This is it.
She gasped when she heard the bolt slide on the door. A frightening, industrial sound as metal scraped against metal and a chunky lock was turned. The sound echoed in her cell as she sat up on her bed and turned to face her captors.
Two men appeared, both wearing military fatigues and with pistols in holsters on belts around their waists. She felt a crushing sense of disappointment and destroyed hope when they walked into her cell. She knew it was crazy, but she had started to believe it was all a terrible mistake and her father had organised everything. Brought all the madness to an end.
Instead, she was looking at two men in military fatigues with serious faces. They marched into the room and loomed over her. No name tags or any other means of ID, she noted.
“Get in the chair.”
“Who are you?” she asked. “Where are you taking me?”
“Stop asking stupid questions and get in the chair.”
One of the soldiers grabbed her by the arm. “Do as I say and get in the chair or I’ll drag you into it.”
She fixed him in the eye, determined not to let him get to her. “You can’t possibly get away with what you’re doing here. You realize that, right?”
He brought his right hand up and struck her hard on the face, knocking her back down onto the bed. She felt her cheek tingle as the blood from the impact rushed up to the surface. With her head buried down in the blankets, she swore to herself that she would show no weakness. Turning to face him, she said, “You’re standing in my way.”
He dumbly looked behind him and saw he was between her and the chair. He grabbed the back of the chair and shoved it roughly over to her. “Just get in it. You have an appointment with a very busy man, and he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”
“Where are you taking me?”
“You’re going to speak with the base commander.”
They wheeled her out of the cell and through various sections of a building that resembled most airports she had ever seen. When they arrived at the base commander’s office, one of them tapped on the door respectfully.
“Come!”
They wheeled her into the office, positioned her in front of his desk and snapped to attention.
“The Prisoner, sir!”
Without looking at the soldiers, he smiled at Alex. “You’re dismissed.”
“Sir, yes sir!”
They filed out of the room and clicked the door shut. It was now she realized the radio was on in the corner and a mellow cocktail lounge jazz piano was softening the atmosphere. It gave the moment a surreal quality she had not expected.
The commander linked his tanned fingers together and rested his hands on the desk.
“Welcome to Tartarus. I’m Colonel Blanchard.”
“Where’s my father and Agent McGee?”
“Enjoying our hospitality in another section of the base. Will you testify against your father’s treason?”
The casual way he spoke such powerful words hit her like a hammer. “Screw you.”
He nodded and sighed. “I thought you’d say that, but if you don’t help us then things are looking pretty bleak for you. I’m not going to lie. Will you help us?”
Partly through anger and partly to stop him seeing them shaking, she dug her fingers into the wheelchair’s armrests. “Never.”
He nodded again. “In that case, I’ll book you in for a session with Mr Mahoe.”
“Who the hell is Mr Mahoe?” she said. “If he’s a lawyer, I’d rather use my own. Get me a phone.”
“A lawyer,” he said. “That’s a good one.”
“So, who is he? Your boss?”
He chuckled. “No, he’s not my boss.. he’s sort of a persuader.”
She felt her blood run cold. “You mean a torturer?”
“Hey, you say potato… now take the brakes off that thing. You’re leaving.”
He pushed the intercom button on his desk and a man answered. “Send them in again.”
“Sir.”
The soldiers walked back onto the room and snapped to attention once again with crisp salutes, long way up, short way down.
“Take her back to her cell and brief Mr Mahoe that he’s needed.”
The two men looked at each other, fear crossing their faces. “Sir, yes sir!”
She took the brakes off and one of them walked ahead while the other wheeled her out of the commander’s office.
“I’ll give you just one more chance to think it over, Alex,” Blanchard called out behind her. “After that, you’re Mr Mahoe’s.”
With Mr Mahoe echoing in her mind, they wheeled her away from the soft jazz of Blanchard’s office. Miles of corridors trundled past her as they pushed her around left-hand corners and right-hand corners and down long straights. Minutes passed as they went deeper into the complex, all the while she grew more and more nervous.
A lawyer… that’s a good one.
Eventually they pulled up at the large steel door of her cell and pushed her inside. As they closed the door on her, the tall one said one last thing. “For God’s sake, tell him what he wants to know.”
And then the door slammed shut.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Their prayers had been answered not by God but Orlando Sooke. After the sea battle and the destruction of the V-22 Osprey, they had returned to their SUVs and made contact with him. He had contacted MI6 Agent Chris Raynes who had in turn made contact with a former US Army Ranger named David LeMeur. Colonel LeMeur got through to an old friend named Ezra Haven. He ran a special ops team called the Raiders from his office in the mysterious Titanfort spy hub in New York City.
The hastily built network had worked. Haven had used Titanfort’s considerable spying resources to pick Kashala up as he sailed east through the Med. After a convoluted journey, presumably designed to throw others off the scent, the Congolese general had boarded a transport helicopter at sea and flown across Turkey to Bursa. Here, they had climbed into trucks and driven north to Istanbul.
The largest city in Europe.
With over fifteen million people, it offered the sort of annihilation Joseph “King” Kashala had desired when he’d talked about scarring the world forever. Visions of Istanbul being vaporized haunted all their thoughts, including those of Sooke, who had managed to round up some more money to expedite their journey back to Turkey in a private, chartered jet.
As a business associate of Eden and a distant player in his Consortium, Sooke’s loyalty should have been beyond question, but the way things were right now, Hawke and the others had nursed their doubts about him. The arrival of the chartered Hawker Beechcraft had seen to that and they had driven to the Santorini Airport as fast as possible.
Security there was tightened after the attack on the Osprey, but their false passports got them through fast enough. The mysterious newcomer had also arranged a safe house via Ezra Haven, and that also brought a certain amount of relief. Somewhere quiet and secure to prepare for the final showdown with Kashala was more than welcome, and they had been promised access to weapons, too.
Now, as they soared east above the Mediterranean on route to Istanbul, Scarlet stretched her legs out, gently reclined her soft leather seat and let a loud, satisfied sigh out into the sumptuous cabin. “Ah, bliss.”
“Happy now?” Ryan asked.
“Yes, thank you,” she said. “Now get me a beer.”
“One step ahead of you, Sloane.” He thrust a cold bottle into her hand.
Scarlet opened her eyes in shock as the cold glass pressed against her skin. “Bloody hell! You’re almost house trained.”
He slumped down in the seat beside her and took a long swig of his drink. “Almost, but let’s hope I never make it all the way.”