Worryingly, there was nothing on the news reports about a death at the museum and Strom was obviously concerned. “You mustn’t be alone today, Ingrid. Jake will go to work with you.”
Did Strom think that she walked around with a bodyguard all the time? “And just how am I going to explain him to my colleagues?”
Jake’s green eyes twinkled with laughter. “I’m your hot boyfriend from overseas, baby. Just back from a UN mission and I can’t bear to be parted from you.”
Ingrid giggled at Jake’s leering expression. “I suppose I could catch up on my paperwork, but you might get bored.”
Jake leered again. “Never, darling.”
Strom stayed furiously silent as he watched them. Sweet merciful stars, this mission was getting more bizarre by the minute. He never thought that he was the jealous type, but his feelings at this moment bordered on the pathological. How had she done this to him? His Ingrid was living with a man who wore dresses and now she was flirting with Jake.
He cursed his indecision of the previous night. The way she had kissed him, the feel of her touch against his skin made him ache for her. Ingrid would have welcomed him into her bed, he was certain of it, but how could he start something with her that had no future? He wanted her, but if they became lovers, how could leave her?
He sighed again as Ingrid brushed a tangled curl away from her face. She looked beautiful in the blue dress. They hadn’t had a moment alone together since they got up. Now she was flirting with Jake, the biggest womanizer in six galaxies. They were going to spend the day together while he and Pete tried to track down Raoul. He should have made Pete the boyfriend.
There was no good news from the DTS either. Their intervention last night hadn’t been enough to save her. According to the geeks at temporal central, Ingrid had still been murdered by Raoul in 2011. They had to find him as soon as possible.
Chapter Four
Jake was a very good boyfriend. Good-looking, attentive, charming and romantic, and this before nine a.m. At least his jokes distracted her, but it didn’t take her mind off the viking. She couldn’t understand his behavior. Not a kiss, not a single touch from him this morning and he had practically glared at her over breakfast. It was as if he had forgotten all about last night. Maybe she could ask Jake. How pathetic, Sorrenson, mooning after Strom like a lovesick teenager.
Ingrid’s heart began to pound as she approached the entrance to the museum. Everything was far too normal. Dan waved to her as usual from the security desk and there was no sign of any police activity. A small, handwritten sign in the entrance hall announced that the Red Elk exhibit was closed for maintenance, otherwise nothing. It was as if she had dreamt the whole thing.
Jake eyed the security cameras in the lobby, wondering if Raoul had the nerve to return to the museum and if he was watching them. There was one way to find out.
“It’s showtime, baby.”
He bent his head and kissed her tenderly. “Strom will kill me for that.”
Ingrid flicked her hair nervously. “Why?”
“Because the big guy has it bad for you, I’ve never seen him act like this before.”
“Oh, Jake.” Her eyes filled with tears. Strom did care for her, so why was he keeping his distance?
“Hey, don’t do that.” Jake fumbled in his pocket for a tissue. “You’ll look like Finn with that black stuff all over your face.”
The doors of the elevator opened and the director of HR came to greet her. Ingrid reached for Jake’s hand: here comes the bad news. They must have found David’s body. “I’m sorry, Ingrid, but we had a break-in last night. The offices on the second floor were disturbed. Can you check and see if anything is missing?”
Ingrid nodded. “Of course.”
“Bloody vandals. You should see what they did to the Giant Elk exhibit. It will take us months to put it back together.”
The director walked away. She hadn’t said a word about David.
Ingrid’s office was a mess, even worse than the night before. Jake looked around him ruefully. “I wouldn’t have done such a good job of thrashing the place if I’d known that I had to clean it up again.”
It took them over an hour to sort out the chaos. A locksmith arrived to repair the door, and by lunchtime the place was almost back to normal. Ingrid had tried David’s number several times, but each time it went straight through to voicemail. With nervous fingers, she tapped in Raoul’s number, prepared to drop the phone if he answered. Nothing, just a voicemail saying he wasn’t in the office. Well, at least she didn’t have to worry about him, but she desperately needed to find out if David was dead or alive.
Jake sat opposite her, engrossed in a pile of magazines. David’s office was on the next floor. She could just slip up the back stairs and have a quick word with his secretary. There was no point in taking Jake with her.
“I’m just going to the ladies’ room.”
“Want me to come along?”
Ingrid smiled and shook her head. She closed the door behind her and headed for the stairs. The desk outside the curator’s office was empty, but the light was on inside. Ingrid opened the door slowly. “David?”
“I’m afraid he’s not here, Ms. Sorrenson. Perhaps I can help you.”
Raoul.
She didn’t notice the other man until he lifted her off her feet. “Let me go, you bastard.”
“Tut tut. Language, Ms. Sorenson. You and I need to have a little talk, but not here.” Raoul nodded to the other man. “Take her to the car.”
Ingrid struggled in earnest, grinding her heel into his foot. “You really are becoming a nuisance, Ms. Sorrenson.” She saw a fist coming toward her, and then everything went black.
* * * * *
She woke up in a box. It was very dark, and she could smell gas. When the box jerked forward, she rolled against a set of golf clubs. She was in the trunk of a car and her hands were tied behind her back. Ingrid tried to stretch. The side of her jaw ached where Raoul had struck her. The car hit a bump on the road, throwing her against a hard, metal surface. She had no idea how long she had been unconscious or where they were taking her.
Why on earth had she decided to play detective alone? Why hadn’t she taken Jake with her? Ingrid wriggled her hands, trying to free them. They were tied with some kind of thin plastic, and much as she tried to move her wrists, the plastic stayed stubbornly tight. Sweat trickled down her spine as she wriggled in vain.
She rolled onto her back, breathing heavily. Stop breathing like that, Sorrenson, you’re wasting air. Think. Just think. Maybe there was something in the trunk that she could use to cut the bindings. Oh yeah, like they’re going to leave a convenient knife in the trunk along with the prisoner. It was no good, she was stuck here. Her arms were beginning to feel numb and she rolled onto her side again. This time Raoul was definitely going to kill her and she would never see her viking again. A single tear escaped and rolled down her face. Oh god, Strom.
The noise of other traffic lessened and the road surface became lumpy and uneven. It sounded as if they had pulled onto a gravel drive. The car pulled to a stop and Ingrid heard the doors opening. She closed her eyes. She would have to play dead for a while longer. The man banged her head on the door as he lifted her from the trunk and she winced, trying not to cry out. It was lucky her hair was loose, because it covered the tears that streamed down her face. That really hurt.
“Take her inside,” Raoul ordered.
The tiled floor in the hallway looked familiar. She was in David’s house. He and his wife Barbara had hosted the last Christmas party. What were they doing here? The man carried her upstairs and dumped her on the bed. Ingrid made herself lie perfectly still until the door closed, and she heard the sound of a key in the lock. Then she rolled over. There was someone on the bed beside her. Ingrid shook her head, trying to clear her hair away from her face.
The woman who lay beside her was gagged and bound. She had a deep cut on her left temple and her eye was black and b
lue. Through the torn edges of the woman’s silk blouse, Ingrid could see dark red welts. They looked like burns. It was Barbara, David’s wife. Someone had beaten her mercilessly. Blue eyes stared vacantly back at her. Barbara was dead.
Ingrid retched. She was going to be sick.
She rubbed her damp face as best as she could against the edge of the quilt and lay back on the pillow, trying to stay as far away from Barbara as possible. Poor Barbara and David. At least they were both at peace now. They had been devoted to each other. Last Christmas, everyone from David’s department in the museum had sat around a blazing fire downstairs, singing Christmas carols, while Barbara played the piano. Although he usually avoided family parties like the plague, Finn had surprised her by accepting her invitation. It was their first Christmas like that since her father died. Barbara had teased Finn gently about his intentions toward Ingrid, believing that he was her boyfriend, and they didn’t have the heart to tell her the truth. They had laughed about that on the snowy walk home.
Finn and Strom—the most important men in her life. How utterly different they were and now she was going to lose both of them.
* * * * *
“What do you mean you’ve lost her,” Strom’s voice roared down the telephone.
“I’m sorry,” Jake whispered. She said she was going to the bathroom. It’s just across the hall, but she didn’t come back.”
“We’ll be right there.” The phone was slammed back into the receiver with brutal force and Jake replaced his handset with trembling fingers. Strom was going to kill him.
How could Ingrid do something so stupid? Jake had already searched the other offices on the floor, but they were unoccupied. He ventured through a small, wooden door and found another staircase. The next floor up was quiet. A large meeting room took up half the space, and the rest was occupied by David Martin, curator. That must be the guy Raoul killed last night. It was strange that the office was still occupied.
“Can I help you, sir?”
Jake gave the secretary his most charming smile. “I’m looking for my fiancée, Ingrid Sorrenson.”
The girl was a mine of information. David Martin was on sick leave and Mr. Jasson would be using his office until he returned. No, she hadn’t seen Ingrid, but then she had been on lunch for the past hour. Oh and congratulations, Ingrid was such a lovely girl. And no, Mr. Jasson wouldn’t be in the office this afternoon. He was at a meeting with his associate, Mr. Cranton from head office.
Jake’s stomach clenched. Jorge Cranton was one of Raoul’s henchmen. A vicious psychopath wanted for torture and murder, and they had Ingrid.
Jake chatted amicably to the old guy on the security desk. No, Ingrid hadn’t left yet. The only other exit was through the car park. Jake needed to get a look at their security tapes, but the room was locked. There was nothing for it. They would have to break into the museum again tonight.
In all the years he had known him, Jake had never seen Strom so angry. They had started out the same year in Fleet Academy—him, Strom and Pete. One history geek in their class had nicknamed them the vikings, on account of Strom being so blond and their surnames. They had played that up all through their years at the Academy, with the tattoos and the women, but Strom had outclassed them all. He was the youngest Fleet Command captain ever, at twenty seven, and he was promising to be even more brilliant than his dad, General Hal Hallstrom. Strom and his father had barely spoken since that bitch Leona dumped him. Strom could be colder than a glacier when he wanted to be, and god help anyone who got on the wrong side of him, like now.
“Report,” the word came out in a rasp of barely controlled fury. Pete nodded sympathetically at him. He was in deep shit.
“I’ve searched the building. Ingrid’s coat and bag are still in her office and she didn’t leave by the usual exit.”
Strom growled and Jake continued nervously. “Raoul Jasson was at the museum this morning. He’s been using David Martin’s office. Ingrid’s buddy David is allegedly on sick leave. Raoul left at lunchtime with his colleague Jorge Cranton.”
“Cranton is here?”
“I’m afraid so. Strom, I’m—”
“Don’t say it. Don’t say another word, Jake.”
Museum security had improved a little since the previous night, but the new locks on the doors were no match for Pete’s prowess as an unofficial locksmith. They piled into the security room and Jake searched through the tapes from that day. There was no digi-search facility and they would have to run the full tape until they found her.
Eight a.m., a dark-blue car approached the entrance to the parking lot. The image was blurred, but it was definitely Raoul. The tape ran on slowly. People arriving for work, the usual post and deliveries, and then there was Jake and Ingrid and their tender kiss in the lobby. The next frame was Jake dabbing at her face with a tissue, all immortalized on a grainy security tape. Shit. Jake was afraid to look at Strom’s face.
“When this is over, you are dead.”
Jake nodded. There was nothing he could say.
The tape rolled on, lunch time. Raoul and a second man appeared briefly on camera in the car park. The other man was carrying something wrapped in a coat. He opened the trunk and put the package inside. The dark-blue car left the car park shortly afterward.
Pete leaned toward the monitor. “Each of the cars has a yellow badge on the windshield.”
“So?”
“So there must be a list of owners somewhere.”
The security office was searched swiftly. Pete was right. Each badge number appeared on the master list. The blue car belonged to David Martin.
“Okay. Raoul’s driving Martin’s car, but how does that help us?”
“Maybe Raoul’s been helping himself to some of the curator’s other things.”
Jake and Strom exchanged a silent glance. “Where is Human Resources?”
“Martin, Martin, Martin.” Jake riffled through the filing cabinet looking for his address, while Pete tried to hack the HR database.
Strom looked at the clock. It was almost nine p.m. Raoul and Jorge had taken Ingrid eight hours ago. He clenched his hand into a fist. If they harmed her, neither of them would live to see another day.
“Got it,” Pete shouted. “Let’s go.”
* * * * *
Raoul had cracked her cheekbone with his first blow, but no matter how much he slapped her, she refused to tell him anything. So many questions, who was she working for? How many were on the team? What were their names? Where were they staying? All interspersed with slaps and hair pulling. In the end, Raoul had thrown her back onto the bed beside Barbara, and then she had cried until she had no more tears left.
The sound of tires on gravel woke her. Ingrid heard voices in the hallway and then the slamming of doors. A little while later came the footsteps on the stairs, two pairs of them this time. This was going to be bad.
Ingrid sniffed loudly. She hadn’t even had a date with Strom. The most attractive man she had met in years and she had barely got to lay a finger on him. The stupid viking had been outside her room last night. Why had she lain there? Why hadn’t she got out of bed and dragged Strom inside? How could someone turn your life upside down in less than twenty four hours?
She giggled when she remembered the viking’s shocked face when he met Finn this morning in her bedroom, still dressed in his costume from the night before. Oh god, she was turning hysterical. She was laughing out loud when the key turned in the lock. After that there was nothing to laugh about.
“You’re sure this is the place?”
“That’s what the Sat Nav says. Twenty-first century heap of junk.”
“Pull into the driveway, Pete, we’ll walk the rest of the way.”
Jake delved into the trunk, pulling out the lightweight amour and tossing it to Strom. They suited up in the shadow of a tree. This looked like a class area. There was no sense in upsetting the neighbors. The big guy was packing enough weapons to wipe out a small city. Jake prayed tha
t they would be on time.
“I’ll take point.” Strom’s tone brooked no argument. He was going to kill someone, or maybe several someones.
Jake stretched out his hand, palm down. A kind of pre-battle good luck ritual they had started at the academy. Pete placed his hand on top of his and they both looked at Strom. The big guy reached out his hand and placed it on top of theirs.
“Let’s go kill something.”
Staying in the shadow of the trees, they approached the house. They could hear a TV blaring, but the curtains were open and they could see no one inside. Strom could see a chink of light upstairs in a rear bedroom. His hands gripped his weapon tighter. He raced across the open area until he reached the back door. It was locked. Strom waved for Pete. They couldn’t afford to alert Raoul that they were here.
Pete got the door opened in seconds. A twenty-first century lock was no match for a twenty-sixth-century laser tool. Strom motioned them into the kitchen. Raoul was dirtier than a Yarran boar—one of the filthiest beasts he’d come across on his travels. Their stench was bad enough to knock you out at fifty paces. The surfaces were littered with dishes and half finished plates of food. Beer bottles littered the wooden table. They must have had quite a party. There was a curious smell coming from the cupboard under the stairs. Strom knew that particular stench far too well. They had found David Martin.
Inch by inch, they made their way along the darkened hallway, checking each room as they went. Upstairs, they heard a shrill scream, a woman’s scream. When Strom made for the stairs, Jake blocked his path. “Not like this. You’re too emotionally involved. We’ll take them. You get Ingrid.”
Strom nodded, Jake was right.
Jake took point, making his way silently up the carpeted stairs, keeping his back to the wall. There were no guards. The landing was empty. The bedroom doors were open and Jake checked each one swiftly, trying to ignore the sobs coming from the room at the end of the hall. They couldn’t afford any surprises. He gave the all clear signal to the others. God help them now.
Time Slip Page 4
