Unwanted Attention Part 1 The Accident
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An Unwanted AliasChapter 16 free porn video
"Well, I guess it's finally time for me to earn my money," said Michael in a low voice.
"And I'm just along for the ride," I muttered. It was now late October, a Saturday evening, and there was a distinct chill in the night air. The strength of its bite was enhanced by a fairly stiff breeze, which managed to make its way through the small trees and shrubbery which provided our cover. I shivered underneath my jacket, admonishing myself for not wearing a heavier coat. Our immediate vicinity was in near total darkness; the shadow of a nearby ten-foot-high stone wall enveloped us completely. Only the upper portions of the trees were faintly illuminated, as the scant light from the enclosed palatial dwelling fell upon the eerily rustling leaves overhead.
An elaborately designed rescue operation was about to get underway. There was a lot that could go wrong. If Sam's claims were true – and, in our minds, that was a big if – then Sandra was being kept against her will inside this secluded mansion, about fifty kilometers from Chongqing. It was owned by one of the few triad bosses left from their glory days of a couple of years ago.
And if not? We'd just traveled three hours in vain, and placed ourselves in an extremely dangerous situation for no good reason.
"I sure hope we don't have to scale that damn wall," I whispered with trepidation. I'd spent my entire adult life working in comfy offices and classrooms. This cloak-and-dagger hero stuff just wasn't in my blood.
"If we do, I have everything we need," Michael, private investigator extraordinaire, assured me. He was lugging a backpack that contained all sorts of PI goodies. Climbing that formidable wall was our fallback, our Plan B. I fervently hoped that our Plan A went off as intended. The wall was, as mentioned, ten feet high, made of solid rock – and topped with coil upon coil of electric barbed wire.
I sure hope you know what you're doing, Michael, I thought, wisely keeping my skepticism to myself. The less paranoid portion of my brain let me know that I was worrying for nothing. Aside from Wendy, Michael was the closest friend I had these days. As we'd gotten to know him better, he'd shed his modesty and typical British sense of understatement, and had opened up to us about his career. He was, in fact, more than just a simple PI. He was the owner-operator of a large security firm, and his many years of experience had afforded him expert status in the security field. Once we knew this, we didn't press him too much about the full scope of his current assignment. We understood that he needed to keep the details under wraps to a certain degree.
He also shed some light on another matter. Sandra had never spoken at length with us about her late husband, and exactly what his profession had been. Through Michael, we learned that Douglas Finney had been a high-profile diplomat, who had retired for health reasons a few years before his untimely death. Michael had been a key cog in his security entourage, which enabled the two men to build upon the friendship they'd shared during their university years at Cambridge. Michael, a gifted student of modest means, had attended Cambridge on a selectively-granted scholarship.
Sandra had always been coy with us about her connections. Now that we were aware that she was the widow of an affluent British diplomat, we understood how she had the means and financial clout to move about freely in China. We also had an inkling as to why she'd been vague about those aspects of her life. She had merely wished to maintain a low profile.
"I hear something," cautioned the third member of our rescue squad, his voice barely audible. We knew him as Chen; he was an affable member of the local police force who spoke excellent English. Coincident with Chen's declaration, my ears picked up the unmistakable sound of approaching footsteps. The three of us ducked down under the shrubbery and listened. The footsteps grew louder and closer, and were soon accompanied by voices, speaking in hushed tones. I knew one of those voices very well. My pulse began to race, and my heart seemed to leap into my throat.
"It's them," I whispered in a voice so low that I wasn't even sure if my cohorts had heard me. Peering through a gap in the foliage, I was able to make out two figures passing close by in the near-darkness. One was Wendy, my beloved. The other, walking alongside her, was Sam.
I had been staunchly opposed to this aspect of the operation. Somehow, Sam had been able to curry favor with the owner of the residence – a certain Mr. Wu – and gained not only his permission to access the residence, but also the security code to enter through the front door. This had been an exceedingly foolish move on the part of Mr. Wu; Michael theorized that Sam was in possession of some sort of incriminating information. The dwelling, we knew, had a large underground suite with a number of bedrooms that were occasionally utilized by other triad members for clandestine sexual encounters. That suite was also, we believed, the place where Sandra was being detained.
For weeks now, Sam had been trying to persuade Wendy to join him in, shall we say, a "tour of the facilities." Michael quickly recognized this as our long-sought opportunity to get inside the place, and thought long and hard to come up with ways to minimize the danger. Wendy volunteered to play along with Sam's little game, just long enough for us to gain access to the premises. She always did have a somewhat flippant attitude when it came to placing herself in harm's way. At first, I was dead-set against this idea. I trusted Wendy; jealousy was not the issue. Rather, I worried that she might find herself in a situation that she couldn't control.
Michael assured me that we would be close by, yet out of sight, during the entire time she was in Sam's company. She would also be given a tracking device, just in case. The local police had been following Mr. Wu's activities for a while now, and knew he would be away from home on this particular evening. Upon reflection, and following some persistent nudging from my girlfriend, I had to admit that we couldn't pass up this chance. I very reluctantly gave in.
But I didn't have to like it.
All of my reservations were soon suppressed, if not completely forgotten, as Michael (the leader of the operation) motioned for us to move out from our cover. Wendy and Sam were now a good fifty meters ahead of us. We trailed behind them, with Michael in the lead, me next in line, and Chen bringing up the rear. Several of Chen's fellow police officers were also on the scene, a bit further back. Their role was twofold; to provide backup in case something went wrong, and to detain Mr. Wu in the event he decided to come home early. They would remain outside, hidden not too far from the property access gate.
Wendy and Sam had reached that particular gate. Crouching behind some shrubbery, we watched as Sam entered the access code. Soon, we heard a creaking sound as the gate swung open, and they disappeared inside.
We moved up quickly to the gate; which was made of thick, solid wood, topped with more barbed wire. It was more like a door than a gate. Chen did the honors; he discovered that the gate remained unlocked, and opened it with care. The three of us managed to exchange grins at that point; our biggest potential hurdle had been cleared. Sam's carelessness was astounding. Had he taken the time to lock the gate from the inside, we very likely would have been forced to scale the wall, with a limited amount of time at our disposal.
Inside, the property was huge; the front door of the mansion was about a hundred meters from the gate. Wendy and Sam had already traveled more than half of the distance, as we continued to trail silently behind them, the darkness still providing sufficient cover. Closer to the house, the illumination increased substantially, affording us a good view. I could see Sam repeatedly trying to take Wendy by the hand, as she firmly brushed off his advances. Sam appeared none too happy with the rejection. Momentarily unable to restrain myself, I made a move to rush forward. Michael grabbed me by the arm, and I stopped myself, realizing I'd do far more harm than good. Nonetheless, the expression on the faces of both Michael and Chen told me they were just as concerned as I was. But we were fully committed now; aborting the mission at this point was out of the question.
"Once we're inside," Michael pointed out, "things should move quickly."
I tried to hold onto that assurance, with limited success, as we saw Sam arrive at the front door of the house, with Wendy now lagging behind him by a short distance. Sam punched in another access code, and they were inside. Several interior lights were switched on in a matter of seconds, greatly increasing the ambient light level outside.
Our concealment having disappeared at that point, we hauled our own asses up to the front of the house. We had backup entry plans in place in the event that Sam had chosen to lock this particular door from the inside. But his inattentiveness seemingly knew no bounds; he'd left this door unlocked as well. Michael, Chen, and I exchanged one more round of bemused looks, and then turned our attention to the interior of the house. Michael cracked open the unlocked door and peeked inside.
"They should be heading for the underground suite," he muttered. "But ... they're... not." Frustration was evident in his body language.
"What happened?" I wondered breathlessly.
"He's leading her in the opposite direction. I hear them going up a set of stairs."
Chen had extensively studied a diagram of the interior of the house. "They're heading for the master bedroom," he speculated.
"Oh shit," I groaned.
Michael gave a 'hush' gesture and directed us inside, where we could plainly pick up a spirited conversation in Mandarin. Moments later, an angry-sounding Wendy let loose with an outburst of emotionally-charged words, and we could hear footsteps descending the stairs. My knowledge of Mandarin was nowhere near enough to decipher what she'd said, but it was safe to say my sweetie wasn't happy.
"Quick," Chen directed us. "Let's move into the underground corridor. We should be able to hide down there." Chen had clearly committed his map to memory. He led us into a small office, and opened a closet door, quite innocuous in appearance. However, it turned out to be a disguised route of entry to the passage leading to the underground suite. In the rear of the closet was another door, which opened to a downward-leading staircase. We made our way down the stairs in near total darkness. There was enough room under the stairs for all three of us to hide and wait.
Soon, we heard Wendy and Sam approaching, still engaged in a spirited discussion. We heard them enter the closet, their footsteps now directly above us. All three of us nearly jumped out of our shoes as a door was slammed shut in anger. As Wendy and Sam descended the stairs, they actually began to shout at each other. They moved away from us, down some sort of a hallway, still yelling loudly.
"Dammit," I uttered once they were out of earshot. Wendy's temper had gotten the better of her. If anyone else was in the house, they couldn't possibly have missed that furious exchange.
"This is not what I had in mind," commented Michael under his breath, his well-crafted plan seemingly on the verge of going awry.
But we'd come too far to give up now. A light was switched on some distance down the hallway, illuminating it for our inspection. The passage was about three meters tall and two meters wide, curving off to the right. Wendy and Sam had already moved out of our sight line.
That's when I heard my beloved emit a loud scream, followed by a torrent of irate utterances from Sam. Enraged, I ditched our hiding place and went charging down the hallway; Michael and Chen both knew better than to try and stop me. In no time, I was around the bend, and I paused for a moment, not liking what I saw.
Sam had grabbed Wendy from behind, and had his arm around her neck, trying to choke her. They were both facing in my direction. Sam was too distracted at the moment to notice me, but Wendy's eyes met mine. A message was passed between us almost telepathically. Wendy turned her head as far as she could manage, bringing Sam's wrist into optimal position. She bit into the back of that wrist as hard as she could. Sam shrieked in pain, and loosened his grip on Wendy for just a moment. That was all it took.
I lowered my shoulder, got a running start, and blasted into Sam's torso like a football linebacker trying to force a halfback to fumble the ball, driving him away from Wendy. Sam hadn't seen me coming, and went sprawling onto the tile floor. I didn't know whether he was armed, and I pounced on him before he had a chance to respond. I'm no muscleman, but Sam was decidedly slight of build. As worked up as I was, I had no difficulty in overpowering him. In a flash, Chen was on the scene with a pair of handcuffs, which rendered Sam helpless and of no threat to anyone. Still, he continued to spew out tough-sounding utterances in his native tongue. Two of Chen's colleagues arrived to extract the cuffed Sam from the scene; he was hauled outside. It was then that we learned that there had been some excitement outside as well: the esteemed Mr. Wu had indeed decided to come home early. He'd been greeted by a little welcoming party, and was now in police custody. We'd gotten into the house just in the nick of time.
The adrenaline rush began to abate as I gazed tenderly at Wendy. She came into my arms, and I held her tight for a few seconds. "I'm sorry for getting angry, and making all that noise," she sniffled. "As soon as we got inside the house, he was all hands, and it really pissed me off." At this revelation, I shot a murderous glance back down the hallway. Sam was indeed lucky to have been removed from the scene.
Wynona
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