Solving the Mysterious Stranger. Mallory Kane

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СКАЧАТЬ Her father’s voice was hoarse with exhaustion, but she knew him. He wouldn’t budge until he found out why she’d come in after midnight with a stranger in tow. She’d never done that before—nothing like it.

      She turned. “Dad, what’s wrong?”

      “Ross was telling me about the fleet of so-called pirate ships that docked at the harbor a little while ago. Apparently they sailed into the harbor like a scene from a movie. The pirates stormed the docks while the fireworks were going off. At first everybody thought it was part of the celebration. But they roughed up some people and apparently waved machine guns around. And now the mayor is missing.”

      “Mayor Wells—missing?” What next? “Oh, no. What happened?”

      “Nobody seems to know.” He looked at the man behind her. “Young man, who are you?”

      Amelia turned. She’d like to hear the answer to that question herself.

      “Mr. Hopkins, my name is Cole. I need some information from you.”

      “My name is Cole doesn’t tell me anything. Who are you?” He shot the stranger a demanding glare. Without taking his eyes off him, he spoke to her.

      “Amelia? Who is he?”

      “She doesn’t know,” Cole said. “Is there anyone else in the house? Your housekeeper?”

      Her dad’s dark brows lowered. “Mrs. Winston lives down the hill, near the boatyard.”

      “That doesn’t answer my question. Is she here?”

      “No. She left around eleven.”

      “Is that elevator accessible from below?”

      “Yes. Until it’s turned off from up here. Mrs. Winston has a key. She locks it at night, unless we have a visitor, like tonight,” Amelia replied. “I’ll lock it now.”

      “No.” Cole held up his hand. “Leave it alone.” Glancing at his watch, he figured Chien Fou was on his way here with the mayor. The plan was for Cole to have the Hopkinses’ house secured by 1:00 a.m. and to make sure the elevator was operational. It was after that now.

      Amelia’s face turned pale. “You’re waiting for someone.”

      Her gaze snapped to his pocket, where his weapon bulged, and understanding filled her eyes with new horror. “Oh, dear heavens, you’re one of those pirates.”

      Cole winced inwardly at the horror and disgust in her expression. Just wait, he thought bitterly. You ain’t seen nothing yet.

      “One of the pirates?” Hopkins repeated, his tone sharp. “Amelia, why did you bring him here?”

      “She had no choice, sir,” Cole responded. “I kidnapped her.”

      “My God, sugar, are you all right?”

      Amelia stepped in front of her father. “Let my dad go to bed.” Her eyes blazed like amber in her pale face.

      Cole studied her. Her love and worry for her father radiated from her like heat. How would it feel to have someone care that much? To be that fiercely protective?

      Cole thought about his own father. Maybe the old man had cared for him once—a long time ago, before his greed and self-indulgence had turned him into a traitor.

      Shame washed over him, familiar, yet still raw. His father’s betrayal had changed Cole, and he knew it. When he’d graduated with a Ph. D. in Political Science, he’d felt as if he was on top of the world. He’d been looking forward to following in his dad’s footsteps.

      Now, if he were honest with himself, and that didn’t happen often these days, he’d have to admit that during the three years he’d been working under deep cover, infiltrating the Global Freedom Front, he’d come to the conclusion that he didn’t really expect to get out of this assignment alive.

      Only during the past two days had these other thoughts occurred to him. Only since he’d first seen Amelia and reflected on what he’d signed up to do had he wondered if he was as uninterested in life as he’d convinced himself he was.

      Amelia’s chin went up and she turned toward the elevator. Her movement brought his thoughts back to the job at hand and he heard what she’d already heard—the quiet hum of the elevator’s motor.

      His pulse thrummed as the door slid open.

      Amelia shot him a look from over her shoulder. Her expression pierced him like a poisoned arrow. She backed up, her arms spread defensively.

      She was making sure she was between the elevator door and her father.

      Cole took his weapon out of his jacket pocket. He should be holding his hostages at gunpoint.

      He steeled himself against the urge to copy Amelia’s actions—to put himself in front of her and her father as the leader of the notorious and deadly Global Freedom Front stepped out of the elevator.

      Behind him stood his three most trusted guards, each carrying a MAC-10 machine pistol. Chien Fou’s hands were empty.

      During the past three years, Cole had developed a deep knowledge and understanding of the man the world and his followers knew only as Chien Fou, or Mad Dog. He’d made it his business to understand the terrorist leader’s motivation—his passion. It was the only way he’d stayed alive this long.

      The American, who had put himself in power as the leader of the deadliest terrorist group operating inside the United States, only cared about three things: the demise of the American government, the game of chess and himself.

      “Amelia, Mr. Hopkins, this is Chien Fou.”

      The name sent shock skittering along Amelia’s nerve endings. Chien Fou. She did her best to keep her expression neutral as the full truth of their situation dawned on her.

      She, along with everyone else who listened to national news, knew Chien Fou’s name. She was looking at one of the most notorious terrorists on the planet, the leader of the infamous domestic fringe group, the Global Freedom Front. And she, her dad and the town of Raven’s Cliff were in his clutches.

      No one had been able to identify him, but rumor had it that he was an American—a traitor to his country and the cause of freedom.

      After the Global Freedom Front’s first attack, the media had plastered an artist’s sketch created from a witness’s description all over newspapers, TV and the Internet. The sketch had become as famous as the drawing of the Unabomber. It depicted a broad-faced man with a plaid scarf wrapped around his neck and a Fedora pulled down over his forehead. The shaded eyes in the sketch hinted at Asian features.

      Tonight, he wasn’t wearing the scarf or the hat. The implication chilled her to the bone. The fact that this notorious terrorist was here without a disguise meant that he didn’t care if they could identify him. And there was only one reason he wouldn’t care.

      He planned to kill them.

      Amelia’s СКАЧАТЬ