The Somali Deception Episode II (A Cameron Kincaid Serial) (9 page)

“Is that so.”
 
He raised the end of the now loose tie
and slowly pulled the thin piece of silk from around his neck.

“Well he only shares me with
very special men.”
 
Mary unfastened
the second and third buttons of Cameron’s shirt and then slid her hand beneath
the tight fabric to slowly caress his flesh.

“He considers me special?” asked
Cameron.
 
He felt her sigh deeply
behind him, quivering as her widespread fingers tightly strummed along his
muscular chest.
 
Cameron rested the
lids of his eyes closed and allowed himself to release his restriction.
 
In his lowered hands, he folded the long
tie mid-length then slid his hands to either end.

Cameron remained still, he
flexed his chest with deep breathes that further excited Mary and prompted her
to eagerly unfasten the other buttons of his shirt, until his naked front was a
field of flesh for her wide spread hands to soak in all at once.

Since Abbo had invited Cameron
to ‘try’ Mary, Pepe and Alastair had maintained silence, all the while
listening, through his hidden mike.
 
When Alastair spoke into his ear, he was not surprised.
 
“You are special Kincaid,” said
Alastair, mirroring Mary’s sensuous tone.
 
The levity was reminiscent to past undercover missions when Alastair
would observe from a distance rooftop or darkened window.
 
“Any sign of Christine.”

Cameron was not in a position to
respond.
 
With the silk tie firmly
in his grasps, he slid his fingers over Mary’s and entangled her hands into
his.

“Of all those green eyed girls
you stood out,” said Cameron.

Mary cooed then said, “The
sheikh like girls with chestnut hair and green eyes.”

There was no visual component to
the surveillance kit, only the earpiece and the microphone.
 
Alastair and Pepe had not shared what
Cameron had seen.
 
They did not see
Mary and Antoinette at the table eighteen floors above, nor did they see the
other women lounging half naked in the communal area of the harem suite.
 
Abbo Mohammed had a deep fetish for
women of a certain type and had built up a collection.
 
Cameron painted a picture with the clues
he dropped in conversing with Mary, so that they could understand.

“Oh my,” said Alastair.
 
“That is wrong.”

“Cameron,” said Pepe, “find her
and get her out of there.”

Cameron released one of Mary’s
hands to ease her around to the front of him in a way that allowed the tie to
encircle her and then, his head bowed, he pulled the strip of silk to bring her
against him, so that they pressed cheek to cheek.
 
The heat of her breath burned into
him.
 
He slid his lips across her
face into her mouth.

Cameron kissed Mary deeply and
she tasted sweet.
 
His kiss excited
her.
 
She pressed herself into him,
to devour him.
 
She clutched the
sides of his shirt and pulled.
 
He
tightened the hold of the tie around her upper shoulders to stay her arms.
 
She fell to her knees and frantically
positioned herself to take him into her mouth.

“Hold on,” said Cameron.
 
“Not too fast.
 
Let me help you to the bed.”

With a smile, Mary gazed up at
Cameron and then rested herself into the slack of the tie.
 
“You’re the boss,” she said.
 
The tie became Mary’s reins and Cameron
held the ends tightly.
 
Playfully
she maneuvered herself over to the bed.
 
Cameron let loose of the tie as she climbed onto the mattress.

Mary rose to her knees to where
Cameron stood at the end of the bed.

“So how does an American girl
end up in Dubai?” asked Cameron.

“I knew that enticed you.”
 
Mary clutched the sides of Cameron’s
open shirt again.
 
She opened her
mouth wide to fully kiss him, pushed her tongue against his chest, and then
slowly raked her teeth closed, once then twice, and then tilted her head
up.
 
“I was doing an escort trip
with an older man, an American, to Kuwait city and one of Abbo’s men discovered
me.”

“Discovered you?
 
You were abducted?”

“No silly, though that’s
kinky.
 
I was offered a two year
contract for more money than I ever thought I would see, and that was three
years ago.”

“A contract?”

“Sure, all of the girls here are
under two year contracts.
 
I am the
exception.
 
Not bad for a girl from
Iowa.”

“No I suppose not.”

Mary nuzzled against Cameron
again, “I would do you for free though, even if Abbo had not asked.
 
I have to admit I’m a bit of a celebrity
groupie.
 
A celebophile.”

Alastair spoke in Cameron’s
earpiece, “I think I’m becoming ill.”

“So nobody is here against their
will?” asked Cameron.

Mary rested down on her shins
and peered deep into Cameron.
 
“Not
at all,” she lifted the silk tie from the mattress.
 
“But, I suppose if you like your
concubines tied,” she wound the silk around her wrists and then raised them to
Cameron, “we can play that game.”

“That’s not what I meant.
 
Someone said something to me about the
new girl.”

“I assure you that little French
whore got a great contract.
 
She
used to be a model I think.”

“Now Cameron,” said Pepe.

“Where is she, the new girl?”

“Why do you care?
 
You have me.”

Cameron lifted Mary close to
deliver a passionate kiss.
 
He
inhaled as he kissed her, taking the air from her, causing her to swoon.
 
He eased back.
 
A faint plea of a breath slipped from
her, his charm overwhelming.
 
He
lowered his voice, “I was thinking maybe…”

Mary was anxious, “Oh you are
greedy.”
 
She bit her lower lip and
then said, “I’d rather have you to myself, but that could be fun.
 
I have wanted to try her out since she
came in.
 
C’mon let’s go get her.”

Mary spryly launched herself
from the mattress towing Cameron by his shirt.

“You know I interviewed her.”

“What does that mean?”

Mary, comfortably nude in the
dim light of the suite, glanced back at Cameron with a coy smile, “Wouldn’t you
love to know.”

The hallway from the master
bedroom led toward the center of the suite that sprawled almost the entirety of
the floor.
 
Mary walking naked
through the corridor had no affect on the other tenants, all of which were in
different stages of dress,
most topless
in only
panties, others fully nude.

“To interview means I look for
what the sheikh likes and make sure flaws do not slip through.
 
I have been with him the longest and
know quite well what demeanor fits best.”

They crossed the lounge area of
the suite and entered the hallway leading into the other wing.

“So you actually interview?”

“In all kinds of places, all
around the world.
 
This is her room
here.”
 
Mary knocked lightly on the
closed door, “Babette, it’s me Mary.
 
I have a handsome present for you.”

“Babette?” asked Cameron.

“Yes, I told you she is French,
from Marseille I believe.”

The door opened to a beautiful
green-eyed girl.

“It’s not her,” said Cameron.

“Excuse me?” said Babette.

Cameron spun around and pushed
open the door across the hall, startling a girl painting her toenails on her
bed.
 
“What are you doing?” asked
Mary.
 
Cameron continued down the
hall, opening one door, and then the next, “She’s not here.
 
She must be upstairs.”

“Understood,” said Pepe.
 
“I am on my way.”

* * *
* *

Burj Khalifa Level 104, Dubai

Cameron backed into the
corridor, holding the door of Abbo Mohammed’s 104th floor harem suite slightly
open with the toe of his shoe.
 
He
slipped on his Armani dinner jacket, extended his arms, and then flexed his
neck side to side.
 
From the inside
of his jacket, he retrieved two smooth stainless steel cylinders, the
size
and shape of cigar flasks.
 
He twisted the metal dials affixed to
the ends of the tubes to wind each counter clockwise and then held them up to
ensure they were slowly spinning clockwise again.
 
Cameron tossed each, one at a time, with
a swift underhand pitch, back into the heart of the suite.
 
From the door, the far glass wall lent a
vastness to the space.
 
“These are
going to be enough to gas the whole flat?”
 
From the tiny device resting inside of his ear canal, Alastair replied,
“The compression on those canisters will disburse the gas across the entire
floor.
 
If you sent two cans into
the central area, they’re going to waft in an amnesia fog.”

Pepe added, “In a few moments
they will never remember that celebrity chef Cameron Kincaid paid them a
visit.”

“Hmm,” said Cameron.
 
“Their loss.”
 
He smirked and then gently eased the door
closed with his cuff.

That part of the mission
finished, Cameron snapped his fingers on both hands then reached up to fasten
the knot of his tie, spinning on his outward foot toward the elevator.

In the center of the corridor, a
muscular man in a dark suit was peering at Cameron.
 
Cameron smiled at the man and sauntered
past him to the front of the elevator, the whole while adjusting the knot of
his tie.

“Excuse me sir,” said the man,
now behind Cameron’s shoulder.

“Yes,” said Cameron.
 
He focused on his dull reflection in the
stainless steel doors, and then quaffed his hair with the palm of his hand.

“What did you throw into that
suite?”

“I’m sorry?”
 
Cameron ran his index finger over his
brows, indifferent to the man’s inquiry.

“You threw something back into
the suite when you stepped out.
 
What was it?”

“Oh,” Cameron gestured his thumb
back to the door, “you mean when I…”

 
“Yes, when you exited the door.”

“Well those were gas
canisters.
 
Like knockout gas,
except those were for forgetting, kind of roofied them all at once if you
will.”

The man drew a handgun from the
inside of his jacket and directed the business end into Cameron’s back.
 
“Sir, you better step away from the
elevator.”

“Okay,” said Cameron.
 
He slipped one foot far to his side and
then slowly began to drag his other foot to meet the first.
 
The gunman’s muzzle followed
Cameron.
 
Above them, the digital
floor indicator dinged and the doors to the elevator began to slide open.
 
The doors were divided no wider than a
fist when the sound of two mosquitos whizzed past Cameron into the forehead of
the gunman.
 
Two men in technical
service jumpsuits emblazoned with the swirling logo of the Dubai Fountain stood
in the elevator.
 
Each of the men
wore a heavy utility belt, had a balaclava mask drawn down over his face, and
held an MP-5 submachine gun in hand.

Cameron entered between the two
and then spun around to face to opening.

“We done here?” asked Pepe.

“Yep,” said Cameron.

Pepe and Alastair let loose of
the doors.

“You seem back in the game,” said
Pepe.
 
From a duffel bag at his
side, he removed another MP-5 and balaclava facemask for Cameron.

“Reluctantly,” said Cameron,
rapidly inspecting the weapon.

Alastair slid the keycard the
Saudi had given them into the elevator console.
 
“I never lost mine,” said Alastair.
 
He tapped the numbers one, zero, and
five and then punched the code, eight, two, and three.

“Going up,” said Alastair.

The elevator floated to the next
level in an instant.
 
The interior
console dinged with the same tone that the digital floor indicator had
resonated in the corridor below.
 
This time the doors did not separate.
 
A thin crimson LED rectangle lit up high
up on the console panel in front of Alastair’s face.
 
Within the rectangle glowed a crimson
LED circle.