She went into the service plaza and asked if anyone had turned in a key. No luck.
She was trudging back to the van when her phone buzzed with a text. She pulled it out of her pocket: Ruby.
Dr McNally doing well, sneaking food, sends his love. How are things with you? Having a nice break?
Lizzy climbed into the back of the van. She thought of the text she could send: Almost to Arizona to kill a man but money stolen, van key gone, trapped in rest area
She leaned against the inside wall of the van and took a deep breath … and another … and another. Then she thumbed in a response.
Everything’s good—glad to hear Uncle Owen is feeling better. Take good care of him.
Ruby sent back a thumbs up.
An hour later, her phone chimed with a text: the key is under the dumpster behind the building
Fifteen minutes after that, Lizzy was rolling down the ramp to the highway, her teeth gritted with determination, the horn of an irate motorist blaring behind her.
41
It had been twenty-four hours since the attack on the congressman, and Mitchell was still suffering the inevitable aftermath of using the crush. His head throbbed, his eyes burned, and a bone-deep ache pounded in his arms and legs.
He was sitting in a deeply cushioned chair pulled up to the wall of windows, his hands clasped around a mug of tea that Elsa had brought him, when he heard the chime of the video monitor. With a groan, he pushed himself out of his chair and made his halting way to the desk. Theo gazed out at him from the monitor.
“Mitchell, how are you feeling today?”
Mitchell lowered himself into the chair at the desk. “Better than I felt yesterday.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I must thank you again for your assistance with the congressman. You have done me a great service to have removed him from the equation, and work is in progress to take advantage of the power vacuum he’s left behind.”
Mitchell nodded, then asked, “Why did you want him killed?”
“He was pushing through some legislation that would have interfered with my colleague’s plans to expand his business.”
Mitchell waited, hoping that Theo would elaborate, but he was silent. Mitchell cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean for there to be another victim.”
Theo waved his hand. “Please don’t worry about that. I’ve done some research into the man who accosted you in the men’s room, and I haven’t been able to find any information about him that would lead me to regret the outcome.”
Mitchell was silent.
“I know it is asking a great deal of you,” continued Theo, “but I have another important assignment for you.”
“Oh?” asked Mitchell dully. “What’s that?”
“The same colleague whose business endeavors were being hindered by the congressman is also being impacted by some industrial saboteurs. You could take care of them for him.”
“How would I do that?”
“They arrive as a group and set up their operation right outside my colleague’s business.”
“They’re protesters?” asked Mitchell.
“They are vigilantes.”
“You want me to give strokes to a whole bunch of protesters?” asked Mitchell, some horror at Theo’s request making its way through his crush-induced lethargy.
“I wouldn’t say ‘a whole bunch.’ There are never more than a dozen of them—usually a half dozen—and you wouldn’t need to give them massive strokes, just enough to incapacitate them, and to deter others from taking their places. In fact,” added Theo brightly, “it might be sufficient to give only a few of them strokes.”
“What are they protesting?”
“They are protesting my colleague’s completely legal use of his business and property,” said Theo, his voice taking on a tinge of impatience.
Mitchell didn’t have the energy to press the topic. “I don’t know how many more times I can do this.”
“I know I’m asking a great deal of you,” replied Theo. “There’s a limited window in which we can demonstrate our worth to my colleague, and I believe that taking care of the congressman and the protesters will make our point. Once we have done that, you will have as much time as you need to rest and recuperate.”
After a long pause, Mitchell spoke. “How come you never come see me in person?”
“Because I am unwilling to put myself at your mercy,” said Theo promptly.
Mitchell laughed humorlessly. “You’re afraid I’m going to crush you?”
“It’s possible, if you became angry with me for some reason. But I must admit that the primary reason for our virtual meetings is your mind-reading ability.”
“You don’t want me to read your mind?”
“Certainly not. Knowledge is power, and the knowledge of someone’s thoughts is the ultimate power. I would not want to subject myself to your power.”
“What are you thinking that you wouldn’t want me to know?”
“It’s not a specific thing. I am merely uncomfortable with the idea of my mind being probed by someone with your talents. It’s a disconcerting concept for those of us not blessed with that ability.”
“It’s …” Mitchell’s voice trailed off.
“Yes?” Theo prompted.
“It’s lonely here,” Mitchell replied, a bit reluctantly.
Theo nodded. “Yes, I imagine it is. I believe I might be able to provide a solution to that situation, as well as a well-deserved thank you for the work you are doing on my behalf. I have a home in California that would provide much more appropriate accommodations than the guest suite here, and is staffed with two of my most tenured employees.”
“You’re not afraid I’d read their minds?”
“I feel certain that you’d read their minds, but neither of them knows anything particularly important—except perhaps to themselves—and neither of them will know about your skill, so they won’t be aware of any forays you may make into their thoughts.”
“You’re not afraid that I’ll use the crush on them?”
Theo smiled. “I feel confident that neither of them will do anything that would lead you to want to crush them.”
42
Louise went to bed at her accustomed time of ten o’clock. She watched the clock on the bedside table tick through the minutes until midnight, then climbed out of bed.
She went to the bathroom and opened the closet. There was not the tiny strip of light at the back of the closet that had first alerted her to the presence of the service door. That was good—it might mean that the room or corridor behind it was not in use. Louise pushed the clothing hanging on the rod to one side, stepped into the closet, and pressed her ear to the back wall. She could hear no sound from the other side of the door. After a minute, she pushed lightly on the door. There was a tiny bit of play, but it didn’t open.
She got the Theo-provided phone and shone its light on the back wall. She could see on one side the heads of two small screws, such as might be used to secure the latch of a cupboard. She went to the vanity drawer that Maja had stocked with toiletries and found a metal nail file. She returned to the closet and inserted the tip of the file into the screw head. It turned easily.
She went to the bathroom door, intending to lock it, but discovered that the door did not have a lock. She considered using one of the dining table chairs, the back slipped under the doorknob, as an alternative. If Maja arrived in the room after Louise had left through the closet doorway, it might give her an extra minute or two before the method of her escape was discovered. However, if someone came to the room, a barricaded door would certainly alert them to an issue.
Then she had another, more disturbing, thought.
She scanned the bathroom for anything that could be a camera. But she knew it was a useless effort—she had no doubt that if Theo had such cameras installed in the complex, they were unlikely to be of a type that would be easily spotted. She would have to take her chances.
She unscre
wed the two screws with the tip of the file and heard a clatter as the latch on the other side of the door fell to the floor. She held her breath, listening for footsteps. A minute passed. Silence.
She pushed the door open and stepped out of the closet into a linoleum-floored service hallway. A dim light at the end of the hallway illuminated shelves holding neatly arranged cleaning supplies and other household items.
She retrieved the latch hardware from the floor, stepped back into the closet, and pulled the door closed as best she could. She hurried to the bedroom and arranged several pillows under the covers in a rough approximation of a human form. She had no illusion that the ploy would fool anyone for more than a few seconds, but every second she could buy herself was valuable.
She returned to the bathroom and swapped her pajamas for the walking clothes Maja had provided. She had tried them on earlier and found that the shoes were half a size too small, but they still seemed a better choice than her pumps. Lacking a coat, she pulled one of the wool dresses on over the sweater.
After a moment of consideration, she left the phone in the room. She would have liked to have had its flashlight app, but she didn’t want to risk the possibility that Theo could track her movements with it.
She stepped back into the hallway, pushed the door shut again, and headed toward the dim light at the end of the corridor.
This floor, which must be under the main floor of the complex, housed the facilities that supported Theo Viklund and his guests—a room with an industrial-sized washer and dryer, racks holding linen tablecloths, a hallway along which a dozen dining room chairs stood in two rows on either side of the hallway like a phalanx of soldiers standing guard. A professional grade kitchen looked, with its stainless steel appliances and counter tops, more like a surgery. The corridors and rooms were all lit by dim nightlights, all were deserted, and none contained a door to the outside.
At one point she heard two voices in conversation, and she stepped into a utility room, her heart thudding, until the voices faded as the speakers moved away from her.
At last, in an alcove that must have been used at one time as a small greenhouse, she found a door whose glass-paned panels revealed the dark woods of Theo’s estate. There were cobwebs in the corners of the greenhouse, and the windows were grimed with dust. She peered at the edges of the door, searching as best she could in the dim light for any wires or other indication that the door was alarmed, but could see nothing. Finally, she flipped the latch on the deadbolt and, ready to run if an alarm sounded, eased the door open.
The only sound was the shush of wind through the treetops, which swayed in the light of a gibbous moon.
She pulled the door closed behind her and walked away from the house as fast as the dark night, uneven ground, and pinching shoes would allow.
43
About fifteen minutes and two ankle-twisting falls after Louise had left Theo’s home, she came to the fence, stretching away into the darkness in both directions. She turned in the direction she judged to be away from the main entrance and followed it.
She picked her way along the fence for what she estimated was another fifteen minutes before she found what she had been looking for. One of the small streams that Maja had mentioned flowed under it, and although the pickets had been extended to the stream bed, the water had evidently made them deteriorate—one had already broken off, perhaps when debris had washed up against the fence in a storm. She waded into the water, which was shallow but bitterly cold, and pulled on the adjacent picket. It, too, must have been weakened by its exposure to the water, and after several tugs, it broke off.
After several minutes of pulling and pushing—fingernails breaking and tearing, her feet in her now-sodden cashmere socks numbing to the point that maintaining her balance was difficult—she was able to break off enough pickets that she could squeeze through the fence. She climbed up the stream bank on the other side and continued walking.
In less than a minute, she saw headlights a hundred yards away, moving beyond the trees and then disappearing in the distance. She made her way toward what must be the two-lane road that she had taken on her trip to the compound.
When she reached the road, she followed it, keeping to the shadows of the trees. If someone at the complex had discovered her disappearance, they would no doubt send cars out to search for her.
A few minutes later, she saw a box truck parked by the side of the road, AJ’s Plumbing stenciled onto its back doors. Its lights were on, its engine running. She picked up her pace as best she could, trying to ignore the stabs of pain from her cramped and frozen toes. As she approached the truck, she could see that the light in the truck’s cab was on. Still hidden in the trees, she drew even with the truck and could see the driver, who was wearing a baseball hat with AJ’s Plumbing across the crown. He was bent over a paper map he had unfolded across the steering wheel.
She removed the wool dress, balled it up, and stuffed it under some leaves. It left her even colder than she had been, and still bedraggled-looking, but at least she was less eccentrically dressed. She limped toward the passenger door and tapped on the glass.
The man continued to examine the map.
She tapped again, harder.
Still no response.
She opened the door and the man glanced up, then jumped when he saw her.
“I’m sorry to startle you,” she said, “but I need your help.”
The man shook his head and pointed to his ear, then pulled a small spiral notepad and pen from his pocket and handed it to her.
Louise pointed to herself and then to the passenger seat, and the man nodded.
Louise scrambled into the cab and locked the door behind her. With a shaking hand, she wrote, Swerved to miss a deer and ran into a ditch. Can you drive me to a service station?
She handed the notepad and pen back to the man. He read the message and nodded. He stuffed the map into the space behind the seats, put the truck into gear, and pulled onto the road.
She caught her breath when she saw the gate leading to the drive to Theo’s house coming up, its metal dully illuminated in the truck’s headlights.
And she was not altogether surprised when the truck slowed and turned in at the gate.
Although they were still moving, she grabbed the door handle and tried to open it, but the door stayed closed despite her frantic tugging.
She turned back to the driver, thinking that her now-jagged fingernails were her only remaining weapon. Lucas was leaning forward from where he had been hiding behind the seat, a gun pointed at her neck.
“It’s locked,” he said.
“And even if it wasn’t,” said the driver in an equally heavy accent, “there’s nowhere to run.”
She turned back toward the road, her body humming with fear.
None of them spoke further as the truck wended its way through the woods to the front door of the main house.
When they reached the entrance, Maja was standing on the flagstone terrace, her arms crossed over the front of a bulky cardigan against the cold of the night.
Louise heard the back door of the truck open and close, then Lucas appeared at her door and opened it.
“Step out,” he said.
Louise climbed out and stumbled.
Lucas grabbed her arm and jerked her upright.
“Släppa henne,” said Maja sharply, and Lucas dropped his hand from Louise’s arm.
Maja stepped forward and took Louise’s elbow, far more gently than Lucas had done.
“Come with me, Dr. Mortensen.”
Louise climbed the steps to the door, her feet leaden.
With Lucas following them, Maja led her down hallways to what must have been the very back of the main building, to a room Louise had never seen before. On one side of the room was a gray metal desk with a chair on either side. The other side of the room was blocked by a folding screen. It was impersonal to the point of sterility, more like a doctor’s office than a room in a residence.
> Maja gestured toward a chair. “Please have a seat, Dr. Mortensen.”
Louise lowered herself into the chair, her knuckles white where her fingers lay interlaced in her lap, her body setting up a rattling shiver that she was incapable of controlling.
Maja removed her sweater and draped it over Louise’s shoulders. “Herr Viklund is on his way.”
Maja stepped out of the room and closed the door behind her.
Louise thought back to a time when she was ten and her mother had taken her to the pediatrician. Her ear was very painful, and the doctor had peered into it with an instrument he told her, when she asked, was an otoscope, and had probed her neck with his heavy fingers. He had washed his hands, then said to her mother, “Mrs. Mortensen, may I speak to you in the hallway for a moment?”
Her mother and the doctor had left, and the young Louise had spent a miserable five minutes wondering what could be so awful that the doctor couldn’t say it in front of her.
Eventually, her mother and the doctor had returned to the room, her mother looking more annoyed than traumatized, and the doctor explained to Louise that she would need to have an operation on her ear. Louise loved doctor shows—in fact, with the exception of this particular doctor, she loved everything having to do with doctors—and was actually quite excited at the prospect of an operation.
She suspected that the surprise that awaited her now was not going to be exciting in quite the same way.
The door opened and Theo Viklund stepped in. He circled to the other side of the desk and remained standing, his hands clasped behind his back.
“I’m surprised and disappointed, Louise.”
She was silent.
“What made you try to leave?”
“I saw what you did to Mitchell. I have no reason to assume you will show me any more consideration.”
“I’m deeply hurt, especially in view of our long-standing relationship. Your time here has offered some compensations, has it not?”
The Iron Ring Page 18
