Page 38 of Dangerous Protocol

Two sets of footsteps shuffled closer.

“I specifically told you to remain in the hall and not to come into the bedroom. Yet, you disobeyed me and had to snoop.” Her mother tsked. “I, too, am worried, but I was instructed to turn off the video camera and nothing more.”

“But if she is only sleeping, why is there a video camera in the room with her?” Her daughter threw questions at her. “Who is she? Why is she here? What are they going to do with her? How come they have her in a bedroom on a floor no one ever uses?”

Their voices were much closer now, and they stopped on the landing directly above the team.

“Shhh. Hush now.” The mother’s voice became a harsh whisper. “I do not know, but you must not speak of her, daughter. If they hear you talking about her, asking questions about her, they will punish all of us. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Her response was pouty and rife with dissatisfaction.

Their steps resumed.

A woman and young girl, dressed head to foot in black, appeared at the base of the stairs, only a few feet away from where the team stood.

The mother placed a hand on either side of her daughter’s face, leaned down and touched their foreheads together. A moment later, she straightened, nodded once, and swung the stairwell door open.

Jeffrey and the rest of the team remained motionless and waited for the hiss of the automatic door closer to become silent.

Andi risked a quick glance. “Go.”

She darted out first. They all followed and double-timed it up the steps until they arrived at the third floor.

This was when things got tricky.

They had no idea what, if any, type of security measures might be in place and were essentially going in blind.

Speed was their only ally.

They had to find the room where they were keeping his daughter, grab her, retrace their steps through the embassy and down to the tunnel. Once they made it back to the park, they would have to ensure no one could use it after them. Ergo, the brick of C4 in Andi’s vest.

She glanced into the hallway, turned back to them and nodded.

Go time.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Nadim sat at hisdesk, brooding, as he stared at the Kids Chat website on his laptop screen. His gaze rarely strayed from the cursor blinking in the message stream in anticipation of a response from the Corbett woman.

He lifted the crystal glass to his lips and took a long swallow of Kentucky bourbon. He’d grown accustomed to, even enjoyed the slow burn as it worked its way to his belly.

Like many other things, alcohol was forbidden by his religion. If his subjects found out their king regularly imbibed in his favorite American liquor, he could end up with a revolt on his hands. They wouldreallybe upset if they knew he committed adultery on a regular basis.

Knowing he would one day take his place, Nadim had watched and listened to his father for years. He’d learned that being the king afforded him a level of freedom and immunity from censure that others were not privy to. As such, he was able to treat himself to some of life’s simple yet forbidden pleasures with impunity.

His tongue dragged across the lip of the glass to catch a drop of bourbon, and his gaze shifted to the large clock hanging on the wall across the room.

Eleven twenty-seven.

“You have twenty-three minutes, Maya Corbett.” He set the heavy glass on a coaster, leaned back, and rested his elbows on the arms of his chair. He crossed his fingers together and thought about what it would be like to watch the life leave her eyes.

Adnan should be on his way to the girl’s room. He’d been given instructions to have her prepared for when they made contact with her mother. His friend was decidedly unenthusiastic about Nadim’s plan to exact his revenge against the woman who murdered his brother and, in doing so, hastened his father’s death.

Only a few years before, King Khaled suffered a serious heart attack, which had left him fragile and in a medically weakened state. The strain of hiding his illness while defending their family’s reputation against the foul rumors that constantly swirled around Zahir’s lifestyle—and therealreason for his brother’s sudden demise—had proved to be too much for their father.

Khaled’s second heart attack had left him bedridden and close to death.

“Come close, my son.” On his deathbed, weak and frail, his father couldn’t speak above a whisper.

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