Deadly Ties

by Vicki Hinze

  “Just the virus. Otherwise, none at all.”

  A weight lifted off Karl’s shoulders. That was his kind of news, and just what he’d been hoping to hear. “I’m going to hit the rack for a few hours.” Some pungent floral fragrance had his nose itching. He rubbed at it. “You stay here until after the auction, then ferry the buyers back to their planes. Where’s your boat?”

  “At the marina. Should I go get it?”

  “Have someone bring it over and dock it here. They’re not to step ashore, so someone needs to follow to ferry them back. It’s too far to swim.”

  “Sí, señor.”

  Juan took orders without challenge. Karl would remember that for future assignments, not that Juan would be happy to hear from him. But reality would set in. Once NINA tapped a man, he was a lifer. Settling his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, Karl started toward the house. “I’ll be down in time for the auction. Anything comes up before then, come get me.”

  “Where will you be, señor?” Juan’s gaze drifted up the six stories. “It’s a big casa.”

  “Third floor.” He hiked his brows. It always had been his favorite.

  “Sí, señor.”

  Stepping under the colorful, striped overhang leading inside, Karl embraced the cool air emerging from the arched entrance. Why hadn’t Chessman notified him Bandit was being reassigned? Why hadn’t Raven passed Karl the assignment?

  An internal alarm went off. Taylor’s team was afoot. Dutch Hauk hadn’t done anything to neutralize them, but they might have nailed him. He’d turn on Karl in a heartbeat.

  Last check the man was still in Louisiana. Karl grunted. Was Hauk there hiding, or was he feeding the Shadow Watchers information to save his own skin?

  Better check this out, Karl. Better check this out.

  The room was little more than a closet: bare white walls, no window, one door, and a twin bed with just enough room to walk beside it without running into another wall.

  Memories of being a child and in a room just like it assailed Lisa, and yet the fear she’d felt then was different. Now, through a woman’s eyes, knowing that Mark, his old team, and the FBI were near, she wasn’t consumed by it.

  Oh, she wasn’t foolish enough to fall for a false sense of security or any illusion of being safe. They were anything but safe. Given a chance, to protect its interests, NINA would kill them all. Mr. Phen would be more than delighted to do it.

  When he’d hung a man on that rack and turned the crank until the poor man screamed in agony, begging for mercy, Mr. Phen bent down and turned the crank again.

  The screaming stopped as suddenly as it had started.

  Mr. Phen, in his pristine white suit, walked to the man’s head and pressed his fingers to his throat. He paused a long second. Lisa shrank back, as far away as she could get, wringing her hands, her stomach grinding, spots forming before her eyes.

  “Oops, I fear that last crank got him.” Mr. Phen laughed and turned to Lisa. “He’s dead.”

  She knew what dead meant. Her father had explained it and even took her to the morgue once.

  “You see, Lisa? That’s what happens when you don’t listen to Mr. Phen. You die.”

  Murder, she’d learned, came naturally to a man who loved to inflict pain.

  Given certain circumstances, anyone was capable of murder. Dutch had proven that to her.

  Wrapped in a terry-cloth robe, Lisa sat on the edge of the bed, weary from the heart out. How was her mother? How was everyone at the crisis center? No doubt they were all frantic and doing all they could to help her and her mom. Peggy likely had the prayer warriors on duty around the clock too.

  And Mark. Mark and the team—how close were they to her now? She imagined their faces—Nick, unsmiling; Sam, his cap tugged low over his eyes; Tim, his head high, pristine and sophisticated; and Joe, cool from the ends of his hair to the tips of his toes, and evidently a little interested in Beth. Then her precious treasure, Mark, so strong and tender. What would they do? They had all sorts of special skills, but would they translate and help them in this situation?

  Lisa collapsed back onto the bed and drew her knees up close to her chest. She didn’t dare focus on the past or sleep, but the bed felt like the best mattress in the world after all that time on the wooden truck bed. Her eyes were dry, burning like fire. She let them drift closed, just for a second, hoping to refresh them.

  Thank You, God, for letting Mark find us and giving us the strength to come here. I’m in so far over my head I can’t even see down, much less up. I’m so scared and tired, and I can’t afford to mess up. I need courage, strength, and wisdom, God. Lots of wisdom. These women are counting on me.

  She turned onto her side, understanding how Mark felt guilty about Jane, and then her and her mother … He had to be chewing himself up—and fearful he’d fail them and not be good enough.

  Just like her.

  Lisa swallowed hard. Peggy Crane always said our timing and God’s were different and His was always perfect, but Lisa never really believed it. She guessed that was part of the fumes thing she had going on. Now she knew better. No matter how this turns out, I know You didn’t cause bad things to happen to me, Mom, or Mark.

  Would she be wise enough? strong enough? For the others? For herself?

  I don’t know. But if it’s Your will, I’d like to come through this alive. I could use a break. I want time with my mom and with Mark. We all need it, God. For so much of our lives, we haven’t had family. More than anything in the world, I want my own family, and Mark and my mom do too. If that could work out, it’d just be the best. It’d be …

  Silent tears washing her face, Lisa drifted off to sleep midsentence.

  26

  L isa? Lisa, wake up.”

  Lisa cranked open her eyes. Roxy stood beside her bed, dressed in a starched black-and-white maid’s uniform. “What are you doing here?” Lisa sat straight up, her voice a stage whisper. “Are you trying to get killed?”

  Roxy pressed a finger over her lips. “You have to get up now and get dressed.”

  For the first time, Lisa noticed a red silk dress draped over Roxy’s arm. The auction.

  “Hurry. You can’t be late.”

  Lisa stood. “Where’s Mark?”

  “Close,” Roxy whispered and helped Lisa into her dress. “You’ll go next door to have your hair and face done. I’ll help.”

  “Okay.” Sore all over, Lisa turned and lifted her hair.

  Roxy zipped the dress. “I checked on your mother. No change, but Nora says the doctor is more encouraged with every hour that passes. Annie’s determined to live and that’s half the battle.”

  “I hope he’s right.”

  “Me too.” Roxy looked away. “Is Dr. Talbot still at the center? Harvey Talbot?”

  “Yes. He’s the senior psychologist—my boss. Do you know Harvey?”

  “I used to.” Roxy avoided Lisa’s eyes. “It’s been three years since I’ve seen him.”

  Something in the way she said it struck Lisa as odd. “How did you know him?”

  “Later.” Roxy smoothed Lisa’s dress at her shoulder. “We have to get moving. You see this pin?” She held up a small crystal pin of three cherries on a gold stem. Lisa nodded, and Roxy went on. “It’s a video camera and streams everything you’re seeing and saying right to our people. Don’t look at it, don’t adjust your voice, and don’t touch it. Just talk normally. We’ll see and hear what you do.”

  “Okay.” Lisa let Roxy attach the crystal pin to her dress.

  Roxy stepped back. “Once you’re all in the auditorium, we’ll move in. We need a diversion. Nothing dramatic. Just something to shift attention. You’ll be safest on the stage. Get word to the others to stay there. Lie flat on the floor and keep your heads down.”

  “Okay. I can do that.”

  “And what about the diversion?”

  Lisa had no idea what to do about a diversion. Her mind was a blank slate. God, I’m willing, but I need help on
that. “No problem.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  A knock sounded at the door. “Move it!” a man shouted.

  Roxy stared at Lisa, waiting for an answer.

  “You’ll see,” Lisa said. So would she.

  The makeup room was large and open with salon chairs lining both walls. In a wild flurry of activity, women were having their hair done, their nails polished, their makeup applied. “A lady never attends a social event without a proper manicure.”

  None of the women appeared bruised.

  That surprised Lisa, until she remembered concealer could hide a multitude of sins. The gash on Gwen’s head wasn’t visible. And the bruise on Selene’s neck was hidden too. All the women were dressed in the finest gowns, bejeweled, and made up to perfection.

  A chime rang.

  Silence fell.

  Mr. Phen walked in. “Good evening, my little shrubs. It’s seven thirty. Are you all ready?”

  No one answered.

  He smiled. “I’ll take that as a yes. Single file, if you please.” He swung his arm in a wide arc, gesturing where he wanted them to go.

  The women lined up. Lisa lost sight of Roxy but stepped into the line between Gwen and Selene.

  Gwen smoothed her hand over her abdomen. “My stomach has so many knots in it, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to eat again.”

  Selene looked past Lisa. “You have your flashlight?”

  Gwen nodded.

  “It’ll be okay.” Lisa offered them reassurance, though her stomach was in about the same shape as Gwen’s.

  “What’s the plan?” Selene asked Lisa.

  “In the auditorium. When everything breaks loose, stay on the stage and lie flat on your stomach. Pass the word to the other women, but don’t get caught doing it.”

  Gwen leaned forward, Selene backward, and the word moved up and down the line.

  Gwen was shaking hard. Lisa resisted the urge to say any more to her. She needed to be hyperalert. They all did.

  “This way, please.” Mr. Phen led them down a narrow hallway lined with doors, Lisa presumed, to more rooms like the one she’d been in, and then down a wide staircase and through the bowels of the mansion to the rear area on the second floor where the auditorium was located.

  Inside it was just as Lisa recalled: opulent and cool. She estimated sixty men sat in the center forward rows. All were dressed formally, appearing to be a variety of nationalities and perfectly normal. But they couldn’t be normal. Not if they were here.

  The women were paraded down the center aisle. The stage loomed ahead, and the closer they got to it and its blue velvet curtains, the weaker Lisa’s knees felt and the faster her mind reeled. A diversion. What am I going to do?

  Nothing came.

  This is no time to run out of ideas, Lisa Marie Harper.

  Still nothing.

  Oh God, please!

  Bits of memories converged. Then and now tangled. Her nerves sizzled, her throat tightened, and her pulse thudded a rapid tattoo in her temples.

  Gwen’s voice carried back. “You praying, Lisa?”

  “Oh yeah.” Prayer. That’s it. That’s it! “When I signal, copy what I do. Pass the word.”

  “Got it.”

  “Selene, did you hear me?”

  “I’m on it, Lisa. These animals are ogling us. Can you believe it?”

  Unfortunately, Lisa had no choice but to believe it. “Ignore them and pass the word.”

  As they had done before, Gwen whispered Lisa’s instructions up the line and Selene down it.

  Cocky and confident and seemingly unaware of anything being amiss, Mr. Phen led them from the front to the right and then up three steps. “Take your card and move along. Move along. Right through there.” He motioned to the backstage.

  Lisa took her card. The man passing them out had a weapon strapped over his shoulders at his back. She glanced at the card, saw “7,” and then moved along. Stripped even of the dignity of their names.

  The stage entrance was plain and simple, though the emotions that assailed Lisa on walking through it were profound.

  Mr. Phen stepped around the line of women to the front of the stage. Bright lights burned near his feet and overhead. “Straighten the line across the stage now, please.”

  When they were all in place, he issued his orders. “Number one, step forward and turn.”

  She did and then returned to the line. He went on to the next woman and then the next. They showed extraordinary discipline and did nothing foolish to provoke Phen.

  “Number seven.”

  Diversion time.

  Lisa stepped forward, dropped to her knees, folded her hands, and began to recite the Lord’s Prayer.

  The other women copied her, dropping to their knees, lifting their voices.

  “Get up!” Mr. Phen shouted. “Stop that. Stop it, I say!”

  Lisa raised her voice, prayed louder. The others joined and their voices filled the auditorium.

  The seated buyers became antsy and then unnerved. “What is this, Phen?” one shouted. “You get religion or something?”

  Another yelled, “This is crazy. I’m outta here.”

  And then another. “Up with this, I shall not put!”

  Almost in unison, the buyers abandoned their seats and rushed toward the rear, away from the stage.

  When they shoved open the exit doors, an army of Mexican authorities greeted them.

  “Policía,” the uniformed men shouted. “¡No se mueven!” Someone repeated in English, “Do not move!”

  Pandemonium erupted.

  “Stay on the stage!” Lisa shouted. “Get down on your stomachs and cover your heads!” A woman stood frozen, her eyes as blank as a deer in headlights. Lisa shoved her shoulder. “Down.”

  The women dropped, some whimpering, some crying, many praying.

  Lisa put on her defense instructor’s voice. “If anyone comes at you, use your heels as weapons.” They were all spiked. “Shoes in your hands—now. Aim for the eyes. You know where to aim your feet. Fight!”

  Roxy was on the stage.

  Someone jerked Lisa’s arm. She turned, lunging toward the man, getting too close to strike. Mr. Phen.

  “I’m going to kill you for this.”

  Elbows bent, Lisa thrust up her arms, stomped his foot, jabbed his throat with her pointed fingertips, and followed up with an elbow intended for the same spot to crush his larynx.

  He threw himself backward, evaded. “Get her.”

  Three men grabbed Lisa at once. Something pricked her hip. She jerked away, saw the syringe. “What did you do to me? What was in that?” Outraged, she fought with all she had. Struck the man with the needle, knocked him down. Then lit into another, clipping his jaw with a strong right hook.

  Two men moved in and suddenly her head swam. They floated before her in ripples.

  Her arms felt like lead, her tongue went thick, her mind foggy. Drugged. Potent.

  She couldn’t break away from three professionals, and she couldn’t stop these two.

  With each millisecond she grew weaker and weaker until she had nothing left with which to fight. They grabbed her, one on each side, then dragged her off the stage.

  Woozy, her senses dull, her thoughts dimmed, grew more and more fuzzy, and her eyelids grew heavy—far too heavy to hold open.

  All I wanted was a family, God. Mark, her mother, flitted through her mind.

  Don’t give in. Don’t stop fighting.

  She forced her eyes open. Tripping over her own feet, half carried, half pulled, she saw Roxy bent double over some man’s shoulder, bobbing with his every step, her cheek banging against the barrel of the rifle strapped to his back.

  Lisa’s knees folded. Darkness claimed her.

  And she saw no more.

  27

  R oxy, wake up. Wake up.”

  Mark bent over her, heaped on the grassy ground. Sam and Joe flanked him. Nick and Tim were assisting the FBI, ushering men into bus
es under Mexican authority and the women into separate ones. The men would be arrested and tried here. The women’s statements would be taken, and then they’d be released into U.S. custody and returned to the States. All of the women had been accounted for—except one.

  Lisa.

  “Roxy,” Mark tried again. “Wake up. Where’s Lisa?”

  She opened her eyes, and they gained focus. Rubbing at her temple, she grunted, as if in pain.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Only my pride.” She pulled herself to a sitting position, and he helped her to her feet. Scanning, she took in what was going on around her. “Everyone tagged and—”

  “Lisa’s missing.” Mark was losing patience. “You were right by her. Where is she?”

  “I—I don’t know. She took down—Phen. He was trying to take her, but she had him. He called in backup. I was moving in to help her and—”

  “We’ve got Phen,” Mark said. “Where’s Lisa?”

  “She was on the stage with the others. One of Phen’s goons cracked me in the head with something. They were facedown on the stage. Lisa knocked out one of guards and … Oh no!” Roxy pulled at the front of Mark’s shirt. “It was Masson. Karl Masson got her.”

  Mark’s stomach plummeted. “You’re sure it was him?”

  “Positive.” Roxy clenched her hands into fists. “Where would he take her?”

  “Señor Taylor! Señor Taylor!” Juan ran up to Mark, winded, sweating profusely. “Masson took your Lisa.” Juan grabbed a staggered breath and then another. “He stole the boat and went to a seaplane. I saw him take off.”

  Mark fixed on Sam, then Joe.

  “Could be anywhere.” Joe sounded as grim as Mark felt.

  Sam tugged his cap low, shielding his eyes. “I’ll see if we can pick up a flight plan or something on them.”

  “You won’t.” Mark knew Masson. There would be no flight plan. There would be no trace of Lisa or him. “NINA will kill him and Lisa … ” Mark’s voice cracked and he shut down.

  “Think steel, bro.” Joe clapped his shoulder. “Lisa found a way to contact you before, and she will again. You know she will.”