In her haste, Adriana left caution behind, and when she crossed the door’s threshold, was struck hard in the face with the back of Martens’s forearm. The blow knocked her feet out from under her, and Adriana fell to the deck. Momentarily stunned, she felt the weapon slip from her grasp and caught a glimpse of it as the gun slid away down the deck toward the rear of the boat.
A terrible pain shot through her scalp as Martens clutched her hair and pulled her to her feet. The next second, his forearm was around her neck, squeezing hard. Adriana felt her airway close, and she choked, heaving forward to free herself from his grip. She managed a short gasp of air before he tightened the noose. She squirmed, but his hold on her was too strong. Her vision narrowed and blurred. In seconds, she would black out. After that, Adriana would be dead in less than a minute.
She twisted her head an inch to the left and saw the Sea-Doo bouncing in the waves, trailing just behind the yacht. A distant memory returned to her. Her training. She remembered something her father had said to her when she was young about what to do when someone was choking her from behind. Always go for the eyes. Losing vision is both horrific and painful.
With her last ounce of strength and the moonlit night growing darker by the second, Adriana reached both hands back and found Martens’s face. Her thumbs dragged across his skin until they found the eye sockets. She shoved hard with the flats of her thumbs, sinking them as deep as she could.
Martens screamed, and instantly his grip loosened as she plunged her thumbs deeper and then bent them and pulled back as she dropped to her knees, gasping for air. His hands shot up to his eyes, wiping at them with his fingers. He staggered forward, forgetting his surroundings. His waist hit the side rail at the exact moment the yacht dropped through a swell. The two movements were too much, and he toppled over into the sea.
Adriana caught a last-second view before he went over the edge and managed to grab the rail and pull herself up. She looked back and saw Martens floating in the black sea. Diego hit the throttle on the Sea-Doo and drove it straight at the oblivious Belgian.
He heard the engine but never saw the watercraft as the bow rammed into his head at full speed. A second later, Diego let off the throttle and looked back. Martens’s body was gone.
Adriana stared down from above, her throat still sore from the choking. She managed a weak grin and held a hand up for her father to see that she was okay. He repeated the gesture and gave a nod.
Martens was dead. It was over.
22
Adriana shook hands with the curator and walked out of the office. The entire wall separating it and the rest of the museum was made of glass, as was the door. The man said he preferred to be able to see everything that was going on. He was either a micromanager or terribly afraid of being lonely. Either way, it made for a decent place to work, giving an open feel to what would otherwise be nothing more than a glorified cubicle.
Her father was waiting for her, sitting on a bench just outside the office near a short separating wall that segregated art of different kinds. He sat with both feet firmly planted on the floor, a golf cap folded in his hands. When she approached, he smiled up at her and stood.
“All sorted out?” he asked.
She nodded. “Yeah, I think so.” Adriana glanced back over her shoulder at the exuberant curator. He was already busily making phone calls. “I’d guess he’s reaching out to every promotional outlet he can find.”
Diego leaned sideways and looked beyond her. The frail old man with circular black-rimmed glasses, a thin nest of hair, and sagging features looked more alive than he probably had in years. He was waving a hand around wildly as he spoke to someone on the other end of the phone.
“He looks excited,” Diego said, turning his attention back to his daughter. “You sure he’ll keep your identity a secret.”
“An extraordinary donation from an anonymous donor,” she answered. “That’s his line, and he knows to stick with it.”
“And if he doesn’t?”
“He doesn’t know my name or anything about me. I used an alias.”
“Smart.”
The two started for the exit, strolling by priceless works of art from various Old Masters. Adriana stared at them as they passed, admiring the collection.
“You know,” Diego interrupted her thoughts, “those three paintings were probably worth close to a quarter of a billion. It’s not surprising he’s excited. You sure he won’t just take them for himself?”
She shook her head. “He has a good reputation as an historian and curator. And he’s honest.”
“How do you know that?”
Adriana snorted. “Papa, it’s almost like you think I don’t do my research.”
He blushed a little. “I’m sorry. It’s just… it would be a shame if he simply took them and sold them on the black market.”
“He’s fine. Besides, I warned him against such things.”
“Warned him?”
The two reached a turn in the corridor and headed toward the exit. Outside, the bright sun pierced through patches of gray and white clouds, spraying rays of light down on the city.
“Yes. I told him if he tried anything like that, I would find him.”
Diego let out a booming laugh. “I have no doubts you would.”
They pushed through the glass doors and stepped out into the cold fall day. People loitered around the ticket window, waiting to gain entrance to the museum. Others, most likely tourists, posed for photos in front of the building and some of the sculptures on the terrace.
“What will you do now?” Diego asked after a minute of relative silence.
Adriana watched a young couple get their photo taken in front of a sculpture of a nude woman with no face.
“I’m heading back to the States for a while. I need a little rest, and I’d like to see Sean. I feel bad. During this whole ordeal, I left him in the dark.”
“I understand, dear. You didn’t want to get him involved because you didn’t want him to get hurt.”
It was her turn to laugh. “Papa, Sean can handle himself. He’s a former government agent, remember? It’s not that. I just… I don’t want to depend on someone else to save me. That’s not how you raised me.”
“That’s true,” he nodded. “But it’s not always a bad thing to have someone come to your aid. Having people you can depend on is the most valuable commodity in the world. And it’s a rare gift.”
She thought about what he said. Adriana knew he was grateful for all she’d done and everything she’d been through over the last month. It was a harrowing experience to say the least.
After another moment of reflection, she broke the silence. “Where will you go, Papa?”
He smiled and looked down at the pavement, pulling his hat down snug against his scalp. Then he folded his hands behind his back. “I’m not sure. Obviously, the safe house won’t do. We’ll need to find a new location for that.”
She nodded her agreement.
“I have a few places I can hide out,” he said. “Istanbul is my first choice. I love the food there. But I also have a little place in the Spanish countryside. It’s off the grid, and no one will think to look for me so close to where I grew up. Would be the last place they’d check.”
He was right. And she liked the idea. But something was still bothering her. “How long until you think you can stop running and hiding?”
He shrugged. “Who knows? I angered a lot of people during my espionage career. Most of them are incarcerated or are dead. Not many remain. The few that do, I can handle on my own. I did once already. Now they are old men like me. I doubt they’ll make a fuss to dig around looking.”