"No problem," Savich said. He rose, Sherlock in his arms. "I can kill you myself if I can't take you back.
I don't want to think how much dirty money you've got for lawyers. Yes, this is better. I don't want to let the law dick around with you."
"Your wife will be all right," Molinas said. "It will be a bit longer before she comes around, but she will be all right. There are two separate drugs that can be mixed together in varying amounts. We were having trouble with the balance and the dose. Everyone reacts differently. Some people are particularly sensitive.
Your wife is one of them."
Very slowly, Savich turned and laid Sherlock on the tattered black blanket spread on the wooden floor.
He rose, then faced Molinas and smiled. It was a terrifying smile.
I didn't move. This was up to Savich. I looked over at Sherlock. Laura was kneeling beside her now, stroking one of her hands.
"Get up," Savich said.
Molinas slowly rose.
There was no graceful display of martial arts, just the raw power of Savich's fist into Molinas's belly, then his knee into his groin. Molinas went down like a stone.
"Good," Laura said. "He deserved it, but now we've got to get him into good enough shape to get to a radio and order up a plane."
"I want Jilly," I said.
Savich stared at me. "What did you say, Mac? Jilly? She's here?"
"She came to me when I was just coming out of a session with their drugs. She warned me not to eat or drink anything. Whatever she's doing here, Savich, she kept Laura and me away from another round of drugs."
Laura didn't argue with me, just said, "If she's here then we'll need a bigger plane."
"Jilly's small and so is Sherlock," I said. "We can fit the five of us in a Cessna."
"Mac," Savich said, lightly touching his bruised fingers to my forearm. "Is your brother-in-law, Paul, here too?"
"I don't know," I said. "If he's here I say leave the bastard. He's the one who developed the drug with all its charms. I just want Jilly." I looked over at Laura. She was staring at the floor, and I saw her eyes narrow in fury.
I followed her line of vision. Savich was shackled to a ring in the floor. It was Molinas's bad luck that I'd pushed him far enough into the room for Savich to reach him.
No wonder Savich hadn't escaped. As simple as that.
"Savich, I don't believe this."
"They enjoyed the fact that I could strain and curse, but not reach them. They laughed about it. They knew exactly how far the chain would let me reach. Thanks for bringing that big bastard close enough so I could get him."
"Savich," Laura said quietly, as I tried all the keys on the ring Molinas had given me. "He's Alyssum Tarcher's brother-in-law, John Molinas."
"I remember."
Finally, Laura found the key that fit the shackle on Savich's right ankle. When it fell open, he knelt down and rubbed his ankle. He pulled down his sock. There was dark bruising but no broken skin. "I have Sherlock to thank for these thick wool socks. It's good to get that thing off me." He sounded like himself, which was a big relief.
We had no choice but to wait for Molinas to come to his senses. There was a bucket of water on a rickety table in the corner. Laura threw it on him.
Savich pulled Sherlock up against him. "Sherlock. Come on, love, wake up. You can do it. Wake up." I watched Savich lightly slap her cheeks. "Come on, sweetheart, open your eyes. Hey, I'll let you throw me the next time we're in the gym, but you've got to wake up for me now."
Finally, she did open her eyes and look up at him. She looked drugged, strung out, and when she whispered, "Dillon?" her voice was slurred.
"She recognizes you," Laura said. "That's a good start."
"It's me, Sherlock. It's all right now. Mac and Laura are here. We're leaving."
"He's here, Dillon," she whispered, rubbing her fingers against her temple. "He's tucked right behind my left ear. He's laughing. He won't leave me alone, and he's still laughing. He won't stop. Please, Dillon, please make him stop." She closed her eyes again and slumped back against Savich's arm.
"Is she talking about Marlin Jones?" I asked, kicking Molinas lightly in the ribs. He was still trying to catch a breath.
"Yes," Savich said, never looking away from Sher-lock's chalky face. "The drug they've been giving her brought him back, planted him in her mind and magnified him, made him into even more of a monster than he really was, and that's saying something. He's there in her head, as real as you are."
"It did the same thing to me," I said slowly, "but it just happened once. I relived the car bomb in Tunisia.
You're right. It was worse remembering it than when it actually happened. Paul said the drug was supposed to lessen the power of a bad memory."
Molinas struggled to sit up. "Yes, the drug is supposed to relieve the physical symptoms. They promised me it would. But there's something wrong. The drug shouldn't bring the memory to the forefront.
"It's like you said, the drug is supposed to dissipate the physical symptoms, and with repeated doses finally remove the horror of the memory. But it doesn't work. I tried different doses and even different additives to see if I couldn't fix the drug. But it doesn't work."
I went down on my haunches in front of Molinas. "What happened to your daughter?"
"She was raped three years ago right on campus at her private school. She was only fifteen years old.
Four older boys raped her. It destroyed her. They promised me the drug would help her, that's the only reason I got involved with Alyssum and Del Cabrizo in the first place, to help my daughter.
"That's why I gave her the drug. I injected her myself. But it hasn't worked. Her memories of that night have grown worse, not better. The drug is killing her!"
"So you gave Sherlock an even larger dose and mixed in other drugs?" I asked.
Molinas stared into Savich's eyes and saw his own death there. He quickly leaned over and vomited on the wooden floor.
Savich carried Sherlock in his arms. She was conscious now, but her eyes were heavy and vague. He'd wrapped her in all the blankets that were in that cell. She was disturbingly silent, quiescent. That really worried me. My mouthy Sherlock, who usually ordered everyone around, including her husband, was lying like a ghost, not really there. Laura walked behind them, carrying two AK-47s. I marched Molinas in front of me, the Bren Ten pressed against the small of his back, another AK-47 slung over my left shoulder.
"Take me to Jilly," I said to Molinas. "Now. I want to see my sister. She's coming out with us."
"Your sister isn't here," Molinas said. I could tell it hurt him to speak.
I smiled at him. "I don't believe you. She came to me. She spoke to me, she warned me."
He said slowly, "It must have been the drug. Your sister was never here. Never. I have no reason to lie to you about that. It was the drag. It's unpredictable. But I have never heard of it doing that before."
Was that possible? Jilly had been standing over me, clear as day. She'd been with me, speaking to me, dammit.
"She's never been here," Molinas repeated.
"But you know her?" Laura said.
"I know who she is," Molinas said carefully. We stopped and kept silent. There were men speaking not fifteen feet away. About three minutes later their boot steps faded down the long wooden corridor.
We went back to his big opulent office and the huge adjoining bedchamber only to find it empty. His daughter, Marran, must have gotten herself untied because she'd locked herself in the bathroom. Molinas told her to stay there until he came back. We heard her crying.
"Look what I found."
We turned to see that Laura had opened a closet door that I hadn't seen before. "Guns, clothes, and look at this-two more AK-47s."
She turned around, grinning really big. She was holding up a machete. "You never know if we might need it. They all carry knives. Just maybe we should have one too." She looked over at Savich. "You guys need to get out of those clothes. I'll help change Sherlock."