CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Maya stood at the top of the wide, marble steps and stared up at the massive statue of a seated Abraham Lincoln, arguably one of America’s greatest and most influential historical figures. No matter how many times she’d been there, her sense of awe and respect never lessened.
She loved her home country of Great Britain, but her admiration for America and the resilience of her citizens was boundless.
“Maya, let’s do another mic check.” Jeffrey’s voice in her earpiece had her walking back to the entrance of the monument.
“Again?” Her gaze panned to the right, and she spotted him standing next to the kiosk for the Korean War Memorial. He was looking at her through a pair of binoculars.
“Humor me.” He continued to watch her.
“Test, test. One. Two. Three.” They’d checked her mic multiple times, but she understood his need to do so again.
He was concerned about her.
Maya stood with her back to a column. Behind her sunglasses, her gaze continually scanned from left to right and back again. Situational awareness was critical so as not to be caught off guard.
“Heads up.” Calliope’s voice replaced Jeffrey’s. “Target is on the north side of the Reflecting Pool, approximately seventy-five yards from the base of the steps. And he’s got Adnan Bashar with him.”
“Apparently, the king didn’t understand what come alone means.” Maya pushed up the bottom of her sleeve and checked her watch. “At least he’s on time.”
“What the fuck is he doing here?” Jeffrey’s anger practically vibrated in her ear.
“Adnan is a thinker, not a fighter.” Though who the hell knew what he might do if he felt his longtime friend’s life was in danger. “I’m not concerned about him.” The handgun Jeffrey had given her, currently tucked at the back of her waistband, boosted her confidence. Being forced to travel to the States without her own weapon had left her feeling vulnerable.
“Let’s hope you’re right.” Wolf’s dark eyes peeked at her over the top of an unfolded tourist pamphlet.
He was positioned by one of the giant Doric columns surrounding the memorial and doing his best to blend in. Not an easy task for a fellow who was six and a half feet tall with a menacing aura.
“Al-Mansoori is wearing a jacket,” Viking pointed out .
“Yeah, I see it.” Maya rubbed her nose to hide the fact she was talking to someone.
All kinds of nefarious things could be concealed beneath that coat, and her gut was screaming at her that there was definitely something there. Listening to her gut had kept her and her daughter alive all of these years, and she wasn’t about to stop now.
“I’m off.” She headed down the many steps and waited on the wide concrete walkway.
She watched from the corner of her eye as Nadim strolled casually along the perimeter of the Reflecting Pool, like a tourist enjoying the sites. She knew otherwise. Hidden beneath that calm exterior beat the heart of a ruthless killer and the man who wanted to end her life.
Not today, buddy.
Bashar walked a few steps behind him, as was required by his station. The man was nervous—his shoulders were drawn up, and his head swiveled wildly back and forth. They stopped near a copse of trees, Nadim said something, then Bashar ducked out of sight behind one of the trees.
“You saw that, right, Maya?” Mason asked.
He was lounging back on his elbows, legs stretched out on the grass next to the Reflecting Pool. His reflective aviator sunglasses hid his eyes, and his cowboy hat shadowed his face.
“Yeah, I saw it.” Stealth geniuses, they were not.
A couple of minutes later, Nadim sauntered up to her .
“Ah, Maya Corbett.” He extended a hand. “We meet at last.”
Maya looked down at his hand and back up at him, then propped her hands on her hips.
She watched closely for his reaction to her rejection of his handshake and was not disappointed when she observed a slight flare of his nostrils and a ripple of his jaw. The man was not used to being refused anything, especially by a lowly woman.
“Bashar is moving closer,” Calliope whispered.
“I’ve got eyes on him,” Mason responded.
“I said to come alone.” She lifted her chin toward Bashar, where his head was poking out from behind a bush.
“Adnan is …” He followed her gaze and shook his head. “He is a worrier and insisted on accompanying me.”
“Might as well invite him to the party.” She leaned to look around Nadim, pointed at his friend, and crooked her finger for him to come over.
He hesitated until his king nodded, then brushed his sleeves free of leaves and fast-walked until he was a few feet behind Nadim.
“I’m going to cut to the chase, Nadim.” The plan was for her to immediately put him on the defensive, and calling him by his first name was a good start. It worked, too, because his hands fisted briefly at his sides before he caught himself. “A very powerful friend of mine has unimpeachable evidence that your father ordered the murder of Akram Fakhoury.”
“You are lying.” He disregarded her disclosure with a negligent whisk of his hand. “That is an egregious and inflammatory accusation for which you have no proof.”
Fakhoury was a much-beloved citizen of Qadira who spoke out against the royal family. He had exposed some of the monarchy’s dark, embarrassing secrets and threatened to expose even more. Unfortunately, before he could do so, he was murdered, and rumors about the royal family’s possible involvement in his death lingered to this day.
“Alas, you are right. I personally do not have any proof.” She sighed. “ But my very dear friend Jeffrey Burke does.”
Al-Mansoori’s effort to appear unfazed by her statement was diminished by the flare of his nostrils and the anger roiling behind his dark eyes.
“I am sure you know who he is, right?” One corner of her mouth lifted. “The director of America’s National Security Agency? The man who is renowned for gathering dirt on people who do things they don’t want other people to ever find out about?” She hit him with the big guns. “He also happens to be Isla’s father.”
His eyes widened, and he instinctively shifted back slightly. “Burke is—”
“That’s right, Your Majesty.” She coated the word with contempt. “You kidnapped the daughter of one of the most powerful and dangerous men in the world.” She was savoring every bit of the shock and fear he was so desperately trying to hide. “How do you think we were able to take her back from you? And so damned easily, too.” She gave him a pitying shake of her head. “You really should do something about your lax security.”
“You dared to trespass on Qadiran property?” He managed to muster a bit of outrage, but it wasn’t enough to hide the fearful tremor in his voice.
“That is all your fault, Nadim. Going after me was one thing, but you had the temerity to go after his daughter. So now, his primary goal is to destroy you in every way possible.”
“You … you are bluffing.” He tugged down the front of his jacket and stuck his imperious chin in the air.
“Am I?” She looked over her shoulder to where Jeffrey now stood about thirty feet away, arms crossed, feet set apart. His gaze was laser-focused on Nadim. Behind his calm demeanor, she could tell unadulterated rage beat against the walls of his restraint.
She looked back at the king.
“Here is what is going to happen. First, you are going to drop this … vendetta you have against me. You are going to accept that your brother was killed because he was about to do some very bad things to me.”
“You filthy whor—”
Maya lifted a hand to shut him up and could actually hear Jeffrey growling in her ear .
“Lastly, you will give me your word that you will not come after Isla or me. Ever. Should you break your promise, I assure you, no royal title will protect you. And there will be no corner of this world you can hide in that Burke won’t find you.”
“Damn right,” Jeffrey said.
“And I am certain that a delicate person such as yourself, who has had his every whim catered to, does not have the stamina nor the balls to survive a life on the run as I did.” She taunted him further. “You know … the woman who killed your disgusting letch of a brother.”
Nadim yelled something in Arabic and exploded into action. He reached into his jacket, yanked his hand out, and raised it high overhead.
Sunlight glinted off of a curved blade.
“Maya!” Jeffrey roared.
“I don’t have a shot.” Calliope’s voice was strangely calm, in that unique way of snipers.
“Me, neither,” Viking said.
Al-Mansoori began to bring his arm down.
Maya recognized it as the jeweled dagger she’d used to defend herself against Zahir and began to reach for her weapon.
Bashar leaped forward as Nadim began to slice down.
“No, Your Majesty!” he shouted as he grabbed his king’s arm .
Al-Mansoori spun around, and his arm continued downward until he thrust the knife into Bashar’s chest.
Mouth agape, eyes wide, Adnan looked down at the knife still clutched in his old friend’s hand. His disbelieving gaze lifted to Nadim’s face, his eyes rolled back, and he crumpled to the ground.
People started screaming and running all over the place. Some lifted their phones to capture video of what would likely be a very newsworthy event.
Al-Mansoori looked down in horror at Bashar, then at his hand—red with his friend’s blood. He slowly uncurled his grip on the dagger, and it slid from his slick palm.
As if in slow motion, it fell end-over-end until the tip of the blade hit the ground and a small piece snapped off. The dagger bounced once before coming down hard onto the concrete. A bright green emerald and a brilliant blue sapphire were jarred loose and ended up stuck in the blood pooling next to Bashar’s body.
In a flash of intense fury, Jeffrey dove into Nadim and tackled him to the ground. Al-Mansoori made no effort to resist as Jeffrey flipped him over and secured his wrists behind his back. He simply stared across the concrete at Bashar’s lifeless eyes.
“Viking and Calliope, head to the rendezvous point.” Jeffrey straddled his back.
“Yes, sir,” Viking said.
“You got it.” Calliope added, “I’ll update Andi. ”
“Get up.” Wolf charged over and clenched his long fingers around one of Al-Mansoori’s elbows and jerked him up from the ground.
Mason got a tight grip on his other arm, and they led him to where they had parked an SUV nearby earlier.
As they walked away, Al-Mansoori looked back at his friend only once, then started shouting about having diplomatic immunity.
Maya and Jeffrey knelt down next to Bashar. She checked his pulse and shook her head.
“He saved my life.” She stared at the dagger next to his body.
“Actually, I think he was saving his friend’s life.” Jeffrey didn’t care why he did what he did. He was just thankful Maya wasn’t hurt or worse.
Jeffrey turned and wrapped her in his arms. He squeezed her tight for a moment, then held her at arm’s length.
“Are you all right? Did he cut you?” He looked her over, held her arms out to check her torso.
“I’m fine,” she said, but he continued looking for injuries. “Jeffrey.” She set a hand on either side of his face and looked directly at him. “I’m fine.”
“Thank God.” He pulled her back into a hug.
“We’re beginning to draw a crowd.” She looked over his shoulder at all of the people gawking at what was happening at the base of the Lincoln Memorial .
Several Capitol Police were running over, ready to set up a perimeter and keep the crowds back. A few minutes later, two EMTs were allowed through, and they jogged over with a gurney.
“We’ll take it from here,” the older one said.
They checked Bashar’s vitals and began CPR, but it was too late. They lowered the gurney to set him on it, covered him completely with a blanket, and wheeled him away.
One of the police officers asked Jeffrey and Maya for their identification.
He pulled out his NSA credentials and handed them over. Maya didn’t have any on her. Even if she had, it would’ve been for Mary Jenkins, her alias.
“Here ya go, sir.” The young officer returned his identification to him. “Chief gave us a heads-up about this, so we’ll take it from here.”
He thanked them and laced his fingers with Maya’s. “Let’s go home.”
Things hadn’t gone as planned, and Al-Mansoori now had even more reasons to come after her. But right now, all she wanted to do was get the hell away from here, see their little girl, and take a hot shower. Preferably with Jeffrey.