“Mlle DeJonge, you will change first,” Skyrm said. “You have five minutes. Don’t attempt anything subversive because I would welcome an excuse to damage Mr. Parker.”
Larissa looked at Brian anxiously. “Go ahead,” he said. “I’ll be all right.”
Larissa hoisted her large backpack into the cargo area and climbed inside. Skyrm closed the doors
“Where are you delivering us?” Brian asked.
Skyrm’s answer was an impassive stare. Brian shrugged.
The other three men reappeared while Larissa was changing. They dropped the dead hikers’ backpacks into a puddle. “By the time they’re found, we shall be—” Kralik began, but Skyrm silenced him with a poisonous look. No one spoke again until Skyrm rapped on the door. “Your five minutes are up,” he said and pulled open the door before Larissa could reply.
She was sitting on the floor, fully dressed and wiping mud from her face with one of the microfiber towels from the camping supply store. She wore black jeans and a brown Blondie T-shirt that featured a gauzy, Warhol-inspired portrait of Debbie Harry in full pout.
“You have quite a T-shirt collection,” Brian said.
Larissa smiled at him. “The finest in Toulouse,” she said. She stood to climb out of the van, but Skyrm raised a hand.
“Stay there,” he said. “We don’t want you getting wet again. And I cannot allow Mr. Parker any privacy, not with his habit of escaping. The doors will remain open.”
“You pig!” Larissa shouted at him. “How dare you do this to Brian.”
“Larissa,” Brian interrupted. “Don’t worry about it.” He lifted his backpack and stepped into the cargo area. “It won’t be much different from gym class.”
Larissa nodded. “I shall close my eyes,” she said. She handed the towel to Brian and turned her back to kneel facing the partition. Rain drummed on the van’s roof.
Brian considered refusing to change, but he was drenched and desperately wanted out of his sodden clothes. Skyrm’s game was to humiliate him, so the best response was to just get it over with and refuse to acknowledge a loss of dignity.
He pulled a second towel and his original backpack, which still contained his clothes, from the larger hiking pack. He made a mental note to leave the oversized backpacks in the van. They wouldn’t be needed again. Brian changed quickly, pausing only to towel off. He avoided eye contact with the men watching him and ignored their chortling.
After he had pulled on another pair of cargo shorts and a navy blue polo shirt, Brian told Larissa, “I’m done.” She turned around and rejoined him.
Masson spoke for the first time. “Both of you, hold out your hands with your wrists together.” He leaned inside the van and bound their wrists with plastic straps.
Skyrm turned to his men. “I will join Masson in the van. You three follow in the sedan.”
Skyrm hurled the doors shut. The impact knocked a corner of the tarp free. It drooped to reveal part of a concealed sign. Four large letters were visible: BARC.
Brian needed to see more. He rolled to the wall. Reclining on his back with his legs extended like scissors, Brian caught the tarp’s trailing edge between his feet. He twisted on his hip and tore the tarp loose. It cascaded to the floor, exposing a vinyl banner held to the wall by magnetic backing. On a maroon background that matched the van’s exterior, ten-inch yellow letters spelled out BARCELONA PAQUETE SERVICIO. Below the name was a phone number.
“Do you know what that second word means?” Brian asked.
“Parcel, I think,” Larissa said.
“That sign is magnetic, and I bet there’s a second one behind it,” Brian said. “They can use those signs to disguise this as a delivery van. Skyrm made a joke about delivering us.”
Both doors in the driver’s compartment opened and closed. The van quivered as the engine came to life. The vehicle lurched forward and bumped along the muddy track. Brian and Larissa crawled to the partition and sat with their backs to it.
“Where do you think they will take us?” Larissa asked.
“My first guess is Zaragoza, because all this has something to do with your father’s project. But I suppose Barcelona has become a possibility. Right now there’s only one thing I know for certain.”
“What’s that?”
“That I’m glad to be wearing dry socks again. God, I hate wet socks. Walking around in squishy socks is the worst feeling in the world.”
Larissa shook her head. “We have just been kidnapped, and you talk about socks?” she said evenly, almost dreamily.
“Doesn’t matter what we talk about, we’d still be kidnapped,” Brian said and let out an enormous yawn. Their exhaustion puzzled him for only a moment. From nearly drowning to plunging down the ravine to witnessing cold-blooded murder, their emotions had been amped up by adrenaline all morning. Now that there was a lull, their bodies were crashing. Like coming off a Red Bull rush.
Larissa curled into Brian and rested her head on his good shoulder. She whispered into his ear, “I am not wearing socks.”
Brian glanced down at bare ankles peeking above her low-top Chuck Taylors.
“Tease,” he said.
Then they were asleep.
CHAPTER 28--SCHEDULE
Brian awoke to Skyrm’s voice.
“Today?” Skyrm said, repeating the word that had startled Brian from his sleep. Silence followed. Brian wondered why Masson wasn’t responding then guessed Skyrm was speaking on a cell phone.
Brian looked about. The sunlight coming through the partition window was brighter, and rain no longer pounded the roof. He listened to the high drone of the tires and figured they were traveling rapidly along a highway. Larissa stirred next to him. Skyrm had woken her, too.
His voice muffled only slightly by the partition, Skyrm spoke again. “No, I agree. This added confusion does benefit our plan.” Another silence came. Then, agitated, Skyrm said, “Both of them? I advise against that.”
Skyrm didn’t speak for a few moments. When he did, his voice had calmed. “All right. How much time do we have?” A pause. “We can just make it, but we will have to change vehicles. And we need new papers. Yes, we have them in the van. I will call again once they are in the car. Goodbye.”
Skyrm exhaled loudly as the call ended.
“What was that about?” Masson asked.
“The demonstration has been moved up to today, three hours from now.”
“What?”
“One of the high-ranking German officers must leave tomorrow morning. A family matter. He asked if they could rearrange the schedule and demonstrate the device today because, thanks to you, the equipment is already there.”
“And this is not a problem?”
“I consider it fortunate. Failure can be blamed on advancing the schedule. People will be less likely to notice the switch. Best of all, this ordeal will be over a day sooner. Once I collect our payment, we will be free of any further dealings with our deceased friend.”
Larissa nudged Brian and murmured, “Do they know we can hear?”
“Possibly,” Brian said. “It’s like he’s speaking in code, not giving names. ‘Our deceased friend’ is probably Eck. It sounds like they are planning to sabotage the demonstration of your father’s weapon.”
Above and behind them, Masson spoke. “But something troubles you. If it is not the schedule change, then what?”
“We are to take them to the base.”
“The boy as well as the girl?”
“Yes.”
“That is unwise,” Masson said.
“We have been doing many unwise things lately. Our employer is panicking. Partly because the operation is entering its terminal phase, but mostly because his conscience is conflicted.” He paused. “Please, my friend, do not allow me to work for an idealist ever again.”
Masson laughed. “This idealist will make us rich.”
“If he stops acting sentimental. I must call the others and tell them we will transfer the boy and the
girl to the car. This van cannot be seen on the base. And you will have to go without me. They shouldn’t recognize me, but still I had better not show my face. Not there.”
They laughed. Then Skyrm said, “I hope you have your credentials with you.”
“Of course.”
“Thank God one of my people prepares for emergencies.” A pause. “But you’ll need new papers, for them. That requires stopping at the warehouse.” Another pause. “Take Kralik. Documentation is his expertise. I will call him now.”
Skyrm called Kralik in the Passat and instructed him to rendezvous with the van at a rest stop outside of Zaragoza. Brian and Larissa exchanged glances when they heard the destination.
“What if they use us as hostages to blackmail my father?” Larissa whispered.
That possibility, among others, had occurred to Brian. He shrugged, taking note that the pain in his shoulder had subsided. “We’ll just have to see what happens,” Brian said. He looked around the vacant cargo area. “I wonder why Skyrm doesn’t want anyone to see this van. It seems pretty nondescript, and there’s nothing in here but those signs.”
When Skyrm ended the call, Masson asked, “Do they understand?”
“As well as they can. As well as I can.” Skyrm paused. “I feel uneasy about this job. So much has gone wrong in so short a time.”
“You can relax,” Masson said. “You are in Spain now, and the Spanish end of the operation has proceeded flawlessly.”
“Perhaps,” Skyrm replied softly, so softly that Brian had to concentrate to hear what followed. “But the boy hasn’t been in Spain until now. Wherever he goes—Lucerne, Nice, Toulouse—my plans come undone. I don’t like that he will be out of my sight once we reach Zaragoza.”
Skyrm fell silent. Brian held his breath, anxious to hear the next words.
“You must watch him, Masson,” Skyrm resumed. “Watch him as if he were your greatest enemy. Because if this job fails, it will be that damnable boy’s fault.”
CHAPTER 29--REUNION
Brian and Larissa climbed out of the Sprinter and saw they were parked behind a highway rest area far from other vehicles. Kralik, Voss, and Carter (whichever was which) were out of the Volkswagen and standing shoulder to shoulder on a diagonal between the car and the van. They formed a shield to block any rest stop patrons from seeing that the teenagers’ hands were bound. The Passat’s rear door was open on the passenger side, and Brian and Larissa were hustled into the car before anyone near the building could look their way.
Masson, who no longer wore the camouflage jacket, opened the driver’s door. He heaved the teenagers’ backpacks into the rear seat and settled behind the wheel. Kralik sat in the front passenger seat.
Skyrm approached Brian’s door. The window, controlled by Masson, slid down with a whir. Skyrm stood with the sun over his shoulder, forcing Brian to squint up at him.
“Continue to behave for another twenty minutes, Mr. Parker, and Mlle DeJonge will be peacefully reunited with her father,” Skyrm said. “Do not disappoint her.” The window closed.
Masson started the Passat and pulled away from the van. Brian looked over at Larissa, who had begun biting her lip at the mention of her father. They did not speak. The stony presence of Skyrm’s men told them conversation would not be tolerated. Instead, Brian smiled at Larissa lopsidedly to communicate hope, even though he, too, was confused by the promised reunion. Questions about Larissa’s father had dogged his thoughts since morning.
Brian looked through the windshield and noticed three ungainly black insects buzzing in the sky. No, not insects. They were dual-rotor Chinook helicopters flying in formation over a far off hill. They appeared tiny from here, but Brian knew that up close the Chinooks were enormous transport aircraft. Perhaps a military air show was happening nearby.
The distant buildings of Zaragoza, dominated by a cathedral’s spires, were directly ahead as the Passat hastened along the highway. Brian wondered which, if any, of the buildings was their destination when Masson startled him and took the first exit after the rest stop.
They came off a roundabout and headed into an industrial area with rows of warehouses. Masson pulled into a lot and parked where buildings shielded the car from the road.
Kralik exited the car and entered a door in the nearest warehouse. No sign or business name identified the door, only the number twenty-four above it. Brian filed this in his memory.
They sat in the Passat without speaking until Kralik emerged from the warehouse about ten minutes later. He handed a manila folder to Masson, then stepped to Larissa’s window and produced a hunting knife. Larissa gasped.
“Relax,” Masson said. “Kralik is just going to remove your bindings.” He pressed a button on the center console and Larissa’s window slid down.
“Raise your hands,” Kralik said.
Larissa complied, and Kralik sliced through the plastic strap. He walked behind the car and repeated the process with Brian. Without another word, Kralik limped back to the warehouse. The two rear windows whirred shut.
Masson examined the papers, then twisted in his seat to look directly at Larissa. “You have a friend your age named Jerome Bertier.” It was not a question.
“Yes,” Larissa said. She narrowed her eyes quizzically. “How do you know?”
Masson ignored her question. He faced Brian. “When we get to the gate, the girl will go by her own name, but your name is Jerome Bertier. Repeat it.”
Brian said the name.
“Good,” Masson said. “I will talk for us all. Neither of you is to speak unless the guard speaks to you, and then the only word you will say is sì. Understand?”
“Sì.” Brian and Larissa said it together without a hint of mockery.
“Bueno,” Masson said, and then he started the car. As Masson steered through the warehouses, Brian mentally assembled pieces of the jigsaw that had been the last few days. Masson was driving them to a military base. That fit with the Chinooks flying nearby. But there was something else. Yes. Lenore Harte had said Larissa’s father was supposed to demonstrate his device at a military base outside of Zaragoza. She even said the name. What was it?
Brian remembered. He asked, “Are you taking us to San Gregorio?”
As the name dropped, Masson’s hands tensed on the steering wheel. The reaction pleased Brian. “I was told you were clever,” Masson said through clenched teeth, “but you would have found out in a few minutes anyway.”
“What is San Gregorio?” Larissa asked.
“The military base where your father is supposed to give his demonstration.” Brian said. “Lenore Harte told us, remember?”
Larissa leaned forward anxiously. “Is my father all right? Have you people hurt him?”
Masson chuckled. “Your father is unharmed, although I imagine he is quite agitated at the moment.”
Then Masson added, “He has been worried about you.”
“How do you know that?” Larissa asked.
Masson didn’t reply. The Passat crossed back beneath the highway and entered a street lined with trees.
“He’s playing with us,” Brian said. “Don’t let him rile you.”
Turning his head to confront his passengers, Masson said, “I promise I am not playing when I say you will not pull any tricks when the guard questions us. Otherwise the girl’s father will be harmed.”
Larissa fell back into her seat, her face pale. Brian squeezed her hand.
The trees along the roadside gave way to a seven-foot-tall cyclone fence topped with razor wire. Masson pulled up to a gatehouse. A young, dark-haired guard stepped from the hut, and Masson lowered his window to talk. The guard nodded, seeming to recognize Masson. A conversation in Spanish ensued. Brian understood none of it, except that the name DeJonge was repeated frequently. Masson handed over the papers from Kralik’s folder. Brian’s breath caught when he saw that his own passport photo identified him as Jerome Bertier. The papers could have been faked with any word-processing software, but only Si
lver could have supplied that picture.
The guard peered into the back seat.
“Larissa DeJonge?”
“Sì,” Larissa replied.
“Jerome Bertier?”
“Sì.”
The guard next searched the trunk. A second guard appeared to check the sedan’s undercarriage with a mirror mounted on a pole. When their inspections were finished, the second guard walked away while the first guard returned their papers and handed Masson a parking pass and three visitor’s badges on lanyards. He reentered the guardhouse and raised the barrier.
Masson drove past the gate and into a parking lot crowded with military and civilian vehicles bearing license plates from across Europe.
“How is your shoulder?” Larissa asked Brian as Masson parked the car. “Do you want me to carry your backpack?”
“No, I can manage. But thanks.”
As they got out of the Passat, Masson handed them their badges and said, “I will tell you where to go, but you will walk before me.”
He guided them through San Gregorio’s parade ground, which was a brick-paved square symmetrically surrounded by four L-shaped Mediterranean buildings with arched doorways, tiled roofs, and twin clock towers at the entrance. The red and black bricks of the parade ground formed a geometrical pattern that appeared more Aztec than Spanish to Brian.
Past the ornate parade ground was a conventional military base with lines of barracks and soldiers driving past in Jeeps. The Chinook helicopters Brian had seen from the highway noisily hovered several hundred yards away. Masson directed them beyond the barracks, and presently a vast desert stretched before them. To Brian it looked like the Arizona development where his grandparents lived, minus the condos.
On their left was a soccer field without goals but with trailers along one side. Bleachers were set up at the far end and on the side opposite the trailers. The near end of the field remained open. Men and women wearing a variety of military uniforms mingled near the bleachers. Masson motioned Brian and Larissa toward the trailers. As they approached the first one, a middle-aged man stepped from its door and descended the metal stairs bolted to the frame.
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