Milan
‘Remind me again why we flew overnight to Milan?’
Kael Stryker sighed. ‘I’ve told you a million times.’
‘One more time won’t kill you.’
Kael glowered at his partner, Axton ‘Ax’ Hawke.
His friend was a shade over six feet in height. Broad shoulders. Bronzed, lean face, dark hair, eyes that took in everything, biceps outlined beneath the sleeves-rolled-up white shirt that was tucked into blue jeans.
And that magazine, Kael swore inwardly at the rolled-up journal in his friend’s hand. ‘You had to bring that with you?’
‘This?’ Ax unfurled the latest edition of Best Crocheting. ‘Some good designs in it.’
Kael rolled his eyes. Hunting, shooting, fishing, speed-boat racing, skydiving … those were the kinds of hobbies people associated with former special-forces operators.
But no! Axton Hawke, one of the most lethal men he knew, had to be a crocheting fan.
Hawke and Stryker was the name of their private investigation practice in New York. They had built up a reputation over the years for taking on tough cases and resolving them. Millionaires, billionaires, large and small corporations and families came to them. Kidnappings, murders and assassination investigations, hostage negotiations, corporate espionage, short-term close-protection services, organized crime gangs … the partners took them all. They often worked pro-bono for those who couldn’t afford their services and also took on cases that had felt right to them.
And he doesn’t hide his crocheting hobby from clients, Kael thought sourly.
‘We are meeting Princess Samira.’ He sat grumpily in a café’s outdoor chair.
‘Princess?’ Ax sat next to him, polished his shades, put them on again and watched people go by on Corso Vittorio Emmanuelle II, one of the most popular streets in Milan.
It was a shopping nirvana. High-end brands with their fancy outlets alongside boutique showrooms. Elegantly clad staff guiding customers through their hushed interiors.
The Duomo, Milan’s famous cathedral, was at one end of the street while at the other end was Piazza San Babila.
It was a pedestrian-only street, lined with cobblestones and flanked by concrete sidewalks on either side.
Several restaurants and cafés had their chairs and tables laid out for alfresco dining.
Kael and Ax were at one such table. Red-checked tablecloth on which were their lattes, served in fine porcelain. Their overhead umbrella ruffled in the light breeze and the shadow it weaved danced on the ground.
‘Princess Samira.’ Kael ground his teeth in irritation. Both of them had their backs to an upmarket brand’s store. Duomo to their right, San Babila to their left, in the distance. A busker played on a pipe on Via Agnello, a small side-street just over Kael’s shoulder.
‘A minor Saudi royal. She’s fled that country. She reached out to us and said she needs protection.’ His foot tapped to the tune. ‘I briefed you so many times. Even over the red-eye from New York. Do you ever listen to what I say?’
‘I do.’ Ax smiled innocently. ‘Do you realize I was yanking your chain? Humor-challenged. That’s what they call people like you.’
Kael rolled his eyes. ‘I’m the funny one. I’m the life and soul of any party. You wouldn’t know a joke if it bit your butt.’
‘Why’s she in Milan?’
‘Vacationing. She finished a PhD from Oxford and came here for a break. She was out shopping, accompanied by her family’s heavies, when she reached out for help.’
‘How did she hear of us?’
‘She called Beth and Meg. She met them at some reception.’
Beth and Meghan Petersen, twins, who worked in the Agency, a covert US outfit. Our friends. Not just them, the entire team, he corrected himself mentally.
‘Since when do our friends go to Saudi receptions?’
‘Since they helped a royal in that family.’
Ax nodded slowly. ‘Yeah. I remember, now. Zeb and his team did some work for someone there.’
‘That same prince invited them to some wedding reception. The sisters were there. They met Samira.’
‘Don’t our friends have a good relationship with the royals?’ Ax frowned. ‘Zeb wouldn’t work with anyone who treated women like this.’
‘This isn’t who the Agency helped with. Samira’s dad is a distant cousin to the king. But they are royals, nevertheless.’
‘We are supposed to protect her till the end of time?’
‘No,’ Kale sighed. ‘For two weeks only.’
‘What will happen after that?’
‘She will seek asylum with the Italians.’
‘Why does it take so long for that?’
‘I don’t know. We’ll ask her …’ He got up when a woman emerged from a store opposite them, crossed the cobblestone street and approached them.
‘Here’s the princess,’ he muttered.
‘Do we have to call her that?’ Ax whispered. ‘And, don’t Saudi royals have fancy
cars and bodyguards around them?’
‘You see any cars on Vittorio?’ Kael glowered at him briefly before standing up and putting on a smile.
Princess Samira returned his smile tentatively as she approached them.
She was slim, of average height, outfitted in Western wear and stylish sandals. Her straight-cut black hair had a sheen to it that spoke of high-end salon care. A pearl necklace around her neck caught the light.
That cream-colored skirt and blouse she’s wearing would feed a small village in some emerging country. And her handbag, a few families, he thought as he stretched out his hand and then started drawing it back when she laughed and shook it firmly.
‘I studied in Stanford and then in Oxford,’ her voice was warm, a trace of expensive perfume coming their way. ‘I’m a proud Saudi but very Western in my thinking. You must be Kael and you … must be Axton Hawke.’
Kael hid his smile at her hesitation. Ax has that effect. His friend’s rugged looks attracted attention wherever he went.
‘Ax, ma’am.’
‘I’m Samira.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
Her teeth flashed wide in a smile. ‘Beth and Meghan warned me you would be like that. Ma’am for everything. And that you read—’ she was pointing at the magazine when five heavies hurried out of Via Agnello and came to them.
‘Are these your friends?’ Kael asked when the men drew closer.
He shot a look at Ax when Samira shrank and her smile faded.
‘My father’s men,’ she whispered.
‘Princess.’ The lead man stopped a few feet away. ‘Let’s go. The plane is waiting.’
He spoke in Arabic, which both Kael and Ax were fluent in.
‘I’m not coming with you.’ She shook her head. ‘I wrote to my father—’
‘Princess, let’s not make a scene here. Our orders are to bring you back. You can discuss this with His Highness.’
The men were in well-cut suits and polished shoes. Large builds, short black hair, neatly groomed beards.
Can’t see if they are carrying guns. Can’t make out any shapes at their waists, beneath their jackets. Kael inched away from Ax, flanking Samira on her left.
A couple at another outside table watched them curiously. A passing shopper talked loudly on her phone about the purchase she had made. A couple of kids ran down Vittorio, squealing in delight.
‘I’m not coming,’ Samira said.
‘Let’s go,’ one man said to the leader, who stepped forward and placed his hand on her elbow.
Dude’s going to drag her away in public? Kael frowned.
‘Stop.’ Ax uttered just the one word and yet it had the impact of a bullet being fired.
Leader swiveled his head slowly and took in Kael and Ax. His teeth flashed in a smile. ‘This does not concern you,’ he said in good English.
‘That’s where you are wrong.’ Kael grinned, feeling loose and ready. They won’t draw guns. If they go hot and hard, it will be with fists. But this street is crowded. They won’t be able to do much damage.
Leader read the menace in Ax’s voice. He cocked his head and eyed him again, like a cobra assessing its prey.
Ax was to Samira’s right. He had picked up his latte cup, and even as the thugs watched, sipped leisurely.
‘Who are you?’ Leader asked.
‘Who are you?’ Kael countered.
‘We’re getting late,’ Henchman, the man who had previously spoken, murmured in Arabic.
Leader tugged at Samira’s arm.
‘Don’t do that.’ Ax put down his cup. ‘I won’t tell you again.’
‘Or you’ll do what?’ Henchman said arrogantly.
‘Ma’am,’ Ax asked Samira without looking at her, ‘do you want to go with them?’
‘No.’ Her voice shook.
Ax struck.
Henchman was flanked by the three remaining heavies. All of them standing easily, about ten paces behind Leader.
They had blocked that part of the sidewalk, passersby having to go around them to continue down the sidewalk.
Most people wouldn’t challenge three men who clearly were fit and ready for violence.
Axton Hawke wasn’t most people.
He took a long step to get close to them and punched Henchman deep in his belly.
The thugs froze for a moment, disbelieving his move.
Kael acted instantly.
‘You could have warned me!’ he complained as he slapped Leader’s arm away from Samira, caught the neck of her dress and yanked her back to place her behind him and Ax.
I’ll apologize later, he thought grimly at her gasp. He kept moving, picking up his chair to fling it at Leader.
It struck the man’s shoulder and bounced off him to fall to the ground.
Leader yelled and charged at Kael who sidestepped, pivoted on his heel and looped his arm around the man’s neck and dragged him away from Samira.
The watching couple shouted in alarm and hurried away from their seats. A server approached, yelled something incomprehensible, and darted back inside the restaurant.
Kael grunted when Leader punched him in the ribs. He locked his arms around the man’s throat and squeezed harder, took several steps sideways to off-balance the thug.
He blinked sweat from his eyes. Ax was trading punches even though he was surrounded by Henchman and his thugs. He can handle himself. He twisted his head when Leader’s hands, fingers outstretched, came up to claw at his face.
Samira, a hand to her mouth, shocked, was standing still.
‘GET INSIDE,’ Kael roared at her.
She made to move toward the café when its manager rushed out with a phone to his ear. ‘Stop it,’ he cried out in Italian and repeated it in English. ‘I’m calling the polizia.’
Leader stopped hitting Kael. ‘Let me go,’ he growled.
Kael released him and stepped back. He checked out Ax, who kicked Henchman in the groin and back-tracked slowly, his hands held up in a calming gesture.
Just like him, Kael snorted, to start the fight and then declare he’s peaceful.
He checked quickly on Samira, who was twisting her hands nervously, wide-eyed, lips trembling. He started toward her when the manager moved in between. ‘Go away. I don’t want to see you in my café.’
He pointed his
phone at the heavies. ‘You leave as well. Don’t return to my restaurant.’
‘Princess, you are making a mistake,’ Leader said.
‘I am not going with you.’ Samira’s voice shook.
‘We are not leaving Italy without you.’
‘I DON’T CARE WHERE YOU GO. JUST GO AWAY FROM HERE.’ The manager flung his hands in the air, rattled off a string of words and curses into his phone and stomped back into the café.
A server hurried out when the thugs left, straightened the fallen chair, cleared their table, pocketed the euros Kael had placed beneath the saucer and went inside.
‘We should leave before the cops arrive.’ Ax took a table napkin and wiped his forehead. He inspected the red streaks of blood on it critically. ‘How bad is it?’
Kael checked out his friend. ‘It’s a small cut. It will heal. Samira—’
‘Did you have to attack them?’ she burst out.
‘You wanted to be dragged away by them?’ Ax squinted at her.
She flushed. ‘I could have talked it out with them.’
‘You didn’t need to come to us in that case,’ Kael observed. He touched her shoulder lightly when sirens wailed in the distance. ‘We have an audience.’ He nodded at the passersby who had stopped to watch them. Several customers from within the café were looking at them.
‘They’re recording it,’ Samira said tightly, pointing at several people who had their phones out. ‘I’ll be all over the news. My father will find out—’ She bit her lip and stomped down Vittorio toward San Babila.
Kael caught up with her and kept pace. He kept quiet. She’s angry. Let her calm down and work out what she wants from us.
He removed his shades from his pocket and adjusted them over the bridge of his nose. A tap to the right stem and his rear view got projected onto the lenses.
Ax was a step behind them, wearing similar shades. Kael checked out the pedestrians behind them. Leader and his men hadn’t returned. He didn’t see any cops.
The shades had nano-cameras drilled into the stems, which turned the eyewear into counter-surveillance devices. Beth and Meg’s gifts to us. His lips quirked.
‘This way.’ He nudged Samira’s shoulder and guided her down Via San Pietro Allorto, a side street.
He led them past several stores and held the door open to another café.
The smell of coffee and warm baking greeted them. A burly man with thinning hair behind the counter. He had a striped apron and was singing off-key when they entered.
He stopped and scowled at their sight, his expression changing to a big smile when he saw Samira.
‘Luigi,’ Kael greeted him in English. ‘We need a quiet table.’
‘Do you see anyone else here? It’s empty this time of the day,’ he replied irritably. ‘Sit wherever you want.’
The establishment was small, eight tables, all of them neatly laid out to give sufficient privacy. It had Hollywood posters, photographs and signed memorabilia on the walls. There was a jukebox in the corner which worked. Kael had tried it. Dark windows looked out into the street.
The café was Kael and Ax’s preferred joint in Milan. Luigi, the owner, was an old friend of theirs who pretended to dislike them.
‘Ma’am, you’ll have coffee?’ Ax asked when they were seated at a table near the wall from where they could watch the door.
Samira nodded.
‘Your best coffee,’ Ax told Luigi.
‘I don’t serve bad drinks,’ he retorted and returned presently with a serving tray. He placed a fine-china cup in front of Samira along with a platter of warm cookies. ‘The best for signora,’ he told her.
And then planted two chipped mugs in front of Kael and Ax and departed.
‘You know him?’ Samira took a cautious sip and sighed in pleasure. ...
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