Now the time had come for her to place the final card on the table. One that would expose him to the world and strip him of everything he owned, and it just so happened to be taking place that very evening.
There would be no stone left unturned and Gustav Züber's entire empire would come crumbling down, in front of the entire world for all to see.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Sneaking off the plane once she landed in Geneva was easier than she’d thought it would be. She remained alert, expecting Züber's men to have followed her onto the plane. But they hadn’t.
Perhaps the injuries she’d inflicted upon them were worse than she’d thought, or maybe they decided half a million quid was not worth the effort anymore. Either way, she was relieved to have shaken them.
The thirty-something-year-old branch manager at the car rental company didn't hesitate to accept the hefty under-the-table cash bonus in exchange for giving her a complimentary car—since she didn't have time to obtain a fake credit card—an easy target once she’d noticed the congratulatory balloons and photos of a newborn all over his office. She knew very few new parents who didn't need extra funds after welcoming a baby so it turned out to be the perfect motivator.
She pointed the silver Renault Clio's nose in the direction of Balexert, one of the bigger shopping malls in the city. In order to access the safety deposit box in which she kept the tell-all memory stick, she would need to change back into the person she’d been when she acquired the box. She would also need a dress and fresh disguise to make it into the banquet undetected. Parking the car as close to the mall exit as possible, she kept a low profile, obscuring her face from any surveillance cameras with a dark gray wool fedora she’d nicked from a passing passenger in the car rental company’s foyer, which she pulled low over her eyes. She had removed her arm from the scarf sling, resting it instead, inside her leather jacket's pocket to keep it still. She had done this a million times before so it should go off without a hitch, she thought, as she walked into a trendy hair accessories shop that displayed several good quality wigs in the window. Once inside she skimmed over the three-dozen wigs that sat perched on glass shelves, stopping when she spotted an ash-brown wig with hair that would hang below her shoulders. Pretending to read a text on her phone, she didn't look up when she slid the cash over to the young girl behind the counter.
Two doors down she picked up some fresh make-up—concealer that would provide proper coverage, mascara, and the bright red lipstick she’d worn in her Swiss passport photo.
Last on her list were two new outfits. One to look the part for the bank, and a second to wear to the banquet. It took hardly any time at all and she soon walked out of the shopping mall, filled with an old familiar feeling of excitement blended with a heavy dose of satisfaction. Thus far, everything was going according to plan. All she needed now was a place to get dressed.
She glanced at her watch. Six hours until the banquet, plenty of time to change twice and get to the bank. Finding a hotel was an obvious choice since there was only one hotel midway between the bank and the gallery.
When she reached the underground parking garage, shopping bags and plans firmly in hand, she noticed the rental car's passenger door was slightly ajar, as if someone hadn't properly closed it. Even from a healthy distance, she sensed immediate danger and quickly diverted toward the nearby elevator. Tension ripped at her insides as she jabbed the button repeatedly, keeping her head down.
Someone had found her.
The elevator doors finally opened and she was greeted with a giggling group of teenage girls who nearly bulldozed her to the floor when they got out of the lift. Attention was the last thing she needed and she hastily pushed her way past them and took cover in the corner. The main lobby was one floor up and once again, she jabbed her finger at the button to hurry the doors into closing.
But it was too late.
Two men stepped inside the elevator and she instantly recognized the smell of cheap liquor and sweat they emanated. They were the two men who’d driven her off the road—Ludwig and his hairy sidekick.
She kept her head low, her face hidden under her fedora, her back against the wall in the back of the elevator. Either they had not noticed it was her, or they were waiting for the doors to close first.
And her money was on the latter.
As the doors closed, she waited for them to make the first move and as predicted, it didn't take long for them to take action. Ludwig attacked first, spinning around with his arm lunging toward her stomach, a large switchblade in his hand. She was quick to step aside, dodging it by mere inches. Her hand folded around his wrist, twisting his arm to contort it behind his back. A split second later the switchblade was in her injured hand, shooting pangs of agony up her arm. Her healthy arm wrapped around Ludwig's thick neck, pinning him in a firm chokehold, the knife pressed firmly against his tattooed throat.
"Get her!" He yelled for his hairy sidekick to intervene, but Jorja had already manipulated the inexperienced bounty hunters back into the far corner.
As she waited for the elevator to hurry to the lobby so the doors would open behind her, Ludwig yelled out again. This time, his associate pulled a gun and tried to aim it at her face over Ludwig's shoulder.
"Save it, unless you want to see his throat slit," Jorja threatened, forcing the sharp blade deeper into Ludwig's flesh until blood trickled from beneath it.
The man's eyes darted nervously back and forth between his boss' and her, the gun now trembling in his hand.
"Grow some, you coward. Shoot her!" Ludwig kept yelling.
The man zeroed in, as best he could under the nervous tension that threatened his aim. His forefinger moved to press the trigger, pausing when Jorja suddenly changed position and forced him off focus.
"Drop the gun, man. You know you will miss and hit his head instead of mine. His gang will hunt you down for killing him and you know it."
She was buying time, but messing with the shooter's head was her only option.
"No! You let him go! I'm the one with a gun, not you!" he made a pathetic attempt to threaten her.
She ignored it, reciprocating with one of her own.
"Last chance, my friend.” Once more she pressed the blade deeper into Ludwig's throat.
She knew she had already won when moments later the automated elevator voice announced their arrival in the lobby.
With her opponent distracted by the imminent opening of the doors, she drove Ludwig to the ground by jamming her foot into the back of his knee. As he fell groaning to the floor, she sliced the blade over the hairy guy's arm, forcing him to drop the gun onto the floor. It took all of two seconds to finish them off. First, she planted a firm kick across Ludwig's face, then broke the hairy guy's nose with her fist, rendering both unconscious on the floor just as the doors opened.
An hour later Jorja was already on foot to the Schweitzer Bank. Using the new identity Andre had created for her, she had successfully checked into the hotel and selected a room on the third floor, closest to one of the fire escapes. It did not hurt to be overly cautious at this point. She glanced at her watch. If she encountered any further delays she was at risk of blowing her entire mission, so she increased her pace, grateful for the painkillers she’d managed to get from the boutique shop in the hotel lobby.
Dressed in a tailored navy pantsuit, she looked every bit the part of a wealthy woman. Beneath her matching fedora, her long ash-brown wig fell over her shoulders, its rich tones emphasizing her cherry red lips that matched her six-inch heels. With the posture and attitude of a powerful woman who had the world at her fingertips, she entered the bank. In keeping with her disguise, she enquired about her safety deposit box in fluent French. Nerves threatened beneath her calm exterior as she entered the vault, suddenly doubting if she would recall the digital combination.
But she did, with ease, since it was a combination of her and Ben's birthdates. The box sprang open and she lifted the armor-proof lid. When her eyes fell on
the contents of the box, her heart plunged into her stomach and instantly spoiled her victory. Her fingers moved to pick up the black velvet box. She had forgotten it was in there. The small square container nestled into the palm of her hand sent mixed sensations of regret and sadness through her body. Fighting the urge to give in to the wave of tears that threatened behind her eyelashes, she snapped the lid open. Tucked between red satin folds the two-carat yellow diamond engagement ring glistened under the room's sharp lights. Memories of Ben's proposal flooded her mind, sending her heart to pulse out of control in her throat.
She snapped the box shut and dropped it back into the steel box as if it had just bitten her finger, annoyed for allowing her heart to run away with her.
Forcing her mind—and heart—back to more important matters at hand, she dabbed the lonely tear that had settled on her lower lid with two fingertips and focused instead on Gustav's face, reminding herself that he was the reason she would never be able to wear Ben's ring again. Controlled and back in the grip of her hatred toward her target, she reached in and took the memory stick from the box, tucking it inside her bustier.
"Desperate times call for desperate measures," she said under her breath as she slipped the security box back in its place and moved to exit the building.
But in the slightest of instants when she least expected it, everything changed the moment she stepped out of the bank and onto the cobbled curb.
Flanked by Ludwig and his hairy wingman, the hard steel points of two guns wedged deep into her ribcage on both sides of her body.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Ludwig's big-knuckled hand clamped down on Jorja's bicep. His breath reeked of cheap beer and garlic, a smell that nearly made her hurl right there on the curb. His sidekick's podgy fingers were a tad more forgiving, something she was grateful for since he had her by her bad arm.
"Walk,” Ludwig said through gritted teeth when she slowed down too much.
"I'm happy to exchange my six-inch heels for your boots if you like then we can see how fast you walk on these cobbled sidewalks," she replied with sarcasm.
He grunted in response and shoved the gun deeper between her ribs.
"Of course, you could always tell me where you're taking me then I can meet you there and save us all a lot of trouble."
"Shut up and walk before I put a bullet through you."
She scoffed.
"Ah, yes, that's precisely what you should do if you're abducting someone in the middle of a foreign city." She raised her voice intentionally on the abduction part and it made him grip her arm harder.
"I told you to shut your trap, woman,” he said leaving a puff of his foul-smelling breath in her face.
"Nice nose job, by the way," she said, ignoring his warning once again.
She was riling him up on purpose, she wanted him to lose his cool since she was fully aware he wouldn't create a scene—or kill her—on a busy sidewalk. More than that, she already knew where they were taking her and it didn't matter at this point. Sure, her plot to expose Züber would not be quite as impactful or gratifying as doing it at his biggest fundraising gala in front of all his esteemed colleagues, but she would expose him, nonetheless. All it would take was to find a computer and send the files to the FBI. She would simply bypass his security and escape, no big deal.
At the end of the block, they ushered her into a quieter street where a stratus blue Volvo sedan was already parked up and waiting for them. As they came closer, she could see the back of a man's head where he was seated in the driver's seat. He popped the trunk as they reached the car.
Ludwig's meaty hand shoved her against the rear of the car causing her hat to fall on the ground next to her feet.
"Get in."
His hairy sidekick followed suit, prodding her side with his gun.
"Come now, fellows. This is no way to treat a lady. I promise I won't bite if I sit next to you on the back seat."
He clenched down hard on his jaw, pushing the muscles in the sides of his cheeks to the surface.
"Quit playing games, woman, and get in the trunk before I smash that pretty little face of yours in."
Her heart pounded against her chest and she took a deep breath, steeling herself for a fight.
She seized the moment and thrust her forehead into his already broken nose. He groaned in pain and instantly let go of her arm.
The hairy man's arm closed over the back of her neck, forcing her head forward into the trunk of the car. His podgy thumb drove hard into the soft flesh behind her ear while his stocky body heaved on top of her back. But she fought back as hard as she could, driving her fist into his groin.
He let go, and she heard the driver’s side door open.
To her right Ludwig had already recovered and drove his fist into her right kidney.
She doubled over, gasping for breath.
From somewhere behind her a soft rag closed over her mouth.
A sweet-smelling odor seeped into her nostrils before the sweet taste settled on her tongue.
The car became blurry. Then everything spun around her.
The sweet scent drove into her legs. Her knees gave way.
Then everything went black.
Soft light flickered from behind her heavy eyelids as she tried forcing them open. Disorientated, her mind scrambled to make sense of her surroundings. Her body felt lethargic, her tongue thick and furry. As she lifted her head to take it all in, pain stabbed behind her eyes and caused her to flinch, forcing her to pause for a moment to adjust to the light. The sweet taste in her mouth had transformed to an intensely sharp sensation that scratched at the back of her tongue and she wished she had some water to rid her mouth of the dryness.
Shoving the discomfort aside she homed in on her vision, forcing her eyes to penetrate the orange glow that surrounded her. The room looked warm and inviting and wasn't what she had expected to see after having been abducted. It was dignified, welcoming even. She was seated in the center of the room, bound to a carved vintage oak chair. Thick ropes ran around the back of the chair, and her waist and torso, keeping her fastened in place atop the dark leather seat.
Her feet were tied at her ankles, mirroring the same thick rope around the carved legs of the chair. Running across a large section of the floor underneath the chair and her feet was a hunter's green and gold Persian rug. She didn't recognize it. Confusion set in at the back of her mind. Perhaps Ludwig wasn't working for Gustav after all. Perhaps she had assumed wrong and it wasn't even Gustav who’d been after her to begin with. Through hazy eyes, she took in the seventeenth-century carved oak dining table, surrounded by seven chairs matching the one she was seated on. To her right, a fire roared in an open fireplace framed by an ornate marble mantelpiece with two lions carved into the marble on either side. A companion set of antique brass pokers dangled from a nearby rotary and she made a mental note that they would serve well as weapons should she need them later.
She twisted as much of her body as the ropes' tension would allow, looking over her shoulders to take in the rest of the space. The room was large and sparsely furnished, taken up mostly with the dining table and a few button-threaded wingback chairs positioned in front of a large window that had a direct view onto a lake. Concluding that it must be Lake Geneva, she tried making sense of her exact location but the sun had already started to set behind the tall trees that flanked the house on both sides.
"Hello?" she called, not expecting anyone to answer since the house was deathly silent. She listened nonetheless, hearing nothing but the calm flickering sounds of the fire.
When she was certain no one was around, she wriggled trying to free herself from the ropes but found it futile. She heaved the chair upward, willing it to move closer to the fireplace. If she could grab hold of one of the pokers, she might be able to cut through the ropes. The chair's legs stuck to the piles in the carpet, making it difficult for her to slide across the floor. Dull thumps echoed throughout the room instead and she silently prayed tha
t no one would hear her.
But the wishful thought was soon to be just that when Gustav Züber's voice brought her to a standstill.
"Well, well, well, it seems my long-lost friend woke up a little bit earlier than anticipated. Long time no see, Georgina."
His presence surprised her and was evident to him immediately.
"Oh, now, don't be rude, Georgina. Is this a way to welcome your old business partner?"
"We were never business partners, Gustav."
He made three clicking noises with his tongue against his teeth expressing his annoyance over her insult then took a seat in one of the wingback chairs opposite her. Dressed in a designer tuxedo he looked every bit the suave, sophisticated man she remembered.
"Well, be that as it may, by my account we were until, of course, you decided to blow the whistle on me and rat me out, that is. I must confess, I never saw that coming. And here we are. Two decades later, a little reunion is what this is. Wouldn’t you agree?"
She didn't give him the satisfaction of answering his question, fighting hard to suppress the anger that slowly rose into her chest.
"What's the matter, Georgina? Cat got your tongue all of a sudden? Well, let's see if we can do something about that, shall we?"
She didn't like the mocking warning that sat behind his eyes. Something told her he was up to something and she was not going to like it.
He got up and took a tobacco pipe from a gold box on the mantelpiece, filling it and then lighting it up, puffing big balls of cherry fragranced smoke into the air. Next, he took his time heating one of the pokers between the blazing flames in the fireplace.
Vengeance is Mine: A Jorja Rose Christian Suspense Thriller (Valley of Death Book 1) Page 13