by Jenna Black
“How?” Mosely asked, leaning forward.
Of course he would immediately ask the one question she didn’t dare answer truthfully. “Through an intermediary,” she said, starting with the truth. “No one I knew, and he never identified himself. He cornered me when I was out shopping and told me to stay out of it or else.” Nadia’s pulse rate picked up as she watched Mosely watching her. She couldn’t say what had changed about his facial expression, but she got the distinct feeling he didn’t believe her. Or maybe that was just her own fear speaking, making her panic for no reason. Maybe that was why Mosely was so good at his job—because of his reputation for discerning truth from lies, those who lied to him got extra nervous and gave themselves away.
Knowing her best chance was to get past the lies and into the truthful—and, she hoped, even more interesting to Mosely—part, Nadia hurried on.
“I told him that, despite his best efforts, Bishop hadn’t talked Nate into not looking anymore, and that’s when he decided to set up the meeting.”
“Miss Lake, I thought I made it clear that it was in your best interests to tell me the truth. The whole truth.”
Nadia’s heart sank. She could give him more details on this mysterious intermediary she was making up, but she’d probably doomed herself as soon as she’d said he’d cornered her while she was shopping. There were enough security cameras in lower Manhattan that he could probably retrace her movements over the last week, and he would find no evidence that she’d been out shopping.
Nadia fought to stave off panic. She would worry about how to protect Dante later; right now, her first priority was to get Mosely to incriminate himself while she was of sound enough mind and body to manage it. Which meant she had to redirect Mosely’s attention, at least for the moment.
“Don’t you want to know about what happened last night when Nate and I met with Bishop?” she asked. She tried to fold her arms, but the handcuffs wouldn’t let her.
Mosely frowned and tapped the table with one restless finger. Nadia held her breath, and she had to suppress a sigh of relief when he took the bait.
“Don’t think we have finished with the current topic of discussion, but please do tell about last night.”
Nadia tapped into some of the fury she’d felt at everything she’d learned last night, letting it steal into her face as she leaned forward. She gave Mosely the most steely look she could manage, stoking her anger, urging it to well up and overpower her fear.
“Bishop told us that he wasn’t the one who killed Nate. You killed Nate, because of something he overheard you talking about with the Chairman.”
In the best-case scenario, Mosely wouldn’t bother denying the accusation, might even blithely admit to it. After all, he was planning to kill Nadia anyway, so what did it matter? But perhaps admitting to murder was against the spy’s code of conduct, because Mosely merely laughed at her.
“An interesting theory,” he said, still chuckling. “What would you expect the murderer to do, if not to point the finger at someone else? Very clever of him to point it at someone you were already predisposed to think ill of.”
The door to the interrogation room opened, and a security officer peeked his head in. Mosely turned toward him in obvious annoyance. The officer’s eyes widened in alarm at the look Mosely shot him, but he didn’t retreat.
“I’m sorry, sir,” he said, “but there’s a … situation you should be aware of.”
Mosely looked even more annoyed as he shoved his chair back. “This had better be of the utmost importance.”
“Yes, sir.”
Mosely stood up with obvious reluctance. “I’ll be back soon, Miss Lake,” he warned.
Nadia shrank back into her chair, cold and scared and alone, with the hulking torture apparatus that would surely be part of her future looming in her peripheral vision.
* * *
Nate still didn’t have much by way of a plan when he arrived at the Fortress. He didn’t technically have the authority to give Dirk Mosely orders, and considering what he now knew about the man, he didn’t suppose Mosely would follow them anyway. Not to mention that Mosely was obviously willing to kill him if necessary.
Still, killing Nate in a private corner of the Chairman’s mansion was not the same as killing him in front of witnesses. Mosely was an expert at the cover-up, but Nate didn’t think a second murder could be covered up so easily. Feeling confident that Mosely wouldn’t just shoot him on sight didn’t mean he had any idea how to free Nadia, but even so, Nate had to try.
Getting through the first few layers of security in the Fortress was easy. Everyone knew who he was, and they weren’t about to risk their jobs trying to stop him. Besides, he had all the right access codes as a privilege of his rank. He tried asking where Mosely was, but no one would admit to having seen him. Not surprising, as there was more than one entrance to the Fortress and Mosely would have used the most private one. Nate made an educated guess that Mosely and Nadia would be somewhere in the very heart of the building, deep enough that even Nate didn’t have the clearance to get through. But he was prepared to be way more forceful than anyone would expect him to be. And it would take a security officer with balls of steel to deny the Chairman Heir.
At each security checkpoint, the demands grew more vigorous, until Nate was identifying himself not just with the proper access codes, but with fingerprints and retinal scans. There were officers at each of the checkpoints, but though they looked at him curiously, no one got in his way until he tried to get on the elevator to the sub-basement level, the floor on which Thea resided.
Though Nate had been in the sub-basement before, he didn’t have the clearance to go there without an escort. Here was where he expected to meet resistance, and indeed the two security officers stationed in the hallway leading to the elevator stiffened at his approach.
“I’m looking for Dirk Mosely,” he told them. “I believe he’s in the sub-basement, and I would like one of you to escort me down there.”
The two guards looked at each other, then back at him.
“I’m sorry, sir,—” one of them began, but Nate made an impatient gesture.
“No apologies. Take me downstairs, or I’ll have your jobs. I will see that you have the blackest of black marks put on your records, the kind of black marks that mean you’ll never get another job. You, and your families, if you have them, will sink into the Basement, where you will languish in poverty for the rest of your days. I’m having the worst week in the history of the universe, so don’t tempt me.”
In all honesty, Nate didn’t expect it to work. His threat was pretty awful—and a part of him felt bad for making it—but he feared the officers would face the same fate if they failed in their duty. If they had to bet on who was most likely to carry out the threat, Nate or Mosely, surely they would bet on Mosely. His plan B was to make a move on one of their weapons on the assumption that they’d never expect it and that the one he wasn’t attacking wouldn’t dare shoot him while he was making the attempt. Trying to wrestle one security officer for his weapon while hoping the other didn’t shoot him wasn’t high on Nate’s list of things he wanted to do in life, so it was a relief when his blackmail actually worked.
“Fine,” the guard who’d tried to apologize said, giving him a filthy look, “I’ll take you downstairs.”
“Damn it, Flynn!” the other guard said. “Mosely will kill us.”
Flynn snorted and waved for Nate to follow him as he unhooked a ring of old-fashioned metal keys from his belt. “I doubt he expects us to defy the orders of the Chairman Heir.” He stuck one of the keys into the keyhole beside the elevator and turned it, simultaneously leaning forward so the retinal scanner could work. The elevator door opened, and he stepped in.
The hair on the back of Nate’s neck rose as it occurred to him that getting here had been far too easy, the guards’ protests almost halfhearted.
“Come on, sir,” Flynn beckoned, holding the elevator door open when it tried to
shut on him. “The alarm will sound if I hold it much longer. It’s kind of touchy.”
Nate gave a momentary thought to trying to back out and seeing if the guards would allow it. But it didn’t matter. If he was walking into a trap, then so be it. He wasn’t leaving here without Nadia.
Straightening his shoulders, trying not to look as spooked as he felt, Nate stepped onto the elevator.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Mosely didn’t leave Nadia alone for long. Dread weighed down her shoulders as she heard his footsteps approaching the room. She glanced at the ominous table waiting for her. She was running out of time, and Mosely hadn’t said anything incriminating yet. Not anything she could use to blackmail him into letting her go, not even anything that would help her get her posthumous revenge. She had to get him talking, and fast.
But when Mosely returned, it was clear that he was through talking.
The moment he stepped through the door, he marched toward Nadia with a purpose. Whatever purpose that was, Nadia knew she wouldn’t like it. Instinct screamed at her to flee, but of course, she couldn’t go anywhere. That didn’t stop her from trying.
Nadia leapt to her feet, but fear made her clumsy, and her feet tangled with the legs of the chair. She almost fell, but managed to right herself and kick the chair in Mosely’s direction. Like the flimsy plastic had any chance of stopping Mosely’s advance.
Mosely batted it out of his way with annoyance as Nadia moved as far away from him as the handcuffs would allow. She made a feeble effort to slip her hand through the circle of the cuff, but it was firmly secured, and even scraping a few layers of skin off wouldn’t help.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said as Mosely withdrew something from his pocket. Something that gave off a little blue spark. “I’ll tell you everything. I’ll tell you the truth, I swear it.” Surely there was some way she could salvage the situation. Some way she could make her lies more convincing. After all, the ratio of lies to truth wasn’t all that high. If she could just get Mosely to focus his questioning on the parts of her story where she could afford to tell the truth …
“I’m afraid it’s too late for that, Miss Lake,” Mosely said with what sounded almost like regret. Then he lunged forward, covering the distance between them in two quick strides, and jabbed the stunner into her belly.
A shrill scream escaped Nadia’s lips as pain ripped through her whole body and she lost control of her limbs. Her knees buckled, and she crashed to the floor. She was still cuffed to the table, so the fall wrenched her shoulder and she landed awkwardly. She tried to move, tried to at least turn so her arm was in a more natural position, but her brain’s commands to her body went unheeded.
“Nathaniel is coming to your rescue,” Mosely said as he unlocked the cuff around her wrist, letting her arm flop to the floor. He used his foot to turn her over onto her stomach, and there was nothing she could do to stop him.
Mosely squatted beside her. “There is no earthly way he could know you were here in the Fortress.”
The Fortress? But she was at Riker’s Island, not the Fortress. At least, that was what she’d thought. But of course she’d been in a van with no windows, and while Mosely had dragged her through multiple security checkpoints, she’d never seen any sign of other prisoners, or even of any cells.
“But he seems to have found you against all odds,” Mosely continued. “Which suggests that someone planted a tracker on you.” He moved her hair aside, brushing it away from the back of her neck. “Well, what do you know?” Nadia felt the scrape of a fingernail against the skin at the back of her neck. “Right where I train my people to put it.”
Nadia remembered how Dante had helped her with the wig last night. She’d had no idea how to put it on or how to keep her hair out of the way. She’d let Dante take care of everything, and he’d even helped her take the damn thing off. Apparently, he’d had an ulterior motive.
“You’ve been withholding information from me, haven’t you, Miss Lake?”
Nadia’s lips and tongue felt thick and numb, and she didn’t think Mosely was expecting an answer. He flipped her over onto her back. Nadia tried again to move, with no greater success. Mosely stood, then leaned down and hauled her limp body up over his shoulder, carrying her toward the dreaded table. And Nadia was helpless to resist, couldn’t even force herself to struggle.
Mosely dumped her on the table. He wasn’t being careful about it, so the back of her head thumped against the edge. The blow made her see stars, and she thought she was going to pass out. Not that passing out sounded like a bad idea. She’d rather not be awake for whatever was going to happen next.
“And here I thought I was going to have to arrange a convenient accident for him,” Mosely continued, somewhat out of breath from the strain of carrying her. He didn’t have that potbelly because of his physical fitness. He straightened Nadia out on the table, dragging her into its center and positioning her where the restraints could hold her.
Nadia stared up at the saws and drills and blades and vowed to herself that no matter what Mosely did to her, she would not betray Dante and the resistance. It took a massive effort, but Nadia was able to turn her head to the side so she could stare at Mosely instead of the implements that loomed over her. The motion meant that she was starting to regain control of her body, but it was too little, too late. Mosely had already fastened restraints on both her wrists and was now moving down to her ankles. She breathed as deeply as she could and mined her psyche for every drop of anger she could find. She had never before hated anyone like she hated Dirk Mosely, and she tapped into that hatred to help her chase away the fear even as Mosely fastened the restraints around her ankles.
The rush of hatred was indeed helping Nadia control her terror, and she finally absorbed what Mosely was saying: Nate was coming for her. And Mosely wanted him to come.
Mosely tugged on the ankle restraints to make sure they were secure, then came back up to the head of the table. His left hand came down on her throat, fingers digging into her jaw as he used the pressure from his palm to hold her down.
“Thank you for confirming my suspicion that Nathaniel was with you last night. And that you did indeed encounter Mr. Bishop.”
The pressure of Mosely’s fingers forced her jaws open, and Mosely crammed a foul-tasting rubber mouthpiece in. The ends of the mouthpiece went far enough back that Nadia gagged, but Mosely didn’t relent. He lifted her head and wrapped some kind of strap around the back, securing the mouthpiece in place. Tears of misery trickled down the sides of her face and into her ears as she realized she’d lost her last chance of talking her way out of this. Though she was puzzled as to how Mosely was going to get the information he wanted out of her if she couldn’t talk.
Mosely stepped back from the table and admired his handiwork. Then he shook his head. “Who knew a little girl and her playboy boyfriend would be so much damn trouble?”
The door to the interrogation room slammed open. Nadia craned to see what was happening, but Mosely was blocking her view of the door.
“Please do come in, Nathaniel,” Mosely said without turning around. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
Nadia tried to shout a warning around the mouthpiece, but of course all that came out was an unintelligible grunt. Not that she thought Nate would run even if he knew he was walking into a trap. Her heart ached at the knowledge that she was at least partially responsible for the sequence of events that was leading up to Nate’s second murder.
“Let her go!” Nate said in a voice rich with authority. As if he expected Mosely to obey.
Mosely smiled, finally turning around to face Nate. As he did so, he moved to the side just enough that Nadia could see Nate, standing a few feet inside the room. She could also see that a pair of security officers were flanking the door behind him. And that both had drawn their weapons. Nadia couldn’t shout a warning, but when she caught Nate’s eye, she jerked her chin and rolled her eyes toward the guards. He glanced over his shou
lder and saw them.
He looked surprisingly unalarmed when he turned back. “Let Nadia go,” he said again. “You’ve already ruined her life. You can let her go, and no one will believe her—or even care—if she starts spreading stories about you. Like that you killed me with your own hand.”
Mosely chuckled, sounding genuinely amused. “It’s amazing to me that you can make such a big show of being worldly and dissolute, and yet you remain so charmingly naive. Why should I take that chance?”
“Because I know where Bishop is. I don’t suppose you’d have Nadia strapped to that table if you’d gotten the answers to all your questions. Let her go, and I’ll tell you everything.”
Nadia made a choking sound of protest, though in truth she didn’t believe Nate was going to follow through on his promise. He would do everything he could to save her, but he wouldn’t give up Bishop. His emotions about Bishop might be pretty jumbled right now, but Nate was loyal to a fault. He just didn’t have it in him to betray anyone.
Mosely shook his head. “You’re operating on the assumption that I won’t be able to extract those answers from Miss Lake anyway.”
“Maybe you would, but she’s a lot tougher than you’ve given her credit for. Getting answers from her would take time. And you have to know that answers given under duress aren’t reliable. By the time you get what you need out of her, Bishop will have moved on.”
“You might as well save your breath, Nathaniel,” Mosely said, glancing at his watch for some reason. “You think you know so much, but you have no idea what’s going on.”
“Are you late for a meeting? Because I wouldn’t want to keep you or anything.”
Mosely smiled. “Just trying to calculate how much longer we have before your father arrives.”
“My father’s coming?”
“Yes. He insists on being here in person for … what comes next.”
Nate’s Adam’s apple bobbed, and he couldn’t hide his horror. “When you kill me, you mean. Like you did on the night of the reception.”
