She frowned. ‘Anyway – why are you so concerned? What happened? Why are you so angry with me?’
He placed his hands on his hips, appeared to consider her question, and then shook his head slightly. ‘If you don’t learn anything else from this weekend, understand this,’ he said. ‘You travel nowhere without one of Ian’s security men going with you. If you fear for your life at any time – if the pressure of working in some of the countries he takes you to gets too much, you walk away. Is that understood?’
Kate stood, dumbfounded, as Finn turned and jogged away from her towards the farmhouse, then she bent down and picked up the empty water bottle.
‘Come on!’ he yelled over his shoulder. ‘We haven’t got all day!’
She hissed through her teeth. ‘Idiot.’
***
Kate took a sip of the wine, the rich burgundy liquid warming her throat.
After three days spent at the sparsely decorated farmhouse, the luxurious surroundings of the five-star country hotel had been a welcome surprise. After being shown to her suite and indulging in a hot shower, Kate had joined her colleagues for cocktails. Now, Hart’s new business executives and their training instructors were enjoying a three-course dinner, with no expense spared.
Putting the glass down, she leaned forward on the table, caught Finn’s eye and smiled. ‘Let’s face it, though. The chance of anything happening to us is rare, isn’t it? I mean, you only have to look at the security that Ian has around him. No-one would try to kidnap someone who was that well-protected.’
Finn snorted. ‘That’s a typically naïve comment coming from someone who’s never travelled overseas,’ he said. ‘And exactly what I would expect.’
He turned away as the man sitting next to him leaned over, drawing his attention away from Kate. The man murmured something in his ear and Finn laughed raucously.
Kate blushed, sure the comment had been directed at her, and played with her wine glass.
She glanced down at the dress she’d decided to wear for the final evening. Having survived the past three days, it had seemed appropriate to celebrate. She’d had misgivings the moment she’d entered the dining room and every head had turned to stare.
To her surprise, Finn had been the one to rescue her. He’d pushed past Hart, and seemed to assess every curve of her body as he’d walked towards her. Then he’d winked and kissed her cheek, before handing her a glass of wine.
Now she felt overdressed and out of place. She tucked a strand of her shoulder-length blonde hair behind her ear and sighed.
The woman next to her put a hand on Kate’s arm.
‘Ignore him,’ she said. ‘He’s a Neanderthal at the best of times.’ She took a sip of her wine. ‘What made you apply for a job with us anyway?’
Kate shrugged and turned to Cynthia, her boss’s wife. ‘My ex was a bit of a control freak,’ she said, fingering the stem of her wine glass. ‘I guess I had enough of being bullied.’
Cynthia smiled. ‘So you figured this would be a good way to prove yourself.’
‘Exactly. I – I need to convince myself that I’m capable on my own.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Sorry – I mean, I know I can do the job. It’ll be strange travelling around so much, though, and staying in different places.’ She fell silent and took another sip of her wine.
The older woman smiled. ‘You’ll be fine – you’ll be so busy you won’t have time to worry about it.’
Kate laughed, some of her misgivings allayed temporarily, and put down her wine glass. ‘So what will you do while Ian is travelling the world for the next twelve months?’ she asked, directing the focus of the conversation onto safer ground.
Cynthia waved her hand dismissively. ‘Oh, I expect I’ll go back to New York eventually, oversee a couple of events at the gallery. I have to go down to London with Ian next week, so I’ll pop into our gallery there to make sure everything’s okay. I’ve got great staff running the places for me, but I like to be around for the big events just in case.’
Kate smiled politely. Ian and his wife moved in completely different social circles. She was amazed they were still together.
Cynthia appeared to pick up on her thoughts. ‘Don’t worry about me,’ she said. ‘While Ian is gallivanting around the world trying to win the next deal for whatever engineering marvel he’s designed this time, I’ll be making sure our houses will see at least some entertaining while he’s away so people don’t forget who we are.’
Kate heard the unmistakable tone of bitterness in the woman’s voice and prudently chose not to comment further. She was saved by Ian turning to his wife and asking about her plans for the gallery while he was away, and instead tuned into the conversation to her right.
Her attention wavered as Finn’s voice cut across the table. She gazed over to where he sat diagonally opposite from her. His face was animated as he described something, his hands miming in tandem with the story.
He broke off with a smile as those around him dissolved into laughter, and at that moment, he turned and caught her staring. The smile reached his eyes, the sun-kissed skin around them crinkling with humour, before he wrapped his fingers around the stem of his wine glass and silently raised a toast in her direction.
She returned the gesture and was disappointed when the executive next to Finn interrupted him and continued their conversation.
Cynthia noticed her reticence and called out to Finn. ‘Mr Scott – how did the training go this weekend?’
He turned back towards them, looking at Kate as he spoke. ‘As best can be hoped given the people I’m trying to teach.’
Cynthia laughed. ‘You’re such a miserable man, Finn. Surely you can give them something positive to work with.’
Finn shrugged. ‘If they remember to keep alert and remember what we’ve taught them, they might do okay. If something does happen, they’ll only have themselves to rely on until we find them.’
Kate put down her wine glass. ‘I guess my best chance of escape will be if they move me to a different location. I can try to run away.’
Finn shook his head, and Kate noticed the sadness cross his face before he spoke. His words chilled her to the bone.
‘If they move you, they’re going to kill you.’
2
Six months later
Istanbul, Turkey
Her heels echoing on the marble tiles, Kate hurried through the air-conditioned reception area. As she approached the large front doors, a security guard stepped forward, nodded, and opened one half of the oak panelling.
‘The chauffeur’s almost finished checking the car, Miss Foster. You might want to wait up here in the shade.’
‘Thanks, Phil.’
Kate shrugged her grey linen jacket off her shoulders and tucked it in the crook of her arm while she rolled her shirt sleeves up. She sighed as her gaze travelled down to the trousers she was wearing. She’d kill for a pair of shorts right now.
She stood at the threshold of the building, watching Ian’s driver as he walked around the saloon car, crouching to peer underneath it, then checking the engine block and mounting. She shivered, not wishing to dwell on the possibility of a bomb being fastened to the vehicle.
The chauffeur stood and patted the bodywork, then turned and beckoned to Kate.
She slipped her sunglasses over her eyes as she left the building and hurried down granite-hewn steps. At eight o’clock, the morning sunlight already burned down from a cloudless sky, its heat bearing down on her as she left the cool confines of the organisation’s temporary headquarters. She ran her hand through her hair, cursing the humidity which made it impossible to do anything stylish with it and checked her pocket for an elastic band to tie it back with.
‘Morning, Miss Foster.’
‘Hi, Mick. Everything okay?’
‘Yeah – I checked the interior earlier. All good to go.’
‘Got the air con on?’
‘It’s been on for the last five minutes. It’ll be down to at leas
t sub-tropical temperature in there by now.’
The driver grinned as he opened the back door of the car for her and waited until she’d settled into her seat. He slammed the door shut and then jogged round to the front of the vehicle. As he moved, Kate caught a glimpse of the revolver holstered under his suit jacket.
The car crawled away from the kerb and into the traffic, and Kate settled back into the leather seats which carried an aroma of new polish. The heavy doors muffled the cacophony of noise from the street as the car passed through the town, the market stalls and street vendors a blur of colour against the limestone walls of shops and houses that crowded the business district.
Mick caught Kate’s eye in the rear-view mirror and raised an eyebrow. ‘What is it this time?’
‘Perfume.’
‘Must be serious.’
‘It had better be.’
The driver smiled, and then concentrated on manoeuvring the car through the busy traffic.
Kate checked her watch. At such short notice, she’d be lucky to make it to the boutique store from which Ian’s current lover insisted he buy her gifts, before returning to the office to attend a video conference call with Hart’s Research and Development department back in the States. She hadn’t been made privy to the reason for the meeting, although she had gleaned enough information to realise that one of Ian’s deals wasn’t working out as well as he might have hoped.
She sighed, thinking back to the task in hand. His latest infatuation began three weeks ago, only days after they’d landed in the country to oversee a deal which Ian had alluded would likely double the value of the organisation overnight. Some six months and three countries later, Kate was beginning to wonder if the role was still right for her, especially when lately her boss seemed less impressed with her marketing skills and more so with her ability to choose the perfect gift for his lovers.
She wondered who the subject of his desire was this time. She and Mick had briefly discussed it, but as far as she could tell, it seemed none of the other staff knew about the affair. Ian insisted on complete confidentiality from his employees. Their contracts clearly stated the penalties for non-compliance, which ranged from being fired on the spot and even sued, depending on the severity of the breach of privacy. Together with a generous salary package, Ian knew how to keep his staff loyal.
Kate wondered privately what his wife, Cynthia, thought of his affairs, suspecting that the woman knew, but tolerated them so she could continue to live and entertain her friends in the couple’s spacious household while her husband travelled the world, rather than suffer the indignity and reduced income that a divorce would entail.
Mick broke through her reverie. ‘Going to take the usual short-cut here – that okay with you?’
‘Sounds like a good idea. How are we doing for time?’
‘You’ll have fifteen minutes at the store if I’m going to get you back to the office in time for your next meeting. I’ll keep the engine running.’
The chauffeur flicked the indicator and turned up a side street, the buildings on each side crowding the road and sheltering the car from the harsh sunlight. Kate peered through the window as they passed worn wooden doors set into the brickwork. Occasionally, there would be a gap between the buildings – sometimes leading through to a cul-de-sac or courtyard where laundry had been strung up between the buildings to dry. At other times, the spaces were filled with rubble where a building had been knocked down and waiting to be redeveloped. The car surged forward as Mick pressed the accelerator to the floor.
Kate turned her head to the right at the sound of a car’s engine roaring towards them at speed and screamed out to Mick, but it was too late.
The other car lurched out from one of the recessed courtyards and drove straight into the side of their vehicle.
Kate heard a loud metallic crash as she was thrown sideways in her seat. The car was shunted hard with the force of the collision.
She screamed as Mick’s skull smashed against the driver’s window, sending blood spraying over the windscreen and upholstery. He slumped against his seatbelt. It took a split second for Kate to register that the car was out of control. Mick’s foot was pressed hard against the accelerator, and the vehicle lurched along the narrow street.
She unclipped her seatbelt, scrambled between the front seats and grasped hold of the steering wheel. It felt loose under her touch, unresponsive. Her eyes opened wide. The narrow street only ran for another few hundred metres. In front of her, the narrow street ended in a T-junction, the busy main road ahead churning with traffic. Buses, trucks and cars flashed between the gaps in the buildings ahead.
Desperately, she shook the driver’s shoulder. ‘Mick! Wake up!’
She tore her eyes away from the blood running down his cheek and peered at the pedals. Mick’s foot was jammed against the accelerator by his weight, and she couldn’t reach past him to get to the brake. As her gaze tracked hurriedly through the vehicle, she realised what she’d have to do.
Swallowing hard, she wrapped both hands around the handbrake, wedged herself between the front seats, closed her eyes and pulled, bracing herself for the inevitable impact.
Kate blinked rapidly, a loud noise rousing her from unconsciousness.
She raised a hand to her head, a sticky warmth giving way to a steady trickle above her eyebrow. She looked at her fingers, at the blood, and then groaned.
She’d fallen into the recess between the front and back seats, her legs twisted awkwardly under her body. The car’s engine was silent except for a ticking sound. It took Kate a few seconds to realise that the noise came from the radiator as it cooled down, its contents dripping out through the engine block. She raised her head between the seats and gasped at the devastation to the car.
The front of the vehicle had crumpled under the force of the impact – she could see now that it had careened off the narrow street, stopping abruptly when it had slammed into the far wall of a building. A laundry line had fallen onto the windshield, coloured fabrics now strewn across the glass, shading the interior of the car and obliterating her view.
She frowned. The driver’s door was wedged open on its hinges, and there was no sign of Mick. Traces of blood covered the seat and windscreen.
She sensed movement behind her before the back door was wrenched open. Broken glass rained onto her shoulders. Rough hands grabbed her, pulling her upright, before they hauled her backwards.
Kate thrashed out with her hands and feet, knowing something was desperately wrong with the situation.
Voices, in the rough patois of the city, became urgent, their meaning apparent as another set of hands joined the first and wrenched her from the vehicle.
Kate cried out as her ankle caught and twisted against the door frame. Someone behind her cursed, and then leaned forward and jerked her foot until it was freed, before she was dragged from the vehicle.
She screamed as they passed the driver’s door of the vehicle. Mick had been dragged from the car, his body lying prone on the surface of the road, a bullet wound to his head. Blood and splinters of bone stained the pavement. Kate realised now what the sound had been that had woken her from unconsciousness.
‘Someone! Help me!’ she screamed. ‘Imdat! Imdat! Help!’
A hand clamped over her mouth, and a voice hissed in her ear. She only understood the inference – to stay quiet. The surface of the man’s hand scratched her skin while the scent of motor oil and salty water penetrated her senses.
She began to struggle, kicking out and wriggling in the man’s arms, twisting her head to check the windows and balconies that overlooked the courtyard. There had to be someone, anyone, at a window, wondering what all the commotion was about.
The courtyard remained silent, save for her muffled cries, the urgent conversation between her two captors and the sound of their feet scuffing the road.
Kate’s head snapped to the left at the sound of another vehicle travelling at speed. As it came closer, she bit down on her
captor’s hand. He cried out, loosened his grip on her, and she broke free.
Moving as fast as she could with a twisted ankle, she limped towards the entrance of the courtyard and the sound of the oncoming vehicle. She ignored the shouts of protest from behind her and concentrated on putting as much distance as possible between herself and the two men.
The approaching vehicle changed down a gear, then appeared at the courtyard entrance – a silver people carrier with tinted windows. It slid to a halt, the rear of the vehicle filling the small lane and blocking Kate’s escape.
‘Oh no,’ she groaned, realising her mistake.
The side door began to slide open, the inside of the vehicle dark against the bright sunlight. Kate squinted, holding her hand over her eyes, then ran towards the back of the vehicle.
She began to squeeze her body through a small gap between the van and the wall of the building, using the vehicle’s fender to climb up. She turned her head at the sound of a shout, and her heart fell as two men climbed out the other side of the people carrier, rounded the back of the vehicle and smiled at her. She turned and checked over her shoulder, but it was too late – the other two men had caught up with her.
Hands encircled her waist, lifting her backwards.
Kate kicked out and screamed.
One of her captors cursed as her elbow connected with his cheek. He spun her around in his arms and slapped her across the face before pushing her through the side door of the van.
Kate blinked, shocked, and then screamed as a hood was lifted in front of her face before it was shoved over her head.
This can’t be happening.
She began to hyperventilate as rough hands gathered her wrists together, and she felt plastic loops push over her fingers, tightening around her skin.
She felt something soft over her mouth and nose and realised too late what was happening. She struggled one final time as the chemicals consumed her senses.
Two FBI thrillers: Before Nightfall and Mistake Creek Page 2