Ultimate Power (16 page)

Neil nodded, strolled to a couch, pulling his collar from his neck. It felt like he was being strangled by a midget; he couldn't wait to get out of the suit.

He didn't need to wait long. A short, squirrelly man bustled towards him. "Mr. Topham?"

Neil nodded and shook the man's outstretched hand. It was soft and clammy.

The man wrung his hands and smiled. "The Board was pleasantly surprised when they found out that a distinguished organization such as yours would have any interest in our small establishment."

Neil smiled, slapping the man on the back, hard. "Mr. Dwyer, the Hilton Hotels Corporation are always on the lookout for potential acquisitions to add to our expanding portfolio."
 

The man grimaced, trying to force a smile. "Please call me Henry."

"All right then, Henry. Besides, Kabul is the perfect location. A newly established NATO Command Center, and Kabul is a stepping stone to the East."

The man smiled nervously, wringing his hands. "Oh, I wouldn't call it a stepping stone, but it has its charms, I guess." He walked behind the reception desk. "Please, follow me to my office," he said over his shoulder.

They walked down a short passageway and stopped in front of a door that said
General Manager, Private.
Two bored looking men with bulging muscles and tight suits stood to either side of the door. Henry Dwyer nodded their way, but they didn't bat an eyelid. "Security," he smiled apologetically.

Neil followed Dwyer inside the office, an exact antithesis of the foyer. It was small, dark and stank of stale cigarette smoke. "Please, sit," Henry said, gesturing to a dilapidated chair with the sponge sticking out from the side.

Neil sat down. "One question before we continue with our negotiations, Mr. Dwyer."

"Yes?" Henry said, settling in his chair.

"Do we assume ownership of the whorehouse as part of the takeover?"

The man's eyes flicked from side to side in his sockets, and he licked his upper lip. "I don't know about--"

"Come, now, Mr. Dwyer. Do you think we would leave the most profitable part of the business on the table?"

The man smiled weakly. "How did you know?"

Neil slapped his thigh as he chuckled. "We do our research, Mr. Dwyer."

The man nodded, a nervous twitch making his eyebrow jump. "Okay, we could talk about that."

Neil stood up, slipping the Glock from his shoulder holster. He pointed it at the bridge of the little man's nose. "I need the master keys to the place."

The man stared at the barrel of the gun with squinted eyes. "What?"

"I need the master keys, now, or I blow your head off."

The man looked at Neil with unbelieving eyes, nodded like a bobble head. "Okay, they're in here," he said, pulling open a drawer.

"Slowly."

The man handed him a bunch of keys.

"Get a pen and paper and write down all the access keys to the gates."

The man nodded again, tongue flicking over his dry lips and started scribbling furiously on a piece of paper.

"And I need the secret code to the armed reaction unit," Neil said, undoing the button to his collar.

"It's marina one."

"Write it down," Neil said, loosening his tie.

Dwyer did as Neil said.

Neil strode over to the man and pulled a roll of duct tape from his pocket. "Place your hands in front of you."

Neil wrapped the tape around the man's wrists half-a-dozen times, tore it off with his teeth. "Okay, call those two oafs inside."

The man nodded, clearing his throat. "Uhm, Cheech, Chong, do you mind joining us inside?"

Neil frowned. "Cheech and Chong?"

Dwyer shrugged. "Nicknames. They don't understand the irony, I guess."

The men entered, oiled hair gleaming and muscles bulging, their hands going to their belts when they saw Neil pointing the gun at them. "Don't do anything stupid," Neil said, waving his Glock. "Down, on your knees, hands behind your backs."

They raised their hands, kneeled down uncomfortably, suits stretched to breaking point.

Neil wrapped duct tape around the first man's wrists, but he tried to slam the back of his head into Neil's face. Neil countered, pistol whipping him against the head. He turned to the other man, but Chong shrugged.

Neil finished binding them, making sure that their legs were strapped tight and bound them to each other. He turned to Henry. "I'll be borrowing your fine establishment for the evening, then I'll free you. If you stay nice and quiet, it'll all be over in a couple of hours."

The man nodded, licking his upper lip.

Neil tied Dwyer’s legs to his chair, walked out and locked the door behind him. Mission accomplished. He talked into his wrist. "All clear, move in."

Moktar held onto the door handle as the car jostled and bumped its way over the potholed road, heading toward the Marina hotel. He smacked the back of the chauffeur's seat with his palm. "Hey, take it easy, I'd like to get there in one piece."

The man lifted his hand in an apology. "Sorry."

Moktar cursed, glancing sideways at Rehan and Abdulla. They shook their heads, smiling.
 

He sat back into the seat, then unlocked his cell phone. Moktar opened the image that Dwyer had emailed him. They had a new girl, French, and he was looking forward to meeting her; maybe she could teach him a couple of words, he thought, chuckling.

He always enjoyed the new girls. The Kabul whores got on your nerves quickly, all three of them. They lay there, staring up at the ceiling when they should be enjoying the moment with you.

He sighed. The French girl was beautiful, young, olive skin with black hair cut into a bob and a long fringe. She had green eyes. Her face wasn't perfect, she had a mark beneath her lip, and her nose had a bit of a kink, but the imperfections enhanced her smoldering looks. In the photo, she had a challenging smile as if to say: "come and get me, bad boy." Oh, she needn't worry, he would.

His gaze shifted down to her body. She was wearing a red, two-piece bikini. He gave a wolf whistle. She was lean and tan and toned, a flat tummy and beautiful tits. He was going to have fun with this one.

Dwyer's email said that she would cost double, but he didn't care. He wanted to be the first man in Kabul to take a whiff of the French blossom, savor her forbidden fruits. He laughed out loud, feeling his dick grow hard.

They entered the gates to the complex and slid to a halt in front of the passenger drop-off in front of the hotel. "We're here," his driver called.

"Excellent." He slid out of the car with a spring in his step. "Wait here," he ordered the men in the two limousines behind them. He marched towards the entrance and was met at the door by the woman in the photo. "Where are the others?" he asked suspiciously, glancing around.

"Mr. Dwyer said that they should give us peace and quiet for a couple of hours. Apparently you are a regular patron. He believes in rewarding his VIP customers."

Moktar nodded. "It's about time." He waved his arms in a dramatic gesture. "I'm bankrolling this little operation of his."

The beautiful woman smiled and hooked her arm into his. "I've heard." She looked at him seductively and licked her upper lip. "Fancy something to eat?" she asked, leading him to the honeymoon suite.

"Give me your most expensive dish." Moktar studied her as she walked in front of him, holding his hand. She wore a tight black dress and stilettos, had amazing long legs and strong calves and a fantastic ass. She was taller than him, and walked with a lithe grace, like a cat.
 

She unlocked the door and ushered him inside, then walked to the phone on the night stand. "Chef, could we have a dozen Nova Scotia Langoustines and some Beluga white caviar. And a bottle of Bollinger Blanc de Noirs Champagne."

"I don't drink."

She fluttered her eyelids. "It's for me," she said and pouted. "It allows me to set aside my inhibitions."
 

"I've heard that alcohol does that," he said, admiring her tits with their ample cleavage. Shit, he wanted this woman bad.
 

But he had to wait.
 

Extend the pleasurable craving for as long as he could. He slapped her bottom. "As long as you brush your teeth before blowing me." She giggled.

He fell onto a couch, massaging his crotch. "How much is Dwyer paying you?"

"I'm not allowed to say, but it will be enough to set me up to follow my dreams."

It was funny to think these girls could imagine having a future anywhere else. "Dreams?"

She smiled, twirling her fringe around her finger. "I want to go to Hollywood someday."

"So, how much?"

She sighed. "Five hundred."

He snorted. "That stingy bastard. I'm paying him Two Thousand."

She sauntered over to him, trailing a finger down his chin. "Is that a problem?"

He popped her finger in his mouth, sucked it like a lollypop, pulled it out. "Not at all." He started slipping her dress' strap from her shoulder. "He's exploiting you girls. You should come visit me. I'll pay you directly. Double."

The girls eyebrows lifted. "Honestly?" she said, eagerly. Poor child.

He nodded as he pulled the strap off her shoulder. "Yes." There was a knock on the door, and Moktar groaned. "Tell him to go away."

She smiled seductively and pulled the straps back onto her shoulders. "I want some champagne," she said and lifted her skirt, revealing a red G-string. She pulled it back down as she sauntered to the door and opened it.

He swallowed, trying to get his breath under control.

A man came in wearing a white suit and carrying a silver tray with two cloches. He walked like a woman and had an earring in his ear. "Sir, madam," he greeted. He placed the items down on a dining room table and opened the cloches. "Wild Iranian Caviar and Langoustines all the way from the cold waters of Novia Scotia." He turned to the girl. "Should I open the champagne?"

He spoke with an American accent and was obviously a faggot, moving his hands like a woman's when he spoke.

"You a faggot?" Moktar asked the man.

The guy smiled uncertainly. "I prefer to be called gay, sir."

"You know what we do with faggots?"

The man swallowed nervously, shook his head.

Moktar turned to the hooker and winked. "We rip their balls off and eat them for dinner."
 

The girl threw her head back and laughed, she was enjoying this.

The man cocked his head, like he was having difficulty understanding. This was fun. "Did you touch my food, faggot?"

He shook his head. "No sir, the chef did." The faggot was trying to open the bottle of champagne, but his hands were shaking.

"Is he a faggot as well?"

"No, sir."

"That's good, bugger off before I rip your balls off."

The woman put her hand to her mouth, laughing.
 

The man bowed. "Yes sir, sorry sir," he said. He uncorked the champagne and strolled over to Moktar, pouring some champagne into a glass.

"I don't drink."

The waiter smiled. "I know." Moktar didn't have time to blink before the bottle slammed into his teeth. He doubled over, crouching on all fours, blood pouring from his gums and mouth. He spat out a tooth. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

The waiter shrugged, then kicked him in his ribs. "My brother is gay."

"You're going to pay for this," Moktar said, stumbling, trying to stand up.
 

The man swung the bottle again and it pounded against Moktar's temple. Moktar dropped to his knees, trying to shield his face as the faggot's fist thumped into his cheek and the world went dark.

Alexa ratcheted the chain hoist until Moktar's toes barely touched the ground. She pulled a metal drum closer, sat on top. "Who's bankrolling your operation?"

Moktar shook his head. "Where...where are we?"

Alexa stood up and circled the man. "The plane hijackings, the Eiffel Tower massacre, who is paying for all of this?"

He straightened his shoulders. "Who are you?"
 

"Interpol," Alexa said.

Moktar's eyes narrowed. "Laiveaux sent you?" He had developed a lisp since losing his front teeth. He turned his face. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Moktar's eyes widened and he whimpered as Neil entered the warehouse, pulling open the metal door and slamming it behind him.

Neil lifted a hand and waved hello.

Moktar balled his hands, clutching them open and closed.

Neil walked up to Moktar and ripped his robes from his body.

"Did you find one?" Alexa asked.

He nodded. "I had to go back to the damn hotel." He rolled the robe into a ball and tossed it into a corner.

Alexa chuckled.

Neil nodded his chin in Moktar's direction. "He saying anything?"