“Stay here,” one of the men ordered her.
Except for the two soldiers who had been assigned to guard her, the men dispersed in the courtyard. The two men accompanied her into the grand foyer. Lily couldn’t believe the opulence of the old castle. Flickering gas lamps mounted on the walls lighted the room. High ceilings lent the place a cavernous feel. The air was cool and slightly damp, but she could smell the crisp scent of eucalyptus in the air.
A young woman with crystal-blue eyes, clad in traditional Rebelian garb, approached them. She couldn’t have been much over twenty years old. Lily stared at her, wondering what role she played and how she fit into DeBruzkya’s game plan.
“General DeBruzkya would like her taken to the guest suite adjacent his,” she said in Rebelian, then glanced at Lily. “The child comes with me.”
“No.” Breaking free of the guard, Lily stepped back, clutching Jack to her chest. “No!”
“Please,” the young woman said softly. “It is General DeBruzkya’s wish. I am only going to bathe him and allow you time to prepare for dinner.”
The words barely registered in Lily’s mind. “He stays with me.”
The young woman looked over at the soldier. “I can assure you, Madame Scott, you and your son have nothing to fear from me.” She glanced quickly over her shoulder, then whispered in English. “You have much to fear from the general. Please, do as I say.”
Lily heard the words. She saw the sincerity in the young woman’s eyes. But she couldn’t bring herself to part with Jack. She would rather they cut off a piece of her flesh than take her child away. “Don’t take him,” she heard herself say.
The young woman nodded to the soldier.
Lily knew what would happen next, and she dreaded it with every fiber of her heart. The man approached her and reached for Jack. Panic sprang through her like a wild animal released from its cage. Lily lurched, but the soldier snagged her arm. He jerked her around to face him. Simultaneously the second soldier moved forward and wrapped a strong arm around Jack.
Lily could have fought them, but she was terrified a struggle would hurt Jack. That it would frighten him. She cried out as her son was taken from her arms. “Don’t take him!” she screamed in grief and fury. “Give him back to me!”
Blinking back tears, the young woman rushed forward and gently took Jack from the soldier’s arms. “I will take good care of him.”
Lily’s control left her, replaced by a mother’s instinct to protect her young. Twisting, she tried to lunge toward the woman, but the soldier holding her was faster and stronger. Screaming, she fought him, lashing out at the second soldier with her boots. A fleeting sense of satisfaction flashed through her when her boot connected with something solid. The soldier yowled and danced back.
“Give me my baby!” she screamed.
But the young woman hurried away from them and down a long stone corridor. “Bring him back,” Lily whispered as her son and the young woman disappeared.
“Calm down!” the soldier snapped, giving her a hard shake.
Lily barely felt her head snap back. Despair pressed down on her like a giant, smothering hand. Her arms felt cold and empty without Jack. Feeling the tears build in her eyes, she looked at the soldier. “I want my baby back,” she said.
His eyes skittered away. And even though his inability to meet her gaze told her this young man was still human, that he could still feel the need for basic human kindness and dignity, she also knew it wasn’t enough to save her.
“Take her to the guest suite adjacent General DeBruzkya’s,” said the second man.
Taking her arm firmly in his, the young man guided her in the opposite direction from where the woman had taken Jack. Lily looked over her shoulder, hoping to get one last look at her son. But he was gone. She felt Jack’s departure like a saber slashing through her heart. The pain was so intense and so deep she could barely draw a breath. She felt physically ill as the soldier guided her up massive stone steps. Her despair darkened. She knew it was fruitless for her to cry, knew it wouldn’t make any difference to her captors, but she couldn’t hold back the tears. A sob wrenched from her by the time they’d reached the first landing. Lily cried openly, stumbling on occasion, feeling as if her heart were being torn from her body. Of all the things that could have been done to her, having Jack taken away was the worst.
She thought of Robert, and fresh pain slashed her. She felt it well like blood on a wound, spill over and burn a path down her heart. She lost her sense of direction as they walked down a wide, dark hall and turned onto yet another winding staircase.
“He won’t hurt you,” the young soldier whispered as he guided her toward the top landing. “He won’t hurt your son.”
Lily looked at him through her tears. “Let us go,” she said. “Please. I’ll die without my son.”
The soldier looked away. “I can’t do that.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“Your suite.”
“You mean my cell?”
“Call it what you like.”
At the top of the landing, Lily looked around to get her bearings and shivered. The hall was made of stone, dank and dark and cold. A gaslight flickered high on the wall but cast very little light. The soldier guided her to a door. Keys jangled as he removed a round ring from his uniform pocket and opened the door.
“Step inside,” he said.
When Lily didn’t move, he put his hands between her shoulder blades and shoved her. She stumbled into the room, but a quick spurt of anger spun her toward the door—just in time to see it close. She reached for the knob only to hear the lock click into place.
Feeling more helpless than she’d ever felt in her life, she turned and scanned the room. Surprise rippled through her when she realized she had, indeed, been locked in a suite. The room was befitting an expensive Paris hotel. Glossy mahogany furniture glimmered in the dim light. There was a sleigh bed with a high mattress. A chest of drawers. A bureau with a beveled mirror. A writing desk with a gas lamp beneath the single window—which was at least fifteen feet up.
To her right a door opened to a luxuriously furnished bathroom. She entered to find the small room endowed with brass fixtures and marble and stone. A sunken tub dominated the floor beneath a second window. The glassed-in shower was immense. Feeling trapped, furious that she’d been separated from Jack, Lily left the bathroom and strode into the bedroom. For a moment, she considered destroying the room. Then she spied the note on the bed—right next to a dozen bloodred roses.
Feeling a little sick, she crossed to the bed and snatched up the single sheet of paper. My darling Lillian, I fear you will be quite upset upon reading this letter. Please rest assured that your infant son is in good hands. My staff has been instructed to treat both of you with the utmost kindness and respect. I hope you find the suite to your liking. My goal is to make your stay here at Veisweimar as comfortable and pleasant as possible.
I would like to discuss some business with you this evening over dinner. Feel free to use the shower. There are several gowns and shoes stowed in the closet, which I had flown in from Milan. I hope the styles and sizes are to your liking. Dinner is served promptly at seven o’clock. If you’re on time, I’ll make sure you get the opportunity to spend some time with your son later.
Until then, Bruno.
Vaguely, Lily was aware of the paper shaking in her hands. Of her pulse raging like a white-water river down the side of a mountain. For the first time she realized just how delusional DeBruzkya was, how dangerous. He was living out some kind of sick fantasy.
And she was right in the center of that fantasy.
Robert looked at the global positioning system in his palm and tried not to notice that his hand was shaking. He’d given the miniature GPS radio to Lily so he could track her if they were separated. He hoped she still had it. Hoped the soldiers hadn’t found it and taken it away from her. He thanked his lucky stars Hatch liked to arm his ARIES team with high-tech toys.<
br />
Robert had been running on adrenaline since leaving the hospital an hour earlier. He considered himself in pretty good physical condition, but after nearly two miles of running, his leg was beginning to cramp. And he knew if he wanted to make it to the Veisweimar Castle before dark he would have to get his hands on some type of vehicle.
Around him rain fell in sheets, but Robert barely felt the chill or the wet cling of his clothes. He stepped onto the dirt road and looked both ways. He’d been on that particular road for nearly an hour, and all of two cars had gone by during that time. Not a good number considering he needed a car five minutes ago.
The passage of time taunted him as he pulled out his compass and headed north. Lily and Jack had been missing for nearly two hours. Every time he thought of them he had to fight a surge of panic. He could only imagine what she was going through. She might be a strong woman—tough even, and fast on her feet, to boot—but she was no match for a brutal man like DeBruzkya. Robert had seen what the dictator was capable of, and even a courageous woman like Lily didn’t stand a chance against a sociopath. What the hell did DeBruzkya want with her? Had the dictator somehow found out Robert was an ARIES agent and intend to use her as leverage? Or were his intentions of a more personal, more twisted nature?
The possibilities made his heart pound with a helplessness he’d never known before. He thought about Jack and felt his gut twist into a knot. Urgency was like a fire raging through him, spreading and gaining momentum, threatening to burn him alive. He needed to move. To do something. To bring them home. He loved Lily more than life. He loved his child. His son. He refused to consider the possibility that DeBruzkya would hurt them. The thought was simply too much to bear.
Robert was so embroiled in his thoughts, he almost didn’t hear the rumble of an engine, the sound of tires sloshing through mud. He blinked rain from his eyes and looked over his shoulder to see dual headlights cutting through the rain and fog. Running on fear and desperation, he put his hands over his head and stepped into the beam of the headlights. The brakes squealed. Tires slid in thick muck. But the vehicle—an old car of indistinguishable origin—slid to a stop.
A man in a raincoat rolled down the window. “Are you drunk, man?” he shouted. “What’s seems to be the problem?”
“There’s been an accident,” Robert said.
He saw the other man’s eyes sweep the area, obviously looking for a vehicle that didn’t exist. “My wife is badly injured,” Robert added.
The car door opened. Robert’s heart pounded as he reached for the pistol. Turning his collar up against the downpour, the man approached him. “Where is she? Does she need to go to the hospital?”
“I need your vehicle,” Robert said.
The man’s eyes widened. He turned to run to the car, but Robert was faster, grabbing his arm and spinning him around. “I just need your car. A young woman’s life is at stake.”
The man’s eyes flashed to the pistol. “The car is yours.”
Robert slapped the last of his cash into the man’s hand. “Thank you,” he said in Rebelian and got into the car. Looking at the lightning flickering in the sky, he hoped the rain would hold until he reached the castle. Rain made good cover.
“Hold on, Lily,” he whispered and jammed the car into gear.
The winding stone staircase seemed to go on forever. Lily’s dress was so long, she had to lift it to avoid stumbling over the hem. The only sound came from her shoes, the shoes of the young woman who’d come for her and the boots of the soldier accompanying them.
The knock on her door had come precisely at 6:55 p.m. By then, Lily had showered and dressed. She’d chosen the black gown. It had seemed only fitting since she was probably going to meet her death in the coming days. The gown was a tad too large, but the silk draped nicely—not that she gave a damn. She’d chosen shoes with low heels—just in case she needed to run for her life.
Once on the ground level, the young woman and soldier escorted her through ancient arched doorways and past darkened stairwells toward a brightly lit chamber at the end of the hall. Just outside the door, they stopped. “General DeBruzkya waits for you in the formal dining hall,” the young woman said.
It was the same woman who’d taken Jack from her an hour earlier. Lily looked into her eyes, searching for a seed of compassion, something she could reach. “Where’s my son?”
“He’s in the nursery, sleeping,” the woman replied.
“I want to see him.”
“The general will see you first.”
“Please, take me to see my son—”
The soldier gave her a warning look. The young woman shook her head. “Please, madame, go to the general. Talk to him about seeing your son. It is out of our hands.”
Frustrated and angry and more frightened than she wanted to admit, Lily turned toward the door and forced herself to walk into the cavernous room. A fire blazed in the giant stone hearth. Lily could feel its warmth even from twenty feet away. Upon its mantel a dozen candles cast soft shadows on the stone walls, lending the room a feeling of warmth and opulence. A glossy mahogany table with a white linen runner down the center stretched like a sleek cat to the left of the hearth. A bouquet of white and red roses adorned the center of the table.
General DeBruzkya sat at one of the high-back chairs with a stemmed wineglass in his hand, watching her with predatory eyes. Lily felt his gaze follow her as she crossed to him, felt the gooseflesh raise on her arms, the chill sweep down her back. The intensity of his gaze unnerved her, so she concentrated on the table. There were two formal place settings. Matching stemmed Waterford wineglasses. Wedgwood china. White linen napkins. Gleaming silverware with ornately designed handles. Expensive French wine. She hated all of it. The opulence. The beauty. The man who watched her as if she were nothing more than a pretty piece of crystal that had caught his fancy, or a rare wine that was to be sampled and then consumed.
DeBruzkya stood. “Ah, Lillian, you look ravishing.”
Her skin crawled when his gaze swept over her. He licked his lips and used his napkin to blot sweat from him forehead. “The black suits you.”
“I want to see my son,” Lily said.
Amusement entered his eyes. “Please, sit down. Share a meal with me. Some of this French wine. I had my chefs prepare the food specially for tonight.”
She looked at the silver servers spread out on the table like gaudy ornaments. Even though she hadn’t eaten the entire day, her mouth soured at the sight of the food.
“Beef Wellington with asparagus and hollandaise,” he said. “Field greens with raspberry vinaigrette. Sorbet if you like. Truffles.”
When she remained standing, he frowned. “Please. I’d like to discuss something important with you.” He leaned closer to her and whispered in a conspiratorial voice. “The sooner you talk with me, the sooner you’ll see your son.”
The words brought a dangerous rush of anger. Lily stared at him, hating that he would try to control her by using her son for leverage. In the back of her mind, she wondered how he would react if she snatched up the silver pitcher of water and splashed it in his face.
“Please.” DeBruzkya rounded the table and pulled out her chair. “Sit.”
Knowing anything but cooperation would be fruitless at this point, Lily lowered herself to the chair.
“Thank you,” he said. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
She watched him round the table, inordinately relieved that he was sitting across from her as opposed to right next to her. She truly didn’t think she could bear to be touched by him. Even a casual touch would send her into a rage she wasn’t sure she would be able to control.
She watched as he spread the white linen napkin in his lap. He reached for the bottle of wine and filled her glass. Topping off his own, he leaned back and studied her.
Lily stared back at him, aware that her heart was pounding. She couldn’t fathom what he could possibly want from her. Couldn’t imagine what was going on in that twi
sted mind of his. The possibilities made her shudder.
“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here.”
“The thought did cross my mind.”
He smiled, but cruelty glinted in his eyes. “I enjoy a woman of your…fortitude. It’s refreshing. Most women are afraid of me. Most men are afraid of me. Are you, Lillian?”
“No,” she lied.
“I’m going to enjoy our dinner very much, indeed.” Smiling, he picked up his fork and knife and began to cut the tender pastry. “Eat,” he said. “Enjoy this decadent food. My chef is from Paris. One of the best in the world.”
“While your people starve.”
“The Rebelian people must learn to bow to their government. I mean only to help them. To lead them. To take them into the twenty-first century as a powerful nation.”
She didn’t know why her mind chose that minute to think of Strawberry, but she did and had to blink back the uneasy burn of tears. Hating it that her hands were shaking, Lily picked up her silverware and began to cut, back and forth, barely aware of what she was doing. Because she didn’t quite trust her stomach she started with water, then a small piece of the asparagus.
“The last time we sat down to a meal, you agreed to write my autobiography,” DeBruzkya said matter-of-factly as he salted his food.
When Lily didn’t answer, he raised his head and glared at her. “Then you dropped out of sight.”
“I—I had a baby,” she said. “My…focus changed after Jack was born.”
“Ah. It is difficult being a new mother, no? Being alone with a child?”
“No, I just…put my writing on the back burner.”
His black eyes flashed to her. “Ah, Lillian, don’t lie to me.”
“I—I’m not.”
“I know about the Rebellion. I’ve been reading it for weeks now. It’s quite…entertaining.”
She tried to swallow the fear rising inside her, but it swamped her, a dangerous river flooding its banks, threatening to drown her. She looked at her food, felt a swirl of nausea and set her fork down.
The Phoenix Encounter Page 21