by Plum, AB
“I think he’s hurt.”
“What would you do to help him?”
Fist clenched, I asked, “How can I help him?”
“You are so clever. Use your imagination.”
“Stop taunting the kid,” Baseball Cap ordered from the front seat. “Time for fun later.”
Chapter 8
Lacking Imagination
Kari shut up, but he retrieved the silver box and set it between us. He tapped the lid, glanced at me, raised his eyebrows, and beat out a three-quarter rhythm.
His wolfish smile left no doubt what he’d like to do to me, and he continued to tap. The tempo raised images of water dripping on a coffin. I could focus on nothing but the tap, tap, tap. My lungs tightened. Occasionally, he changed the beat, slowing to a taaaaaap, followed by three short raps.
His fingernails scraped the lid. I shivered and cursed my perfect pitch. Certain sounds assaulted my nervous system. Fingernails on chalkboards or down walls or across metal boxes pushed a button in my brain, severing my nerve-endings.
If the bastard was trying to distract me from the prospect of leaving Denmark, he was succeeding. I gritted my teeth and stared at the signs to the ferry entrance.
WARNING! DANGER! Stay in your vehicle.
Posted every two or three feet, the signs’ messages nixed all thoughts of jumping onto the tarmac.
I wasn’t Superman—an American comic-book character, who drove me and Dimitri to bruise and batter our bodies in attempts to imitate the Man of Steel. Since we hadn’t yet mastered leaping tall buildings, I doubted I could bound out of the car and vault over the three rows of cars on either side of us.
Kari’s finger-drumming picked up intensity. I swiveled my gaze back to him. He grinned—as if he peered into my mind and enjoyed my nerves bleeding. I lowered my eyes—afraid he’d see my rage and exact payment.
How?
He can’t shoot me. Not with so many passengers. I jammed a fingertip into a fresh bruise on my wrist, sure my ears spurted blood.
“Stop that!” The order came from Baseball Cap and probably saved my life. “Goddammit, Kari! You can drive a saint to blasphemy.”
“Simply giving the little perv a taste of what’s in store.”
“Wait until I’m out of earshot.”
“Fine. Fine. How much longer before we’re in our cabin?”
Baseball Cap shook his head. “Do I look as if I have a crystal ball?”
“I’m bored.” Kari set the box between us.
My breath caught. Bored people, in my experience, lacked the attention to carry through with plans. I, on the other hand, loved figuring out details.
Which explained how I’d gotten by with killing my older brother.
How hard, then, to outwit three Finnish morons?
II
Chapter 9
A Change of Plans
“Ever gone on a ferry?” Baseball Cap asked as our car finally rolled into its parking space.
I wrinkled my nose. “We travel by my father’s yacht.”
Baseball Cap laughed. “Of course. A ferry’s too common for Sergei Romanov and his spawn.”
What could I say? He was right.
“So you know?” Baseball Cap turned and faced me. “You and I will share accommodations tonight. Your lucky mate will room with Kari and Olavi.”
My pulse dropped. Shiiiit. Why had I thought they’d let me and Dimitri stay together? I shrugged, refusing to show my disappointment.
“First ground rule.” He motioned the driver, Olavi, to unlock the car. “You and I wait here until my pals get your pal to their cabin. On a different deck, for your enlightenment.”
Olavi cut the ignition and handed the key to Baseball Cap.
My hazy plan of escaping with Dimitri dimmed.
“Should you manage to give me the slip, Kari and Olavi will drop your pal overboard. In his drugged state—do you need more details?”
Icy sweat ran down the back of my neck. I rasped, “I understand.”
Olavi opened his door, stepped out of the car, and pulled on Dimitri’s door. Snoring, Dimitri fell into Olavi’s arms. “Move your ass, Kari.”
Kari staggered onto the deck and trotted behind the car to Dimitri’s side. The two men dragged my friend to his feet. They grabbed his arms, pinned them to his sides and hauled him forward. He looked dead. How the hell would they ever get him through the hallways without passengers staring and asking questions?
Baseball Cap slid in next to me, twisted and watched their progress from the rear window. After they took another couple of steps, he yanked off his cap and threw it at me.
“Jesus. He’s a zombie. That damn tranquilizer—c’mon. We’re changing plans. We can’t afford for any snoops to think we hurt children.”
Chapter 10
Understanding the Game
Baseball Cap’s vice-like fingers pinned my arm against my ribs. He whistled to Kari and Olavi. They stopped. Within seconds, they returned Dimitri to the backseat.
“Wake him up,” Baseball Cap ordered.
“That won’t be easy. I gave him a full dose—”
“Dammit.” Baseball Cap smacked the Benz’s roof.
“We could—”
“Shut up,” he barked at Kari. “Let me think since you don’t.”
Three passengers headed for the ferry’s interior turned.
Baseball Cap waved. He smiled—looking more like an angry wolf than a friendly guy.
Two of the passengers returned the wave and continued toward the elevator. The third one stayed in place staring at us. My heart skipped a beat. Was he a cop? What if I yelled for help?
Baseball Cap pressed the gun concealed in his pocket into my kidney—his terrifying smile in place. I forced one corner of my mouth to turn up, then directed my pathetic facial gymnastics at the waiting passenger and held my breath.
The passenger hesitated another second, did an about-face, called to his companions, and followed them away from the cars.
I exhaled without making a sound.
“See,” Baseball Cap said, “how easy it is to cooperate and stay alive?”
Chapter 11
Getting to Know the Enemy
Baseball Cap and I stood next to the car for a full ten minutes. No one spoke. Kari sat in the back seat and repeatedly slapped Dimitri’s cheeks. When he got no response, he cursed. First in Finnish, then in Danish.
“That’s enough,” Baseball Cap said. “The kid and I’ll go inside. You three stay here. I’ll order a wheelchair. Tell them he’s sleeping off anesthesia from oral surgery.”
“What if they don’t have a damn wheelchair?” Kari demanded.
“Ever the optimist.” Baseball Cap looked over the roof of the car. “On second thought, Olavi, come with us. You can bring the wheelchair back.”
“Why does he get to go?” Kari whined, sticking his head outside like a turtle. “Why do I have to stay here?”
“Olavi, get over here because I’m about to blow out our idiot friend’s brain.” Baseball Cap reached into his pocket as if reaching for a cigarette.
Eyes bulging, Olavi whipped around the rear of the car.
“All right. All right.” Kari pulled his head back inside the car, muttering under his breath the way I’d done many times after a tongue-lashing from my mother.
“Speak more plainly, Kari. Convince me why I shouldn’t kill you.”
“I’ll stay in the car with this little turd. Until Olavi returns. No matter how long it takes. I’ll stay here. I swear.”
“Good.” Baseball Cap pinched my arm. “See how reasonable I am?”
Chapter 12
Playing the Game
My sense of direction—fine-tuned over the past six months while Dimitri and I roamed Copenhagen picking pockets—deteriorated once Baseball Cap, Olavi, and I stepped into the reception lounge of the huge ferry. Dozens of passengers milled around with drinks and small plates of food, laughing and talking too loud.
Baseball Cap pulled me closer
to his right side, and the gun jabbed another rib. I swallowed. Hard. Surely he wouldn’t shoot me in front of so many witnesses.
“For your enlightenment,” he said in perfect French, “this setting is to my advantage. Not yours.”
“All right.” I pressed my lips together.
The logic of his statement made no sense, but his quiet drawl, along with his chest-out stride through the crowd, overrode my certainty. His cockiness at Tivoli—the baseball hat worn backward, chin jutted forward, hands in his pockets—had skewered my attention. I had mistakenly reasoned he was an easy mark.
Huge mistake, and now I was approaching the registration desk on a ferry headed who knew where? I figured behaving like a cowed kid would get me further than making another stupid move. I could play that game. I was a master at letting adults think they were in control.
I listened to him negotiate for a wheelchair and vowed I’d learn to adopt his same kind of unflappability when I was grown.
For now, let him think I was a dumb kid.
Chapter 13
Staying Alert
An elephant-eared man staffed the tiny medical office located in the bowels of the ferry. Somewhere near the cars, I deduced, because of the stench of engine fumes. My eyes watered, and a slight headache pinged behind my eyes.
The doctor stood in the open doorway and spoke to us in Danish. He listened with several head bobs. Asking us to move aside, he navigated a massive wheelchair into the claustrophobic hall. He held onto the chair’s handles and insisted on showing Olavi how to operate the brakes. Olavi demonstrated his new skill. The doctor nodded, returned to the office, and shut the door.
“What about a strap so the little bastard doesn’t fall out on his head?” Olavi grumbled.
“You won’t need a strap,” Baseball Cap stated, keeping me between his right side and the wheelchair. “Tell Kari I said two beers. No more for tonight.”
“He’ll take that well.”
“Let him grouse. He’ll whine, but he’ll do what I say.” Arrogance rode the statement, and I felt a shiver of admiration.
Baseball Cap motioned me to enter the elevator first. He followed, and Olavi brought up the rear, essentially blocking me from the door. A deliberate move?
Were they actually afraid I might make a break for it?
Baseball Cap stared at the door, but his lips twitched. Was he baiting me? Teasing me to take a chance? Hoping I’d try?
My shoulders tensed. Had he noticed me studying him? Did vigilance explain his secret smile?
As a pickpocket, I took pride in reading people. Registering tight facial muscles. Taking in hand movements. Observing the involuntary thud of their pulse. Noting if they made eye contact or if their eyes wandered from plane to plane in space.
Baseball Cap was a puzzle. I’d misread him once, but if I stayed alert, I’d have the advantage. Because … even if he thought he knew me, he didn’t.
Let him think he could predict my thoughts or feelings, he couldn’t.
Let him think I was as simple as a Laplander. He lacked insight and intuition about my true nature.
When we reached the lower level, Olavi pushed the wheelchair out of the elevator. No one spoke. Baseball Cap punched the elevator button to the fifth level, exited, and made a series of left turns. Father’s yacht was big, but the ferry’s interior corridors twisted and turned like a maze. Disoriented, I soon lost track of our location. When we stopped in front of a door at the far end of the hallway, I had no idea where we were.
So much for staying alert.
Chapter 14
Settling in for the Night
At the cabin door, Baseball Cap removed a key from his jacket and ordered, “Left cheek against the wall. Eyes turned right. Hands in your pockets.”
Jesus, what kind of damage did he think I could possibly inflict? The question didn’t stop me from obeying his instructions. Facing the opposite end of the corridor, I smirked.
The door bumped open. “Keep your hands in your pockets. Turn your head to look at me.”
As I shifted the position of my face, my neck muscles screamed from the tension. Baseball Cap stood with his left arm stretched across the door to hold it open. His right hand stayed in his coat pocket.
Jesus, this guy is paranoid.
“Go sit on the upper bunk,” he ordered. “Do not attempt to knock my arm off the door.”
The action hadn’t occurred to me—probably because I couldn’t see what I would gain from being inside when he had the key.
When my legs dangled over the side of the upper bunk and my head touched the ceiling, he stepped into the cabin and let the door thunk shut. “Nothing as luxurious as your father’s yacht, but quite adequate for the night.”
“Can I ask a question?”
“You just did.”
Smartass. My stomach growled. Jesus. I was starving, but I asked, “What time do we depart?”
He laughed and pulled a chair away from a small desk. “Not soon enough, but since I don’t want you fainting, I’ll order sandwiches. If you choke on them, I can even manage CPR.”
“I won’t choke.” I wouldn’t give him that pleasure.
“Good. Because CPR hurts. Which might prepare you for what’s ahead, but I want you and your twisted pal to anticipate the pain.
Chapter 15
Asking Tough Questions
Baseball Cap laid the gun on the stateroom desk and sat there, facing me on the top bunk. “You a bed wetter?”
“Are you cra—” A flash of commonsense snapped my mouth shut. I mentally counted to five and modified my tone so that it disguised my outrage. “Of course not.”
He tilted the back on the chair’s legs. “Ever been scared enough to piss yourself?”
“Never.” What was he getting at?
“Did your bowels seize up when you pushed your brother off the train platform?”
My gut tightened. “I don’t know what—”
“Don’t lie.” He wagged his finger. “Better to say nothing than to lie. Lies have consequences you won’t like.”
Involuntarily, my shoulders came up. Again, I repressed the reaction.
“What did you feel when you gave Alexei that little push?”
Pleasure. Power. Control. Doubting he’d like the truth better than a lie, I laid my sweat-slicked hands on top of the bunk’s duvet.
“You should see your face. It’s shining. You think you’re such a clever little shit.” He leaned forward. His chair legs thumped on the thin carpet. “No wonder your mother couldn’t stand the sight of you.”
Heat seared my heart. I blurted, “She hated me from the day I was born.”
“And you blame her? One look at you and it’s obvious you’re twisted.”
Like you? I bit the inside of my cheek. Unexpectedly, my stomach growled. Twice in succession. Long, hollow sounds.
He laughed. “Even the devil must get hungry.”
He stood and reached inside his jacket. “These will make sure you don’t do anything stupid. Like trying to leave the cabin while I get sandwiches. And, they’ll get us through the night.”
He grabbed my wrist and clamped a bright silver handcuff in place. Next, he hooked the other end to the bunk post.
“Wait a min—”
“Shhh.” He produced a white handkerchief and tied it over my mouth, tapping the knot with his knuckles. He locked another set of handcuffs around my feet. “Relax. Breathe normally. If you hyperventilate—you know what that means, right?—you could choke on your own puke before I get back.”
Chapter 16
Playing More Cat and Mouse
Before Baseball Cap left the cabin, he opened the curtains. A triangle of diffused yellow light spilled into the cabin. I had no idea how much time had passed since Dimitri and I had spotted Baseball Cap strolling through Tivoli. Trussed like a goose waiting for the oven, I imagined flying across the distance between us and kicking him in the kidneys. I’d catch him around the throat with the handcuff
s, and I’d stomp his brains out.
He stopped at the door, wiggled his fingers, and spoke in falsetto. “Don’t go ’way.”
His mocking tone fueled my simmering rage. I fisted my hands, then flexed my fingers. His stupid grin reflected his enjoyment of my obvious frustration.
He expects me to lose control. I forced myself to turn my gaze from him and stare out the window. The ferry swayed slightly, and my head swam.
“I’ll check on your pal—in case Kari forgot my orders.” The door clicked shut, but his laughter echoed off the walls.
Dammit, how had I forgotten Dimitri? Had he regained consciousness? He was my only friend. If he died …
A door into the basement of my mind slammed shut. Dimitri wasn’t going to die any more than I was. My stomach rumbled. But if the bastard didn’t bring me some food …
Again my thoughts veered away. Now that I was alone, I examined the handcuffs. I moved my arms in several directions, strained, and twisted until the metal raised red welts on my wrists. Breathing too hard, I had to stop and rest. Or choke.
My back ached from sitting with my feet dangling over the bunk and my arms twisted across my torso. The short length of the handcuffs made lying back nearly impossible. Drawing my feet onto the bed threatened to completely immobilize me. Screaming behind my gag, I forced myself to step back mentally and use my best asset—my brain.
Chapter 17
Testing for Fortitude
A whistled tune I didn’t recognize announced Baseball Cap’s return. By then, a million invisible nails were stabbing my feet and ankles. My hunger had evaporated. Holding up a grease-stained paper bag, he closed the door. The fragrance of French fries turned my brain to mush. My mouth watered. I had to swallow repeatedly to keep from choking on my own spit. My stomach had its own mind and growled as if I’d never eaten.
