Alex knew exactly what that meant. He was looking for the duffel bag with an assortment of guns and ammunition in the closet. They anticipated Alex’s room would be searched; it was best to get the bag out of there quickly.
“How do you plan on pulling this off? I’m unable to move without eyes on me.”
There was a pause then Bennett answered, “I met a taxi driver the last time I was here. Once he helped us, we had to get him and his family out of the country. Finding someone willing to risk it all is nearly impossible.”
Ziva.Alex was shocked she was his first thought. For all he knew she’d rat them out for the right price. If that happened, Bennett was right: neither of them would make it back to Boston. At least, not alive.
“How good are you at picking locks?”
Bennett snorted. “I’m not a burglar.”
“So that’s a no?”
“I didn’t say that. What do you need?”
“Wait until dark. I’ll let you know when I go out. Whoever is watching me most likely will follow. I’ll give you thirty minutes to get in and out.”
“Roger.”
Normally, he would’ve thought the guy was just a cocky bastard, but Alex had heard plenty about Bennett’s skills. There wasn’t much he couldn’t do. Since arriving in Tabiq, he’d corrected his stance. Bennett had been right. This wasn’t a place to come alone. At least, not if you’re one of the good guys.
Ziva couldn’t believethe only thing separating her and Alex was an adjoining door. She purposely stayed quiet, so he didn’t know she was there. It was hard because the man didn’t seem to sleep. She’d pressed her ear against the door at all different hours, and each time he seemed to be pacing.
He may not need sleep, but I do.Her eyes were burning from exhaustion, yet she knew if she closed them, that would be the time he left his room. She needed to get inside his room and search for proof of why he was there. Not that I need it. He’s a Henderson. We all know why he’s here.
She was just about to lie down on the bed when she heard something like a door closing in the hallway. Ziva dashed to the door and wished there was a peephole so she could see. Pressing her ear to the door, she heard footsteps, but they stopped right outside her door. She held her breath, not that he could hear, and waited. Was he going to knock? Did he have a key and was about to come in?
If he does, what’s the problem? He gave me the key. He offered me the room.That didn’t mean she wanted to see him, especially not in her room. She’d kept her emotions under wrap in the lobby yesterday, but in here, alone, would be much harder.
After what seemed to be an eternity, whoever it was must have changed their mind and walked away. When the footsteps seemed far enough away, she cracked her door slightly and peered out. She could tell it was Alex. His tall, muscular build wasn’t something she could forget. Even if I wanted to.
Ziva watched him turn the corner and disappear from sight. This was her opportunity. She closed her door, ran to the dresser where she had placed the hard plastic bank card, then headed out the door.
She didn’t have time to waste. He was gone but for how long she wasn’t sure. Hopefully not to go and meet up with some unsuspecting woman. Ziva froze as her hand was on the doorknob of his room. Should she follow him instead? Would her planned search turn up empty and her time be better spent watching him?
Taking a deep breath, she took the card and slipped it between the doorjamb. Sliding it upward, it came in contact with the locking mechanism. It took a few tries, but eventually she heard the click, and the door opened.
That was her answer. She’d search now and follow later. Ziva quickly went into his room and shut the door behind her. She began opening drawers and looking through them. It was odd because he had hardly unpacked, as though he wanted to be ready to leave at a moment’s notice. Do your dirty little deed, have your fun, and leave. Oh yes, you’re the son of James Henderson. God help the poor woman they send you.
Ziva needed to focus on the task at hand. There wouldn’t be a second shot at it. Looking around, she noticed she’d left the drawers ajar. She hadn’t thought about keeping things exactly as she’d found them when she came in. All she wanted was proof of who he was, and what he was doing. She then could post her findings on the Internet for all the world to see exactly what kind of sick bastard he was.
She had every intention to make sure the Henderson name would never be looked upon in the same light in the business world. No respectable person would want any dealings with them. Their family name would go down in shame where it belonged.
Ziva thought about going back and fixing the contents of the drawers. That would waste valuable time. So instead, she made sure the next few things she searched were scattered around making it look as though his room had been ransacked. There was a small amount of money left on the nightstand, which she took to make it look like a robbery. In this town, that’s very likely. Even in the one decent hotel. But I’d be shocked if anyone besides me was stupid enough to mess with a Henderson.
If the situation weren’t so darn serious, she’d laugh. If her father had a clue what she was up to, he’d roll over in his grave. Although he’d always spoken about doing something to make the madness end, he never had the chance. Despite his many stories of what he’d wanted to do, she wasn’t putting them into action. She would do things her way. For her sister. For her father. She wasn’t delusional enough to believe it all would be over, but she was going to bring to light what was happening, what’d been going on for more years than she’d been alive. No one would look at Tabiq and their women the same again. Money won’t buy my silence.
Ziva headed to the closet. When she opened it, she found blankets from the bed piled up in a ball. She pulled them out and noticed they’d been intentionally placed to hide a duffel bag that didn’t match the rest of his luggage. That was odd. The bag seemed completely out of place. She bent down and tried to drag it out, but it was too heavy. She knelt down and unhooked the first belt around it. Alex certainly wanted whatever was inside to be secure.
She knew this had to be what she was looking for. Once it was unlatched, she moved the zipper down and reached her hand inside. Ziva gasped, as her fingers made contact with cold metal. Running her hand carefully down, she knew it was a gun. Moving her hands around, she noticed there wasn’t just one.
What the heck is he doing with all this? Is he going to kill the women after he gets what he wants from them?It was truly a horrible life for these women after being forced to have sex with these disgusting men. Some probably thought death was easier than living a life in disgrace afterward. No man would marry them. They were forced to continue a life of prostitution or live alone in abject poverty. They couldn’t go back to their families; they didn’t want to bring shame to them either. Maybe death is a merciful thing, but I refuse to allow Alexander Henderson to deliver it.
Ziva wasn’t sure how she was going to manage, but the bag was going with her. She stood, grabbed the handles, and with all her might began to pull it from the closet floor. You must have an arsenal in here. It’s got to weigh over one hundred pounds.
Her hands hurt as she struggled to move it a few inches at a time. This wasn’t going to work. Since she was all about keeping her own room secure, she’d never unlocked the adjoining door on her side and she couldn’t drag a large heavy bag back to her room through the hallway. It was too risky. With all her effort it still lay partially in the closet. She closed it and put the blankets back on top. She needed to find someone to help her, someone she could trust.
There were good people here, and she knew it. They hated what was going on as much as she did. The only difference: they had families who’d pay the price if they helped her. She had no one left. After spending two years in hiding, Ziva hoped to spend many years making up for lost time with her parents. Instead they’d died not long after she came out of hiding, tearing her heart in two. There had been no explanation about what happened, but she knew they’d been searching for answers about her sister, Isa. Not surprising. She’d buried them alone, lived alone, mourned alone. Years later, nothing had changed. No one would cry for her if she disappeared. No one would mourn.