Power Play (FBI Thriller 18)

He looked at her calm, serene face. Slowly, he leaned down and kissed her slack mouth. She made no response.

He jumped back. “Shoot him, girl, shoot him now!”

Washington Memorial Hospital

Connie twisted and jerked until Khalid pulled her tight against him. He felt a surge of crippling pain lash through him and he stumbled back, but he managed to grab Connie again and pull her in front of him. She kept struggling until she felt the cold gun press hard against her naked neck. “Stop it, woman! You, Agent, get back or she’s dead!”

Davis was nearly on him, but that pain-maddened voice stopped him dead in his tracks. He felt so frustrated he wanted to howl. He stared at William Charles—Khalid—and saw he was not only hanging on, he was regaining control over the pain in his side. He could kill Connie in an instant. Davis calmed himself, drew back.

Khalid was breathing hard through his teeth, his voice shuddering from the pain as he whispered against Connie’s temple, “Don’t do that again. My wife is a tiger like you, sharp teeth and fingernails, ready to rip out a man’s throat.”

Natalie’s calm voice rang out: “It’s me you want, Khalid, not her. Let her go.”

Khalid glanced over at Natalie and felt hate roil in his belly. She was here, at last, not more than eight feet from him, and she looked as unruffled and controlled as the bloody Queen. His father had loved the faithless bitch to his very soul. It enraged him. His voice shook with pain as he screamed, “Ah, Madame Ambassador speaks! You murdered my father, you lying bitch! I watched you spin your tales to those credulous morons on the TV news stations last night, saw how they pandered to you, believed every self-serving lie that fell out of your mouth. I only wish I’d have been strong enough yesterday to kill you.”

Natalie kept her voice calm. “It was you who left your father and your family, Khalid. He loved you, wanted you so badly to come home. Why didn’t you?”

“Family? What a bunch of selfish little sods, with a couple of bona fide nutters thrown in. Do you think I’d join them at Ascot, or playing polo, or strut down the aisle at Saint Paul’s with a whey-faced English bride on my arm? They’re carrion, all of them. At least now they won’t have Lockenby Hall to feast on.”

“But not your father. You loved each other. Let me ask you, Khalid, why are you so certain I am responsible for his death?”

“Everyone with a brain knows it! Now you’re claiming someone hacked into your email account and sent that indecent email in your name? Really? Are you ready to tell any tale that can’t be disproved? And then my father was dead, dead and gone. You did that to him. Admit it!”

“You will listen to me, and this is the absolute truth. I loved your father. We would have stood together with you if you had come back to England, and we would have stood together by ourselves if you had not. Do you understand me? We loved each other. When your father died, it broke something deep inside both of us. You feel the same pain losing him as I do, I know that, but you’re blaming someone else for it, and there’s no one to blame, not even yourself. Your father didn’t kill himself. They think now he had a problem with his heartbeat, and fell unconscious, and that’s why he went over the cliffs. I know he didn’t kill himself, Khalid, he cherished life. He would have never killed himself, never, even if I had broken our engagement in that ridiculous email, even if I’d announced it in Trafalgar Square. Don’t you know your father well enough to realize that?”

For an instant, Khalid looked uncertain, then his eyes filled with pain again, pain for his father and the physical pain that was bowing him into himself. “So now you call it a tragic accident rather than murder? You prefer that story now? Isn’t it a pity no one can prove it either way?” He had no more words. He sucked in a gasping breath, realized he was losing control of his mind and his body, and backed away from Connie. “You, get over there.”

Connie moved away from him.

Davis said, “Khalid, give us a chance to prove who sent the email. Don’t make another mistake before we all know the truth. Natalie was never the calculating monster you want to believe she is. Why can’t you see that?”

It was hard to breathe, the pain was pulsing hard, harder still, his body struggling, fighting, but in vain. So much pain, it was going to burst out, black and hot, and he would die as his father had died, his beloved father. He couldn’t stand the pain of it—he raised his gun, aimed it at Natalie. “I had to end my life because I had to avenge my father. I’ve lost every tie that meant anything to me, my wife, my children, my family. Killing you is all I have left.”