"I can't," Nadia said.
Half an hour ago the girl had brought them each two hamburgers, two hot dogs, and large cups of fruit punch—all from the concession stand, Nadia was sure. Doug had eaten his, but Nadia could barely look at it.
"You must. Oz says so."
"It's too hot," Nadia said, hoping to keep her talking. The longer she lingered, the longer the door would stay open, allowing fresh air to waft through the stuffy interior. "And I'm scared."
"Aw," the girl said with what sounded like genuine compassion. "Don't be scared. Oz is nice."
"Who's this Oz?" Doug said, putting his hand on Nadia's thigh and leaning forward.
"He's the boss." Her tone said, Everybody knows that.
"But why did he kidnap us? Why is he keeping us here?"
A shrug. "I don't know. But he's feeding you good, right? And he gave you a nice trailer."
Nadia lowered her voice. "Can you help us out of here? Please?"
"Oh, no!" The girl's hand flew to her mouth and she started backing away. "I could never do that! Oz would be so mad!"
"Would he hurt you?"
"Us? No, Oz would never hurt us. He protects us; he helps us."
"Then help us. Please!"
"No-no-no!" she said. She turned and jumped through the door. "No-no-no-no-no!"
"Wait!" Nadia said, rising, but one of the roustabouts slammed the door in her face. Fighting back tears, she slumped back onto the cot and leaned against Doug. "What are we going to do?"
"Hang in there," he said, slipping an arm around her. "We'll think of—"
A clank from the front of the trailer cut him off. The floor tilted back a few degrees, then rocked forward. A chain rattled. Nadia rose and stumbled toward the noise.
Pressing her eye to a crack in the board over the window allowed her a slit view of the outside world.
She saw the rear of a pickup truck… Their trailer was hitched to it.
Suddenly the trailer lurched forward and she fell backward. Luckily Doug was there to catch her.
"What's happening?" he said.
"They're moving us."
"Where?"
"I don't know."
She had an awful feeling they were about to find out why they'd been abducted.
17
Who are they? Jack wondered. Houdinis? Where the hell did they go?
He'd crept around, peeking in all the offices and cubicles. He'd even checked the rest rooms and the small, well-equipped kitchenette but had found no one. Only area he hadn't explored was a short corridor near the center of the space. He'd avoided it after spotting a security camera set into the ceiling at one end. Hung there for all to see. Why?
Since the corridor was open on both ends, he was able to approach the camera from behind. Pulling a chair from one of the cubicles, he inspected the camera close up. No swivel mechanism. Aimed at the middle of the hallway. Interesting. Was it running? And if so, was anybody monitoring it? One way to find out…
Jack used a roll of Scotch tape he'd borrowed from one of the desks and stretched three strips across the lens, then retreated.
When no one came to investigate, he moved back into the corridor. As he reached the midpoint, he heard a faint thump to his left. He turned and saw a door labeled: conference room. The sign was small, the handle recessed, and the door flush with the wall. Virtually invisible unless you were on top of it.
Conference room… of course. Where else would they be? He pressed an ear against the door and thought he heard raised voices—whether in anger or terror he couldn't be sure.
He stepped back. Soundproofed. And situated in the center of the GEM space, which meant no windows. Good thinking. If you need an electronic- and microwave-proof room, you don't want windows. The door had buried hinges and a recessed pull instead of a knob. That meant it opened outward. Gave it a gentle pull to test it. Wouldn't budge. Probably secured by a bolt on the inside.
Jack leaned back to consider his options. Can't kick down a door that opens out… didn't come prepared for this… have to improvise…
So what materials did he have at hand?
Took him about a minute to shape a rough plan.
Slipped back to the file room and rock-walked one of the smaller cabinets down to the door; then he returned to the kitchenette and picked through the utensil drawer until he found what he wanted.
18
"Lies!" Dragovic screamed, pounding the table with both fists. "You think I am stupid?"
How do I convince him? Luc thought as he cowered between Brad and Kent. Dragovic stood on the far side of the table, his back to the door, glaring at them like a maniac. He'd forced Luc to call an emergency meeting with his partners, telling them to clear both floors of all personnel.
And now he had the three of them trapped in this stifling room.
We are three, Luc thought. Why should we fear this one man? He may be armed, but after his arrest on multiple weapons charges last night he may be wary of carrying a pistol. The odds are on our side. If I give the word, the three of us could attack him…
He glanced left and right at his two partners: sweat rolled off Kent in buckets, soaking his collar, spreading dark stains from his underarms; and Brad was almost in tears.
Then again, maybe not…
"You've got to believe us!" Brad cried.
Dragovic's lips curled with scorn. "A strange creature gives us Loki, and now you say it's dying? I am to believe that?"
"Christ, please, yes!" Kent said. "If we were going to make up a story, we wouldn't make up something as crazy as that!"
Luc had hoped the unhappy truth about the creature would turn Dragovic from his paranoid fantasy, but it had only incensed him.
"I can show you the creature," Luc said. "You can see with your own eyes."
"Another trick!"
"No tricks. You'll see it; then you'll believe. And then you'll understand that it was not us who plotted against you. Think: why would we be trying to steal the Loki trade from you when there will be no more Loki?"
Dragovic stared at him for a few heartbeats, a flicker of doubt in his raging eyes. He opened his mouth to speak but was stopped by a knocking sound.
Everyone froze, listening. It came again.
Someone was pounding on the door.
Luc stepped away from the desk to the security console and turned on the hallway monitor. The screen lit but the image was blurred. Someone was standing outside the door but Luc could not identify him.
Dragovic motioned Brad toward the door. "See who it is!" he said, stepping away. "And no tricks!"
Luc noted with relief that he did not pull a weapon, a good indication that he didn't have one.
Brad pressed the intercom button next to the door. "Wh-who is it?" His voice would play through a speaker in the hallway ceiling above the door.
The reply was garbled… something about "security service" and "malfunction."
On the monitor, the blurred image of the man was waving at the camera. What security service? Luc wondered. And how did he get up here?
Dragovic pushed Brad away from the intercom and pressed the button. "Go away. We are busy. Come back tomorrow."
Another garbled reply, but one phrase came through loud and clear: "… the room may be bugged."
"What?" A chorus from four throats.
"More of your tricks?" Dragovic snarled, glaring at Luc. He turned to Brad. "Open it!"
Before Luc could protest, Brad's trembling hand fumbled the bolt back. He pushed on the door, and then things happened too fast.