Read Online The Doll by Taylor Stevens - Free Book Online Page B

office, a journey that mentally slowed while Munroe absorbed the details of the workstations, the miniature torches, the pointed tools, and the furniture pieces, each calling out to be put to use in the way of salvation. But this instinct toward survival and its rush to violence was futile, because choke chain to the junkyard dog’s neck, there was Logan. Always Logan.
    T HE D OLL M AN stood when Munroe entered, and once more, with the geniality of an age gone by, offered her one of the high-backed chairs facing his desk. He waited until she sat before returning to his own.
    He motioned to her hair. “Very nice,” he said. “The illusion is better than I had anticipated.” And then he smoothed his tie and placed his hands on the desk. Folded them. “You’ve seen the package,” he said.
    “Yes,” she said. “I have questions.”
    “Let’s take coffee, and we can discuss.”
    He picked up the phone.
“Mala, donesi nam dvije kave, brzo. I to u najboljem porculanu kojeg imaš, čuješ?”
Not English, not Albanian, not Macedonian, but close. She ticked more information off a mental checklist. Like her, this man spoke many languages, and as it was with her, language had nothing to do with his place of origin.
    There was a knock and then a slight creak as the door opened. The Doll Man motioned curtly and a young woman entered carrying a silver tray with full china service. Munroe and the Doll Man stared at each other without breaking eye contact, while the woman laid out piece by proper piece, as if this was the end of a meal at the Ritz instead of some alternate universe where Logan had been kidnapped by a madman and to save him Munroe would violate every sense of self and self-preservation by delivering that girl downstairs to … Where exactly?
    Alone again, the Doll Man, poised and proper, poured cream and sugar and when Munroe made no move to do likewise, he poured a second cup and took a sip from it before placing it in frontof her. “There are no drugs,” he said. “And, please, what are your questions?”
    “Where do I deliver the package?” she said. “And through what means?”
    “You will travel by car. It’s a hard one-day drive, two days, perhaps, depending on circumstances.”
    Circumstances. Like dodging borders, outrunning authorities, and trying not to attract attention to the animal in the front seat. Or did they intend to use the trunk?
    “Tomorrow you receive details,” he said. “And the rules, and then the package will be your problem.”
    “You have men,” she said. “You’ve got guns. You don’t need me to do this. Why go through the trouble and expense—and risk—of kidnapping me and bringing me across the ocean just so I can deliver that girl—the package—to some location that’s only a two-day drive from here? You’ve already got what you need to do the job yourself.”
    The Doll Man put down his cup and sighed. “Such trouble I’ve had, my friend, such trouble. Issues with the delivery. Issues with the client. Issues with the package. Far, far too many complications and too much attention. I won’t risk myself or my operation, so you will take her.”
    Munroe picked up the cup that had sat cooling and, with elbows to the table and eyes over the rim, glanced at him. He’d had her shot, drugged, and abducted, held Logan hostage to guarantee compliance, then served her coffee in a fucking china cup and called her “friend.” This was like waking up in a Dalí painting of porcelain dolls.
    She blew on the liquid. “I can’t transport her in her current condition. Not even locked in the trunk.”
    The Doll Man smiled, his expression both chiding and tolerant. “She is custom ordered,” he said. “We would never send a doll to a client looking as she does now. These details are our problem. When we have solved them, then the package is your problem.”
    “Who is the package?” Munroe asked.
    “Neeva Eckridge,” he said.
    Munroe sat silently for a long while,