by Cate Noble
“Rocco’s coming in,” Dante said to Cat. “Don’t be alarmed.”
There was a shuffle of feet. Dante turned back just as Rocco shoved the man into the room ahead of him. The man’s hands were cuffed behind him.
“Whoa! Shit! I didn’t know she was up.” Rocco looked at Dante for an explanation.
Then Cat made a noise. A whine.
Dante twisted around, catching a few words of Russian as Rocco’s prisoner lunged for Cat.
Chapter 34
Rio de Janeiro, Brazil
July 15
(Present Day)
The sun would soon set on The Marvelous City. Bringing Viktor one sunset closer to triumph.
He eyed the burned ruins from the backset of the car. How clever of Catalina to pick a church—an orphanage and a brothel—such a combination to hide behind.
“The arrangements are complete?” Viktor asked as soon as Karl closed his cell phone.
“Yes. The jet is on standby. Alexander will be here any moment.”
They’d been in Rio less than thirty-six hours. Catalina had fled two days before with Dante Johnson right behind.
Grigori had finally picked up their trail again in Mexico City. That Johnson hadn’t taken Catalina back to the United States was temporary. He was probably extracting the revenge that he’d been programmed to seek. Which made Viktor nervous since he wasn’t present to control the variables.
What if Johnson got too heavy-handed? Viktor wasn’t overly concerned about Cat telling everything. Grigori would be moving in on them as soon as the reinforcements arrived.
“You’re confident Grigori will follow my instructions?” Viktor asked.
“To the last detail,” Karl said. “He needs you.”
Viktor nodded. Actually, Grigori needed the protection Viktor offered. And Viktor did intend to make good on his promise to let Grigori have Catalina—eventually. Fortunately, Grigori was more obedient, more tractable than his brother, Jeter.
After listening to Jeter’s bullshit excuse about how Catalina and her friend had escaped back in Berlin, Karl had killed him. But of course, Grigori believed Cat was responsible for Jeter’s death.
Cat would be Viktor’s in a few more hours. Dante Johnson would be dead. Rocco Taylor would be dead, too. Taylor’s death would be a nice bonus, since he, too, had been involved in Belarus. Sure, at one time Viktor had agreed to leave Taylor alone, but at this point all bets were off.
Especially now. Viktor had high hopes that he would have his stolen data back in his possession before he even saw Catalina.
Wouldn’t that be sweet? Viktor was eager to retrieve his stolen property. He chuckled at the thought of Cat begging to make a deal, while Viktor already had reclaimed his data…
He knew Cat wouldn’t have fled with the data and risked being captured with it. Hidden, she could use it as a bargaining chip. A bargaining chip Viktor would recover first.
Finding where she lived had at first appeared to be a challenge. Then Karl’s connections to the crime cartel in the brothel’s area had located a woman who volunteered at the orphanage where Cat spent so much time.
The old woman, Zetta, had been a fount of information when Karl visited. The woman had claimed that Cat—or Luzia, as she was known—lived at the orphanage, only leaving to go to work.
Especially interesting to Viktor, though, was Zetta’s babble about one child, Marco Lopez, who had shown up at the orphanage around the same time Cat did. Apparently, the nun who ran the orphanage consulted Cat on everything about the child.
“Had the old woman ever questioned the nun on the child’s parentage?” Viktor asked now.
“I didn’t get a chance to pose that question.” Karl met Viktor’s gaze in the rearview mirror. Zetta had a heart attack before Karl finished their interview.
“Alexander has secured the body?” Viktor asked. They didn’t want the woman’s death, even though from natural causes, to alert anyone.
Karl nodded. “The woman did say the child looked like Luzia. And when the child was hospitalized, the nun immediately dispatched a message to Catalina, who then stayed at the hospital until the child returned to the orphanage.”
The thought that Catalina Dion could have a son—when poor Adrik was dead—infuriated Viktor. If he had only known that a year ago.
Karl’s phone rang. He spoke briefly, then turned toward Viktor. “That was Alexander. He will meet us there.”
Viktor opened his car door and climbed out, suddenly eager.
The young nun who answered the door at the orphanage wore a habit of navy blue. She looked from Viktor to Karl to Alexander with unconcealed suspicion.
Viktor held up a hand when Karl began to speak.
“Forgive the interruption, Sister.” Viktor offered a slight bow, before continuing in polite Portuguese. “We are looking for Sister Dores. We have an urgent message from Luzia—regarding Marco.”
The nun’s brow furrowed in recognition. She waved them inside. “Wait here, please. Sister Dores is with the children. I will get her.”
Viktor’s gaze swept the austere interior. While the building’s exterior was crumbling in disrepair, the inside was spotless. The small front window was draped with white lace and kerchiefs. A chipped vase with fresh flowers sat on a table beneath a large painting of the Virgin Mary. A narrow staircase went up to the top floor.
The sounds of children crying and laughing drifted through the wall in front of them.
An older nun wearing a similar dark-colored habit bustled though the open doorway. Her face was lined with worry. “I am Sister Dores. You have word from Luzia?”
At Viktor’s nod, Karl withdrew a large handgun and pointed it toward the wall that separated them from the children.
“I understand you have thirteen children here, Sister Dores,” Viktor began. “I’m sure you want to protect them all.”
The nun gave Karl a calm stare. “The gun is not necessary.”
“He takes orders only from me, Sister. Remember that,” Viktor said. I know Luzia lived here. Where is her room?”
The nun tipped her head toward the staircase. “Third door on the left.”
Alexander took the stairs two at a time.
“Now.” Viktor took a step closer to the nun. “I want to see the child, Marco.”
The nun shook her head. “I’m sorry, we have no one here by that name.”
“Where did you learn subterfuge, Sister? From Luzia perhaps?” Viktor tugged his chin. “Zetta mentioned that you and Luzia were quite close.”
The nun’s eyes flickered at the older woman’s name, but she remained mute.
“Enough,” Viktor barked. Behind him, Karl clambered around. “Tell the other nun to bring Marco out here now.”
“Please don’t.”
“You can spare twelve lives in addition to your own by cooperating. The child will not be harmed.”
“Sister Lolita!” Sister Dores had to shout to be heard. “Bring Marco here to me, please.”
The younger nun, Sister Lolita, came around the corner and paused when she saw Karl’s gun.
Viktor couldn’t take his eyes off the dark-haired child. Adrik had been four months old at his death. What would he have looked like at this age?
There was no denying this child was Catalina’s. Because he looked just like…the father. Dante Johnson. Catalina’s former lover.
Viktor did the math. He’d been told that Johnson and Catalina had split up a few months before Johnson’s disappearance. “Marco is about sixteen months old?”
The younger nun spoke. “Fourteen.”
That meant Marco would have been only a few weeks old when Viktor had captured Catalina…And she’d suffered in silence, protecting her son. If Viktor had only known!
Alexander came down the stairs. “I found nothing. I searched all three rooms. If I get an axe—”
Viktor raised his hand. “That won’t be necessary.” He stepped closer to the nun holding the child. Marco was fretting
, rubbing his eyes.
Come and kiss your son, Viktor. Adrik is getting fussy.
“Sister Lolita, in the interest of the other children’s safety, you must do everything I say.” Viktor held out his hands toward Marco.
The child scowled and clung to the nun. Until Viktor reached into his pocket and withdrew a piece of brightly wrapped candy. Marco leaned forward and allowed Viktor to hold him, distracted by the prize in his fist.
“Quickly now, Sister Lolita, go upstairs with Alexander.” Viktor rocked Marco in his arms. “Pack a few things for the child.”
Sister Dores started to protest, but Vicktor tuned her out. A year ago, he had thought he was on top of the world. It had been great, but that feeling was soon to be eclipsed.
Chapter 35
Western Thailand Jungle
July 4
(Twelve Months Ago)
Viktor was alone in the prison’s guest wing. He poured another glass of wine and toasted himself.
After all he’d endured—his injuries in the car wreck, the loss of his family—his hard work and persistence had paid off.
Viktor read the report a second time, jotting notations in the margins. Now he was more eager than ever to return to Berlin. These facilities were crude, meant for testing, so he only kept the barest essentials and supplies—and certainly no records—here.
The irony that this latest drug permutation was based on an older failed experiment that he’d stumbled upon in his notes made this victory all the sweeter. Yes, it needed refinements. And more human testing. But what he’d seen today! The promise it held…To think that he’d almost gotten it right all those months ago in Belarus.
He would love to see the faces of his former colleagues who’d labeled his vision impossible. Viktor’s Folly.
You will prove them wrong, my darling. You always do. Now come to bed.
His beloved Lera had never understood the first thing about his work. But, oh, her blind faith in him.
He missed her. And Adrik. They were the only shadows in an otherwise perfect life. And alas even those shadows had faded.
The people responsible were paying. That some were even helping with the very experiments they’d sought to destroy made Viktor smile. Perhaps he’d bring Catalina here next trip.
He moved back to the television and rewound the video he’d been given upon arrival. Taking a sip of wine, he pressed PLAY and tried to imagine what Catalina would think if she ever saw this.
The screen showed a naked, unconscious Dante Johnson chained to a wall, his wrists and ankles manacled. A guard moved in and sprayed Johnson’s genitalia with a clear liquid—another trick Viktor would have to borrow.
A portable television was rolled in front of the prisoner and turned on.
An ammonia capsule was waved under Johnson’s nose as his face was slapped. Johnson came to life with a virtual roar, lunging against his restraints, exhibiting the same characteristics that Viktor had observed during the other tests. A warrior indeed.
The guards had cranked up the volume on the ancient television and Cat’s laughter filled the air. At first, Johnson stared at the television in complete disbelief. His expression grew hungry, desperate, as his erection swelled.
Then Johnson started writhing in pain. Viktor had been told the spray created a sensation of the skin being on fire, a feeling that amplified with swelling.
Johnson seemed to realize just then that Cat was discussing him—the jobs they’d worked. She was promising her off-screen lover that she’d tell him more after they fucked.
Johnson strained against his restraints, cursing Cat, unaware that one of the guards approached with a riding crop…
A loud knocking interrupted. Viktor paused the video. He’d been expecting Karl to confirm their arrangements to leave in the morning.
“Come in and enjoy a glass of wine, comrade,” Viktor said as he opened the door. “We have much to celebrate.”
But the look on Karl’s face destroyed Viktor’s perfect day even before he heard the words.
“They’ve escaped.”
Chapter 36
Mexico City, Mexico
July 15
(Present Day)
Cat had been horrified when Grigori came in with Rocco Taylor. And here she’d begun to think—
“You will die, whore, for killing my brother,” Grigori shouted in Russian as he charged.
Dante jumped in front of her, landing in her lap and knocking over the side table. For a moment she felt a crushing weight. But it lifted as Dante sprang back to his feet. Then Grigori crashed against the far wall, cursing Dante in Russian as he fell.
Rocco grabbed Grigori and yanked him to his feet, pulling him farther away. That was when Cat realized Grigori was handcuffed. That Dante had tried to protect her.
“You okay?” Dante and Rocco addressed her simultaneously.
Feeling sick, she nodded. Grigori’s presence could mean only one thing.
“You know him?” Dante asked.
Cat looked from Dante to Rocco. Jesus, didn’t they know? “He works…” Cat’s voice was a croak. She swallowed. “He works for Viktor Zadovsky.”
Rocco must have twisted Grigori’s arm then because Grigori grimaced.
“Guess that explains the Russian,” Rocco said as he looked at Dante. “I found him not too far from here. High-powered rifle and scope in the trunk.”
“Where is Viktor?” Cat asked in both English and Russian, her voice nearly nonexistent.
Grigori glared but didn’t respond.
Cat tried to control the trembling that threatened to overtake her. How had Viktor found them?
Dante exchanged glances with Rocco. Immediately Grigori was hustled into the bedroom, the door firmly shut.
“I’ll be right back.” Dante disappeared into the kitchen for all of two seconds before returning with bottled water and another ginger ale. “Would you like some ibuprofen for your throat?”
She took a couple sips of water, uncertain whether to trust this man. Nothing made sense. “No, thanks.”
“How do you know this guy works for Viktor Zadovsky?” Dante pulled a chair close and sat directly in front of her. “My intel has Zadovsky in a nursing home in Belarus.”
“You need new intel,” Cat whispered. “Viktor’s been fully recovered for nearly two years.”
“Did he do that?” Dante’s eyes dropped to her thighs. The scars.
Cat shut her eyes, debating what to tell him. What if this was all an elaborate scheme? What he’d told her in the bathroom, that he’d been held prisoner, could have been fabricated.
She opened her eyes. To her surprise, Dante was unbuttoning his shirt.
“It’s not what you think. I wanted you to see these,” he said, pulling one arm free and lifting it. While the dark hairs covered most of his scars, the thin white edges extended beyond his armpit. Just like hers.
“I wanted you to know that what I told you in the bathroom was true,” Dante said.
Cat nodded, unable to stop staring at the other scars on his chest. Burns, whip marks. Other deeper cuts that had been crudely stitched together with thick thread as if to maximize the scarring. “Did Viktor do that?”
“Not directly.” He stuck his arm back in the sleeve. “If Zadovsky was somehow involved in my capture, I wouldn’t have known. I only saw the Thai guards.” He re-buttoned his shirt. “That wasn’t a ploy for sympathy, Cat. I know you have no reason to trust me now or to believe anything I say—but I really need to understand what’s happened. Would you please tell me?”
The stark sincerity in his voice moved Cat. “Fourteen months ago—” Her voice cracked and she took another sip of water. “I had just heard that you and Max had died. I’d…I’d dropped out for a while before that—” She skipped the part about being pregnant. About Marco. “I’d heard conflicting accounts about your demise, so I asked Giselle to dig a little. She found a source who claimed to have been an eyewitness. But it was a setup. Viktor Zadovsky captur
ed both of us.”
Cat had to look away from the sympathy she saw in Dante’s eyes. She wanted no one’s pity. She had lived. Giselle’s hadn’t.
“Viktor made it clear that he blamed me for his wife and son’s deaths. But Giselle bore the brunt of his rage. He tortured her to punish me. I did everything he asked—everything—but it only won her the briefest periods of relief.”
“Is that when the videos were made?” Dante asked.
Cat remembered the very first time Viktor brought her in the room where the camera was set up. He had explained what he expected and she had refused. Giselle was brought in and whipped until Cat agreed to do anything Viktor said. And when they finished…Giselle was whipped again. But what have I done?
“Viktor already knew who I worked with in Belarus,” Cat said. “He had all the names, dates and places already. And I thought you…were dead.”
“How long were you held?”
She looked at the closed door where Rocco and Grigori had disappeared. “Two months. Grigori’s brother Jeter had been left to watch us. Viktor was gone on one of his trips. I managed to overpower Jeter, kill him. Then Giselle and I fled. Giselle didn’t—” Cat stopped, pretended her throat hurt too much to speak.
There was much she hadn’t told him. About Marco. About the data she’d stolen from Viktor. Because the one part she still couldn’t reconcile was Viktor’s claim that the CIA had turned Cat over. And Cat knew Dante still worked for the Agency.
“That’s enough for now.” Dante leaned forward and grabbed the ginger ale. “Here, drink. Rest your voice and just nod or shake your head. Giselle died, right?”
She nodded.
“Was that her body recovered from the Seine?”
Again, she nodded.
“And you’ve been hiding in Rio ever since.”
With Marco. She dropped her eyes and nodded.
“That explains how Viktor got your cologne.”
My cologne? Cat mouthed the words, not understanding.
“My sailboat blew up a week ago in Key West. Two clues were left that pointed to you.”