Private Beijing

Chapter 55

Angel fell silent for the remainder of the short journey back to the bungalow where they’d found him.

Sci and Mo-bot had pushed both damaged vehicles, the Nissan Rogue Private staff vehicle and Angel’s utility, into the driveway. Salazar parked his Dodge Charger beside them. He grabbed the handcuffed Angel and manhandled him into the building where they found Sci and Mo-bot waiting with Alison. Justine could have kicked herself for not warning Mo-bot to make sure Alison was kept away from Angel. She could see the trauma writ large on the woman’s face.

“What’s he doing here?” she asked. “Get him away from me. Get him away!”

“Alison, I’m sorry. It was thoughtless,” Justine said, going to the distressed woman.

Her hair was lank, face dirty, dress crumpled from days of wear.

“Come with me. Let’s get you out of here.” Justine put her arm around Alison and ushered her toward the bedrooms.

“You are all dead people,” Angel said.

Justine didn’t see the blow but she heard it. When she turned around she saw Salazar stepping back and Angel hunched over, cradling his jaw.

“Ignore him,” Justine told Alison. “He’s overcompensating. He won’t be in any position to hurt anyone.”

Alison nodded. She was a beautiful woman with delicate features, but looked tired and drawn, which was hardly surprising given her ordeal.

Justine took her along a short corridor that led away from the living room. She stayed clear of the door that had an open padlock on it, and when she saw Alison’s reaction was glad she had.

“That’s where he kept me,” the other woman said, as tears filled her eyes.

“It’s okay. He can’t hurt you anymore,” Justine assured her, leading her into a small bedroom that was completely empty.

“Where’s Rafael?” Alison asked, the moment Justine shut the door.

How could she answer without crushing Alison’s spirit?

“That’s the same look Maureen and Seymour gave me,” she remarked. “They wouldn’t say anything about him. What’s going on? Is Rafael dead?”

“No,” Justine replied, and Alison sagged with relief. “He made a bad decision. Angel used you to blackmail him into betraying his colleagues.”

“No.” Alison tensed again, her face drawn. “No. He wouldn’t do that. No. Not even for me.”

“I’m afraid people were hurt, killed, because of his actions,” Justine said, putting a hand on Alison’s shoulder.

“No!” she yelled, brushing the hand away. “He’s a good man. He wouldn’t help that monster.”

“He thought it was the only way to get you back.”

Alison broke down completely then, sobbing, and Justine put her arm around her to try and console her.

They stayed like that for a while until Alison’s tears subsided.

“I want to see him,” she said, inhaling long gulps of air between her waning sobs.

“I’ll see what I can do,” Justine said, rising. “Wait here.”

She left Alison alone in the bedroom and went into the living room. The place was run down and sparsely furnished with cast-offs. It reeked of misery.

Justine signaled Salazar, who stood over Angel. The powerful assassin was now seated on the floor, hands cuffed behind his back. Sci and Mo-bot sat on a ragged blue corduroy couch.

“Can I talk to you?” Justine said, and Salazar came over. “She wants to see Rafael.”

The NYPD detective nodded. “Understandable. I can arrange it.”

“You hear that?” Justine asked. There was a thrumming sound at the edge of her perception that rapidly grew louder.

“It’s a chopper,” Salazar said.

He went outside and Justine followed to see a small helicopter loom larger as it descended fast. Soon it was wheels-down on the street, bringing neighbors to their windows. Four men in dark suits emerged from the sleek black bird. One of them ran to meet Justine and Salazar. He was about six feet one with wild blond hair.

“Miss Smith, Detective Salazar, my name is Tate Johnson. I’m an independent contractor with the Department of Defense. Secretary Carver sent me to take care of a problem.” He yelled to make his voice heard above the sound of the rotors.

Sci and Mo-bot hustled Angel out of the house.

“That’s the suspect,” Justine replied. “Known only as Angel.”

“We’ll see what we can find out,” Tate said, before nodding to three colleagues.

The men ran over and took custody of the assassin.

“The Secretary asked me to pass on his thanks,” Tate announced. “To both of you.”

Justine nodded and watched him and his colleagues force Angel into the chopper. There were more neighbors at their windows now, and a few out on their lawns, and they were treated to the sight of the chopper rising into the sky.

As the sound of the powerful engines died away and the helicopter became a speck, Justine hoped Carver’s people would be able to find out why a Chinese hitman had been briefed to target them, so that she, Jack and the rest of the Private team could escape the web that had ensnared them.