Chapter 2
Chapter Two
One year later
“What did they do? Have a cozy five-hour marathon chat?” Saskia took the pages from her boss.
Saskia groaned as she stepped into the elevator. “Why do you need a translator? Your Polish is flawless. Can’t you communicate without me?”
Aurelia winked at her and hit the button for the sixth floor. “Technically yes, but my Polish counterpart is an unbearable bore. I can’t stand him. You’re coming with me to stop me from doing terrible things to him if he says something stupid.”
“Ah,” Saskia said with a grin. “We don’t want to start an international incident.”
“Exactly.” Aurelia stepped off the elevator on her floor. “I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Saskia waved and pressed the button for one floor up, humming to herself.
Aurelia was the first person Saskia worked for in the Prime Minister’s office and she’d been impressed enough with Saskia to give her a permanent job.
It worked out well. Branislav Makovsky, the Prime Minister, was deep in Jozef’s pocket, which meant her cousin could keep an eye on Saskia’s movements without being overbearing.
She’d been working with Branislav’s office for a year and she had no intention of leaving. It was a sweet gig, allowing her both freedom and travel abroad.
Saskia let herself into her hotel room, tossing her satchel on the sofa. She approached the floor-to-ceiling window, taking in the South African city of Pretoria as the sun set over the rolling hills beyond. It was breathtaking and she stood rooted to the spot, watching.
She wished she could share the moment with a certain someone.
She’d been thinking about him more and more since coming to Africa, which was ridiculous, because she had no idea where he lived and it was a massive continent.
Still… she was physically closer to him than she had been in years and it was almost like she could feel his presence around her.
Which was also ridiculous. She hadn’t heard from him in months. He’d probably forgotten about her.
Sharif Muhammed Radik.
Warlord. Mercenary. Stalker.
He’d originally targeted Saskia in revenge. Saskia’s cousin, Jozef, had recruited Radik’s younger sister, Ayaan, to join his team of mercenaries, but Radik, who wanted his sister safe, hated the idea.
In a story similar to Saskia’s, Ayaan had been raised in a crime family and desperately desired her freedom.
Jozef had offered it to her and Radik had been furious.
He’d found Saskia at her university, intending to scare her.
Instead of terrorizing her, he left her alone.
But over the years he’d been watching her closely.
Saskia knew, because he made no secret of it.
He sent birthday and Christmas presents every year. Occasionally she received anonymous texts telling her she was beautiful. That’s how she knew it was him. Saskia wasn’t stunningly beautiful like Shaun or Leeza, she was average and cool with it, but Radik thought differently.
At first, Saskia had worried about his intentions, not wanting to go from one crime family to another, but it’d been years and he never did anything other than send gifts and occasionally text her.
In fact, he missed her 24th birthday a few weeks ago, so Saskia was convinced he was finally finished pursuing her.
A pang had her rubbing her chest.
It was what she wanted though, right? She wanted a career. She wanted her freedom. She didn’t want someone in her life who was like Jozef. Someone who would hold her back.
She changed into a pair of soft grey sweatpants and an old university T-shirt and settled on the couch, pulling the stack of papers Aurelia had given her onto her lap.
She got to work, wishing the Prime Minister had sent a digital copy.
He was old-fashioned and paranoid, so she would have to scan the sheets onto her laptop before she could start the translation.
She reminded herself she got paid a lot to do it and quit the internal bitching.
She was tasked with translating the whole thing into English, including the non-relevant parts of the conversation. It was up to Aurelia to parse out the interesting bits for their South African counterparts.
The translation was relatively simple. It was a conversation between the Czech Prime Minister and the Czech President.
They started off by discussing their families, President Urban wishing Branislav’s wife, Irena, a good recovery after a lengthy illness, before moving onto golf, which they talked about for almost an hour according to the time log.
Finally, they got to the meat of the discussion and the reason for Saskia’s translation.
The security deal they were about to make with the South Africans.
A few hours passed and the sun set, the city lighting up under the dark sky. She stood, stretching, and checked the time.
It was 7:45 PM. She should wrap it up and go find Aurelia for the drink she promised.
Personally, Saskia preferred to stay in and have a glass of wine if she was going to drink, but Aurelia liked to check out the nightlife in whatever city she was visiting.
Pretoria was a particular favourite of hers.
Saskia changed into a pair of dark blue jeans with wide legs and a black bustier top that showed off her bellybutton piercing.
She piled her dark brown curls on top of her head in a messy bun and pinned pieces of it strategically to give it a purposely chaotic look as opposed the accidentally chaotic look that was her usual.
For makeup, she applied a touch of purple eye shadow, some mascara, and lilac-tinted lip gloss. She smacked her lips as she stepped back and took in the full picture. I clean up good, she thought.
She sent Aurelia a text telling her she was ready to go and that she would come down to her boss’s room. She packed her laptop and Branislav’s translation into her bag, slinging it across her chest. Snatching up her jacket, she left her suite, deciding to take the stairs.
She hummed to herself as she made her way to her boss’s room.
The door was slightly ajar when she arrived, but that wasn’t unusual. Aurelia did that when she was expecting company.
Saskia knocked lightly, hoping she wasn’t interrupting the meeting Aurelia mentioned. When there was no answer, she stuck her head around the door, calling, “Aurelia? It’s Saskia. Are you here?”
No answer.
She entered the room, leaving the door open behind her. It was like Saskia’s, a suite with a sitting area and a separate bedroom. An open bottle of red wine sat on the counter, a clean wineglass beside it. Saskia reached for the glass, assuming it was for her.
Tipping some wine into it, she shouted, “I’m helping myself to wine. Are you still getting dressed?”
The bedroom door was closed and they weren’t on a friendship level yet where Saskia felt comfortable barging in. She gave it two minutes, sipping her wine, which was delicious, before knocking loudly on the bedroom door. “Aurelia?”
Still no answer.
Frowning, Saskia tried the knob, which turned easily in her hand. She didn’t hesitate. She’d rather get yelled at for invasion of privacy than be a bad friend if Aurelia fell in the shower or something. She shoved the door open.
The wine glass slipped from her hand, hitting the carpet with a muted thud, spraying wine everywhere before her brain could register what it was seeing.
She didn’t have to think though because instinct took over, driving her to whirl around and race from the suite.
Heart thundering, she ran for the stairs, pushing the door open and stumbling into the stairway.
She gripped the railing, propelling herself upward while dragging her phone out of her pocket with the other.
Jozef answered on the first ring. She didn’t wait for his robotic greeting. “Jozef, something’s happened!”
There was a pause and some rustling, then Havel, Jozef’s second-in-command, came on the line. “What’s going on?” His voice was grim. Like Jozef, Havel knew Saskia wouldn’t be calling for help unless she was in serious trouble.
“My boss was murdered. I just walked in on her body.” Her mind was flying faster than a jet plane, the words spilling from her mouth in a jumble.
“I was meeting up with her for drinks, but when I didn’t hear from her, I went to her room.
” She paused trying to decide what information they would need most. “We’re staying at the Silver Swan Hotel in Pretoria. ”
“I know,” Havel said impatiently. “Keep talking.”
Of course they knew where she was staying. Saskia couldn’t sneeze without it being documented by the Kobas.
“She… she….” Oh god. There was so much blood. She forced herself to steady her voice, saying, “She was on her bed. I think someone cut her throat.”
“She was definitely dead?” he asked. “You checked?”
“Seriously?” she snarled. “I might not be an elite merc, but I do know what a dead body looks like. Eyes open. More blood on the outside than the inside. Gaping throat wound. Good enough for you?”
“I know you’re stressed, Saskia, but try to answer my questions with short answers so we can help you. Where are you now?”
She pushed open the door to the seventh floor and rushed down the hallway. “I’m heading to my room.”
She fought with the strap of her satchel, plunging her hand inside and feeling around until she came up with her room key. She flashed it, pushing the door open just as Havel shouted, “Don’t go to your room!”
Too late.
There were two men in her suite. One was sprawled on the sofa, his arms outstretched across the back while the other was going through the mini bar in the kitchenette. Her suite was a mess, her belongings everywhere.
Her eyes locked with couch guy’s.
Havel’s voice buzzed in her ear. “Whoever killed your boss might come looking for you.”
The guy on the couch started to rise, but Saskia was already in motion. She darted back into the hallway and raced for the stairs, glancing behind her as she rushed through the door to the stairwell. They weren’t out of the room yet, but it wouldn’t take them long to get moving.
“What’s going on?” Havel asked, his tone alarmed.
“There were two men in my room,” she said breathlessly, running down the stairs.
“You need to find a safe place to hide.” Havel’s voice was grim.
Master of the obvious. “Thanks for the advice, now if you could get me something more helpful. Like maybe a gun.”
“You don’t have your gun?” Havel snarled. “What the hell is wrong with you? You know you’re supposed to always carry.”
Saskia didn’t have time for this. Yes, she broke Jozef’s always-carry-a-gun rule, but she never felt it meshed well with the diplomacy involved in her job. Would she regret that choice? Yes, she definitely would, but later.
Above her, the door to the stairwell slammed open.
“What was that?” Havel demanded, panic in his voice.
“I’m okay,” she assured him. “But they’re right behind me. About two floors up.”
“Go straight out of the hotel. Lose yourself on the street. Jozef is sending backup.”
“What backup?” she demanded. “You guys are 9000 kilometers away.”
“We have people everywhere.”
His words reassured her. If she could get somewhere safe, she could wait for whoever Jozef sent to pick her up, make her way home, then never leave the house again without her gun. Lesson learned.
Her brain raced as she tried to figure out what to do. “There are too many people in the lobby and too much space for me to cross before I’m outside. If they shoot at me, they could hurt someone.”
Her feet thundered as loud as her heart as she staggered through the door leading to the lobby. The men were still two floors above but it was only a matter of time before they caught up with her.
“Jozef says fuck the other people. Run as fast as you can and zigzag if they start shooting.”
Of course Jozef would say that. Innocents were pawns in the game of mafia and Jozef was a boss. Saskia was different though, her heart wasn’t mafia. She gave a shit about harming others.
She frantically searched for an escape route that wasn’t the front doors. A handful of people were milling around and music and laughter filtered from the restaurant bar.
The kitchen! There would be a back way out of the hotel through the kitchen.
It was closer than the lobby entrance anyway. She might be able to make it.
She earned a few curious glances as she raced toward the restaurant. Don’t look back, she told herself when she heard the bang of the door she had just come through.
She didn’t know if the bad guys saw her and decided it didn’t matter. She had to keep moving. She hurtled into the restaurant, avoiding tables as she ran full tilt past gawking customers.
“You can’t go back there!” someone called after her as she skirted the bar and ran through the swinging doors into the kitchen.
“Are you lost?” a person in a chef’s hat asked.
“Yeah.” She gasped for breath. “Bad date. Leaving now. Where’s the back exit?”
A server carrying a tray with three bowls of steaming soup nodded toward the back of the kitchen.
“Thanks!” Saskia sidestepped her, avoiding the full tray and took off again.
When she reached the door, she flung it open, nearly falling into the loading area behind the hotel.
“Damn!”
There was a shiny white van parked not far from the door, a guy standing next to it smoking a cigarette. He gave off the same vibe as the two guys from her room. Threatening and dangerous. Also, he was big, muscly, scarred and subjectively ugly.
Maybe she was wrong. Maybe this one was friendly. Maybe Jozef sent him.
When he spotted her, he looked surprised, then pissed off. He dropped his cigarette and stalked toward her. Nope, she would bet her cushy salary he wasn’t coming over for a friendly chat.
She stepped back through the door, slamming it shut and facing the kitchen.
All of the staff were watching her, confused expressions on their faces.
Their heads swiveled toward shouting and banging coming from the restaurant.
A few heads swiveled back to her. Then back again at the commotion out front, which was getting closer and closer to the kitchen. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
She snatched up a knife from a pile of dirty dishes and crouched down next to a metal shelf.
Havel’s bellow distantly vibrated out of Saskia’s phone. “What the fuck is happening!?”
She looked at it, tucked in the palm of her hand.
How the hell had she managed to hang on to it?
She lifted it to her ear. “I have to go,” she whispered, examining the knife.
It was crusted with something food related – maybe fish fingers or sardine puttanesca.
She wasn’t great at combat, but maybe if she cut them, she could give them salmonella.
“Don’t hang up,” Havel commanded.
She hung up.