Chapter Forty

It took Kat fifteen minutes to get across the pantry floor to Riley. Her head pounded from the exertion, and she was soaked in sweat despite her body’s contact with the cold concrete. Trussed up tightly as she was, she could move only by inches. Both women remained quiet while Kat worked so they could listen for Scout’s return. Kat maneuvered herself behind Riley and positioned herself so she could reach her bindings.

"Okay, reach out if you can with your good hand," Kat whispered. It was awkward. Kat had to operate blindly with her hands cuffed behind her, but she flailed around until her fingers finally found Riley’s outstretched hand. "Got you." She grasped it firmly and gave it a brief squeeze before her fingers moved to Riley’s wrists.

Kat was surprised to discover Riley was not handcuffed. Scout had tied Riley up with the same type of nylon rope that she’d used to hog-tie Kat’s feet to her hands. She realized Scout couldn’t handcuff Riley because of the cast. Perhaps that was the break they needed. Kat had excelled in all the courses at the Academy, but she’d actually had fun in the class entitled Breaking Out And Breaking In. She was especially good at picking locks and at tying and untying every possible kind of knot.

She had Riley free in less than ten minutes. As soon as she could straighten her leg again, Riley felt worlds better, and she could move without unbearable pain.

"See if you can untie my feet from my hands," Kat whispered. While Riley worked at her ropes, Kat closed her eyes and tried to visualize the contents of the pantry. What had been there before, what remained after the fight with Otter, and where she’d rearranged things on the shelves. She was mentally searching for a small--That’s it! A possibility came to her.

"How’s it coming? Any progress?" Kat lay on her side.

Riley was sitting up now, her bad leg stretched out in front of her.

"Yes, getting there," Riley whispered back. "Slow but sure. The cast makes this harder than it should be, and I’ve never seen knots like this before." She kept at it, glad to be doing something to help them get out of there. Her small fingers actually worked to her advantage, enabling her to manipulate the knots better than if she’d had larger hands. After a few minutes, she untied the final tight knot that bound Kat’s feet to her hands. Kat extended her legs gratefully, stretching the cramps out.

Riley shifted position to begin working on the knots that bound Kat’s feet, but Kat stopped her.

"No, that can wait. Think you can stand up?"

"Yes. What do you want me to do?"

Kat rolled over to face her. "Over in the corner behind you, I think on the top shelf, are a couple of small cloth sacks of grits."

"Grits?" Riley repeated, as she hauled herself to her feet.

"Grits. Cloth sacks within plastic bags. See if you can find one and bring it over here."

"Right," Riley whispered, pulling herself along the wall. She squinted in the dim light, feeling about for the bags with her good hand. She found one and carried it back to where Kat lay.

"Okay. Rip off the plastic bag," Kat said.

Riley did.

"Now if I remember right, there should be a small piece of metal wrapped around the top of the cloth bag to close it," Kat whispered.

"Found it."

"Unwrap it and put it in my hand," Kat instructed.

Riley did. The metal was stiff and difficult to work with, but she was able to straighten it with some effort. When she did, she had a small metal rod about two inches long. She placed it carefully into Kat’s outstretched fingers.

"Now you can start working on the knots on my feet," Kat said.

As Riley set to her task, Kat bent the length of metal into an L shape and picked the locks on her handcuffs. She had them off long before Riley got her feet free.

"I’ll finish that," Kat said, sitting up and rubbing her wrists.

Riley impulsively leaned into Kat and kissed her on the cheek. "I know we’ll get out of this," she whispered, feeling more confident by the minute.

Kat put her hand on Riley’s shoulder and squeezed it briefly before she began working at the knots at her feet. "We will. I won’t let her hurt you."

"I don’t want her hurting you either," Riley whispered back. "So take care of yourself too, all right?"

Kat smiled. "You bet. We have some unfinished business, as I recall."

Riley warmed at the remembrance. "Yes, we do."

It took Kat only another minute to free her legs. She got to her feet and helped Riley up.

"What now?" Riley whispered.

It took no time at all for Scout’s Grand Cayman account to reflect the addition of the $640,000 she transferred from Kat’s Swiss bank account just before she closed it.

It was a lot of money, but Scout was disappointed. Together with the $400,000 that Kenny had already withdrawn, which he would be bringing to the bunker, Scout would get a total of more than a million dollars of her adversary’s money. But Katarzyna had been born into wealth, and she was a legend in the business, so Scout expected a lot more. Hunter hadn’t blinked when she offered to double Garner’s offer. That’s two million right there. She has to have more accounts somewhere.

She could find little else of value in the computer. Apparently Hunter wasn’t the type to keep a lot of confidential information on her hard drive.

Scout tried the desk drawers. Locked. She reached into a pocket of her coveralls, which were lying on the floor beside her, for the key ring and loose key she’d taken off Kat after she knocked her out. Scout had shed her heavy outerwear in the warmth of the bunker and now wore a black fleece top and black flannel-lined jeans.

She found that the loose key fit the desk. She opened it and began going through the contents of the drawers. From the bottom one she withdrew Kat’s file folders and skimmed through them.

They were cases. Past assignments she had taken, or perhaps just considered taking, it was hard to tell. Scout did not find a file about her group’s assassination, but she didn’t expect to. It had happened too many years ago.

She picked up the photograph that lay face down in the drawer and studied the faces. Father, mother, and daughter. A formal portrait of an affluent family. The daughter, six or seven, had brown hair, high cheekbones, and dark eyes. Katarzyna was startlingly beautiful even then. Mother had the same cheekbones and was dressed expensively, with jewels at her throat and around her wrists. But Katarzyna got most of her handsome looks from her father. His hair was longer than most middle-aged men would wear, but it suited his dark Mediterranean ruggedness. Like his wife, he was impeccably dressed. His expensive navy suit was perfectly tailored to fit his tall, athletic frame, and a starched white shirt provided crisp contrast to his dark olive complexion. He had his hand on Katarzyna’s shoulder, and the expressions on their faces suggested a shared secret. Father and daughter had identical broad smiles, as if captured in a moment of perfect happiness that Mother didn’t quite share. Her subdued smile seemed forced for the picture.

Scout knew all about them, of course. She had researched Katarzyna’s family thoroughly and was frankly disappointed to find they were already dead. But now perhaps she had a suitable means of justice. She would kill the two people closest to Katarzyna: her lover and her friend. Scout placed the photograph on the desk.

She decided to check on the two men in the other room to see if one was Otter. If so, she wanted to know what he could tell her about Katarzyna and Kenny, who would soon join the party.

Otter and Frank had tried everything they could think of to break free. The chains held them fast. Otter had begun to panic a little at the loss of feeling in his hands. Frank too, finally, had used every ounce of strength left in his six foot three inches of brawn, but he was unable to budge the handcuffs or heavy links of chain.

When it became clear they could not free themselves, the men huddled together for warmth. They tried to wrap the coats and sleeping bag around them, and it did help to ward off the biting winds blowing in through the open door. They lay uncomfortably pressed together, discussing in low voices what might happen if the woman who had broken in returned.

The men agreed she was dangerously unpredictable, so they tried to think of ways they might convince her to help them and then let them go.

Kat poured a bit of vegetable oil over the pantry door’s hinges before she tried to open it. She turned to Riley and whispered, "Don’t move."

With excruciatingly slow movements, she turned the knob and cracked the door open a fraction of an inch. With her ear to the opening, she detected faint sounds from the outer room. Fingers hitting the computer keyboard. Silence. More typing. A desk drawer being slammed shut. Kat opened the door a few more centimeters and peered out. She couldn’t see Scout. The desk was off to the right of her limited field of vision.

Kat was still considering her next move when the loud creak of the desk chair being pushed back broke the silence. Scout was moving.

Kat froze, her senses on high alert. She glimpsed Scout as she crossed toward the bedroom or bathroom. A minute or so later, Scout crossed through in the opposite direction, and then Kat heard the unmistakable sound of the door to the tunnel opening and closing.

Now was their chance.

Kat opened the pantry door and scanned the outer room. She scooped Riley up in her arms and hurried to the wall of bookshelves. She set Riley down just long enough to get to the secret button to open the weapons room. She pressed it and heard the sharp click of the lock releasing; then she replaced the book that had concealed the button. She swung the door panel open and helped Riley through it, then pushed it shut again once they were both safely inside. The room went black.

"You’re full of surprises," Riley whispered. She reached out, seeking Kat’s reassuring presence.

Kat was already moving toward her. They met in the darkness and held each other, Riley’s arms encircling Kat’s waist, Kat’s arms around Riley’s shoulders.

Riley blew out a long shaky breath, trying to calm her racing heart.

Kat embraced her tighter. "How are you doing?" she whispered as she stroked Riley’s back and hair.

"Better now," Riley whispered back. "Can she find us in here?"

"Don’t think so. If she does, we’ll be ready for her. We’re in my weapons room."

Riley had gotten only a brief glimpse of the room when she’d been hurried inside. All she’d noticed were three very large safes. "Weapons? That sounds reassuring."

Kat moved to loosen their embrace, but Riley was loath to let her go. She kept her arms tight around Kat’s waist.

"I’ll be right back. Just going to get us a little light in here," Kat said. She kissed Riley on the forehead, and Riley reluctantly released her.

Kat found the small chain that led to a bare 40-watt bulb above them. She tugged it, and the room was lit by a soft glow. The women caught each other’s eyes, and both smiled. Kat closed the distance between them, and they resumed their embrace.

"She won’t be able to see the light?" Riley whispered.

"No, the doorway is a tight seal," Kat replied. "And I don’t think she can hear us if we keep our voices low--that partition between us is pretty thick. But I’ve never really tested it, so we’d better be careful."

Riley nodded, her head pressed up against Kat’s chest.

"We can’t stay in here forever, obviously. There’s no food and no water," Kat said. "And it won’t take Scout long to figure out we haven’t left the bunker. But this gives us some time to plan on how we’ll confront her, and it evens things out a bit."

Now that she had access to her arsenal, Kat would have liked to go out immediately to confront Scout. But Riley complicated things. Keeping her safe was Kat’s main priority now. She didn’t want to act in haste and underestimate Scout, who had already proven to be a particularly tough and unpredictable adversary.

The main danger would lie in the moment she opened the panel to leave, Kat reasoned. Scout was patient and determined, as evidenced by her unbelievable knowledge of Kat’s history. So she would surely think nothing of waiting a few more hours until Kat made a move.

Scout’s most likely plan would be an ambush, Kat was certain. The only question was where she would lie in wait. If she hadn’t yet discovered the weapons room, she could be anywhere. But if she knew where Kat and Riley were hiding...

Even in the best scenario, Riley would be vulnerable until Kat got through the doorway and closed it again.

Better to wait a while, let Scout stew over our disappearance. No one could go without sleep forever. Scout’s search for them would exhaust her, Kat hoped. Eventually she’d have to rest and let her guard down. In the meantime, Kat would get a little shut-eye and be refreshed and alert for their confrontation. Riley could use some rest too, she knew. She just wished she had Riley’s medicine and some provisions to make their wait more comfortable.

"How’s the knee?"

"Not great," Riley admitted. "Probably better to get my weight off it."

Kat glanced around at the cold concrete floor. She gently extricated herself from Riley’s embrace and moved to one of the safes. She opened it and reached inside for her Sig Sauer handgun--the 9mm P226 model popular with law enforcement and the military. She checked to make sure it was loaded before sticking it into the back of her jeans. She put a second magazine containing ten rounds into one of her front pockets.

Next she withdrew a belt pack from the safe. Kat kept it loaded with emergency gear. She pulled out a survival blanket made of a thin aluminum and polyester polymer developed for NASA. She unfolded it on the floor. Then she took her bulletproof vest from the safe and placed it atop the blanket to add a bit more insulation from the cold floor.

"Come on," Kat said, helping Riley to the makeshift pallet. "See if you can get some rest."

Riley lay down and Kat kneeled beside her. She wrapped the blanket around her friend, cocooning her in the shiny material.

"What about you?" Riley asked as Kat tucked her in. "You took a pretty good hit to the head."

"I’ll join you in a little while," Kat replied. First she intended to survey the contents of her safes. Select what she would use against Scout and see what else they might use while they were trapped in here.

But Riley reached up and grasped Kat’s arm. "Please?" She opened the thin blanket, scooting over to make room for Kat.

Kat relented and slipped into Riley’s open arms. The blanket was not big enough to cover them both. It was now only a thin insulation against the concrete. Kat enveloped Riley in an embrace, careful to avoid her injured knee.

They stayed wrapped in each other’s arms for a long moment before Riley broke the silence. "Katarzyna Demetrious? Is that your name?" She’d wanted to ask her about the things that Scout had made oblique reference to--things about Kat’s past. There hadn’t really been an opportunity until now.

Kat stiffened, but only for a moment. She stroked Riley’s back with one hand. "Yes," she affirmed quietly. "I’ve not told anyone my real name in..." She paused, remembering. "In many years. I don’t know how Scout knows it." There was a long silence. "My father was Konstantin Demetrious. He was the Cypriot ambassador to the UN when I was a child."

The name sounded vaguely familiar to Riley, but she couldn’t recall why.

"He was well known as a peace negotiator," Kat continued, a catch in her voice. "When I was six, he became a special ambassador-at-large for the UN itself. He traveled around the world to all the hot spots, trying to resolve conflicts, bring warring sides together."

She paused. "He was up for the Nobel Peace Prize. There was talk of making him the next UN secretary-general."

There was another long silence.

"What happened?" Riley asked.

"He was killed," Kat said. "When Turkish troops took over northern Cyprus, he and my mother were murdered in their sleep."

"I’m sorry," Riley said, caressing Kat’s stomach. "I can’t imagine how painful that must have been for you. How old were you?"

"Nine. I was here in the States at summer camp when it happened." Kat relaxed a little under Riley’s soft caresses. "I stayed here. The home where I grew up was taken over by the Turks."

"You never went back?"

"I went back to Cyprus once--when I was older," Kat replied. She wanted to tell Riley everything, but the next confessions were the hardest.

"My father was rich, so I didn’t lack for money," she explained. "An uncle in Greece--my only surviving relative--arranged for me to attend boarding school in Connecticut under an assumed name, so that I wouldn’t be a target for the media and for those who might exploit me for my father’s wealth. My uncle couldn’t take me in. He was an old man. He died less than a year later."

Kat’s voice grew husky, her emotions close to the surface. "I was... very angry for many years about what happened to my father and mother. Both of them, of course, but I was particularly close to my father. My mother was... formal, proper. I think she was disappointed in me because I was a tomboy, always getting into mischief. ’Katarzyna!’ she’d scold. ’Look at you! Company is coming and you’re a muddy mess!’ You know, I can’t remember her ever hugging me or telling me that she loved me."

Kat unconsciously drew Riley even closer to her as she continued. "But my father..." Her voice trembled. Her eyes welled with tears. "He called me Kat. When he’d come home from a trip, he’d yell ’Here, Kitty Kat!’ and I’d come running, both of us laughing. He’d scoop me up in his arms and swing me around and tell me how much he’d missed me. Then I’d sit on his lap and he’d talk about all the unusual things he’d seen. All the fascinating people he’d met, the strange food he’d eaten." She exhaled a long, slow breath. "He told me once he’d named me Katarzyna because it meant ’pure.’ He wanted me to do good. Follow his example. Live a life of service to others."

Riley, understanding now the reasons for the pain that Kat hid so well, felt her own eyes fill with tears.

"But I chose another path a long time ago. When all I felt was rage over their deaths, and the need for revenge." Kat’s shame threatened to overwhelm her, but she needed to finish.

"I was an athlete in boarding school. Track, basketball, fencing. Sports were a distraction against loneliness. I didn’t have many friends. In college, I took up martial arts and won a national title. It was then that I met Evan Garner--and became a killer for hire."

Дата добавления: 2015-10-30