by A. G. Henley
Five other men with Kalashnikovs followed him in. The gaze of one with black hair and brown eyes lingered on me before moving to his boss. The guy I fought in the laundry truck. If I thought seeing the group together would give away who they were or what they wanted, I was wrong. The only things I knew for sure about them were that they were male and heavily armed.
The first man held out a cellphone with a phone number already on the lit screen. “Miss Venkatesan. Please call your father.” His accent might be Eastern European. I’d heard enough audio clips of different languages to make an educated guess.
Veena crept closer to me. “W-why?”
“To assure him you’re safe.”
She glanced at me, and I nodded. The game was on; we needed to find out how they wanted to play it. She took the phone. The fear on her face as she held the phone to her ear was painful to see.
“Appa! Dad! Daddy, it’s me!”
I couldn’t hear what her father said, but it wasn’t much. The man plucked the phone back and spoke into it.
“Mr. Venkatesan. We have your daughter. You will deliver the prototype as requested, please.” He listened. “That is not our worry. We would like the prototype and specifications, and we will take excellent care of Veena until we get it. We have her bodyguard,” he glanced at my bare feet, “and her trainer, who was unfortunately wounded. Your daughter is healthy—for now.” He paused. “You have the instructions for delivery. We will be in touch again when we confirm you followed them.”
His expression was mild as he disconnected, but I had no doubt that he would do whatever was needed to get what they wanted. The question was what the Venkatesans would do. Of course, they would want to do anything they could to get Veena back. But did Mr. Venkatesan even have the ability to hand over the technology quickly? And if he did, would the kidnappers really just hand us over?
“We will leave soon,” the man said to us.
Leave? How? Snow still blasted the windows. Snowmobiles again?
“What about him?” I asked. Connor was doing a good job looking barely alive. “He needs medical care.”
“He will have it when we arrive at our destination.” But the guy didn’t look like he cared.
“Can we at least have water?” Veena asked.
“Soon.” He turned and walked out. The guards kept a close eye on us until they shut the door.
Veena sat down hard by the fire, deflated. Exhaustion fell over me again, making me wobble. I took two deep breaths, pushing it away. No time to be tired. Connor pried open an eye.
Grunting, he pushed himself onto one knee, keeping his injured leg straight. Veena and I grabbed his arms to help him up, then, arms around his back, we supported him on each side as he took a few limping steps. He could put weight on the heel of his left foot, but when he did, he sucked in a breath.
“Where do you think they’re taking us?” Veena asked as we walked.
“Wherever it is, I don’t think we should go willingly,” I said. “My team knows you two are in trouble. They probably figure I’m with you or somewhere nearby.” Or maybe buried under a snowdrift, which might suit Brown fine at this point. “With enough time, and a break in the storm, they’ll start searching. If we let these guys take us away—they might never find us. I think we should do whatever we can to stay here for as long as possible.”
Connor nodded.
I thought of the weapons I’d ditched outside. “I guess neither of you knows how to operate an assault rifle?”
“I do.” Connor grimaced as he took another step.
I smiled, figuring he was joking, but he wasn’t. “What were you hunting in those Vermont woods?”
“You’d be surprised.” He took another step and yelped. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
“Okay, you proved you were tough,” I said. “Now you should rest.”
“I want to try taking a few steps alone,” he said.
“Fine.” My voice was gruff. I was worried about him, worried about Veena, worried about the kidnappers’ plan, but if I softened, I might fracture like an eggshell.
Veena and I stepped away, he took a few gimpy steps, his right leg carrying most of the weight, and lowered himself back down to his spot on the floor. From his closed eyes and thin lips, bending his knee was the worst. I wouldn’t be surprised if the wound bled again under his pants. No point in checking; we couldn’t do anything about it.
“So, what’s the plan?” Veena asked me as we settled down next to him.
“How many of them do you think there are out there?” I asked.
Connor answered, his voice cracking. “Four on the snowmobiles. Three or four others who were already here, and the leader. Maybe one or two we haven’t seen.”
Around ten, then, plus dogs. I thought for a few minutes, working out the angles, then told them my plan.
“So that’s what you two will do,” Veena said, after a few clarifying questions. “What about me?”
My stare was pointed. “You do exactly what they tell you to do—and stay alive.” I squeezed Connor’s hand. “And you be careful. Don’t assume that leg will hold up. You’ll have to move quickly.”
Veena couldn’t stop moving. Her legs bounced up and down like a trapped butterfly’s wings, and she picked at her fingernails. Connor rested a little, throwing looks my way as I tugged my mostly dry socks back on and paced around to keep the blood flowing. I couldn’t find a single decent object in the room to use as a weapon.
“I still can’t believe they’re doing all this for some high-tech fabric,” I said to Veena.
She shrugged. “It’s really high-tech fabric.”
“Maybe it’s not just about that,” Connor said. “Maybe they want the tech . . . and to keep Veena off the podium.”
“But who would care about both of those things?” I asked. “And who has the ability to fund this kind of sophisticated operation? It has to be ridiculously expensive.”
“I don’t know.” That guilty look was back in his eyes. “But Nic, I really need to tell you something.”
“What?” I didn’t mean to sound so testy, but this wait was killing me, too. Veena looked at him curiously. He kept his eyes on the ceiling, avoiding our gazes.
“Veena’s parents hi—”
The door flew open, and seven armed men filed in. They were in full gear with Kevlar vests over snowsuits, balaclavas, helmets, gloves, and boots. Before Connor closed his eyes to pretend to be unconscious, an apology shone from them.
Two guys shifted him onto a basic field stretcher, and he moaned a little. Hmm. Good actor.
The leader gestured at Veena and me and then to the door. “Please.”
We stood, I pulled on my boots, and two men took our arms to lead us out. We followed the guards schlepping Connor down the hallway to the front entrance. My body was stiff with fear. I zipped my coat and prepared myself to act.
Outside, a man held the dogs with leashes and a firm grip. The shepherds growled at us, ears up.
The snowstorm had weakened a bit—what the kidnappers must have been waiting for. Floodlights now lit the place up. I paused for a second, mesmerized by the snow shimmering in the air, frosting the chateau, and coating the grounds in silvery white. Under other circumstances, the chateau might be the centerpiece of a Swiss snow globe. But not tonight.
Veena kept her head down, watching me from under her lashes. I took a measured breath. Time to do this. Faking a slip on the snow-covered ground, I pulled my captor off balance and grabbed his weapon, then tightened a forearm around his neck. The others whirled, their rifles trained on me.
Using the guard as a shield, I scuttled backward toward the tree where I ditched the Swiss guards’ weapons. I hoped I was aiming for the right one; my brain had been half-frozen when I’d arrived.
The leader put the muzzle of his gun against Connor’s head. “We have the weapons you discarded. I don’t want to take any more lives today, but I will if you give me no choice.”
Connor l
aid still. Fear charged through my limbs, but I continued backing my guard up far enough to see the base of the tree. The snow was all messed up and—no rifles. He wasn’t lying.
I couldn’t take out a group of this size by myself while still protecting Veena. My eyes swiveled, looking for a weapon for Connor. Nothing.
A thought went through my head: Connor was disposable.
I didn’t think they’d kill Veena, not when they were so close to their objective. But he was a different story. If I could find any way to get my client safely out of this, Xene and my other instructors might tell me to do it, even if it meant sacrificing Connor.
And for one awful second, I thought about it.
Then I dropped the rifle. With a growl, the guard scooped it up and shoved me back toward the group. Veena’s terrified expression only changed when she realized the kidnappers weren’t shooting anyone that second. As far as I could tell, Connor hadn’t seen how close he’d come to getting a bullet in the head one way or another.
Veena’s guard threw zip ties to my guard. Within seconds my wrists were secured behind my back. I grasped for a backup plan.
“It’s okay,” Veena whispered. “You did your best.”
Yeah, and that wasn’t good enough.
The men led us around the side of the chateau to what looked like a garden, the kind with a stone fountain and overgrown plantings covered in snow. It was probably beautiful in its day.
In an open area in the center, with engines running and headlights on, were two tricked out snowcats, transport vehicles with tank tread over a series of wheels. High-powered windshield wipers swept back and forth, keeping the windows cleared. Men were already behind the wheels, ready to drive.
We could not get in those things. Deep snow and steep terrain would be no problem for them. They could go almost anywhere wide enough to allow them to pass, and while they’d leave an impression, their tracks would disappear in the snowfall within an hour. I yanked my wrists apart, testing the tie.
The wind pummeled this side of the chateau, creating a hard-packed, curving wall of ice where the building met the ground. The cats sat in the bright light of the floods, ahead and to the right, but beyond was a wall of blackness, no trees. I’d bet a cliffside laid beyond. When it was clear, the view was probably spectacular.
I glanced at Veena. Her eyes were on the wall of ice. Her expression wasn’t scared now. She looked like she did before she dropped in the halfpipe to do something life threatening. I wasn’t sure what she was planning, but I could tell she was planning something.
“Veena, no!” I whispered.
Too late. She elbowed the guy holding her in the gut and bolted toward the wall. Leaning forward and digging her toes in, she ran up the curve, pushed off, and threw herself into the air, like she had in the halfpipe that night. Her legs flew over her head as she rotated, flipping and twisting. But instead of landing on her feet, she landed on top of her guard, squashing him. His head bounced hard on the ground, and he dropped his weapon.
It was a thing of beauty.
I scrambled into motion. My hands still tied behind me, I bulleted at the guard in front of me and slammed into him with my shoulder. It spun me to the side and my neck cracked viciously, but he went down. My guard raised his weapon to shoot me. I disarmed him with a roundhouse kick and went for a third guard, taking him down with a knee to the groin.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Connor boot the man holding the end of the stretcher with his good leg, knocking him back. The guard dropped the end of the stretcher, and Connor slid to his feet. Limping fast, he grabbed Veena’s guard’s gun and shot two men in the legs.
Knowing how to use a rifle to harvest an animal was one thing. Shooting real humans in precisely the spots to take them down but not kill them was another. I froze for a second, wondering at his performance, and then turned my attention to Veena.
My breath caught. One of the snowcat drivers aimed a rifle at Connor—and he didn’t see Veena stumbling into his path.
“Veena, get down!”
I shouted, but only got her to look back at me instead of at the danger she was running into. Preparing myself for the impact, I sprinted and flew through the air in front of her as the driver fired. Pain exploded through my left arm, and I landed on it with a scream.
My breath tore in and out of my lungs as the sharpness of the initial agony was replaced with a numbness spreading to my left hand. My brain shouted that something was seriously wrong. Veena skidded onto her knees next to me. Her eyes were huge.
“You’re shot!”
“Get . . . down!” I panted.
Connor hopped backward toward us, keeping his weapon on the rest of the kidnappers. Blood trickled into the snow with every step.
“Stop this. Put your weapon down.”
Still armed, the leader led his remaining men forward. The snowcat drivers were behind us. We were surrounded.
Connor hesitated, the muzzle of his rifle jerking from one man to another, before he dropped it to the ground. I didn’t blame him. If he opened fire, they would too, and no one would survive.
“I planned to take you all to ensure we received what we asked for, but only the girl is absolutely necessary.” The leader said something in a low voice to the others, and they advanced on Veena.
“No!” She clung to me.
I murmured to her. “Veena, go with them.”
Shame flooded me for giving up, but what else could we do? They wouldn’t kill her, at least until they had what they wanted. She’d survive for now. Maybe my team could still find her.
The men stepped to us, weapons on Connor and me, and one reached cautiously for Veena.
Her dark eyes met mine, watery but defiant, and for a moment, snowflakes drifted quietly between us.
Until an explosion rocked the garden, lighting up the night sky and knocking the kidnappers off their feet.
Twenty-Three
The snowcats were on fire. Men wearing helmets, body armor, and night vision goggles surged around the vehicles, around the kidnappers—who were already getting to their feet—and around us. I tried to move, to help Veena or Connor, but my hands were still secured. Veena threw herself over me, covering my face so I couldn’t see.
“Veena, get off!” I yelled.
Connor shouted something, but his words were garbled. I wormed my way out from under Veena, yelling at her to stay down. A few shots cracked the air, and male voices called in German and English. Veena whimpered.
“It’s okay. You’ll be okay.” I babbled. I wasn’t sure any of us would get through this, because I didn’t know what the hell was happening. But a second later I relaxed when I heard an American voice.
“Who’s hit? Who’s hit?” The man shouted.
“Nic is!” Veena yelled, her voice panicky. “Her arm!”
Someone cut the zip tie, freeing my arms, and rolled me gently onto my back. If I wasn’t already in shock, seeing who leaned over me might have done the job. It was the mystery man.
He looked me over. “Can you move your left hand?”
I tried, and my fingers twitched. He nodded, looking relieved. Veena, hovering over me, burst into tears.
“Who are you?” I asked the man.
He patted my good shoulder and yelled, “I need a medic over here.” And he took off.
“Veena! Are you hurt?” This voice I definitely recognized. Brown.
“No! I just . . . can’t . . . stop crying.”
He put an arm around her, and she sobbed into his chest. Now I’d seen everything.
“Chief, I’m—” I wanted to apologize for disobeying his orders, but a million knives shoved themselves into my arm. My lips pulled back in a grimace instead.
“Later,” he said. He waved a hand at someone behind him and pulled out a walkie-talkie. “Veena, your father wants to talk to you right damn now.”
She took it. “Appa? I’m safe. I’m okay, Appa. Amma?” She moved away, and Brown followed.
&n
bsp; A new person pushed into my line of sight. Latex gloves covered his hands. “Let me take a look at that arm.”
“Connor was hit, too. His leg.” I craned my head around to look for him, but the pain from my shoulder down was exquisite. I gasped.
“I’ll get to him in a second,” the medic said. I almost passed out as he poked and prodded my arm. He gave me a shot of something, and within seconds, it all went numb.
As I listened to our rescuers secure the scene, I slowly let myself relax. Not one damn thing had gone as planned, but the kidnappers were neutralized. Connor and I were alive.
And most importantly, Veena was safe.
Helicopters delivered Veena, Connor, and me to a hospital in Ilanz, about a ten-minute flight. Not a bad trip—if you weren’t flying off the backside of a glacier on the tail end of a snowstorm in the Swiss Alps.
Thanks to the narcotics the medic gave me, the jerky flight wasn’t as terrifying as it might have been. Veena kept one hand on me and one on Connor, her jaw clenched. He kept trying to talk to me, to explain, but between the meds, the shock, and the turbulence, I couldn’t focus.
Later, I was seriously pissed at him for something . . . only I couldn’t quite remember what.
Veena’s parents and their security team met her at the hospital. When the medical staff whisked Connor and me away to separate examination rooms, Veena promised to visit as soon as possible.
The bullet chipped my humerus. At least, I think that’s what the surgeon said after they scanned me. His German accent was thick, and I was pretty out of it.
I went to sleep in an operating room and woke up sometime later in a private room, propped up by fluffy pillows, my left arm in a cast, and an IV piercing my right forearm. I could feel the cold trickle of fluids into my vein. The fuzziness in my head told me I still had plenty of painkillers on board, but considering everything, I felt pretty good being alive.
Brown talked on his phone in a clunky chair a few feet away. A little sign on the wall over his head showed a picture of a cell phone with a red slash over it.