Man of Mystery: A BBW Romantic Suspense (6 page)

He reaches out for me with gloved hands and drags me by my arm towards one of those steel reception chairs you see in offices, a few feet away from the van. I stumble over my own feet on my way there, then am roughly pushed down into it. He fiddles with my restraint and opens it, giving me some relief from the dull ache that had started to develop around whatever wire it is he used to tie me up. But my respite is short-lived, because he immediately fastens my wrists onto the metal armrests of the chair.

“Don’t try anything, you hear me?” he grunts.

I bite my bottom lip and wait, with the sound of my own frantic heartbeat filling my ears.
What does he want? Why am I here?
The man in black turns, then takes a few steps away, beyond the nearest spotlight facing me, making it impossible for me to see him, it’s so blinding.

I want to scream, cry out for help, but I doubt anyone would hear me. And anyway, now that panic has taken hold of me, I doubt I could utter a sound.

“Tess Aldershot. I apologize for my associate’s rough treatment of you, but good help is hard to find nowadays,” a much calmer male voice speaks from beyond the spotlights. I forget to breathe and threaten to choke on a stray droplet of saliva that’s trying to head straight for my lungs, making me cough violently.

How does he know my name?

That means this wasn’t random but a planned abduction.

“Goddamn it, Clark, this one’s locked up tighter than the A4 on a Friday night.” I straighten myself and look over at Clark’s equally weary expression. The suspect in the interrogation room is turning out to be a lot more trouble than expected. Days and days of questioning have led nowhere. The only thing we seem to have worn thin is our own patience, not his.

“Stubborn bastards, these Nexus guys,” Clark responds. “Hey, Everson, how about we try another tactic?”

“What do you suggest?”

“It seems they’ve scared this guy into silence, so we’ll just have to convince him he has more to fear from us.”

“All right. Bad cop, bad cop it is then.” I give Clark a final nod before pushing open the steel-reinforced door leading to our cuffed suspect.

“You want to tell us again how it is you were found smuggling unauthorized cargo into the baggage hold of flight SV118?” I say, while placing my - unloaded - gun on top of the steel table in front of the terrorist.

The man looks at the weapon, blinks a few times and presses his lips together tightly while evading my gaze.

“We’ve got all night and then all day. You haven’t even been processed. Nobody will come looking for you,” Clark responds. “You won’t believe the amount of discretion we have when holding people like you.”

“Only last week, there was a horrible accident with a suspect… One form. That’s all the paperwork we had to fill out, and we’re in the clear.” I put my hand on top of the gun, caressing its smooth finish.

“Everything you think you know about human rights doesn’t apply in this building. In fact, this facility doesn’t even officially exist…”

The suspect looks up in shock, then stares at the wall on the far end of the interrogation room again.

“Please. They’re going to kill my family,” he stammers at last.

Finally, now we’re getting somewhere. I let out a sigh of relief, but do my best not to let the man see it.

“In that case, it’s in your best interest to cooperate so that we can find the people responsible and ensure your family’s safety. Because the longer you’re in our custody, the more certain your buddies at Nexus will be that you’ve cracked,” Clark says. We share a look, indicating we’re both aware that we’ve all but won.

“Where did you get the package? Who ordered you to smuggle it on board?” I bark.

The suspect sighs, then hides his face in his hands.

“I never saw his face, only a silhouette. Said his name was Fletch.”

“Fletch. So it’s true,” I whisper, mostly to myself.

“In the video, I could see my little girl tied up and crying. Fletch was standing beside her, but the lighting was such that I couldn’t make out what he looked like really. Average build.”

“Anything else? Anything you could recognize?”

“Just his voice. I’d recognize his voice anywhere.”

Damn. I try not to let my disappointment show. In all the time we’ve been investigating Nexus, and its figurehead, the mythical Fletch, this is the closest we’ve come to identifying who are involved. And still, we’re no further.

In my pocket, the familiar buzz of my phone is vying for my attention. Mine is an unlisted number, so the only calls I get are from a very select few. It’s almost always important.

I turn towards the door, with my hand slipping into my pocket.

“What’s going on? Where are you going?” The terrified voice of the suspect calls after me.

“Relax, we’ll investigate your claims,” Clark says.

“What about my family?” the man asks.

“Do you have a copy of that video?” Clark retorts.

While the two of them continue their back and forth, I make it to the corner of the room and check the screen on my mobile. Unknown number.
Strange
.

“Hello?” I answer.

“Agent Everson. I believe I’ve got something that’s very dear to you. Someone, rather,” a peculiar male voice says. Nasal, as well as particular, how he pronounces every syllable very carefully. The background is suspiciously quiet, no ambient noises, no hiss of a bad line or iffy mobile signal. Something about this call seems off.

“Who is this?” I ask.

“You already know,” the voice answers. “Say hello, why don’t you, darling.”

“Uhh… Liam?” a choked voice says.
Shit
. That sounds a lot like Tess! So while I’m trying to find out more about the ghost we only know as
Fletch
from our suspect
,
the devil himself phones me up. How ironic.

“Are you OK?” I ask. A cold sweat erupts all over my body as I realize what’s happened. How could I not have seen this coming? I’ve been so busy trying to find out more about the airport incident that I don’t consider they could change strategy and go after Tess.

“Who are you talking to?” The scared man behind me interrupts. “Shit, tell him I didn’t say anything. Tell him not to kill my family!”

“Shh!” I hiss, while gesturing at him frantically to keep his mouth shut while keeping my finger on top of the microphone towards the lower edge of the mobile phone.

“If you want to see her again - alive - you’ll have to do a little something for me, Agent Everson.” Fletch’s voice sounds as if he’s grinning. Clearly a narcissist, so proud of his own cleverness.

“What’s that?” Though I’m no stranger to having my own life endangered, I’ve never had to deal with a threat to someone I care about. That’s why this unit hires people like Clark and me. No family, no attachments, nothing to lose.

“My associate, who succumbed to an unfortunate cyanide poisoning at the airport. He had something on his person that’s of value to me. Bring it to me, and only then will you see the girl again.”

“What? Where?”

“
X
marks the spot. You’ll receive further instructions momentarily.”

“I didn’t say anything. I don’t know anything,” the suspect sobs behind me, making me close my free ear with my finger to reduce the distraction. “Please save them. I’m so sorry.”

A click marks the end of my conversation with the criminal mastermind, Fletch, and my attention is immediately diverted back into the here and now, when I hear Clark shout something unintelligible, followed by a struggle.

Just when I turn fully to look at what’s happening, I see the man, his hand covered in blood spewing from a wound in this throat where he’s managed to wedge in a ballpoint pen I assume he’s taken from Clark.

“What the fuck? How did he get that pen?”

“Took it right out of my pocket.” Clark steps back, holding his hands up as though trying to distance himself from the horrible scene in front of us.

“Jesus Christ, I turn my back for one minute!”

“That was Fletch, wasn’t it? On the phone?” Clark squints his eyes and looks at me suspiciously.

“None of your business,” I snap, still shocked that we indeed managed to lose a suspect in this room, like we’d threatened the man with earlier. It’ll be a lot more than one simple form to resolve this one, though. Then it occurs to me that
we
didn’t lose a suspect at all,
Clark
did. And he doesn’t look as horrified as he should be.

“If it’s related to the case, it’s very much my business.” Clark faces me, with his hands on his hips.

“It was the girl from last week. She’s in a spot of trouble and needs my help,” I explain, while maintaining eye contact with Clark. He’s good at spotting a liar, here’s to hoping I have the skills to fly under his radar.

Why is he so keen to press me for information? And how come he doesn’t care someone just killed himself with his pen? How do I know I can even trust Clark at all? It wouldn’t be beyond an organization like Nexus to plant a mole deep inside the anti-terrorism unit itself. That seems like exactly the kind of play a guy like Fletch would make.

“I’ve been wondering about that girl; what was her name? How did she end up involved?” Clark asks. “A friend of yours?”

“Not quite. I’d never met her before that day.”

“Right.” Clark takes a step forward, looking me up and down. “You seemed quite…
Familiar
…”

I shrug, careful not to let my suspicions show. “We clicked. So what?”

“I just don’t get it.”

“I didn’t ask for your understanding. I don’t stick my nose in your private life, do I? Anyway, the fact is, she’s called for my help, and I’m afraid there’s a bit of urgency to it, so I’m going to go ahead and leave now.”

“What about this?” Clark nods his head towards the dead guy.

“Don’t ask me; that’s your pen sticking out of his throat. You handle it. I’m sure it’ll resolve itself once the boss lady reviews the surveillance footage of the interrogation. Nothing to worry about, right?” I ask.

“Right.”

I shove my phone back into my pocket, glance at the dead suspect, then Clark one last time and exit the room.

Wow
. If Clark indeed is involved, or even if he isn’t, I sure hope he doesn’t come after me and jeopardize everything.
X marks the spot,
Fletch had said. I’m going to have to examine the body of the guy from the airport, and I can’t afford to have an audience when I do.

This could get messy, but I know it’s what I have to do. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if something happened to Tess that I could have prevented.

I navigate my way through the corridors, making sure I’m not overlooked as I head for the autopsy room.

HQ is quiet most days; field agents - as their name suggests - tend to spend most of their time out in the field. Only the most bare bones back office staff stays behind here. And, of course, the pencil-pushers at the top. It’s only because of the interrogation that Clark and I are even at the office today.

I do a quick scan through the round window in the door; the clinical white examination room looks to be empty. I swipe my badge to release the lock, while already trying to formulate a suitable justification for my presence here in case the logs are checked later. It all depends on what I find inside. What Fletch wants me to exchange for Tess’s safety.

Once inside, I don’t need to look far for the body. The refrigerated air, combined with the sight of the dissected cadaver on the main plateau in the center of the room, give me the shivers.
There he is.

I step up closer to the dead man. His expression is calm now, disguising the violent manner in which the poison took his life at the airport. One might think he was asleep, except his chest cavity has already been sliced open and some organs removed and sent off for analysis as part of the autopsy.

His arms are placed neatly along his side, and only now do I get a look at the intricate tattoos covering his shoulders and upper arm. Multiple black bands of geometrical shapes are twisted and wound together in a pattern reminiscent of a Celtic knot. I follow the pattern up and down his arm with my fingertip, instinctively looking for Fletch’s clue.

Then I see it, surrounded by swirling bands of ink, an unmistakable ‘X.’ I pick up the scalpel from the tray beside the body and make a small incision. With the help of tweezers from the same tray, I prod and poke around inside the wound I have just created until I find what I’m looking for.

The small metal plate comes out cleanly, thanks to the lack of bodily fluids in the corpse. I hold it up closer to the light, to get a better look. It’s some kind of electronic chip.

Just as I put it down onto a piece of paper towel, ready to carry it with me, my phone buzzes once in my pocket, startling me. That’ll be the instructions.

Tess, hang in there! I’ll be with you shortly.