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Authors: john thompson
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to return.
The bodyguard observed the exchange. He gave a little smirk then closed the door.
FIFTEEN
NEW YORK, JUNE 25
ANNELIËS KUEPER LAY IN THE dark and listened to Brent’s breathing. A hallway chandelier threw enough light into the bedroom for her to see his silhouette as he settled into deeper sleep. Biddle had assured her the drug would take an elephant down.
She spoke his name one time, and then again, louder. When he didn’t stir, she lifted his arm off her chest and sat up. She waited another minute on the side of the mattress, the air-conditioning raising goose bumps on her flesh.
Brent seemed nice enough, certainly a competent lover if he weren’t zonked on the Ecstasy she’d added to his third glass of wine and then the tranquilizer she’d added to his ice water. She almost regretted it, and she cracked a wry smile in the darkness, wondering if it meant she still had a heart someplace inside the scar tissue. Finally, she stood, went into the living room, found her purse, andremoved the small plastic case Biddle had given her and shown her how to install.
Movement helped her focus because it reminded her of the danger and the opportunity. If she played this right, it could mean a new life. If she played it wrong, she’d be dead. Either way, things had to change. She was finished letting people like Sayeed think they owned her—fucking her, making her fuck their friends or people they were trying to set up. She shuddered, refusing to think about what was going to happen to Brent. She thought about herself, instead.
Her life had been building toward this since last January when Abu Sayeed brought Biddle into the private London casino where she worked. It had been her third consecutive evening with a Kuwaiti sheik, who smelled like a pig and made love like a savage but paid fifteen hundred pounds a night for the privilege. Abu Sayeed had already told her what the proposal would be and given her Biddle’s picture, so she recognized him instantly.
She watched him for a time, noting that he didn’t gamble, drank only water, and when her Kuwaiti finally went to the bathroom, she approached him and started a conversation. Biddle was handsome, outwardly aloof, and sophisticated. He offered her two thousand pounds to discuss his business proposition, and they left the casino before the Kuwaiti returned from the restroom. In their initial meeting there was nothing in his manner to suggest that he found her attractive or even that he liked women. Only later, once she worked her way inside his defenses, did he start to change, becoming awkward, even diffident.
That first night, Biddle promised her a hundred thousand pounds if she would do a simple job for him and then swear herselfto secrecy. He was associated with the U.S. Government, he told her, and she would be killed if she ever disclosed a single word. She knew he was lying, of course, because she already knew he was working with Abu Sayeed. Either way, she didn’t give a damn.
After that, she met with Biddle several more times to discuss her assignment. Their encounters were always in London, in hotel rooms rented for that purpose. From the beginning Biddle’s evolution was obvious but steady. He started out cold and impersonal, barely making eye contact, but by their third meeting, as though some scab of rectitude had been scraped away, he stared at her with almost desperate hunger.
By their fourth meeting, Biddle’s distraction was almost painful. Finally, Anneliës stood and began to remove her blouse. With a cry that seemed part guilt and part release of his frantic desire, Biddle reached for her.
That first time, he trembled like an adolescent and ejaculated in seconds. Afterwards, he sat with his back to her on the edge of the bed, sobbing and begging her forgiveness. She ran her fingers through his hair and told him how good it had been. When he left, he gave her ten thousand pounds.
From then on, they met at least every two weeks. Each
The bodyguard observed the exchange. He gave a little smirk then closed the door.
FIFTEEN
NEW YORK, JUNE 25
ANNELIËS KUEPER LAY IN THE dark and listened to Brent’s breathing. A hallway chandelier threw enough light into the bedroom for her to see his silhouette as he settled into deeper sleep. Biddle had assured her the drug would take an elephant down.
She spoke his name one time, and then again, louder. When he didn’t stir, she lifted his arm off her chest and sat up. She waited another minute on the side of the mattress, the air-conditioning raising goose bumps on her flesh.
Brent seemed nice enough, certainly a competent lover if he weren’t zonked on the Ecstasy she’d added to his third glass of wine and then the tranquilizer she’d added to his ice water. She almost regretted it, and she cracked a wry smile in the darkness, wondering if it meant she still had a heart someplace inside the scar tissue. Finally, she stood, went into the living room, found her purse, andremoved the small plastic case Biddle had given her and shown her how to install.
Movement helped her focus because it reminded her of the danger and the opportunity. If she played this right, it could mean a new life. If she played it wrong, she’d be dead. Either way, things had to change. She was finished letting people like Sayeed think they owned her—fucking her, making her fuck their friends or people they were trying to set up. She shuddered, refusing to think about what was going to happen to Brent. She thought about herself, instead.
Her life had been building toward this since last January when Abu Sayeed brought Biddle into the private London casino where she worked. It had been her third consecutive evening with a Kuwaiti sheik, who smelled like a pig and made love like a savage but paid fifteen hundred pounds a night for the privilege. Abu Sayeed had already told her what the proposal would be and given her Biddle’s picture, so she recognized him instantly.
She watched him for a time, noting that he didn’t gamble, drank only water, and when her Kuwaiti finally went to the bathroom, she approached him and started a conversation. Biddle was handsome, outwardly aloof, and sophisticated. He offered her two thousand pounds to discuss his business proposition, and they left the casino before the Kuwaiti returned from the restroom. In their initial meeting there was nothing in his manner to suggest that he found her attractive or even that he liked women. Only later, once she worked her way inside his defenses, did he start to change, becoming awkward, even diffident.
That first night, Biddle promised her a hundred thousand pounds if she would do a simple job for him and then swear herselfto secrecy. He was associated with the U.S. Government, he told her, and she would be killed if she ever disclosed a single word. She knew he was lying, of course, because she already knew he was working with Abu Sayeed. Either way, she didn’t give a damn.
After that, she met with Biddle several more times to discuss her assignment. Their encounters were always in London, in hotel rooms rented for that purpose. From the beginning Biddle’s evolution was obvious but steady. He started out cold and impersonal, barely making eye contact, but by their third meeting, as though some scab of rectitude had been scraped away, he stared at her with almost desperate hunger.
By their fourth meeting, Biddle’s distraction was almost painful. Finally, Anneliës stood and began to remove her blouse. With a cry that seemed part guilt and part release of his frantic desire, Biddle reached for her.
That first time, he trembled like an adolescent and ejaculated in seconds. Afterwards, he sat with his back to her on the edge of the bed, sobbing and begging her forgiveness. She ran her fingers through his hair and told him how good it had been. When he left, he gave her ten thousand pounds.
From then on, they met at least every two weeks. Each
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