a
mighty machine of peacekeeping. Maintain the flow of information, be sure it
moves in only one direction. But it was too late for that rule, he already knew
too much about her and something in his eyes told her he could smell a lie.
“The truth, krahsniy .”
“I didn’t secure the hotel,” she confessed. “I took it on
faith that it was safe without checking. Only the rudimentary security measures
were in place when I went out on that beach to wind down. I was feeling pretty
smug about the operation. They blew it up while I was drinking a beer.”
“This is burn scar, not shrapnel.”
“It’s both. An umbrella caught fire and fell on me, and the
fire turned the sand into glass shards. They spent months picking out the
slivers and grafting new skin on my side. But that was nothing. We lost three
men that day. I lost them.”
Again he tipped the glass of water to her mouth. “You feel
guilty?”
“Feeling is something I’ve tried not to do since.”
“Little bird.” He stroked her cheek. “The Greeks called it
hubris, Hindus believe in karma. You know that it does not exist, yes? The gods
do not punish one for pride or confidence. They do not raise the humble to
glory. There is only one who judges us all equally, and that is Death.”
“Yeah, well, I’m trying to stay away from him too.”
Chapter Eight
She awoke to such a strange sensation that it took her long
minutes to realize that her wrists and ankles were free. She sat up and rubbed
the places where the cuffs had chafed. Beside her on the bed was a little pile
of plastic, stomped into jagged pieces. Bits of her cellphone she recognized,
but there were too many shards, some of them silvery in hue. Then it struck
her—the van’s distributor cap. She would not be escaping unless it was on foot.
Alexi’s tactics were rough but effective.
He was nowhere inside the cottage so she stepped into a
large, cedar-scented bathroom for a much-needed shower. Reveling in the gush of
warm water, she felt her head clear. Alexi could remove every means of escape
he liked, but she wasn’t going anywhere. She could not flee this place until
she had the information OSO needed. As long as she was free and unencumbered,
there was still a chance she could get it. The playing field had been leveled.
She was no longer Alexi’s prisoner, but neither was he hers. One well-timed
move would put him back under her power, but she would have to be careful.
A cursory sift through her purse revealed that he had
removed everything but her lipstick and tissues. Even the mirror compact was
gone. Smart move; it would have been far too easy to smash the glass and hold a
sliver of it at his throat, or better yet, his eye. No problem, she told
herself, pulling on a short white robe she found hanging behind the bathroom
door. It was time to switch to what Alexi called “psychological tactics”, to
bring the enemy down with his own weapons.
He wanted her. It wasn’t true that desire made everyone weak
but him strong, he had only been taunting her by saying so. Anyone in desperate
need gives up power, and this man’s need was easy to stoke into a flame that
burned up every ounce of resolution.
Whether she felt any similar need was a question she tried
not to ask herself.
She padded into the big front room then stilled, every sinew
frozen. Someone or something had its eyes on her, and there was a
not-quite-rightness in the air. She willed the rush of adrenaline to subside
throughout her body and slowed her fluttering heart. The sound of something
hard dropping to the floor made her pivot, and there, in the open doorway, a
squirrel watched with regret as its acorn rolled noisily across the wooden
floor.
The squirrel fled without its snack as Coco pushed out the
door and into the gentle Scottish sunlight. The day was warm, with a caressing
breeze, but it was the view that stopped her, her breath hitching in her chest.
They had driven in at night and missed the spectacular
mighty machine of peacekeeping. Maintain the flow of information, be sure it
moves in only one direction. But it was too late for that rule, he already knew
too much about her and something in his eyes told her he could smell a lie.
“The truth, krahsniy .”
“I didn’t secure the hotel,” she confessed. “I took it on
faith that it was safe without checking. Only the rudimentary security measures
were in place when I went out on that beach to wind down. I was feeling pretty
smug about the operation. They blew it up while I was drinking a beer.”
“This is burn scar, not shrapnel.”
“It’s both. An umbrella caught fire and fell on me, and the
fire turned the sand into glass shards. They spent months picking out the
slivers and grafting new skin on my side. But that was nothing. We lost three
men that day. I lost them.”
Again he tipped the glass of water to her mouth. “You feel
guilty?”
“Feeling is something I’ve tried not to do since.”
“Little bird.” He stroked her cheek. “The Greeks called it
hubris, Hindus believe in karma. You know that it does not exist, yes? The gods
do not punish one for pride or confidence. They do not raise the humble to
glory. There is only one who judges us all equally, and that is Death.”
“Yeah, well, I’m trying to stay away from him too.”
Chapter Eight
She awoke to such a strange sensation that it took her long
minutes to realize that her wrists and ankles were free. She sat up and rubbed
the places where the cuffs had chafed. Beside her on the bed was a little pile
of plastic, stomped into jagged pieces. Bits of her cellphone she recognized,
but there were too many shards, some of them silvery in hue. Then it struck
her—the van’s distributor cap. She would not be escaping unless it was on foot.
Alexi’s tactics were rough but effective.
He was nowhere inside the cottage so she stepped into a
large, cedar-scented bathroom for a much-needed shower. Reveling in the gush of
warm water, she felt her head clear. Alexi could remove every means of escape
he liked, but she wasn’t going anywhere. She could not flee this place until
she had the information OSO needed. As long as she was free and unencumbered,
there was still a chance she could get it. The playing field had been leveled.
She was no longer Alexi’s prisoner, but neither was he hers. One well-timed
move would put him back under her power, but she would have to be careful.
A cursory sift through her purse revealed that he had
removed everything but her lipstick and tissues. Even the mirror compact was
gone. Smart move; it would have been far too easy to smash the glass and hold a
sliver of it at his throat, or better yet, his eye. No problem, she told
herself, pulling on a short white robe she found hanging behind the bathroom
door. It was time to switch to what Alexi called “psychological tactics”, to
bring the enemy down with his own weapons.
He wanted her. It wasn’t true that desire made everyone weak
but him strong, he had only been taunting her by saying so. Anyone in desperate
need gives up power, and this man’s need was easy to stoke into a flame that
burned up every ounce of resolution.
Whether she felt any similar need was a question she tried
not to ask herself.
She padded into the big front room then stilled, every sinew
frozen. Someone or something had its eyes on her, and there was a
not-quite-rightness in the air. She willed the rush of adrenaline to subside
throughout her body and slowed her fluttering heart. The sound of something
hard dropping to the floor made her pivot, and there, in the open doorway, a
squirrel watched with regret as its acorn rolled noisily across the wooden
floor.
The squirrel fled without its snack as Coco pushed out the
door and into the gentle Scottish sunlight. The day was warm, with a caressing
breeze, but it was the view that stopped her, her breath hitching in her chest.
They had driven in at night and missed the spectacular
Similar Books
