Two Navy Guys Readers Group – Exclusive #4
The Pandora Deception
Khartoum, Sudan
The Al-Mogran Supercity, a vast glass and steel enclave of modernity, rose up next to the confluence of the Blue and White Nile Rivers. Rachel took the glass elevator up to the sixteenth floor and found the room where the interview for the private security job was to take place.
When she opened the door to the office, she found five other interview candidates inside, all men. She scanned her competition. Two of the men were big with heavy Germanic features, both of them well over a hundred kilograms, with expensive, tailored suits that molded to their brawny upper bodies.
They sat together and seemed to know each other. Rachel mentally dubbed them Hans and Frans. These were men who provided private security for people who wanted the world to know they had private security. Intimidation and brute force were their go-to tools.
A third man, equally as large, sat next to Hans and Frans. He had a shaved head with snow-white skin and chiseled Nordic features. His stunning good looks were spoiled by a smirk when he saw Rachel enter the room. She would call him Thor.
She crossed to where a receptionist in traditional Muslim dress sat behind a desk and waited until the young woman looked up.
“You must be Zula Bekele,” the young woman said in a stage whisper. She handed Rachel a single sheet of paper. “You will need to sign this, please.”
It was a standard nondisclosure agreement that lasted for the duration of the interview only. Rachel signed it without bothering to read it and handed it back.
Facing the three giants were two other men, with an empty chair between them. One was tall and lean, well over six feet tall, with huge hands. He wore his hair long and ragged, like a schoolkid. He smiled at her, patting the seat next to him. “You can sit here, ma’am,” he said. His accent suggested he was an American. She would call him Stretch.
Rachel took the open seat and checked out the final man in the room using her peripheral vision. He was small and wiry, only an inch or two taller than Rachel herself, and they probably weighed in within five kilos of each other.
He held out his hand in greeting. “Name’s Danny. You?”
Rachel detected an Irish lilt in his voice. His skin was dark, but not as dark as her own. Another candidate with a mixed heritage. Some other company had read Manzul’s file and was trying to gain an edge. Danny’s grip was firm and self-assured.
“Zula,” she said. “Nice to meet you.”
“Likewise.” Danny had an infectious smile that shone even under the glaring gazes of Hans and Frans.
They didn’t have long to wait. The secretary’s phone buzzed and she answered it. “Yes, Mr. Manzul,” she said, and stood. “If you would all follow me, please.”
Hans and Frans exchanged glances. They were all going in together?
Rachel saw immediately that the interview was not going to be quite what she had expected. A boardroom that looked out over the city and the Blue Nile had been emptied of furniture, and the floor was covered with sparring mats.
A man in an open-necked blue Oxford shirt and no suit jacket waited by the window, admiring the view. He stood in his bare feet.
When Manzul turned to greet the group, Rachel met those eyes again and for a split second the mission left her mind. His eyes traveled over the group then locked on her.
“One of these things is not like the other, I see,” he said with a laugh.
Hans and Frans snickered. Rachel felt herself blush.
“My name is JP Manzul,” he said. “Chief executive officer of a high-tech company here in Khartoum. Recently, I was on assignment and someone attacked me. I managed to ward them off—I have some training myself—but my partner would feel safer if I had personal security with me at all times.” His eyes seemed to linger on Rachel for a few seconds longer than was necessary. Rachel felt her stomach clench in response.
“You’ve all been highly recommended by your respective companies. I have no doubt you are all well qualified, so I thought we would make this interview more interesting.” He pointed Hans. “You. You will fight me.”
Hans looked at Frans, then back at Jean-Pierre.
“You want me to fight you?” Hans tapped his barrel chest.
JP took a fighting stance. “If you beat me you get the job,” he said with a grin.
Hans doffed his suit jacket and slipped out of his shoes, stepping confidently onto the mat. When JP attacked, it was a blur of speed that surprised even Rachel.
Hans took a shot to the throat and ate mat within the first second. JP let Hans get to his feet. The big man wiped the trickle of blood from his lip and raised his hands. “Let’s go, old man.”
JP attacked again, this time from the other side. An ambidextrous fighter, another wrinkle that Rachel—and Hans—hadn’t seen coming. Hans took a shot to the head, but still managed to grasp Manzul’s arm. JP only used the grip as leverage. He spun and clocked Hans on the point of his chin with an elbow.
Hans’s grip loosened and JP slipped behind him. After a few seconds in a choke hold, Hans tapped out. Manzul helped the big man to his feet.
“You don’t need personal security, old man. You need a leash,” Hans said as he picked up his jacket and shoes.
JP retrieved a bottle of water from the small table next to the door. He took a sip, then pointed at Frans and Thor. “You two. Show me what you’ve got.”
Instead of watching the fight, Rachel watched JP as he assessed the fighters. His jaw clenched as the two big men clashed. She could tell what he was thinking. Both of them were strong fighters, but they relied on their strength rather than find a winning strategy against a similarly sized opponent. After a few minutes, JP stopped them.
“Thank you very much, gentlemen.” He pointed at Frans. “You can go.”
He sipped his water, considering the three remaining fighters. Finally, he pointed to Rachel. “You”—he pointed at Stretch—“and you. Go.”
Rachel stepped onto the mat flexing the balls of her bare feet on the spongy surface. The American took his time, watching her, assessing.
He had a very long reach. Rachel needed to either stay away from him or drive inside and try to finish him fast. They circled a few times, sparring, getting the sense of each other’s style.
He stung her on the cheek with a jab and moved in, but she spun away before he could wrap her up. The circling continued. She was lighter and faster. Rachel could outlast him, but JP struck her as a man impatient for results.
If she wanted to impress him, she needed to do something bold—and quickly.
Rachel allowed Stretch to cut down the mat, working her into the corner next to the windows. She saw a smile tease his lips. He thought he had her. Any second now, Stretch would make his move.
There was a curtain rod over her head used to support the heavy drapes that could be pulled across the glass to block out the bright sunlight. This had to be timed perfectly.
Stretch’s shoulders twitched.
Now.
Rachel launched herself up, grabbing the bar with both hands and pulling her knees up as hard as she could. His hands found air where her body had been and her knees slammed into his chin with all the strength she had.
He stood to his full height, then toppled over. Rachel was on his back in a flash, a choke hold in place.
“That’s enough,” JP’s voice cut through the pounding pulse in her ears.
Rachel released Stretch and rolled onto the mat, breathing hard. Stretch’s foot lashed out and caught her in the side just below the rib cage.
JP was on Stretch in the space of a breath, putting the younger man into a rear wristlock.
“Get out. You’re done,” JP barked. He released Stretch, then held out a hand to help Rachel up. His eyes locked with hers and she felt her stomach do a little flip-flop. What the hell was the matter with her?
“I’m sorry about that,” JP said, his voice kind. “Very unprofessional of him.”
Rachel took her time getting back to the edge of the mat, stretching to relieve the stitch in her side. They were down to three now. She’d get a rest while the other two had it out.
JP beckoned Thor and Danny onto the mat. He pointed at Rachel.
“You two fight her.”
Rachel’s instincts kicked in immediately. She took two steps onto the mat and delivered a hard kick to the side of Thor’s knee. She felt muscle and cartilage give way as the big man went down.
Then Danny was on her, knocking her flat on her back. He slammed a knee into her injured ribs and his fingers went for her neck.
Rachel drove her knee up, but he turned his thigh to protect his groin. She tried the other side and he anticipated her move again. But she added a twist, driving her extended fingers into his eyes when he rolled his body.
Danny flinched and she snaked away, landing a kick in his side as she staggered to her feet.
Thor was back. His bald head was flushed red and his eyes held a murderous gleam. She launched a roundhouse kick, knocking the big man down again.
Danny’s arm snaked around her neck. Sleeper hold. She drove her head back, trying to smash his face, but he evaded her.
Rachel’s toes scrabbled at the mat as she tried for better leverage against Danny’s choke hold.
Thor rose from the mat, his face a mask of red fury. He drew back a massive fist and drove it into Rachel’s solar plexus.
The force of the blow knocked her and Danny off their feet. Rachel’s vision exploded with light as the pain blasted through her body.
Danny held on, choking her air supply.
“Tap out, goddammit,” he whispered in her ear.
Her vision tunneled. All color slipped away from the scene, leaving everything in black-and-white.
“That’s enough.” JP’s voice rang out. Danny released her immediately and she rolled onto her belly, alternately sucking in great lungfuls of air and retching from Thor’s punch.
JP helped Danny and Thor to their feet and ushered the two men out of the room before he returned to Rachel.
She got to a sitting position. She could feel a black eye forming, and the kick from Stretch still stabbed at her every time she drew a breath. She would be wearing a high-collared shirt for the next few days to hide the bruising on her neck. Rachel accepted JP’s help to get vertical again. She swayed and he caught her arm. His touch on her bare skin was electric.
“You fought well, Ms. Bekele,” he said. JP smiled at her. Even with all her aches and pains, the transformation on his face almost took Rachel’s breath away again. His gaze was warm, intimate.
He handed her his open bottle of water, a sign of intimacy that somehow seemed perfectly natural. She took a grateful sip. It hurt to swallow. She nodded her thanks.
“I especially liked your reaction time when I put two of them on you,” he said. “Not really a fair fight. But when is a fight ever really fair?”
Rachel took another sip of water. It was better to let him talk. She wasn’t sure she trusted her voice right now.
“You have an impressive file, but I suspect, based on what I’ve seen, there’s a lot more to you than what’s on paper.”
Rachel’s reply was a hoarse whisper. “The color of my skin and my lack of testicles means everyone underestimates me in this business. I use that to my advantage whenever possible.”
JP threw his head back and let out a great bellow of a laugh. “I appreciate your honesty, Ms. Bekele.”
“Zula, please,” Rachel rasped.
“A beautiful name. I like it.” He touched her arm again and she felt the same jolt of energy. “My friends call me JP.”
“Then I will call you JP.”
JP drew close, closer than he needed to be. She felt the heat of his breath when he spoke.
“Tell me, my warrior princess, have you ever killed a man before?”
“Yes,” Rachel replied without hesitation.
“I thought so. I can tell.”
“When can I start?” Rachel asked.
JP smiled. “You already have.”
Copyright 2020 by David Bruns and J.R. Olson