“Can I have five more minutes? Just to psych myself for what’s coming.” She tried to keep her tone flippant, but it was becoming more and more difficult.
“Nuh-uh. I have a schedule to keep to,” he said, looking regretfully at his watch.
He approached her. He had the scalpel in his hand again. “Now, where shall we begin?”
“How about we don’t begin at all?” she suggested, breathing as deeply as she could through her nose.
“You’re no fun, Diana darling. But I’ll give you another minute. Just so that you can anticipate what is going to happen to you for a little longer.”
“How long do you think this will take?”
“It all really depends on how long I can keep you alive. But I’ve set aside a few hours for this little endeavor. I’m hoping it will be enough, but if it’s not, I can always stay longer. Or come back later.” His lips curled into a delighted smile. With the scalpel, he lightly stroked her arm where the fine pale hairs stood up at attention, scraping the blade across the goose bumps that rumpled her skin.
“You know, I have always been fascinated by the ‘death of a thousand cuts’ they practiced in China. They did it until the early 1900s, you know. I was always curious if it was actually possible to keep someone alive for that long. Many people believe that it only involved making cuts on the body, but that’s not true. They did other things.” He leant down and whispered into Diana’s ear.
“Really? How fascinating,” Diana ground out through her clenched jaw as he moved away.
“Isn’t it?”
“But rather barbaric, don’t you think?”
He shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. I think of it as an art form. It’s not easy to keep someone alive through all one thousand cuts. I’m curious if I have the ability to do it.” He tapped his lip as he looked over his instruments. He put down the scalpel he had in his hand and picked up another. He held it up to the light. “Yes, this will do. It will do just fine.” He turned back to her, his eyes shining with anticipation. “Are you ready, my dear?”
As she watched, he lowered the scalpel to her arm. She braced herself.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like to scream again? It would help me focus.”
Diana knew the moment that scalpel touched her skin, she’d feel pain like never before.
She ripped another chilling scream that caused the air to vibrate. The building shook. The sound echoed off the walls, off the huge, hollow space. The pigeons who’d settled again on the beams high above her head flew out through a broken window, the sound of their flapping wings a calming contrast to the terrifying sight beneath them.
Surgeon leaned over her. “Now, keep still, Diana.“ She watched the scalpel’s blade glint in the sunlight as he lowered it to her arm. She began to pant and look around frantically, the whites of her eyes holding steady as her irises flicked back and forth within them.
“Here we go, Di—“
“BACK OFF!”
There was a massive thud followed by a crash as one of the doors to the warehouse smashed open. Peter’s furious voice filled her ears. She heard boots running across the floor of the warehouse. It was the sweetest sound she had ever heard. He was here. Just like they’d planned.
CHAPTER TWENTY
“WHAT’S GOING ON?” Surgeon asked mildly, his hands in the air. He was still holding the scalpel. “How did you find us?” He looked down at her. “You tricked me, Diana dear.”
Diana inhaled deeply, one breath after another. The adrenaline was making her heart race. “Another lesson in humility. Except this one’s going to cost you. You’ll be paying for the rest of your life, at least. I’ll make sure of it.” Big words. A lot bigger than the way she felt as she lay strapped to the table, shaking and in pain.
Surgeon shook his head. “Well played, Diana, well played,” he said.
Peter stormed up to him. “I told you to get away from her!” he bellowed. Surgeon dropped the scalpel and stepped away from the table.
“He moves so much as a hair, shoot him,” Peter said. “And I don’t care where.”
“Yes, sir.” Diana could hear at least four other male voices.
Peter was by her side in the next moment. He ripped off his headset and leaned over her, his wide shoulders thankfully blocking Surgeon from view.
“He admitted to the killing. Did you get it all? He admitted to the killing.”
“Shhhh, we got it all. It’s fine.”
“What happened? What took you so long?”
“Later. Let’s get you out of here,” he whispered. He smoothed her hair back from her sweaty forehead. He was very gentle, but she still flinched.
“Sorry. I know you’re in pain. I heard everything.” He went to work on the straps holding her down, being as careful as an angry man of his size could be.
“Can I help you up?” he asked.
She took a deep breath. “Please,” she croaked.
He bent over. “Hook your arm around my neck. I’ll pull you. Less contact that way.”
He levered her into a sitting position and took a step back to give her some room. Another deep breath. She swung her legs around and slipped off the table. “Bad idea,” she groaned as she swayed. There was ringing her ears, her vision blurred. Peter was there in an instant. She leaned against him. “Thank you,” she whispered.
“Let’s get you out of here,” he said.
She nodded but paused. “Just a moment.” She hobbled over to Surgeon, who was watching her curiously as two members of the Emergency Response Team cuffed him.
“I want you to know that I will forget all about you after I walk out this door. Got it?” she snarled. “Stand back,” she said to the ERT. She brought her closed fist into contact with the soft underbelly of Surgeon’s rib cage at high speed. She followed up with her knee and hit him hard in the groin. As he folded over, she brought her fist up yet again, this time into his face. A kick to his chest was her final riposte as Surgeon lay bleeding and coughing spittle onto the floor.
“Better?” Peter asked who was standing by.
She looked up at him and smiled through her agony. “Much.”
“Now can we get out of here?”
She shook her head. “What’s wrong now?” Peter asked.
“I think I’m going to do something very embarrassing,” she whispered.
Peter rolled his eyes. “Go ahead. I’m ready for anything.”
“I’m never going to live this down…” she trailed off.
Peter waited until Diana started to fall before he swung her up in his arms. He looked down at her. She was mentally stronger than most of VPD put together. But she took crazy risks.
And he was just as much of a nutjob. Listening to her banter with a psychopath had been excruciating. When he heard Diana’s scream, shock and terror had thrown him against a wall. He’d been running to his car listening to their conversation through his headset and talking to Ryan, the tech guy who was tracking Diana’s movements.
Her being captured had been part of the plan. Him going down had not.
He’d screwed up. He should have given Diana more space. He should not have been in the bedroom when the decoy came in, but he was damned if he’d just let Surgeon take her without a fight. Like Kieran said, she was his now.
And so Surgeon had gained a head start on him during which Diana could have so easily been killed. It had been a lot of terrifying ground to make up, and Peter had found himself praying to a God he didn’t believe in that he’d make it to her in time.
“Will she be okay?” Stockton, commander of the ERT asked, looking at Diana’s prone body in Peter’s arms. Despite her occasional short-tempered ways, Diana had won over most of the people she’d worked with. Her energy, intelligence, and most of all, her loyalty made her popular, if a little intimidating.
“She’ll be fine. She’s too hard-headed not to be.” He paused. “Take care of this piece of trash, Commander,” he said, nodding his head at Surgeon, “and be
careful. He’s not your average criminal.”
“I’m delighted you noticed,” Surgeon said.
Peter looked at him. “One more word out of you, and I might forget I’m a cop. And I promise you, these guys would look the other way,” he growled.
Surgeon blanched and took a step back. He was a predator, but he recognized that Peter was just as dangerous when pushed. And Peter was near breaking point.
“Don’t worry, we’ll take real good care of him,” Stockton said.
Peter walked out into the light, carrying Diana carefully. He blinked to clear his vision and gently deposited her on the back seat of his car.
The plan had been very, very risky, but she’d been right about the principle behind it. If they simply captured Surgeon, they would have gotten nowhere. He would have lawyered up, ducking and weaving around the facts. They would never have gotten to the truth.
When Diana had proposed she get herself alone with Surgeon and use his obsession with her against him, Peter had been worried she wouldn’t be able to handle it, but she’d reassured him. It wasn’t her usual spiel of “I can handle anything” blather, either. Her considered, thought-out reasoning had convinced him. And the security measures they’d put in place. The conversation, for once, had not been a battle. Well, not much of one.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
“I DON’T LIKE this,” Peter grumbled.
“Letting him grab me is the most elegant solution.”
“Elegant? Lady, you seriously need to revise your adjectives. There is nothing elegant about this. Suicidal? Dangerous? Stupid? Yes. Elegant? Not so much. Donaldson will go ape.”
“Please don’t tell him, Peter. Or Kieran. They won’t go for it.
“And for good reason. I’m not sure if I should be insulted that you think me the schmuck you can bamboozle or flattered that you trust me with your wild-ass ideas.”
“Of course, I trust you,” she said. “You’re my partner.” He was mollified for a moment, until he came crashing back to Earth in all his fiery glory when he remembered precisely what she was asking of him.
“Look, this is crazy. I won’t know where you are. He’ll take your phone. How will I find you? And how do you know you’ll be able to get him to incriminate himself? How can you be certain?”
“Whoa!” she laughed. “One question at a time. Look, finding me will be easy. See this?” She pointed to a tiny butterfly tattoo on the inside of her wrist.
“Yeah, a tattoo. I’ve noticed it before. What of it? Are you showing me how to identify your body when he kills you and takes your head as a trophy?”
“Don’t be an idiot,” she huffed. “I don’t intend to die. And this isn’t just a tattoo. It hides a tracking device that monitors my position as well as my vital signs at all times. Courtesy of CSIS. You can follow me with this,” she said, handing him a smartphone. He looked down and sure enough, he could see her heart rate and her location.
“Well, that’s nice. I’ll know the precise moment he kills you.”
“It’s the latest tech. They’re being used to track agents to reduce the number of disappearances and kidnapping-related deaths. They’re also used by government officials when they travel to high-risk places.”
“Hmm, I suppose they’re never used to track persons of interest, no matter how illegal it might be,” he said, his tone laden with sarcasm. “How did you get your hands on one?”
“Never mind that. If we’ve got the tech, why not use it?”
“Okay, I can track you. What’s next in that big brain of yours?”
“Our guy’ll be so pleased that he finally got his hands on me that he won’t be able to resist showing me how incredibly intelligent he is. I’ll get him to tell me what happened with Garibaldi. We’ll be recording it, and voilà, we’ve got him.”
“Of course. Simple. Easy. What could possibly go wrong?”
“Come on, Peter. Where’s that ‘Who dares wins’ attitude? SpecOps, over a hundred missions, decorated war hero persona?”
Peter’s face darkened, “That was different. How do I know when to get you out of there? Use my best judgment?
“Nope.”
“Of course not, silly me.”
“That’s what this is for,” she said, pointing in the direction of her cleavage.
Peter refused to take her bait. “Yes?” he said, not taking his eyes off her face.
“There’s a tiny, almost undetectable microphone with a five-kilometer range hidden in the wire of my bra. You’ll be able to hear everything.”
“In your bra.”
“Yes, in my bra,” she replied. “And, because I know you like to have backup plans to your backup plans, I will turn on my tooth.”
“Your what?”
“My tooth. A few years ago, I had a tooth drilled and a tiny device placed inside. When I trigger it, it will send an emergency signal indicating that I need backup. It will also transmit my location. I trigger it by grinding my teeth like this.” She bared her teeth and moved her lower jaw from side to side. “As long as I am conscious, it works great.” She gave him a big smile.
Peter’s face was thunderous. “You’re loving this, aren’t you?”
“It’s my James Bond moment,” Diana smiled.
“You do know that that’s fiction, right?”
Diana merely grinned back at him.
“I don’t know. This CSIS world of yours with all the covert crap, putting yourself in danger. It bothers me. Too much could go wrong.”
“You know, you’re going to have to tell me a little more about your time in the military one of these days. How is this any different than that? You were out hunting terrorists in caves!”
Peter scowled. “Yeah, but I was armed to the teeth! I had my men – multiple, highly trained, heavily weaponized men – with me. I wasn’t handing myself over like a sacrificial lamb.”
She shrugged again. “Well, unfortunately, collecting intelligence isn’t always easy or safe.”
“You have a knack for understating things, you know. Not easy? Not safe? Handing yourself over to a psychopath who likes to chop heads off and is obsessed with you is just nuts. And I’m crazy for going along with it.”
“So you will?”
Peter stared down at the floor first, then gave her a sideways glance. He knew he was nearly worn down.
“If I didn’t know you better, I’d think you had a death wish.”
“Nope, definitely no death wish here. Just a desire to make the world a little safer. Take the bad guys down.” She leaned over and put her hand on his arm, and looked at him appealingly. “Just like you.”
“You know, I really wish your self-preservation instinct was much more developed,” Peter grumbled. “Okay, so I’ll know where you are and be able to hear everything. What’s next?“
“Psych. That’ll be the safe word. When I say ‘psych’, it means it’s time for you to get on your white horse and get me the hell out of there.”
“Psych? What kind of safe word is that?”
“One that works for me,” she said and poked her tongue out. She turned serious. “Look, we have to make this look real. No heroics, alright?”
Peter took a deep breath. “Will you be alright?” he asked. She looked him in the eye and nodded.
“Yes.” She gave him a wink.
“Okay,” he tried not to sigh, “I won’t charge in before you’re ready, but you have to promise me you won’t put yourself in more danger than is necessary. If anything feels off, no matter how slight, you say the safe word, even if we don’t have the intel. Got it?”
She saluted. “Sir, yes sir,” she barked. And then, she whispered, “I promise.”
“Good,” he said, satisfied with her answer, for once. “One more thing. When you go on that TV show, try not to piss him off royally. He’s already insane. We don’t need him wound up even more.”
“Why would I do that?”
Peter raised an eyebrow. “Have you met you?”
&
nbsp; “I’ll try to be good.”
Peter groaned. He’d known then he wasn’t going to like whatever was about to happen.
But all that was in the past now. The plan had worked out. Not exactly as they’d intended but well enough. They had their man, and Diana was okay. He pulled up in front of Vancouver General, picked Diana up as gently as he could, and carried her inside.
“Where are we?” she mumbled.
“The hospital.”
“No!”
“Yes” he replied, firmly. It was like dealing with a child. She hit his chest weakly with her hand.
“You’re going in to get checked out. Stop arguing. Sheesh.”
“VPD! I need some help here!” he hollered into the hospital lobby. A nurse rushed over with a gurney. “She needs checking out. She’s been given a cocktail of drugs that’s left her in a lot of pain. And psychological trauma,” he added quickly as he lay Diana gently on the gurney.
“I’m fine,” Diana was slurring.
“And she talks rubbish sometimes, so there’s that.” Peter turned from the nurse to Diana. “I’ll be right here. They’ll check you over, then when they say so, we’ll go home, okay?” he told her softly. Two more nurses joined them and Peter watched, hands in his pockets, as they rolled Diana away down the corridor.
He turned around, considering what to do next. He was still wired from the rescue but his high had peaked, and he was starting to come down from it. A headache was starting to form, and the “what ifs” were starting to plague him. What if he hadn’t got there in time? What if the tracking devices had been compromised? He sat down in the waiting area and took out his phone. He needed to do something positive to offset his ruminations. It was time to update Donaldson.
“You better be calling to tell me Diana’s fine,” Donaldson barked into the phone.
Donaldson had been livid when Peter had told him what had happened. His boss could swear a blue streak but Peter had no idea he could be quite so creative. He’d sensed Donaldson would have thrown out curse word after curse word for five minutes straight if he hadn’t understood the gravity of the situation and the need to launch a rescue operation immediately.
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