The Housewife Assassin's Hostage Hosting Tips (Housewife Assassin Series Book 9) (34 page)

Before I go out the window, Jack hands me his backup gun: a Sig Sauer P226R, with a suppressor. Mara is carrying the same equipment.

Then, he kisses me. A million emotions wash over me: love, desire, regret–

But mostly determination.

Together, we will save our son.

I walk gently on the wall as Jack and Dominic lower me down–

But in the silence eighteen and a half stories above traffic, the rip of a sheet is as loud as a thunder clap.

I look up to survey the damage.

Yes, I am almost literally hanging by a thread.

The look on Jack’s face is one I’ve never seen before: sheer terror.

Above me, the rope goes slack as it drops.
 

The second it takes to pass me is long enough for the images of those I love to rise to the surface of my consciousness: I’m embracing them, telling them how much I love them, telling them that they will always feel me beside them.

And then my mind’s eye is filled with the vision of my son as I last saw him.

I’ve failed you, Jeff. Please forgive me.

In desperation, I claw at the air. The split second seems like an eternity.

The next thing I feel is Mara grabbing ahold of me at my knees, and pulling me through the window with all her might.

We land on the carpeted floor with a thud.

I’m about to thank her, but she puts her finger to her lips to silence me.

Footsteps can be heard coming from the hallway.

She rolls under the bed. I follow her lead.

The footsteps stop outside the door.

A long moment later, the door opens. At first, no one enters the room. When he finally does, it’s with the stealth of a cat.
 

Mara reaches for one of the dead Chinese minister’s slippers and throws it toward the bathroom door.

As the terrorist makes his move in that direction, I roll out from under the bed and pull Jack’s gun from its holster.
 

The shot is a direct hit to the heart.

Four killers to go.

I pray Mara has it in her.

I know I do.

There are two soldiers at the far end of the hall, guarding the elevator and sharing a smoke. Mara hits the one on the left with a bullet to the head. I do the same with the one on the right.

I text Jack:
LION and cubs leave NOW on E Elev! U use C Elev to us.

Mara and I move quickly but silently against the hallway’s right wall, the one that will give us the most coverage, since it is against the deepest part of the room. As we get to each doorway, we look inside. All are empty.

We duck low to the ground as we reach the double-door entry, and peek around the corner to assess the situation. The rest of the hostages, bound and gagged, huddle together behind the sofa in full view of the camera. The Chinese minister’s body, stiff and bloodless, lies on a thick Persian carpet near a window. Next to it is that of his German counterpart. There is also a woman’s body–Walther’s assistant, Gretta, I presume.

Thank God, Jeff is still alive–but not for long, if we don’t move quickly.

There is just one ISIL guard left, and even he is mesmerized by what is about to take place: the beheading of a mere child.
 

Tatyana mans the camera that will show the world their next heinous crime.

Jeff is now kneeling in front of a coffee table. His head is bowed. His hands are bound behind his back. My son is not crying. In fact, he seems to be in a trance. The executioner declares, “The United States’ president has failed his people. He would rather see another innocent executed than sacrifice his personal political agenda. This is your child, America! How do you feel?”

After nudging Mara, I point to myself and then make a slicing motion, to indicate that my target is the executioner. She nods, and waits for my three-count.

On one, the man lifts his sword.

On two, a bullet leaves my gun.

Before the three count, he reels backward from the force of a bullet right between the eyes.
 

Tatyana ducks down, just as Mara’s bullet whizzes over her head.

She rolls to one side. When she rises, she is pointing a gun at Jeff. The gun goes off–

And hits the soft flesh below the ribcage.

Not Jeff’s ribcage, but Mara’s because she has leapt on top of him, shielding his body with hers.

Before Tatyana can get off another shot, I shoot at her–

But I miss. She runs down the hall.

I pull the blindfold off Jeff’s eyes, and rip off the restraints on his hands and feet. Seeing that it is me, he throws his arms around me as if he never wants to let go.

That’s fine with me. I feel exactly the same way.

I’m reluctant to set him down, but I have to in order to see what I can do for Mara. As her blood flows out of her, her bittersweet life ebbs away. I cradle her face as I whisper, “Thank you, Mara, for saving Jeff’s life.”

I can barely hear her as she whispers back, “You have everything I ever wanted, Donna. And you deserve it all…after…Carl.”

The glazed look of death in her eyes tells me she is at peace.

The next thing I know, Jack and Dominic are there too.

Jeff runs up to Jack to be enveloped in a bear hug that lifts him off the floor.
 

Over my son’s head, I ask, “Tatyana! Was she apprehended?”

Jack stares back at me. “We didn’t see her! We came straight here!”

“She must have ducked into one of the guest rooms! Oh hell–the elevator!”
 

“It only goes up,” Jack reminds me.

I run down the hall just in time to see the elevator doors opening, and Tatyana getting on the platform.

As she leaps into it, I get off one shot before the doors close completely.

When it comes back down for me, there is blood in it, but no Tatyana.

It is probably Ed’s, but I hope it’s her blood.

As silently as I can, I look in Lee’s suite first. Thank goodness, it’s empty.

So is Walther’s suite. I presume he’s on his way back to Germany. The invasion of the summit is one black eye on his political career. The death of his country’s security minister is its knockout punch.

I find it hard to feel sorry for him.

On quiet feet, I walk through the concierge elevator platform to my suite. When I reach the threshold, I stop to listen for any noises.
 

Nothing.

I crouch down and look out–

No one.
 

I hear a noise. It’s coming from the sunken living room.

Step by silent step, I make my way down the hall. When I get to the living room, I stop and raise my gun, then turn–

To see Walther. He’s sitting on a couch. His hands are tied behind his back, and his mouth is gagged.

The sight gives me pause.

Big mistake. Tatyana kicks the gun out of my hand. Her gun is aimed at my head.

She chuckles. “I was hoping it would be you! Much better than Jack Craig. I’ll enjoy taking away his one prized possession–his little
hausfrau
.”

“That is not a dirty word in my language,” Walther reminds her. I notice that his hands are free, and he has pulled the gag from his mouth.

He stands up. Before smoothing his cuffs, I see a tattoo on his right wrist:

A half-moon.

Walther is the saboteur code-named Sin.

He clicks his tongue at Tatyana. “You made the bindings too tight, Tatyana
meine liebster
.”

“Sorry, my dear.” She shrugs. “Usually, you love them that way.”

“Not when I don’t have much time to take my leave.” He winks at me. “Or, as you Americans say, ‘make a quick getaway.’ The chancellor is sending a helicopter. It should be on the roof any moment.”

So, Tatyana was the playmate in Walther’s bed, not Gretta. And having seen Gretta’s dead body, I now realize that Tatyana was also the voice on the hotel’s house phone relaying the terrorists’ terms to Walther.

I glare at him. “You are ISIL’s inside man.”

He puts a finger to his lips. “
Shhh.
Let’s keep it our little secret, shall we?”

“But–but you’re a cabinet secretary in the German government! Why would you betray your country–and the world–in this manner?”

He shrugs. “The price was right. The moment the abduction was broadcast, fifty million was transferred into my Swiss bank account–a pittance to ISIL, considering the publicity! Hostages on American soil–and one is President Chiffray! It’s priceless! Not to mention the number of eager new recruits!” He laughs. “And now, being offered our dearly departed security minister’s appointment is an added bonus.”

I mutter, “Considering this major faux pas, I’m surprised your chancellor would trust you to walk her dog, let alone with the country’s security.”

He backhands me across the face. Noting that I don’t flinch, he shrugs. “After Franz’s grisly demise, I don’t think there will be many takers.”

Good point.

I turn to Tatyana. “You’re a ‘show me the money’ kind of girl. What’s your stake in this?”

She raises a brow. “As you know very well, the Quorum has also had a recent death in the family. But as much as we all mourn the demise of our fearless leader–your ex-husband–the show must go on. For this mission to be a success, ISIL needed an onsite consultant–you know, to make the necessary arrangements for getting their A-Team God Squad into the country without raising any red flags, and out again as soon as possible.” She shrugs. “The executioners were worried that the mission might be too easy. You proved them wrong. That’s okay. They were ready to meet their virgins.”

“So happy we were able to accommodate them,” I murmur. “By the way, how did you get ahold of Jeff?”

“He’d walked up eighteen stories on the fire exit, in order to get to your suite. When his security key let him into the concierge level,
voilà
! We had our perfect hostage,” she sneers. “The fact that he’s your son made it that much sweeter.”

The thwack-thwack-thwack of a helicopter’s propellers is faint, but getting louder. “
Auf wiedersehen, meine liebster
! So sad I can’t take you with me, but you know how it is–we must keep up appearances.” Walther pecks her on the cheek. “I’ll see you back in Berlin.”

Tatyana blows him an air kiss as he strolls through the elevator platform back to his suite, then jabs her gun into my back. “Walk with me. I’m using you as my human shield”–she shrugs–“for as long as you’re needed. But better you than Jack or Jeff, eh, mama?”

She doesn’t push me toward the concierge elevator. Instead, she shoves me in front of my penthouse’s private elevator and inserts a security card. “I held on to your son’s card,” she explains. “He’s such a sweet, polite boy! Gave it right to ‘the maid’ when I asked for it.” She fakes a sigh. “I’m happy my scars didn’t scare him. Aren’t you glad I didn’t tell him that your loving Jack gave them to me?”

No bell rings when the elevator door opens. I know this is because there is no car.

But not Tatyana.

Before she has a chance to realize it, I shove her into darkness.

Instinctively, she grabs onto the only thing she can–me.

I try to push her off, but she has momentum on her side. Together we fall.