“No. My only chance is to trade the drive for Ali. In person.”
“You’re pretty smart.”
“I’m a professor.”
Ken pulls a gun and holds it under Robert’s chin. “Oh, yeah? Did you expect this, Professor Monroe?”
Robert’s head is finally clear. He stares into Ken’s brown eyes. “Go ahead. Kill me. Then you’ll never get the drive.”
Chapter 27
Strapped to the table, helpless, Ali knows that if she wants to live, she’s got to use her only weapons—her wits, her charm, her looks.
She catches Pumpkin’s attention with nothing but a stare. She’s been acclimating herself to his face so that she won’t look at him with horror or even hesitation.
“What?” he asks as he puffs on his pipe.
She nods and rolls her eyes down at the gag in her mouth.
He removes it. “Yes?” he asks her.
“Don’t you want to hear me scream?” Ali asks.
“So like a woman,” he says, and starts to put the gag back. “They like to hear themselves think, and they like to hear themselves scream.”
“No. For you. C’mon. You enjoy it. The sound of my pain.”
“So sweet of you to think of little old me, with your hands tied above your head and your lovely white breasts on display.”
“Someone should think of you.”
“Oh, they think of me—I’m the worst-case scenario.” Pumpkin chuckles. “You know—I broke my leg, but it could be worse. This is worse.”
“I’m sure it’s not easy. People can be cruel.”
Pumpkin puts his gloved hand on the spot where his cheek should be and asks, “Oh, dear, are you referring to my ruddy complexion?”
“How did that happen?”
“Listen, lovely, you’re missing the point. This isn’t about me. It’s about you. Confession time. You’re going to tell me all about your husband’s job at the CIA.”
“You’re a very intelligent, articulate man…”
“The things that made me a man were stripped away with a wire brush. This is what’s left.” He points to his scars. “Ready to tell me who sent him to Gstaad?”
“I can only tell you what I know. Which is nothing.”
He holds out a squeeze tube. “This is gasoline.” He holds out his pipe. “This is man’s first invention—fire.”
“I was going to leave my husband.”
“Are you telling me in some cryptic female way that you are emotionally available?”
“That depends who’s asking.”
He grins, leans down, and whispers in her ear, “Mmm. Yes. Want to be the bride of Frankenstein?”
“I’ll be anything you want,” she whispers back.
Pumpkin wipes at the corners of his eyes with his black gloves. He puffs on his pipe and shakes his head. Then he squeezes out some gasoline on Ali’s stomach.
“Is that how you want me?” Ali says, trying to stay calm. “Scarred?”
Pumpkin flips the gag back over her mouth.
Pumpkin holds his pipe sideways over Ali’s stomach, over the small pool of gasoline. She trembles but never looks away. Pumpkin sets down the pipe on the stone table next to her, thrums his gloved fingers on her thigh. Then he nods, picks his pipe back up, and leans in to whisper in Ali’s ear. “Change of plans, but hey, this has been fun.” He flings the tarp back over her body.
Chapter 28
Robert digs his fingers into the charred middle of Ken. Ken lets out a yelp of pain, and Robert snatches the gun, holding it now at Ken’s throat. “I’m sick of being in the dark. Start talking. What is the sickness? What’s on the USB?”
“Ever heard of Stuxnet?”
“Sure, I read about it.”
“So you know it was developed by the US and Israeli military. Made all the nuclear reactors in Iran go bananas. Practically created another Chernobyl.”
“Cyber warfare. Malicious code of the highest order.”
“It was a worm. It was like Hiroshima. Like nuclear fallout. They say every computer in the world has little bit of Stuxnet virus on it.”
“That’s what’s on the thumb drive? Stuxnet?”
“Eugenio and his partner, a woman they call Yøta, wrote a worm that makes Stuxnet look like a walk in the park. They had contracted to sell it to the Iranians. I intercepted it. Then, unfortunately, the North Koreans got involved. Apparently someone went behind our back and told them to take me out.”
“The mole.”
“I almost got killed. That’s why I had to drop it in your coat.”
“How does it work?”
“You stick the thumb drive in any computer on the server, and they all become slaves. The bad guys can then decide when to turn off the power, when to make planes collide, when the trains should run. But it’s also a ransom scheme: they said Eugenio had a cure that he would sell for ten times the price of the disease.”
“The cure. The kidnappers want the sickness and the cure.”
“Nice move. The cure’s worth more than the sickness.”
“So Yøta was his partner?”
“Yes, but no one knows what she looks like. I heard she’s hot. Where’s the drive?”
“You tell me where they’re holding my wife.”
“She’s in a barn, up in the mountains. We’re running out of time. Where’s the drive?”
“You put it in the pocket of my tweed jacket, right?”
“Yup.”
“It’s probably still in there. I gave the jacket to the woman in the boutique when I bought this.”
“Nice. I like the hoodie. You’re not totally too old for it.”
“Is that an insult?”
“If I wanted to insult you, I’d say something like, ‘Hey, man, your sweater’s got a foreskin.’ No, buddy, I dig it.”
The boutique is quiet. Ken struts up to the tall blond saleswoman. “Hey, did this crazy American guy right here come in and buy a hoodie and a fancy blazer from you a day or two ago?”
“Yes,” she says, smiling at Robert. “I remember him. He was trying to spice things up with his wife. Did it work?”
“It’s complicated,” says Robert.
“I hope he didn’t kill her.” Ken makes a face at the tall blonde.
“No, he’s a nice guy,” she says, oblivious to the joke.
“Remember my old tweed jacket?” Robert asks.
“Of course. You said you’d had it since college, right?” says the woman.
“Yes, it’s vintage. What did you do with it?” he asks, trying to sound casual.
“It’s in the closet. I was going to give it to a Syrian charity, but I’m not totally sure they would take it.”
“So my friend tells me that it might actually be cool again, due to its advanced age. Would you mind giving it back?”
Chapter 29
“I want a female companion that resembles this one.” Pumpkin wears a long blond wig, large mirror sunglasses, and a red bandana pulled up to his chin. He shows a cell phone photo in his black-gloved hand.
Madame Toison d’Or wears a gold Chanel jacket, displaying her cleavage heaped high. She takes the phone in her hand, her long pink fingernails like the legs of a sea star. “She’s pretty,” Madame says. “Scandinavian?”
“American.”
Soft jazz plays from unseen speakers. The parlor is elaborately decorated, white furniture with gold accents.
“Full girlfriend experience, and her remuneration will be excessive,” says Pumpkin. “How’s five hundred euros sound?”
“Your requests are complicated. Two thousand.”
Pumpkin is disgusted. “For a hundred they fellate corpulent corporate criminals, but you want two thousand from little old me? Because I wear a scar?”
“No. It’s not that. This girl is very high-end. That’s her rate. For that price, you can do anything you want.”
Pumpkin chuckles. “Fine. I will endeavor to realize the full value of my purchase.”
Pumpkin sits in a small but clean and luxurious bedroom. He pops a handful of blue pills and washes them down with a bottle of designer water that sits on the bureau. He takes a clean, fluffy towel and drapes it over the lamp. It brings a foreboding darkness to the room. Perfect, he thinks, this room is halfway between a luxury hotel and a psychiatrist’s office.
There’s a slight knock on the door. Here’s the moment he’s been waiting for—Christmas in January. A younger, harder version of Ali walks in—tall, blond, in a black dress. For a second, Pumpkin is delighted. “Oh, you are lovely, lovely.” He stands and walks over to her and runs his gloved hand along her cheek. He squeezes her thigh. “Can you talk like a Yankee? Please tell me you can talk like an uptight WASP from Connecticut.”
She forces a smile. “Please for meet you.”
“Oh, Jesus,” he says. “Your teeth…You from Ukraine?”
“Belarus. You like?” She runs her hand up her leg, lifting her dress, showing him what she thinks he wants.
Chapter 30
Ken and Robert sit in the back of a cab. Robert holds the USB in his hand and mutters, “We give them the drive. They give us Ali.”
“Simple transaction,” says Ken. “Save the chick. Screw the world.”
“There’s no other way.” Robert feels for Ken’s gun in his breast pocket. Finds it. “But what about Eugenio?”
“I thought you said he was dead? With a USB drive crammed up his ass.”
“No, it was in his mouth.”
“It should’ve been up his ass. That would be better. That sends a real signal.”
“To whom?”
“Next person who’s gonna fuck with the ayatollahs.”
“Didn’t you fuck with the ayatollahs?”
“Well, yes,” Ken says. “But I’ve got people. Eugenio’s only got Yøta.”
“Why was Eugenio in Gstaad?”
“He made this thing,” says Ken, pointing at Robert’s clenched fist. “The sickness. The worm. Sold it. Then he comes to Gstaad and starts trying to sell the cure. Even reached out to the agency. That takes some serious stones.”
“What about the guy who tortured you? Who does he work for?”
“In this business, you never really know who anybody works for. He’s ex-Army. Same thing. Highest bidder. He’s a bad man. He took pleasure in my pain.”
“How did you get away?”
“Romeo tooth.”
“What’s that?”
“You bite down and break a fake tooth. You start foaming at the mouth. You go unconscious. The bad guys think you pulled the rip cord and killed yourself. They dump your body. You wake up in a shallow grave and start digging like a motherfucker.”
“Shouldn’t it be called a Juliet tooth?”
“What do you mean?”
“She’s the one that faked her own death. Romeo drank real poison.”
“Fuck. I think you’re right. The service drills ’em both in your jaw. Is Romeo on the right, or is it the left? Shit. I should be dead. Glad I broke the wrong tooth.”
“I hope he doesn’t hurt Ali,” Robert says, staring out the window.
“Ah, a guy who still loves his wife,” Ken says sardonically. “That’s refreshing. My wife is probably wondering right about now what kind of life insurance policy the agency is carrying on me.” Ken takes a box of Tic Tacs out of his pocket. “You want one?”
Robert shakes his head. “Which agency?”
Ken swallows the Tic Tac whole. “You’ll know when you need to know.”
“Just tell me now.”
He follows Ken’s eyes to a Korean couple on the sidewalk, entering a convenience store. “Hey, can we stop at this store? I’m as thirsty as a fucking racehorse.”
“You mean you’ve got to piss like a racehorse.”
“All the same.”
“Excuse me, sir. Arrêtez ici,” Robert says to the driver. He pulls the car over.
“Whoa, shit. Look at that.” Ken holds out a fountain pen in his hand.
“What? Is it leaking?”
“Not yet,” says Ken. He breaks it and waves it in the air. The cab fills with fumes. The driver and Robert choke and gasp and go still. “Shoulda had a Tic Tac,” Ken says, taking the USB and his gun from the unconscious Robert.
The cab drifts slowly up onto the curb.
Chapter 31
“Are you comfortable, my lovely?” a Southern-inflected voice asks softly.
Ali opens her eyes and she sees light shine through the cross-stitch of the dark-green cotton tarp that covers her. “Where’ve you been?” she asks.
“I was seeking lower companionship.”
“With me here? We could’ve talked all night.”
“I was looking for something more than chitchat.”
“And did you find it?”
“Yes and no.”
“You make it sound like you’ve missed me,” she says.
“Maybe.”
“You don’t have to chain me up to have a conversation with me.”
“You’re chained up so you don’t leave. Even if I hurt you.”
A sudden desire to cry comes over Ali. She starts to say something but knows she can’t keep her composure right now. Her voice will crack. He will know. And like with any predator, the smell of fear is the quick predecessor to the taste of blood.
“Have I killed the conversation?” Pumpkin chuckles. “As the shrink would say, where did you go?”
“I’m right…” she says, her head a swirl but her voice firm, “where you left me.”
Pumpkin waits for more. Nothing comes. He looks up at the loft door, the snow outside. He steps into the quiet.
Chapter 32
Robert drifts out of a disturbed sleep. He searches the cab, feels for the gun. It’s gone. He feels for the USB drive—gone. “Damn it!” he yells. The cabbie makes a guttural sound. Robert hands him some francs and steps outside.
Robert remembers the pen, the Koreans on the sidewalk. How long has it been? He enters the convenience store.
Behind the counter, an old man with reading glasses propped at the end of his nose above a broad and bristly mustache has fallen asleep reading the paper.
“Hi, did an American man just walk in here?” Robert asks.
The man doesn’t move.
Robert gets an eerie feeling. He steps backward toward the door, but then decides to move closer, drawn by his curiosity. “Excuse me, sir…”
Robert nudges the old man on the shoulder, and he falls from his chair.
Then he notices a growing red-black slick of blood seeping out of the narrow aisle.
A cowbell clangs as someone steps into the store, and the air is pierced by a woman’s scream.
Robert peers behind the stacks of cans and boxes of cookies. Ken’s legs are splayed out unnaturally. His head is bent back impossibly, like a PEZ dispenser, above his gashed throat.
Robert is hot, flushed, and choking on the thick, stifling air. He kneels down and checks Ken’s pocket for the USB; then he hears the cowbell again. He stands and slips, almost falling to the floor in the blood. His bloody hands slap on the shelves. Boxes tumble. He runs toward the freezers in the back of the store. Two Swiss police officers rush after him, following the bloody footsteps. Robert pulls down the shelves to block their way and bursts out the back door into the fresh air. Someone yells, “Stop!” A shot is fired. Robert runs, reckless in the night.
Chapter 33
Hervé sits at his desk, nursing a highball. Madame Toison d’Or walks into his office. “Bonsoir, mon amie,” he says. “Is it the first of the month? Already?”
“I have something for you,” she says.
“And I have something for you.” Hervé grabs at his crotch.
“The woman you are looking for, the American. Her face was on the TV.”
“Yes?”
“A man—and, as always, I use the term with tremendous latitude—came in and showed me a photo of her on his phone. He asked for a girl that
looked like her.”
Hervé hops to his feet. “Wait a second. This woman? Are you sure?” He rifles through his desk drawer, then holds out a photo of Ali and Robert to Madame Toison d’Or.
She nods.
“Please don’t tell me this was the john?” He taps at Robert’s image.
“No. The john was a freak. And I only say that about people that earn it.”
“Out with it.”
“First he tells her he wants a real orgasm. Nothing fake. And for two thousand euros he deserves it.”
“Okay. I get that.”
“But she needs to tell him exactly when she is going to come.”
“Still, nothing freaky about this.”
“I did not tell you that the ‘man’ was disguised.”
“Ha! It was a woman?”
“No.”
“Tell me.”
“He is making it with the look-alike, and he has told her that she must call out ‘Make me the bride! Make me the bride!’”
“Madame Toison d’Or, I work in vice. None of this is even close to shocking.”
“And when the woman calls out, ‘I’m…going…to…come…’”
“Get on with it—you’re such a tease.”
“He yanks a towel off the lamp where he has placed it, pulls off his wig and sunglasses, grabs her, and forces her to stare into his face—his half-melted face—while she orgasms.”
“Eh…ew.”
“He says to her, ‘You are the bride of Frankenstein!’”
“Disturbing. I want to talk to the girl.”
“She is done. Says she’s moving back to Belarus. She says she’d rather clean toilets for a living. She called me from the train station.”
A young officer bursts into the office. “Chief Inspector, there has been a double homicide. In the village. Come at once.”
Chapter 34
Robert runs down the alley. Somehow, all is quiet. He’s alone. He wipes his hands and shoes in a pile of snow and is amazed that he is not covered in blood.
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