She had manipulated me again. I had told the bureau to get someone who speaks Cantonese, but Coco was speaking Mandarin now. As far as I know, I am the only agent in the Washington office that speaks that language. I'm sure Michelson gave her that inside information, too. Luckily, we had the car, the phone, and my clothes bugged. They would know where I was—even if they couldn't understand what we were saying.

I bolted out of the house and headed for Union Station. I wanted my husband back, no matter what. Keyth and I had a special relationship, and we could overcome this, I told myself. The few hours of sleep had helped give me a fresh perspective.

I parked in the garage and took the escalator down to the mall entrance. With no instructions, I wondered what I was going to do. Then I heard my name being paged, calling me to a courtesy telephone. I found the nearest telephone and said, “Agent Perry.”

“Go down to the ticket booth and pick up a ticket waiting for you,” Coco said in Mandarin. She was probably being cautious, just in case the bureau had found an interpreter who worked for a different agency in Washington. She couldn't afford to take any chances, I assumed, not when she was so close to getting what she wanted. “Don't call anybody. Don't get anything to eat. Don't even go to the bathroom. Get on the train and wait for further instructions.”

I looked around, hoping to see an agent following me. I didn't see anyone.
I went to the ticket booth and told the clerk my name. He handed me a first-class ticket to Manhattan and told me the train was just boarding. I had to run to catch it. As I climbed aboard, I looked over my shoulder. I still saw no agents and no sign of Coco Nimburu. The conductor looked at my ticket and led me to a private car near the dining section of the train. As we pulled out of the station, I looked at my watch; it was 10 a.m.

The car was luxurious and contained a well-stocked refrigerator with wine, cheese, crackers, lunchmeat, and fruit. Adrienne Bellamy had probably paid for my private car. I reached into my pocket to tip the conductor, but he told me the tip had already been taken care of.

I have to admit I liked having a private luxury car. Being rich does have its rewards, I thought. Then I heard a cell phone ringing, but it wasn't mine. I lifted the storage hatch where the ringing was coming from and found a phone.

“Hello.”

“How do you like the place?” Coco asked. “Nice, huh?”

“Let me talk to my husband and daughter,” I said forcefully.

“All in good time. Right now, I want you to strip.”

I frowned. “What?”

“I know all about the bugs and tracking devices in clothing.” She laughed.

“Strip and throw everything out of the window, including your bra and panties. I just wish I could be there to see you in all your splendor. I bet I could make you purr like a kitten. You'd love it.”

“What am I supposed to wear?”

“I took your black uniform and some underwear. Everything you need is in the closet.”

“Okay, I'm throwing everything out now,” I said, checking to see if she was on the train. If she were, Keyth and Savannah might be, too.

“You didn't throw anything out, Phoenix. Are you happy? Now you know I'm on the train. Throw everything out, including your phone, right now.”

I followed her instructions to the letter. “Now what?”

“Sit back and enjoy the ride. Ciao.”

M
Y APPETITE
returned, and I was able to eat the breakfast I had been given. It was very good. I wondered what was waiting for me in Manhattan. Then I remembered that Sterling Wise had told me that Chase Davenport lived there. She was still alive though. For some reason, Coco hadn't gone after her, which made me wonder if Adrienne Bellamy had called off the rest of the hits. I had told Director St. Clair all about her and my theory of her being the mastermind behind all the assassinations. But we had no tangible proof of anything yet. It was all circumstantial.

I needed to call Sterling in the Caymans. I wanted to call now, but more than likely, the phone was bugged. I opened it up to see; it was. I would have to wait until later. Sterling could probably give me some inside information on Adrienne, something I could use as leverage to get my family back.

After finishing my breakfast, I leaned back against the firm seat and let my thoughts consume me. My husband was my first thought. We had met at a retirement party for Director Ronald Keller. I had hated to see him go. He was smart and politically savvy, but he was also genuine. At least I thought so. Considering what had been going on in the bureau recently, I was starting to wonder about everybody. I remembered that I had been thirsty and had gone to get some punch from the fountain. Keyth was there already, filling his cup with the last of the punch.

When he became aware of my frustration, he offered me his cup and told me he could wait until the fountain was refilled. I smiled and told him I would wait with him. As we stood there, he told me that he worked in the Criminal Division, had grown up in Washington, and was a former D.C. police officer.

When they refilled the fountain, Keyth filled another cup, and we decided to take a walk outside. It was muggy, but neither of us complained. We must have walked for three hours around the building, which took up an entire block at E Street, between Ninth and Tenth Streets. Talking had been easy for both of us.

Looking back, I guess it was destiny that we met. I didn't know Keyth, and he had never heard of me. Just a chance meeting at a punch fountain launched a love affair that was still vibrant after eight years. I hated Coco Nimburu for what she was doing to us.

My life was as perfect as it could be before she came into it and literally wrecked it. I could feel my temper starting to flare, but there was nothing I could do. I would be on the train for another hour. Maybe I could find her on the train. She was no doubt wearing another flawless disguise, but I would know her by her eyes, I thought.

“Porter!” a man shouted after knocking.

I opened the door and let him in. It was the same man who had brought me the breakfast. He was a black man from Grenada with light brown eyes. I had checked him and the conductor out already.

“How many women are on the train?” I asked him.

“I do not know,” he said, clearing my tray. “Would you like me to find out? It's no trouble.”

“No,” I told him, thinking she could be anyone on the train-even a man. She had even been me once. “I think I'll have a look around. I've never been anywhere first-class.”

M
Y SEARCH
was fruitless. I'm not by nature a pessimist, but I was rapidly becoming one. Coco Nimburu was a highly intelligent, professional assassin. I wasn't stupid either. I had graduated magna cum laude, but I felt like an intellectual wimp right then. I was used to being in charge, but now I was at someone else's mercy. Now I was relegated to the corner with a dunce cap. Maybe I wasn't so smart after all. What I had to do was minimize the mistakes. If I could do that, I could come out of this thing in one piece—my family, too.

We pulled into Grand Central Station at 12:59 p.m. on the nose. The cell rang. I knew it was my nemesis, but I wasn't anxious anymore. Before I answered, I realized that I needed to call my master. It had been a very long time since we had spoken. Ying Ming Lo used to say, “Everything has its own time, Phoenix. You must learn to really relax.” The interesting thing was that I had learned to relax in battle, but in my personal life, I wasn't quite where I knew I should be. Ying Ming Lo probably would tell me that this thing with Coco Nimburu was designed to teach me something about myself. When this thing is over, I'm sure I will have learned something worthwhile.

“It's your dime,” I said impatiently.

“I trust you enjoyed the trip?” Coco said in Mandarin and waited for an answer.

“To a point,” I said, relaxing a little.

“Good, good. Did you enjoy your meal? You have to keep up your strength, you know.”

“Am I supposed to think that you care about me now?” I bellowed.

“Actually, I do care. And when this thing is over, you'll know just how much. That, I promise.”

“What do you want from me, Coco?”

“Tell me, Phoenix, do you understand the yin and yang?”

“What does that have to do with this? I really don't give a damn. I just want my family back.”

Ignoring me, she went on to explain what she meant. “We are one and the same, Phoenix. You don't know it yet, but we are.”

“You're a homicidal maniac. I'm an FBI agent, sworn to bring your ass to justice, which is what I'm going to do. One way or another.”

“That's what I mean, Phoenix. Both of us have sworn an oath. Both of us have pledged our allegiance and offered our skills for principles we believe in. It is fitting that you end my life. It is fitting that my death propels you to a spiritual height you may not otherwise achieve. Do you really know yourself, my sister? Do you know that the fire that burns in you burns in me? Do you know that your desire to save life and my desire to take life comes from the same source?”

“If I want a philosophy lesson, I'll call Master Lo,” I told her.

“Please do. He'll tell you the same thing.” She laughed. “Enough chitchat. When you leave Grand Central Station, there will be a white stretch limousine waiting for you. The driver will take you to your next destination.”

“I want to speak with my family,” I demanded.

“I'll arrange it. Tell me this. Who said, ‘You have offended my family. And you have offended a Shaolin Temple?' Ciao!”

The line disconnected. The quote was a line from
Enter the Dragon
. Actor and martial artist Bruce Lee had said it to his nemesis. What was Coco trying to tell me? I would figure it out later.

T
HE LIMOUSINE
stopped in front of the Intercontinental Hotel. My driver, whom I scrutinized to the point of aggravating him, opened my door. He told me to go to the register and a suite would be waiting for me. I think I was getting used to living the high life.

The lobby was filled with rich-looking people. The women were wearing elegant designer dresses and expensive jewelry. Their manicures probably had cost more than the silk Kung Fu uniform I was wearing. I felt so out of place.

I walked over to the front desk, wanting to get out of the lobby as soon as possible. “I'm Special Agent Phoenix Perry. You should have reservations for me.”

The clerk looked me up and down, as if she didn't believe a word I was saying. It wasn't one of those racist looks I received from time to time. She was looking at me as if I didn't belong there, as if I were too low-class or something. I shook my head. The woman wasn't even a manager. She was just a lowly clerk wearing a cheap hotel blazer. Yet she was treating me as if she owned the place.