Bodyguard: Hostage (Book 2)

Bodyguard: Hostage (Book 2)

Ensuring he was alone in the rear kitchen, Malik switched on the untraceable cell phone he’d acquired from his con­tact. Then he dialed the number he’d committed to memory. It was answered on the fourth ring, and there was a burst of high-pitched squealing and electronic chatter as the scram­bled signals synchronized with one another.
 
A digitally enhanced robotic voice spoke. “Answer?”
 
“All war is deception,” replied Malik, quoting the Chinese philosopher Sun Tzu, as dictated by his contact instructions.
 
“Proceed with your update.”
 
Malik had no idea of the identity of the person on the other end. Nor did he ever want to know. Anonymity was critical for the isolation of each cell—and even more so for the central cell. They had contacted him first. They had proposed the plan. And they had given him the means to carry it out. But he would be the one to receive all the glory. He would be seen as the leading light. And the rest of the Brotherhood need never know of their existence or the part the central cell had played. That had been the deal.
 
“Eagle Chick unexpectedly flew the nest,” Malik reported. “We almost had her in our net. But the sparrows flocked be­fore we could grab her.”
 
“What about your plan to clip Eagle Chick’s wings while on the move?”
 
Malik had put a great deal of time, effort and resources into snatching the president’s daughter on her school run. But the severely restricted time window, the presence of so many armed agents and the rush-hour traffic had presented too high a casualty risk for his men and hampered their chances of making a clean escape.
 
“I have a better, bolder plan,” he replied.
 
“When will this new plan be ready to execute?” The contact’s voice sounded irritated.
 
“The egg is about to be laid in the nest. It’ll be ready to hatch in a couple of days,” Malik replied confidently. “All units are set to go.”
 
There was a pause on the end of the line.
 
“Has the operation been compromised in any way?” asked the robotic voice.
 
“No,” said Malik with absolute certainty. “The sleeper has not awakened.”
 
“Then execute operation without delay.”
 
Malik’s hand holding the phone began to tremble in an­ticipation. The time had come to make history.
 
“One question,” he said, sensing the receiver about to hang up. “My final payment?”
 
Another pause. “When the operation succeeds, you’ll be justly rewarded.”
 
Malik grinned at the thought.
 
“Is that all?” said the voice, a trace of impatience detect­able in its manipulated tone.
 
“Yes.”
 
“Then this will be our last communication.”