Deliverance by Dakota Banks Read Free Book Online Page B

FBO, a fixed base operator, that served as a truck stop for private planes and jets. Her pilot preferred to avoid major hubs like O’Hare and Midway.
    The second refueling stop, this one in Lisbon, almost sidetracked Maliha from her destination. Although it was December, it was sunny and mild, 62 degrees the day she was there. Very nice for a lingering meal outdoors at a café or a quick visit to the beach. The water might be too cold to enjoy swimming, but the sand would be warm. Maliha closed her eyes and imagined lying on the beach without a care in the world.
    With Jake. I haven’t seen him since I got back from New York. She sighed . Some other time.
    They took off into blue skies with another 2,500 miles to go, a nonstop flight for her midsize executive jet. The drive from the Ben Gurion International Airport in Tel Aviv to her friend’s home was 9 miles of steady rain in a cab where the windshield wipers had only one speed: super slow. She wondered how the driver could see in the long intervals between swipes, but she wasn’t about to get out in the rain to switch cabs.
    Fingering Lucius’s key to the shard in her pocket, she hoped she might get information about it and come home from this trip with the third shard. It had special significance to her because it marked both her first and last time with Lucius—when he’d stolen the shard from her and when he’d freely given her the key to its hiding place.
    The cab let her out at a white apartment building that stood up on piers, as if flooding were a concern. It was a cooling device, not necessary at 40 degrees but welcome during the brutal summer heat. Winds sweeping under the buildings eased the temperature and the residents liked to think they made the humidity more bearable.
    Maliha glanced up. Her friend, Abiyram Heber, was sitting on his covered balcony. He appeared to be looking elsewhere, but she had no doubt that he’d seen her, even in the gloom of the rain and approaching darkness. He was a retired commander in the Mossad, the Israeli intelligence agency. At the age of sixty, the only thing retired about Abiyram was that he no longer went on field missions. Maliha had turned to him for tracking down some information on her last case. It was a touchy situation.
    Abiyram had known her thirty years ago, when they’d worked together on a number of missions and had been close friends. Then she turned up three decades later looking the same. She had to give him some vague hints about her story and told him that perhaps he could join her band of do-gooders.
    She had also asked him, in payment of a life-debt for a time she’d saved his life, if he would try to find out about Jake’s past. She hadn’t heard anything from him about that, so she assumed there was no success.
    He opened the door to her with a warm smile on his face. They hugged. He was still a lean and hard desert man of action, and his eyes, though now set in a wrinkled face, showed that thirty years hadn’t diminished the spirited man inside the physical shell. His breath smelled of olives and his clothing of the sun.
    “I hate to just show up like this,” Maliha said. She glanced down at the luggage at her feet. “The heat’s on a bit in the States. Mind if I stay with you for a few days?”
    “My friend, you are always welcome in my house. Come, wash off the dust of the journey.”
    Do I look that dirty?

Chapter Seven
     
    M aliha remained out of contact with her team, but she did check Internet news. The only thing that showed up said that a female suspect might have fled the scene, although one of the victims claimed the person wasn’t a suspect but was helping the injured. No description of the fleeing woman was given, and Belle was disputing that there was even a woman present. She said the person was a black man.
    Atta girl, Belle. Although she might have fainted before figuring out what sex I was, and only saw the color of my clothing.
    There was no mention of the camera in