But before he left he had to somehow convince her that the accident in front of the supermarket had been a targeted attack. He was still thinking about how he could express his suspicion without seeming crazy when a muffled scream from the hall, followed by a commotion, jarred him from his thoughts. It sounded as if she had fallen. He jumped up and ran into the hall.
Stunned, he looked at Sandra, who lay still on the floor. Despite the surprise, he had already analyzed the situation. The smell of chloroform was unmistakable; two men, no visible weapons. It ought to be manageable.
One man came toward him, a cloth in his hand. With a well-aimed kick in the stomach, Daniel kept the blond man with the soaked, stinking rag at a distance. A movement next to him caused him to spin around. A brawny, dark-haired man with a face marked by hard living came out of the kitchen and kicked at his knee. It was impossible to evade the man in the narrow hall, and now there were three of them. Daniel hit the wall hard and deflected a blow aimed at his throat. The man from the kitchen drew back for an uppercut. When Daniel dodged the blow this time, the man struck the coatrack and became entangled in the jackets hanging from it. Cursing, he fought for balance.
An arm wrapped around his throat from behind; at the same time, a chloroform-soaked cloth was pressed over his nose and mouth. Instinctively, he breathed out forcefully and held his breath; he attempted to free himself from his attacker by throwing an elbow back. He felt the biting fumes of the chloroform in his mucous membranes. His movements became less coordinated; he lost his awareness of where the men were. As a last resort, he fell forward. The grip loosened, but again Daniel lost his awareness; he struck the chest of drawers hard. Again the stinking cloth appeared in front of his face; a blow to the stomach caused him to gasp for air.
He breathed in much too deeply. Helplessly, he fumbled for something to take hold of as his knees buckled. His vision blurred, and he landed hard on the floor, pulling down the coatrack, which landed on top of him. At least the repulsive cloth was no longer in front of his face. With an effort, he turned himself over. A figure bent over him; that smell again. Blinking, Daniel tried to banish the gray veils of mist that surrounded him. Then came utter blackness.
A hard blow to his back forced the air out of Daniel’s lungs. Groaning, he pressed a hand against his forehead, behind which he felt a knocking and hammering as though he had gone without sleep for days. Nausea roiled through him, and he fought to keep the pizza down. That damned chloroform. What had happened to Sandra? Who were these men? And where was he? Before he could orient himself, he was flipped over; he futilely sought something he could grab onto. An elbow dug painfully into his ribs. Sandra. Slowly, he recognized his surroundings: they were lying in the bed of a van. A metal box that was attached to the van bed was directly next to him. When the van had gone around a curve too fast, he had struck this box. He raised his head and grimaced when the pain became more intense. A dirty pane of glass separated the cab from the bed. Three men were sitting in the cab; the burly guy who had surprised him turned his head in Daniel’s direction. Daniel immediately sank back down and acted as if he were still unconscious. Another sharp curve; Sandra half fell on him. Daniel saw that the burly man’s attention was again focused on the road. He tried to lift the lid of the metal box. Locked. Other than a few wadded-up blankets, nothing lay in the bed.
Daniel held Sandra when the vehicle rounded another curve. She moaned, curled into a ball, and nestled against him. He took a firmer grip on her waist. He really enjoyed the close contact. With his eyes closed, he relaxed and considered what this could mean. The men couldn’t be after him. If they had known that he was a SEAL, they would never have allowed him to lie around untied. It must have to do with Sandra; no doubt it was the continuation of the failed first attack in front of the supermarket. He was curious to know why they were after her. The men didn’t seem especially professional, but at present there was nothing he could do. Jumping out of the moving vehicle and leaving Sandra behind wasn’t an option. The next fight wouldn’t take place in a tiny hallway, and he would have his revenge.
Sandra tried to pull her head away. Something was mercilessly pinching her earlobe. “Come on, wake up.”
Wake up? Her head hurt like crazy, and didn’t she have the day off? She nuzzled closer to the warm body next to her and ignored the warning voice inside her. Quiet, amused laughter right next to her ear. “Come on, Sandy. We can continue later, but right now you have to wake up.”
Sandy? The man with the smelly cloth. Her head came up as the memory hit her with full force. Nausea washed over her. Immediately, her head was gently but firmly pressed back down. “Breathe very gently—then it will pass. Breathe in and out, and just keep it up.”
Without thinking, she adapted her breathing to the calm, authoritative voice. Daniel. Slowly, the nausea receded; unfortunately, the same couldn’t be said of her headache. “What happened? Where are we?”
“Three men grabbed you in the hallway. I would have taken care of them, but with the coatrack and the damned chloroform, they had the advantage, unfortunately.”
Coatrack? Had he gone crazy? She couldn’t see his face, but he seemed unbelievably calm, while she had to fight off a panic attack.
“Keep on breathing calmly, Sandy. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She felt oddly comforted by his calm conviction, although her intellect told her that a doctor would hardly be able to take on armed kidnappers. She was a detective. It was her job . . .
“I don’t think we have a lot of time. We’ve been off the autobahn for about fifteen minutes. If I’m interpreting the condition of the road and our speed accurately, we’re on a dirt road going through fields or a forest and will probably be at our destination soon. We’ve been driving for less than an hour. They probably won’t kill us immediately; that wouldn’t make any sense. This is about something else.”
“Why . . . What . . .”
Gently but firmly he placed his hand over her mouth. “Not so loud. They don’t need to know that we’re awake. Do you think I’m whispering for fun? If they’d wanted to kill us, they could easily have done so in your apartment. What’s this about, Sandy? What kind of work do you do?”
Sandra hesitated, but there was no point in hiding it. “I’m a detective, but I don’t know . . .” Her failure to hide her IP address occurred to her.
The vehicle came to an abrupt halt; only Daniel’s firm grip prevented her from painfully colliding with the metal box.
Once again Daniel brought his mouth close to her ear. “We’ll work it out later. No matter what happens, keep calm. If you see an opening to escape, do it—don’t hesitate—but make sure you don’t get in my way.”
What was that supposed to mean? She didn’t get a chance to ask. The rear doors were yanked open, and a flashlight was shined in her eyes. Blinded, she closed her eyes; then someone was next to her and dragged her out. She staggered and would have fallen but for the firm grip on her. She quickly turned her head away when the unpleasant smell of sweat hit her nostrils. The horrible aftertaste of the chloroform was bad enough.
“Take it easy, sweetheart. Too bad you’re awake again. It would have been a pleasure to wake you myself.” A hand stroked over her breast. Shivering with disgust, she tried to draw back. “Where you going? You have no idea how much fun awaits us.”
Obviously, they had entirely different ideas of fun. Sandra hid any trace of fear. From the van’s headlights she could see that they were in a clearing in a forest; several yards away a wooden hut stood among the trees. A gaunt blond man held a pistol in his hand, but the barrel was pointed at the ground. A brawny guy was holding Daniel by the arm. She noticed how fearful he looked.
The gaunt man reprimanded the dark-haired guy holding her. “Wait with your little games until we get inside.”
“What do you want from me? I’m a doctor—I don’t know this woman at all.” Daniel drew back from the brawny guy, stumbled, and fell to the ground. He stared at
the guy with wide eyes and raised a hand protectively when the guy bent down over him. “Don’t,” Daniel said with evident panic in his voice and clumsily moved backward.
With a malevolent laugh, the man followed him. “You’ve picked yourself a real hero here.”
Sandra didn’t know what to think. His behavior didn’t fit his controlled demeanor in the van. Before she could say anything, Daniel struggled to his feet, turned around, and ran, stumbling uncertainly, toward the forest.
Scowling, the blond man turned to the burly guy. “Come on, let’s get him. He’s probably shitting his pants with fear.” The two men took off.
The sound of breaking branches gave away the state of panic Daniel must have been in as he fled through the undergrowth. While she couldn’t blame him, she was thoroughly disappointed. What had she expected? A knight in shining armor, hurrying to her rescue? He was a doctor and hopelessly out of his depth in this situation.
A shot whipped through the night. She jerked, shocked. Daniel!
The man pressed close to her from behind. “Well, I guess your friend made a mistake there.” The closeness of the man’s mouth to her ear made Sandra tremble with revulsion. She sensed how he was enjoying her reaction, and rage pushed away fear and disgust. One enemy, no weapon drawn—this was her chance. She jabbed backward with her elbow. Grunting, he loosened his grip. One jerking movement, and she was free. Sandra spun around and drew back for a karate kick when her leg buckled under her and she fell to the ground.
“I guess you like it rough, sweetheart.”
Helplessly, Sandra looked up at the man.
“I certainly like it rough, big guy.” Daniel’s calm voice came from behind her. With one step he was next to her; he threw a high kick at the dark-haired man and hit him under his nose. With his eyes rolled grotesquely back, the man collapsed. Daniel took the man’s gun and checked his pulse. “He’ll be out for a few minutes. You forgot that your ankle is still injured. A mistake like that cannot happen again—it could have fatal consequences.”
Sandra stared at his outstretched hand but was dumbfounded by what she’d seen. Impatiently, Daniel bent down, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her up. “Everything all right, Sandy?”
“I thought you . . .”
“Did you seriously think I’d leave you in the lurch?”
“Yes. No. I don’t know. Where . . .” She pointed at the forest.
Her incoherence brought back his smile. “Somewhere back there. They won’t wake up again for a while, but we should still find something we can tie them up with.”
“How can it be that you’re able to do something like that?”
“Is it forbidden for doctors to know karate? In my job I have to keep a cool head. Panic never helps—it only kills.”
Sandra was still sorting through the events of the last few minutes. Despite his casual explanation, she remained distrustful. “It’s getting to where nothing surprises me anymore. If accountants can be experts in hand-to-hand combat, then doctors can, too, of course. Why not?” she said.
Bewildered, Daniel looked at her. “Accountants?”
“Forget it,” she said, annoyed at her careless comment. Slowly, she turned around. She would have liked to take the van and drive away; instead she pointed at the hut. “If there are more of them in there, we have a problem.”
“They would have come out already if that were the case. Besides, I checked in there before I took on this third bastard here. I don’t risk getting shot in the back.”
That really didn’t sound like something a doctor would say. Sandra looked him up and down. “In those few minutes you not only took out three guys but also checked the area?”
“If you’re not convinced that I’m one of the good guys, take this.” He held out the pistol. “Nine-millimeter Beretta. The magazine’s full—fifteen rounds—one in the chamber. The safety catch is here. Leave the safety on for now—the trigger on this is damned sensitive. And before you ask—I often work in crisis regions and am familiar with common weapons.”
Although he explained the weapon to her with calm objectivity, Sandra realized her distrust had hurt him. She couldn’t blame him; she probably sounded ungrateful.
“Can you handle that?”
“Yes. But what about you?”
“One of them had a revolver, .38 caliber. It’s heavy and unwieldy. I thought you’d like the nine-millimeter better.”
It was only now that Sandra noticed the bulge in his waistband. “Yes, I would. But why didn’t you use one of the guns to neutralize that guy?”
“Because he touched you, and it was a pleasure to knock him down. And now I’m going to take another look at the hut. We still need something to restrain these guys for when they wake up. If you like, you can make a phone call in the meantime.” He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and handed it to her.
“Where did you get this?” She turned his cell phone around, examining it. Hers was significantly thinner and didn’t have this tiny stub of an antenna, but the device in her hand didn’t really look outdated.
“I’ve had that since I put it in my pocket this morning in my sister’s guest room. These guys aren’t exactly pros, or they’d have searched us for weapons and phones, but I’m not planning on complaining.”
“Neither am I. But until we know where we are, it makes no sense to call anyone.”
“As you like. I’m taking a look at the hut.”
Sandra could have sworn he had whistled as he walked the short distance to the hut. He looked through the window, felt around the doorframe, and then stepped back a few feet. His casualness had disappeared in a second.
Sandra quickly ran to him. “What is it?”
“I couldn’t think of a sensible reason why someone would store drums in here. First I thought about foresters. Diesel or gasoline for vehicles or machines. But the road here doesn’t look as if it’s used regularly. I worry it has to do with something else.”
He reached into his pocket and took out a folding knife, then furrowed his brow and cursed. “Go to the van and get the flashlight.”
“Where did you get that knife?”
“The blond guy loaned it to me. I need the flashlight.”
“What flashlight?”
“The one your boyfriend just dropped. It rolled in front of the van.”
It surprised her less and less that Daniel, unlike herself, knew his surroundings and exactly what to say and do. She was reaching for the flashlight when she changed her mind and climbed onto the driver’s seat of the van. It was time to prove to Daniel that she could do more than follow instructions. She maneuvered the van until its headlights bathed the front of the wooden house in bright light.
Daniel turned around and gave her a thumbs-up. “Good idea. Now wait by the trees over there until I signal you to come over.”
Puzzled, Sandra climbed down from the cab. “Why would I do that?”
“Because the whole hut could blow up at any second. I have no idea whether there’s a simple switch or a time-delay detonator. Don’t argue. Just do what I say.”
Sandra stayed where she was and tried to process the information. Murmuring something incomprehensible, Daniel walked over and gave her a quick kiss. “You’re distracting me. Go away. Please.”
She didn’t know what had surprised her most, the kiss or his commanding tone. Without objecting, she walked off and watched as Daniel used the knife to pry open the door and disappeared into the hut. A few moments later he appeared again, but it felt like half an eternity to Sandra. It wasn’t until she felt a burning in her lungs that she realized she had been holding her breath.
Daniel waved to her, and she immediately ran to him. Without thinking, she embraced him. “Are you all right? How do you know about these things? What’s really going on here?”
He returned her embrace and smiled. “Drums of gasoline and a little charge that would have exploded if someone had opened the door. Simple but effective. What it means is really something y
ou should tell me. And please don’t move so fast—think about your ankle. Right now the adrenaline’s keeping you from feeling the pain, but the sprain’s still there.”
Daniel’s words seemed to have a direct effect on her hurt ankle. Seeking a distraction, she looked at the hut as if the answer to her questions were in there.
With some cables in his hand, Daniel turned away from her. “Take some time to think about whether you want to tell me anything, and if so, what. I’ll take care of the guys and bring them here. Those three are little fish. This is something of an entirely different caliber. This rigged bomb was probably intended to pulverize both them and us. I bet they’ll talk when they see it.”
Shivering, Sandra drew her shoulders up when she realized the danger she’d been in. Daniel turned to her again and took off his sweatshirt. Before she could protest, he’d already put the warm garment over her. “See you soon.”
In the beams from the headlights, she could see how muscular he was. His tight sleeveless T-shirt clearly showed that he worked out consistently, but he didn’t resemble one of those apelike bodybuilders. Although he wasn’t particularly large, his narrow hips and broad shoulders appealed to her; he was certainly well proportioned. She realized the van’s windshield reflected whatever was in front of it, and he had noticed her staring. Suddenly his shoulders shook. “Glad you like the view,” he said without turning around.
CHAPTER 8
After he had dragged the two men to the van, Daniel was winded and found the cool night air refreshing. He checked the cables he had used to restrain the three men to ensure that they would hold and wiped his sweaty forehead.
Nemesis: Innocence Sold Page 8