Inside the ruined church he sees the front of a white vehicle. A man leans on the door, talking fast.
Dim memories hammer in the animal’s mind. His friends will be coming. He must do anything necessary to keep the woman safe until they arrive. But he can feel precious minutes passing.
Suddenly a car motor whines up the hill he had just crossed.
The hairs stir on the back of his neck. He knows the sound of that engine. He knows who is inside.
The animal pivots hard. Digging for traction, he leaps the nearby fence and races along the marsh, trying to cut off the car.
He is too late.
WHITE FOG DRIFTED past the car windows.
Two minutes drew out, feeling like an agonizing eternity.
Kiera heard the cry of seabirds as she gripped the wheel. Every turn was dangerous with the fog hiding deep ditches beside the narrow gravel road.
Finally she came to a small gate that was standing open. She drove past, turned a sharp corner and stopped. The old stone church rose up before her, windows boarded. Scaffolding spidered up the walls and white tape crisscrossed the broken steps.
The grass near the marsh shook.
Wind, Kiera thought. She took a deep breath and parked in the deserted circle of mud that had once been a parking area, craning her head. Nothing moved around her.
Where were they?
She gasped as her door was flung open and she was yanked from the car by two men wearing black hoods. The bigger one tore away her bag and shoved her against the wall of the church. Another man appeared, spitting sharp questions.
She recognized his voice from the phone calls.
Behind her the car engine roared to life and sped away.
She was shoved hard against the church. Heavy cloth was pulled down, covering her face while they patted down her clothes and took off her jacket. Wincing at another rough shove, she was pushed blindly through the mud toward the side of the church. She remembered that this wall had been hidden by a tall hedgerow overgrown into a wild green barrier.
How would Calan know she was here?
Would he see her footprints? Could he find the car?
She shut away the chaos of questions. Instead she forced every bit of will into planning for what was to come.
CHAPTER TWENTY
KIERA’S HEART WAS pounding.
She couldn’t see a thing, thanks to the heavy canvas mask they had thrown over her head after pulling her from the car. All she could think about was her sister—where she was and whether she was hurt. She was about to demand answers when the bottom of her mask was jerked up and heavy strapping tape wrapped around her mouth. She was spun around roughly and shoved forward, first over muddy soil and then across uneven bricks. When she stumbled, someone yanked her upright and forced her blindly through what felt like a doorway.
Ten steps.
Another doorway. The threshold catching her foot.
Seven more steps.
She heard the bang of metal and then the sound of a car or truck door opening. A big hand gripped her waist, lifted her, tossed her sideways. With her hands bound, she couldn’t break her fall, sliding until her head struck a wall of cold metal.
She was inside a truck or van, Kiera thought. She had no clue whether she was alone or not. She stretched out her legs slowly, feeling corrugated metal beneath her calves. Almost certainly a van.
Was it empty?
She waited, listening for any sound, but the van was silent. Was it some kind of test?
She didn’t move for long minutes, the only sound the hammer of her heart. Clothing rustled. Kiera could have sworn she heard a low wheezing sound. She leaned closer. This time she was certain about the noise.
It sounded like the little wheeze that Maddy made when she was having trouble breathing. Warily, Kiera wiggled sideways and stopped.
She heard another wheeze. She repeated her movement, then stopped once more.
The wheeze came again.
Stiffly, she moved her bound hands closer to the source of the sound. Her fingers met something warm. Another hand.
Kiera felt trembling fingers open, grip hers and close down hard.
She had found her sister.
A MAN IN DUSTY KHAKI PANTS crouched behind a ruined stone fence, watching the road to the church. His rifle rested in place in front of him. No one would come down the road without being seen.
He looked smug and a little bored. He was used to harder jobs in more dangerous places. So he didn’t turn when the wind rustled through the grass behind him. He didn’t notice the shadow that fell briefly.
Claws slashed. Blood spattered. He fell before his hand could reach the rifle.
Something pulled his body away over the muddy ground, until it was hidden in the tall grass.
ZAROF GLARED at his assistant. “Where are Konstantin and Anto? They should have reported in twenty minutes ago.”
“At least four men have lost contact.”
“Then send someone out to check.”
“I did. We haven’t heard back from Konstantin yet.”
Something crossed Zarof’s face and he turned slowly, his angry gaze searching the fog-swept marsh. “Give him five more minutes to answer. And then I want you to go. Complete this thing. We’re close now. Do not fail me.”
The man nodded stiffly. “As you will.”
Zarof turned, his face grim as he picked up a large canvas bag and strode into the ruined church.
They had been lucky during their surveillance. They had managed to take one of the soldiers in Viscount Draycott’s protection team. He lay on a makeshift table now, arms and legs strapped down. So far he had refused to talk, but that was about to change. Zarof gestured to one of his men, who put a water tube down the man’s throat.
Seconds later he screamed, the sound muffled but desperate with pain. It would not be long now until Zarof had what he needed to know. Water was excrutiating and efficient. He nodded to his assistant who slapped their captive hard, rousing him.
“Now I ask you again. What is the code word recognition for Viscount Draycott’s security team?”
“Told you—” The man groaned the words. “No codes. Face recognition only. No…chances taken.”
Zarof scowled, jerking a hand to his assistant. The tube was reinserted. The screams resumed shortly after that.
THEIR HANDS LOCKED. It was the only warmth and hope in a world suddenly turned to a nightmare. Kiera’s thoughts raced wildly, but every practical choice was closed to her. They were gagged, bound, their faces covered by masks.
Think.
She felt Maddy’s body turn, so their hands were at right angles. And then she felt her sister’s fingers tap on her wrist, just above the strapping tape.
Memory swirled back. Two little girls with healthy imaginations and too much time on their hands, playing spy games.
Her sister tapped again, four times.
Four meant start. The silent code had given them hours of amusement, their own secret communication evolved over a dozen years.
Kiera frowned, trying to remember the rules. Four taps meant a number. Numbers for every letter in the alphabet. She squeezed her sister’s hand in affirmation. Waited.
Eighteen taps. R.
Twenty-one taps. U.
Fifteen taps. O.
Eleven taps. K.
R U OK?
Kiera squeezed her sister’s fist hard, twice. Their old answer for yes.
R U?
There was a moment of hesitation. And then her sister’s squeeze once, followed by a weaker second squeeze. It had to be bad if Maddy was qualifying her answer. Somehow Kiera had to get them out of this place, away from these madmen.
She frowned, realizing Maddy was tapping on her hand again.
F-o-u-n-d. A pause. S-c-r-e-w-s. Another pause. It didn’t make sense, Kiera thought.
Maddy continued. W-e c-a-n u-s-e.
Something small and sharp touched Kiera’s palm. A metal screw with a pointed tip
. Maddy must have found them on the floor of the old van. Finally they had a tool.
Small as it was, it could cut their taped hands. She coded back an answer.
Y-e-s.
She thought she heard Maddy’s muffled wheeze as she carefully took the screws into her hands and went to work on the tape. As they worked, Kiera heard a sound that made her heart lurch.
A man screamed half a dozen times, caught in torment. And then suddenly the screams ended.
ZAROF SCOWLED at the body of the dead English soldier. He had not talked, only babbled nonsense at the end. Always the same thing, that there was no team code for surveillance members. Face recognition only.
This would make Zarof’s mission far more difficult.
“Do you believe him, Zarof?” the other man said quietly. “Could a man lie under such pain?”
Privately, Zarof doubted it. The SAS soldiers he had worked with were superbly trained, but every man had his limits. No man could hold out forever.
“It makes no matter what I believe. We found no code. So we turn to the original plan.” He glanced at his watch and jerked a finger toward the nearby doorway. “Get them ready.” He pulled out his walkie-talkie. “Then go find the men who have not reported in. It is time,” he said.
FOG SWIRLED over the quiet canals and whispered through the long grass. Only the ruined spire of the church was visible briefly, and then the clouds swallowed it again.
Near the top of the hill, where the drive curved sharply, another man toppled silently to the grass and was dragged away, hidden in the fog.
NICHOLAS DRAYCOTT TAPPED his fingers on the steering wheel and then checked his watch. “How much longer before we’re out of this traffic?”
Izzy Teague muttered under his breath. “According to my GPS, we’re less than fifteen kilometers from the interchange. But at this rate it still might be an hour until we reach the church. We’ll have to find an alternate route.”
Nicholas reined in his impatience. Calan had sounded worried when he had called, and it took a great deal to worry his friend. Now Calan wasn’t returning any of his mobile calls, and Nicholas feared that the situation was unraveling.
Their destination was a ruined church overlooking the marshy coast. Calan had warned him to remain in cellular contact at a park service parking lot north of the marsh. Izzy was to approach the church on foot and rendezvous with Calan in five minutes.
But with the traffic snarled, there was no hope that they would be on time.
“What about your friend? What is one man going to do against a dozen armed extremists?”
Nicholas smiled a little grimly. “Never underestimate a Scotsman. Especially when he is a MacKay of Na h-Eileanan Flannach.”
“Beg your pardon?”
“The Grey Isles, sometimes known as the Flannan Isles. One of the farthest specks of land in Great Britain, shrouded year-round by mist, and no place for the weak.” Nicholas stared into the shifting light. “Calan can care for himself well enough. If any man at all can save the kidnapped woman he mentioned, Calan can.”
“I hope you’re right. Seems a tall order for one man, just the same.”
Nicholas called his friend’s mobile phone again. Like all the other times, he got Calan’s voice mail. “This could get nasty, since we’ll be driving on back roads, but we aren’t likely to have much traffic.”
“Because no one else knows the way?”
“No. Because no one else is crazy enough to drive through the marsh in a fog like this.”
“If anyone can get us there, you can, Nicholas. Let ’er rip.” Izzy’s smile faded as he saw patches of gray canals and narrow ditches nearly obscured by fog. In the uncertain visibility every turn held a potential for disaster.
Izzy glanced at Nicholas and shrugged. “Nasty. But it beats the hell out of a desk job.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
FOG BRUSHED THE MARSH.
Near the top of the hill, where the drive curved sharply, another man toppled silently to the grass and then was dragged away, hidden in the mist.
GRAY WALLS.
Gray ceiling.
Dirty gray windows.
Kiera forced her mind to be calm and focused as she stared around her. The men had come for her and for Maddy with no warning, yanking them to their feet and shoving them into this dark room. One man paced, muttering on a cell phone. Two others stood guard at the door. All the men were tall, dressed in dusty fatigues. Their faces were covered by black canvas hoods.
So far her captors had not noticed the dusty screws rolled up in the cuffs of her sweater. Nor had they stopped to check the tape around her wrists with more than a cursory glance.
Someone shoved her into a rickety chair and removed the tape on her mouth. Her sister was pulled to a table nearby. “My sister is sick. I’ll do whatever you ask. Just please get her medicine.”
A hand struck Kiera’s neck, whipping her sideways. Pain exploded through her head and the room flashed white. Then she was shoved back onto the chair, a cup of cold water thrown in her face.
“No words from you. No talk at all unless it is to answer the questions I will make. You understand me?”
She nodded stiffly. Across the room she caught Maddy’s terrified gaze. Now that Kiera’s eyes had adapted to the half-light, she saw her sister clearly for the first time. The pallor and the dark circles under Maddy’s eyes were unmistakable.
The taller man paced the room, his brisk, decisive movements marking him as the leader. From his voice Kiera recognized him as the one who had called her cell phone.
He gestured to someone outside the room and a motionless figure was dragged in, dropped at Kiera’s feet. “You see? This is what will happen to your sister if you give me one word less than the truth.”
The man was dead. Blood dotted his torn sweater as his eyes stared blankly at the ceiling.
Kiera forced down a reflex to gag and nodded.
“So now we begin. You are a relative of Nicholas Draycott.”
What was she suppose to say? How much did these people know? She realized that her sister’s life—and her own—depended on the answer she gave next. “We are distant relatives. Our families were—estranged.”
The man stopped pacing and swung around to face her. “Estranged? Then you are enemies?” Clearly he did not like this news.
“Not enemies. Just—out of touch.”
“But you know where his family is staying? You know how many guards protect him?”
Kiera hesitated. There was no choice but to lie, and she would have to do it perfectly. She hesitated, then nodded, trying to keep all expression from her face. “I know those things.”
She heard the excited rush of his breath beneath his mask. “You will tell me his schedule, every detail. You will tell me when he is expected at the abbey next.”
She gave the only answer she could. “I…will tell you.” She looked down at her locked hands, trying to appear undecided. If she looked too comfortable, they would be suspicious. She looked worried, biting her lip. “And if I do, you won’t hurt my sister?”
The man behind her raised a fist, but the leader cut him off with a sharp phrase. “Your sister will be safe as long as you answer these questions.”
“Then I will tell you everything I know.”
Her captor called out sharply. Another man trotted in with paper and pen. He shoved her toward the table and then pushed a chair in behind her.
“You will write me a picture of this place. The address, the police who guard him and the code words they give you. Write it now.”
Kiera’s hands trembled.
She leaned over the table, hiding every emotion. She would give them a map of the narrow streets near the British Museum, an exclusive area where they might expect to find a wealthy family living.
She offered up a silent prayer and then began to sketch out a map.
Footsteps hammered in a nearby room. The big man turned and called out an angry question, arguing with so
meone in the doorway.
She forced them from her mind, trying to remember the names of the streets from her visit there three days before.
Suddenly she heard the cry of something that could have been a wolf. She almost dropped the pen, but managed to tighten her grip and force herself to continue.
All that mattered was writing down the words that would save her sister. Meanwhile, Maddy’s breathing had become more strained. Kiera tried to write faster, sketching in street names and drawing up memories from tours she had organized to London.
When she looked up, only the leader was left in the room. He paced, speaking sharply into a walkie-talkie and snapping out orders.
Clearly, something was worrying him.
He crossed the floor and yanked the paper out of her hands. “If you lie, I will kill her while you watch.” He reached behind Kiera and retaped her hands and mouth roughly. The hood was dropped back over her head.
Then there was only silence. Long moments passed, and no one moved. Over the pounding of her heart, Kiera heard a low rustling. Someone was moving near her. Her sister’s cold fingers gripped her hands, tapping in a quick rhythm.
L-e-a-v-e.
She understood and tapped back. Maddy moved closer, sawing with her screw to free the tape from Kiera’s wrist. Her dusty hood slid free.
Emotions rushed through her at the sight of her sister’s pale, anxious face. Quickly, she pointed up at the rickety ladder left behind by some construction team that had abandoned repair work on the building.
Maddy nodded. Tape still covered her mouth, and there was no time to remove it. Kiera put her foot on the ladder, feeling the dilapidated wooden rungs sway dangerously. Slowly she climbed, passing a grimy, cracked window. Looking down, she saw muddy ditches half covered by drifting fog. Something dark moved along one of the ditches, then vanished.
Kiera heard an angry shout.
Silence and then a snarl. Or had she only imagined that low, wild sound?
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