“Oh, the ones you slaughtered? That was just an insurance policy. A local team based out of Olympia. I mobilized them when it looked like I couldn’t count on you. They were incompetent fucks, but wonder of wonders, you ended up doing your job anyway, Janos. Convenient, getting her over the pond without us having to deal with her kid. That would have been a big pain in the ass, having to keep a three-year-old’s ass wiped. Start the car.”
“How did you find me?”
“I have my ways,” Hegel said. “You’re not as smart as you think you are, Janos. And we need to get something straight right now. I’ve got no problem killing you where you sit. You know how I always told you how dangerous it is to get attached? I practice what I preach.”
“I do not doubt it,” Val muttered.
“I am not attached to you. Yes, we invested tens of millions in training you, but that’s OK. We got more than our money’s worth by now. And even the most expensive machine eventually breaks down. Repairs cost more and more, you reach the point of diminishing returns, and it’s off to the wrecking yard. Start the car up, shitbird, or the bullet goes into the base of your skull. Nobody’s watching. Nobody cares. We’ve got the woman now. Congratulations, asshole. You are now officially irrelevant.”
Val revved up all his senses, hyperalert for a split second chance to do something, anything, as he put the car into reverse and backed out of the lot.
Hegel directed him through the town and out onto a winding, potholed road that wound up the mountainside. They reached a wide spot in the road, with a decayed, crumbling stonework wall. An overlook point at a steep cliff. There was a deep, rocky gully from rain washout behind.
It was the kind of remote, forgotten place where lovers came to park and junkies came to shoot up. In point of fact, the ground was liberally scattered with condoms and syringes.
“Stop here,” Hegel said. “Hold out your right hand.”
Val hesitated. Hegel intended to send him over the cliff, attached to the car. He had to play for time. Good thing the car was a stick shift. “How will I change gears?”
“Shut the fuck up and hold out your right hand. Keep your left on the steering wheel where I can see it or I’ll blow out your brains.”
Val held it up. Hegel snapped a cuff onto it with one hand, grinding the muzzle of his gun into Val’s neck with the other.
A cell phone beeped. A text message arriving. Not his.
Hegel laughed. “The guy works fast.”
Val’s gut crawled with apprehension. “Meaning?”
“Meaning Georg’s hot to fuck her now. Jealous?” Hegel chuckled. “Fucking asshole. He just texted me his room number. He wants his audience and I’m the lucky winner. My treat, for hunting you two down. Maybe he’ll even give me a ride when he’s done. He likes watching as much as he likes being watched, and he’ll be in a generous mood once he blows his wad. And man, I would like to make that hellcat squeal—”
Val whipped the empty handcuff back into Hegel’s face, lightning quick, with an explosion of energy from far beyond his conscious mind. He jerked himself sideways without thinking, just as the gun went off.
It barely missed him. The windshield crumbled. Val wrenched the car into reverse, accelerating hard toward the deep, rocky ditch behind them. Time dilated. Hegel bellowed. Val flinched as the gun blasted again. A hole appeared in the dashboard. Stuffing exploded out of the seat next to Val’s shoulder. They rattled, bumped, sped backward—
They tipped. Crash, the car landed on its ass in the gully. It toppled onto its side, bouncing, tipping. Glass blew out, metal shrieked. The bones in Val’s skeleton tried to shake loose of each other.
As soon as he was sure he was still alive, Val shoved open the warped driver’s side door and scrambled out, vaulting over rocks. His legs were weak and shaking. He dropped behind a large boulder, braced for the bullets to start flying from the broken, crumpled car windows. Hot blood trickled down his face.
Silence.
The laptop. The footage. Imre. Ah, fuck, no.
Val crept closer to the car. No movement, no sound. He peered inside. Hegel was crumpled up inside, unconscious. Blood streamed down his face and neck from an impact wound on his temple.
Val sagged. Pure relief surged through him for a bare second, before he kicked himself into action again. Tamar. He had to save Tamar.
He climbed on top of the car and lowered himself down into the open door. He collected the laptop first. It looked intact, thank God. Then he slithered into the backseat and groped around for Hegel’s H&K and cell phone. Both were slippery with Hegel’s blood. He fished in the man’s pockets until he found a full ammo cartridge. He stuck the H&K into the back of his pants, and flipped the phone open, looking for the text message.
348. A room number, unless it was a code. In which case, he would rip each door of the hotel off its hinges until he found them.
He looked at Hegel’s bleeding face, and pressed his finger to the man’s thick throat. His pulse was strong. He would have killed Hegel without a qualm in a straight fight, but he balked at the idea of executing an unconscious man.
Fuck it. He would just leave it up to chance. Imre would say he was digging his conscience out from under the two-ton rock where he had hidden it. He levered himself up, vaulted out of the ruined car. It wobbled and swayed. He stared at it, panting. Clutching the laptop.
He needed clean transportation.
As if in answer to the thought, a pimpled youth on a scooter came buzzing around the corner. He took in the crumpled car, blood-streaked Val staggering in the road, and skidded to a stop.
“Hai bisogno di aiuto?” he gasped, eyes huge.
He sure as hell did need help. “Sì. Your scooter,” Val told him. “Get off.”
The kid blinked at him stupidly. “Come? Scusa?”
“The Vespino. Here.” Val yanked a wad of cash out of his pocket, easily five times the value of the thing. “Take this, call it a rental fee. Wait ’til tomorrow, and report it stolen. You’ll get it back.”
“But I—but—”
Val shoved the money into the breast pocket of the boy’s shirt, and briskly knocked him off the scooter and onto his ass. He shoved his laptop into the battered portapacchi strapped to the back, and took off.
The boy ran after him, yelling. The tiny motor groaned in protest. He gunned it as much as he could. Which was not much.
That dickhead Georg needed an audience to perform? Excellent.
He was about to get a spectator that he would never forget.
Chapter
19
Georg hung his shoulder holster over the antique mirror, and approached her. “Turn around. Slowly,” he directed.
Tam affixed a seductive smile on her face and did so, spinning sensually in a graceful pirouette.
Georg reached for her. His clammy hands fastened on her bare skin, groping her breasts, squeezing her ass. They made her nauseous.
“Change your hair back,” Georg said, frowning. “I liked it better before. Shorter, and curlier, and red. I liked the red.”
“Of course,” she murmurmed. “Anything you like.”
Georg whipped off his shirt, displaying a wiry, muscled chest, milk white and mottled with twisting scars. “Touch me,” he ordered.
She moved closer, sliding her fingers over his ribs. She tried to make the gesture sensual,