A Dangerous Liaison - Part Two Read online

  A Dangerous Liaison

  Part 2

  PUBLISHED BY:

  Melanie Brooks

  Copyright © 2015

  www.melaniebrooks01.blogspot.co.uk

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously.

  Chapter 1

  Petra

  As I walked toward the Pantheon, through the narrow streets lined with endless coffee bars and restaurants, I tried to piece together everything I’d learned over the last few days and hours. But my head was still spinning. The stranger I’d just kissed like a long-lost lover was the mystery man we’d all been looking for. I was sure of that. He fitted the description to a tee. Over six feet tall, built like a tank, crew cut hair, wearing an olive green shirt and jeans. He matched the eyewitness accounts, even down to his bloodshot eyes.

  I pushed a loose lock of hair behind my ear.

  But that didn’t explain what had happened between us. It didn’t even get close. When we’d touched, the hairs on the back of my neck had sprung up, as if the air between us was charged with static. I’d looked into his pained eyes, and felt a connection so strong it had taken my breath away. And before I’d known what was happening, before I could stop myself, I was kissing him. But I was also back on the beach, with the man from my dreams, kissing him. I’d heard the crashing waves, and felt the cool sand under my toes, and for the first time in my life, I’d felt complete. But why?

  I traced my lips, where he’d kissed me. I could still feel his presence, like an echo.

  Suddenly I felt unsteady, as if the ground had turned into a trampoline, and put a hand out to get my balance, nearly colliding with an old guy drinking his morning coffee outside a café. I apologized and hustled away. I needed to put my crazy feelings aside for now and concentrate on the facts.

  I frowned.

  So what were the facts? Cooper had said there’d been another incident. Chances were I had run into our mystery savior after he’d stopped the latest attack. I’d seen for myself that he was probably ex-military – and he looked sick. And he obviously hadn’t wanted to hang around to talk to the police, or to me. Beyond that I still knew very little.

  I walked into Pantheon Square, and squinted against the bright sunlight.

  When my eyes had adjusted, I saw four police vans had parked in the middle of the square, near the Pantheon Temple. Several officers, dressed in the tight-fitting dark blue uniforms favored by the Rome police, were milling around. They’d cordoned off an area to the right of the square, near the road, with red and white hazard tape. Inside the cordoned-off area, parked half on the sidewalk and half on the road, was a white delivery truck. The driver’s door hung open.

  A few feet away from the truck a woman sat on the edge of the sidewalk, with a young girl perched on her knee, and talking to one of the cops. The woman’s blouse and skirt were torn, and there was a bloody graze on her shin. But otherwise she seemed unharmed. The girl had a lump on her forehead that would turn into a peach of a bruise. She was pulling at the ear of an already tatty teddy bear. Guessing they were the killer’s targets, I headed over to talk to them.

  Thirty minutes later I had the story, and was on my way back to the office. I’d been right. The guy I’d run into had pushed the woman and her daughter from the path of the delivery truck, seconds before it could crush them. Several eyewitnesses had seen the driver looking in his wing mirror at the woman and her daughter when he was reversing. There was no way it had been an accident. He’d deliberately tried to run them over. The cop had at least had the decency to look embarrassed when he told me the driver had gotten away in the confusion.

  I took a deep breath in and let it out slowly.

  I had to convince Cooper to put all our resources into finding this man. This mystery angel was the key to this case. For the sake of American lives we had to find him, and work with him to find the killers. And for my sake, I had to find him and ask him who he really was.

  Chapter 2

  Petra

  “I need you to back me up, Gabriel.”

  Back in the police department building on my way to talk to Cooper, I’d bumped into Gabriel. He looked tired. He had deep black marks under his eyes that even his thick, black-rimmed glasses couldn’t hide. His salt and pepper hair was disheveled, and there seemed to be a few more creases on that big forehead of his.

  He ran his hand through his hair and sighed.

  “With what, Petra?”

  His voice was tight, but there were layers of fatigue behind it. For the last few months he'd put everything into solving this case, and the strain was beginning to show. He wasn’t a fresh recruit anymore. But Cooper would listen to him.

  I leaned in close, speaking in a quiet voice.

  “I don't have time to tell you now. I'll explain everything in a minute when we see Cooper, I promise.”

  He sighed. Gabriel had stood up for me after the incident at the bank a few months ago. Cooper had wanted to throw the book at me but Gabriel had stopped him. And he’d persuaded Cooper to put me on this mission, even though he thought I should take a rest. I liked to think he’d done it because he could see the potential in me that others couldn’t. He’d once said I had more natural talent in my little finger than a whole department of Coopers. But that was a long while ago.

  He put his hands on his hips and ducked his head for a moment, then looked back at me.

  “Are you convinced that this is the right play, Petra?”

  I hesitated. Then my hand found the St. Christopher in my pocket and clasped it.

  “Yes,” I said. “I am. But I need your support to convince Cooper.”

  Gabriel’s eyes were fixed on mine like he was trying to see into my soul.

  “I really need this, Gabriel,” I said, my voice cracking.

  He nodded, briskly, gripped my shoulder and squeezed. “Okay, Petra, but you better be right.”

  ***

  “What the hell happened out there?”

  Cooper had jumped up from his chair as soon as we walked into his office. Files and discarded Styrofoam coffee cups littered his desk. The pictures of the victims on the whiteboard behind the desk hung over him like an accusation.

  “I’ve just heard from the Italians that our mystery hero saved the day again and then disappeared into thin air,” he said, breathing hard, and glaring at us.

  I did a double take. Cooper didn’t look like an FBI poster boy anymore. His eyes were red-rimmed. His shirt collar was undone, and his $200 tie was hanging loose around his neck.

  Gabriel raised his hands. “Let’s all take a seat,” he said in a calm voice.

  We did, and a few minutes later I’d told them how Alec had saved another two potential victims, this time a woman and her young daughter, turning up just in time, exactly like before.

  Cooper gripped the Styrofoam cup he was holding, crushing it in his hand.

  “It doesn’t make any damn sense,” he said. “What's his angle?”

  “What do you mean?” I replied.

  Cooper glared at me like I had an IQ of 50.

  “Why is he doing this?”

  I blew out a breath.

  “Does it matter? As long as he’s saving people he’s one of the good guys, right? Our priority now has to be finding him, and working with him to catch the killers.”

  Cooper banged his fist on the table, knocking over a few of his empty Styrofoam cups.

&n
bsp; “I don’t buy it, Petra. People don’t risk their life for nothing. He's got to have an angle. We need to bring the bastard in and squeeze him until he tells us what it is.”

  I stared at Cooper. “You mean torture him?”

  “If that’s what it takes, yes.”

  What the hell had brought this on? The last time we spoke Cooper hadn’t thought finding this guy was a priority. Now he wanted to torture him. Didn’t he realize he was doing our job for us?”

  “You dumb son of a bitch,” I said. “How will torturing the only man saving American lives help, exactly?”

  Cooper’s face went dark red.

  “Be very careful what you say next, Agent Anderson,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

  I glanced over at Gabriel, looking for support. He was staring at the wall behind Cooper, eyes unfocussed. Exasperated, I turned back to Cooper.

  “Look, I agree we need to find this guy but we don’t have to hurt him. Christ, we’re better than that. You’re better than that, sir.”

  Cooper glared at me.

  “He has to be working for an organization with significant resources. If one of the Islamic terror groups is responsible for targeting Americans in Rome, then he could be an agent for Mossad, or some other Zionist group trying to sabotage the Islamists.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Where was Cooper getting this from?

  Gabriel shifted in his seat.

  “With all due respect, sir, that's horseshit.” His voice was quiet but rumbled with authority. Cooper’s face went an even darker shade of red and he stared at Gabriel like he’d dropped his pants.

  “And why is that, Gabriel?”

  “Sir, we have no evidence to suggest that he’s working for Mossad or any terror group. So far every action he’s taken has saved American lives.”

  He paused, then leaned forward, placing his elbows on the desk, and looking directly at Cooper.

  “Whatever we think this guy’s motives are, we need to make sure he continues doing what he’s doing. Picking him up and interrogating him could be disastrous We need to find him, sir, but we’ve got to work with him. For now at least, we have to treat him as friendly.”

  I could have kissed Gabriel on the lips.

  Cooper’s hand had curled up into a ball. The muscles in his jaw quivered, but Gabriel held his gaze. You could have cut the tension with a knife. We all sat in silence for a long moment. The sound of traffic on the road below came through the window.

  Then one of out analysts, Sam, burst into the room, waving a bundle of papers in her hand. She stopped at Cooper’s desk, panting like she’d just sprinted a hundred meters.

  “I know who he is,” she said.

  Chapter 3

  Alec

  I was lying on the bed in my room overlooking Pantheon Square. The curtains were drawn, so only a little of the bright sunlight snuck into the room. I was feeling rough – rougher than I usually did after a vision. I’d already downed one glass of Jack, and was working my way through my second, but that hadn’t gotten rid of my pounding headache.

  I rolled the cool glass over my forehead, and let my mind wander.

  This time the vision had been more vivid than ever, and I’d been treated to something new: a preview of what would happen if I didn’t do what I was supposed to. I’d seen the kid and her mother crushed under the wheels of that truck. The image of the kid’s tiny fingers poking out from under the truck wheels was still etched on my mind.

  I shook my head, trying to get rid of the picture, then winced. My head was really hurting, which was odd. Usually the headache eased off when the compulsion came. But this time it had carried right on, pulsating in my right temple, as if someone was hammering on the inside of my skull trying to break out. I rubbed the spot, and hissed.

  Jesus.

  I explored the area again, and found a patch, about an inch square, that sent daggers of pain through my head when I pushed on it. I blew out a breath through clenched teeth.

  I couldn’t go on for much longer like this. At this rate these visions would kill me. I took another sip of the whiskey, enjoying the hot burn down my throat, and the feeling of tension leaving my muscles.

  Part of me wanted to get away. Go somewhere quiet. Maybe the Australian outback. I’d always fantasized about going there. I loved the idea of thousands of miles of emptiness. For a moment I imagined sitting by a campfire in the middle of the desert, the endless night sky above me. Then I laughed quietly. Of course I couldn’t go. Some kind of irresistible compulsion wouldn’t let me.

  I got up, grabbed a couple of aspirin from a bottle on the table under the window, and washed them down with more Jack. I needed to work out what the hell was going on. I needed to know why I as getting these visions, and why I was compelled to save these people.

  I took another sip of the whiskey. Of course the compulsions didn’t just come when someone needed saving. For months now I’d felt a strange urge to prepare myself. Since I’d left the SAS I’d been drifting for a couple of years – going from town to town. That feeling that something was missing was always with me. Whatever I did it was always there – a voice saying: This isn’t your life. You shouldn’t be doing this. Then four months ago that had all changed. I’d started training again. I’d been running and practicing martial arts. I’d even been working on my surveillance skills. Up until a few weeks ago, I was in the best physical and mental shape I’d been in for years. As good as when I was in the SAS. The irony was that I didn’t know what I’d been training for.

  I downed the Jack, put the empty glass back on the table, and let out a long breath.

  Right now I needed to work out what to do next. But I couldn’t get that girl, the FBI agent, out of my mind. Why did I kiss her? Why did it feel so natural – like we’d kissed a thousand times – when until a few days ago I’d never clapped eyes on her?

  I looked out of the window to the rooftops beyond Pantheon Square. At least I had a few days’ breathing space before the next vision came. The shortest interval so far was three days. I’d spend the next twenty-four hours here recovering, then see if I could find any leads. Someone had to know something.

  Then as I closed my eyes, my heart sank. The flashing lights were back – the aura. The vision came seconds later. A woman dressed in a gray business suit, with a black bob hairstyle, was standing on the edge of a railway station platform. The train was pulling in. A man with cold eyes edged along the crowded platform toward her. He reached her and I saw his hand rest in the small of her back. Bizarrely I noticed how finely manicured his nails were. Then I saw him push, and watched the woman fall forward into the path of the train.

  Chapter 4

  Petra

  Three pairs of eyes were fixed on Sam. The room was silent. I could hear the clock ticking on the wall. For a moment she flushed under the attention, then lifted her chin, and said proudly:

  “I know who he is.”

  Sam was a great analyst, an expert at digging up information that no one else could find. And she’d been working on getting our mystery man’s identity without a lot to go on. She’d had a few sketchy eye witness descriptions, which had been made into a Photofit picture, and we’d been able to make a few guesses about his background. It was pretty obvious, from the way he had dealt with those thugs is the alley, that our man was an expert in hand to hand combat. That pointed to a military background – most probably US Special forces, which was a pretty select group. Unfortunately even the FBI weren’t allowed access to Special Forces personnel records. But if anyone could have found a back door, it was Sam.

  She spread a bundle of files and photos on Cooper’s desk.

  “His name is Alec Reader,” she said proudly. “He was a sergeant in the SAS four years ago.”

  She gestured at one of the photos on the desk.

  “This is him on operation in Borneo in 2008.”

  It was a picture of four men in the jungle. They were unshaven, covered in sweat, with long a
nd unkempt hair. They wore vests and combat trousers, dog tags hanging around their necks. I recognized Reader, one in from the left of the line-up. None of them looked like typical soldiers. But the British SAS were less regimented than the traditional army. That’s why they attracted rebels, people who couldn’t or wouldn’t fit in elsewhere. Gabriel asked the question that was on my lips.

  “You said British SAS, right? Not Navy SEALs or American Special forces?”

  “That’s right,” said Sam.

  Gabriel lifted an eyebrow.

  “Are you sure? The victim said he had an American accent, right, Petra?”

  “Yes, he…” I hesitated. I was about he say he sounded American, but then I remembered no-one knew we’d met.

  “All the reports say he’s American,” I said, correcting myself and hoping no one would notice.

  Gabriel gave me an odd look.

  “Anything else?” said Cooper in a harsh voice.

  We had a good photo of Reader, but if Alec Reader was his real name he probably wasn’t using it now. Of course Sam would have done the usual checks, but he might have a phony name and passport to go with it. So despite finding his identity, we might be no closer to finding the man himself.

  Sam looked crestfallen. She knew what Cooper was getting at. “No. There’s no record of any Alec Reader arriving at the Rome airport or any other major European airport in the last two months.”

  “Anything else?” said Gabriel.

  Sam shook her head, flushing slightly.

  “There’s no record of an Alec Reader in the US or British Army. Or of him attending school in the US, and there’s no Alec Reader in the British births registry. We only got the name Alec Reader, and these photos, from a CIA source embedded in the SAS.”

  I picked up one of the photos and looked at Reader’s face. That sense of familiarity was back. It hit me right between the eyes and sent a tingle down my spine. My instincts told me that we’d known each other many years ago.