Page 34 of The Sheik's Kiss

Hasan paced across the expanse of his living room floor. What the hell was taking so long? He’d paid the palace guard an enormous amount of money and now he needed to hear the news that the bitch had died! Hasan had ordered the man to make her death look like an accident, so that questions wouldn’t be asked.

So, what had gone wrong? What was taking so long? All his contact needed to do was push the woman down the stairs, or hit her with a car when she crossed the street!

“Dear, what’s wrong? Why are you so anxious?” his wife, Milta asked as she came into the room, wiping her hands on a cloth.

“Nothing. Go back to the kitchen,” he snapped.

Milta ignored his order and came closer, smiling as if to placate him. “You have been anxious for over a week, my dear. Please tell me what’s going on to make you so nervous.”

Hasan swung around, glaring at his wife of forty years. “Go back to the kitchen and mind your own business!” he roared.

She reared back and, instantly, Hasan knew he’d made a mistake. His wife was a good woman. She’d raised four children, all of them settled in excellent marriages that had helped him progress in his career. Milta made their home comfortable and never questioned where the extra money came from. She cooked his favorite meals, had a glass of wine already poured when he came home from work ,and never complained when he worked late or even when he didn’t come home. She probably suspected that he visited the brothels, but she never spoke a word against him for his extra-marital activities.

She was a good wife. He’d apologize to her as soon as he’d received word that the bitch was gone. Yes, that was an excellent plan. He’d take Milta out for a special dinner to celebrate, not revealing to her why he was suddenly relaxed.

Bringing his thoughts back to the present, he stared out into the dark night. Why hadn’t he received word? He’d hired one of the best in the business. The accident should have taken place tonight. He’d received word that a group of palace employees were heading over to the bar, so why hadn’t he received the code word that meant the bitch was dead?

The buzzing of his cell phone startled him and he ripped his slacks in his haste to pull out the phone. “Didn’t happen. Target didn’t attend.”

That was it? Just the news that Mandy Sullivan hadn’t attended the after-work happy hour? But why not? She’d attended all of the other happy hours! Why had this night been different?

He walked into the kitchen and smelled the braised chicken in the oven. His wife focused on writing something in that infernal notebook. He had no idea what the woman wrote about, but whenever he angered her, Milta resorted to writing. It was probably just a diary. Every time her feelings were wounded, she wrote until her hand cramped. Stupid woman! Useless woman! He should divorce her. She didn’t have periods any longer, which meant that she couldn’t have any more children. So what was the point of remaining married to her?

Yes, he’d divorce Milta and find someone younger, someone who could give him more children. After all, what was a man if he didn’t have children? His four children were well situated in life, but they didn’t need him any longer.

He should get a younger wife. Someone who was beautiful and could better protect his image. Milta was old now, and a bit haggard. Some might say she was still pretty, but the grey streaks in her dark hair warned that she was no longer fruitful.

Yes, he would get rid of her. But not in a divorce. No way was he giving the old hag any of his hard-earned money! A better idea was to have her killed off. The extra funds from his secret projects would adequately fund his wife’s demise.

Or maybe he’d save money by doing it himself. The idea was surprisingly enticing. Killing his wife? Yes, that might be an interesting side project! How would he do it? How would he convince his neighbors that she’d passed from natural causes?

Maybe he’d invent a disease. Something that would require her to accept hospice at a far-away hospital. Switzerland sounded like a good place for his wife to “convalesce”. Plus, a long, drawn-out disease would garner him sympathy from his colleagues!

Oh, this plan was even better than he’d first thought!

He could start planting the seeds tomorrow. Maybe he could even convince Milta that she wasn’t feeling well. He remembered that movie, “Gaslighting” or something along those lines. The husband slowly convinced his wife that she was crazy by turning down the lights or the heat and convincing his wife that she was sick. And crazy? He chuckled to himself. Yes, he’d enjoy the challenge of convincing his wife that she was both sick and nuts.

Still, the plan to get rid of his wife didn’t help his current problem. He still needed to get rid of the investigator, or forensic accountant. Whatever. She was a female and, therefore, stupid, even though she’d broken through his assistant’s firewalls. Stupid bitch! If she had just stayed away, he wouldn’t have to get rid of his wife.

Now he was inconvenienced and that wasn’t something he enjoyed. Milta, for all of her aging issues, had given him a good, easy life. She’d made his home life comfortable and had been a reliable mother.

So, what to do? If the woman wouldn’t leave the palace, he’d just have to go in after her! Yes, that seemed like an excellent plan. He’d go into the palace and get rid of her. In disguise, of course.

But, how would he do that? How could he sneak a disguise into the palace? Every time he entered, he was searched. His briefcase and any other bags were sent through the scanners and x-ray machines.

A moment later, Hasan had a splendid idea! He could ship his disguise directly to the palace! He chuckled at the brilliance of his plan. If he shipped the first part of his disguise to himself, with the address of the palace, he could intercept the packages. No, not intercept them. He could send a series of packages with silly materials to the palace and then, when asked about them, he’d say someone was pranking him. He’d order the packages to be stored in a rarely used closet or supply room and ask the security detail to start an investigation.

The same man who had failed him tonight could still be useful. He’d spare the man’s life if the guard intercepted the packages for him. Hasan would tell his contact to ensure all of his packages were held in one storage area. It would take a few days, maybe a week, before he had everything he needed. Then he could simply come to the palace for a meeting, disguise himself with a wig, glasses, and…and…? A uniform? No, that wouldn’t work. Everyone in the palace was an employee of the Sidrina government. So, what sort of disguise could he use?

A servant!

Yes, that was the perfect disguise! He could walk around the palace dressed as a female servant!

The idea wasn’t just perfect, it was brilliant! He could order several odd packages to be delivered to the palace under his name, and maybe several of the other department heads. Clapping his hands together, he nearly laughed out loud! All of the department heads would chuckle at the strange packages that arrived daily to the palace. And, if others received packages too, then suspicion wouldn’t fall on him!

This wasn’t just brilliant, it would be fun!

With a sigh, relieved that he had a new plan, Hasan walked into the kitchen, wrapping his arms around his wife and kissed her neck.

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