Deadly Ties (33 page)

Seeming pleased, Phen adjusted his stance, his legs spread, his hands perched on his hips, his chin lifted to an arrogant angle. “Your situation is this. Your old lives are gone, and you will not get them back. They no longer exist. You are my property now, my shrubs. You are under my complete and total control, and your well-being, your very life, is wholly dependent on my whim, my discretion, and my goodwill. There is no escape. There is no alternative to your doing what I say when I say it. I expect you to follow my orders without hesitation and without fail. If you meet my expectations, you will live. If you do not, you will die.”

He paced the span of the ten-foot-wide steps three times, then stopped and faced them again. “If you do not intend to follow my orders, please step forward to the base of the steps. We will spare ourselves and you unpleasantness and kill you now.” He smiled. “I daresay we will be more merciful in your murder here than if you are disobedient and force us to kill you inside my home.”

His torture chamber made a bullet to the head seem welcome
.

Roxy slid Lisa a questioning glance, silently asking if Mr. Phen was bluster or factual.

“Believe it. He defines deviate.” Memories washed over Lisa. Memories of rooms with chains on the walls, whips, and wooden racks with huge cranks. Twisted, ugly machines. The faces of the people in them contorted in pain, their screams echoing off the walls. He’d made her watch. Made her see them beg for their lives and then beg to be allowed to die. And then he killed them.

She wept inside, crossed her arms over her chest, and wept for the innocent child she’d been, the horror she’d seen. The poor souls who had died within these ugly walls.

“You okay?” Gwen whispered.

No. No, I’m not okay
. She shuddered.

“Whatever you are thinking, stop it now,” Selene whispered. “It’s over. You survived. Turn it to something good.”

She was right. Lisa imagined Mark clasping their pinkies. In her mind, she studied his huge hands, so tender and gentle. Hands that protected and nurtured. Hands that caressed her face and managed to make her feel touched in her heart.

“Better.” Selene stepped aside.

None of the women moved.

“No rebels bent on revolt?” Mr. Phen scanned the crowd, and his gaze snagged on Lisa. “Ah, Lisa Harper.” He laughed. “It’s good to have you back with me again.”

Debating on whether or not to let on she recognized him, she opted for ignorance. It had worked with Frank. “Excuse me?”

“Ah, Lisa. They say you don’t recall your previous visit to my home. Though brief, I find that impossible to believe. Is it true? Do you not remember your time with Mr. Phen?”

“I daresay that if we’d ever met, I would certainly remember it.”

He stared at her a long moment, then his tense face relaxed. “Well. More is the pity, but it’s just as well. You’re too old for me now, though I will endure and do my best to help you recall.”

An earthquake erupted inside her, so powerful and strong her entire body suffered simultaneous aftershocks and tremors.
Sick. Sick. The man is the worst kind of sick
.

“For now”—Phen returned his attention to the group—“you’ll be shown to your quarters. Bathe, eat, and sleep. Clothing will be brought to your rooms later today. Put it on, dress carefully—your future depends on it—and be ready to leave your room promptly at 7:30 p.m.” He turned and then looked back at them over his shoulder. “In your former world, it was acceptable to be fashionably late. It is not acceptable in mine.”

The threat in his voice was mirrored on his face. He disappeared behind heavy green foliage.

The men started ushering the women, single file, across the courtyard and into the house Lisa recalled as the Chamber of Horrors.

“You’re sure you’re okay?”

“I’m fine.” Lisa looked at Mark, who had appeared at her side. Knowing he’d never believe her, she revised her remark. “I’m fine, I’m scared to death, and I’m praying hard.”

Mark looked reluctant to let her go, but if she didn’t move soon, the guards would notice. “It’ll be okay.”

Lisa said it and prayed she was right.

25

M
ark planted his feet on the ground and his hands in his pockets to keep from yanking Lisa from the line of women entering the house.

“Roxy, you get all that?” He scanned but didn’t spot her.

“Already relayed. Wait. Someone is coming. Black sedan. Not sure of the make and model.”

He glanced toward the driveway and saw her hunkered down under some shrubs.

Juan stepped closer to Mark. “Señor, a black Lexus is coming. Masson drives such a car.”

“Probably Masson,” Mark transmitted to Roxy.

“Make yourself scarce. Surely by now he knows about you. Meet the team at the marina to finalize interception plans. Take the truck.”

“I’m not leaving Lisa.”

“You don’t have a choice. Masson can identify you. You could get her killed.”

He could. No doubt Masson could tag every member in Mark’s old team. Phen might have even been alerted, though Mark doubted NINA would disseminate that much information to him unless they knew Mark was onto them. “My men arrived yet?”

“Ten minutes out,” Joe responded.

“What about Juan?”

“He needs to stay and follow his original orders,” Roxy said. “It’s the only way we can cover for him. Now go. Masson will want to meet Bandit.”

Lisa stepped inside, and Mark lost sight of her. His stomach sank to his knees. “What do you want Juan to tell him?”

“Say Chessman phoned with an assignment and Bandit left with the truck to handle it. Meet up at Ortego’s. It’s a locals’ café, south end of the marina, away from Juan’s boat.”

Mark filled Juan in and then looked him right in the eye. “Do what you can to watch over them.”

“Sí, señor. I will try.” His eyes held his fear of failure.

Mark clasped his shoulder. “Your family is safe now. Do your best.”

“Dios willing, I will do all I am able and He will do the rest.” Juan lifted a fingertip heavenward. “This, I must believe.”

Mark headed to the truck, got in, and cranked the engine. Heat radiated off the dash. “Roxy, you read me?”

“Yeah, I’ve got you.”

“Which direction is the black sedan entering from?”

“The north.”

“I’m exiting south, then. Unless you want an interdiction?” Mark would like nothing better than to take the monster down.

“I’d love one, but it’s too soon. We have to wait for all parties to get into position.”

The buyers at the auction. Pangs of disappointment fell to resignation. Mark knew the drill, and he had been trained to be patient. Patient and persistent and determined. Masson’s time would come.

God, let it be in time to spare Lisa and the other women. I can’t live with failing a woman again. I just can’t do it
.

Trust Me, Mark
.

Mark stilled. He was tired, scared of failure in ways he’d seldom feared. This fear took him all the way back to his childhood, back to enduring his father’s and brother’s slurs and blame for his mother’s death. Back to that merciless, unshakable guilt that clawed at his soul every day of his youthful life. Then it was easy not to fear failure. He was worth nothing and had nothing more to lose. But now things were different. Now, he had Lisa.

Mark turned the wheel to avoid a pothole. The back right tire clipped it and the truck bounced. He had no illusions. He was flawed—on some things, a train wreck. He wasn’t worthy. He had tried to earn his way into favor, been willing to do what needed doing. But down at the bones of it, when it came to faith, he had become a Christian but still ran on scattered fumes.

He’d watched the others at Crossroads. They were the real thing. They had the real thing. Now and then, he believed he had the real thing too. Other times he doubted and craved what they had. Yet no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t seem to earn his way to it. That special relationship with the Lord eluded him, stayed close enough to taunt him but too far away to reach. He shifted gears, adrift, isolated, alone.

Trust Me, My son
.

Love flowed through, warm and welcome and consuming.
God
.

I am never beyond your reach and never away from you. You are Mine, and I am with you always
.

Overwhelmed, Mark hit the brakes, pulled over, and stopped. God’s voice filled his mind and flooded his heart. His shock melted and an alien sense replaced it: total acceptance, a deep abiding and enduring connectedness never before experienced. And love. Unconditional love. And in it was truth.

Unearned. Undeserved but offered.

Grace. I get it now
. Mark hadn’t accepted God’s gift then.
I accept it. Thank You
.

Humbled and awed, he wept over the steering wheel and, bowing his head, offered a prayer of thanksgiving.

Lisa was right about this too.

Neither of them was a fumes-of-faith Christian, here only to serve and help others. They had believed it, but they were wrong.

God was with them every step of the way.

Karl parked near the rear courtyard, then made his way into it. The relentless sun radiated heat off the tile. He was hot, exhausted, and elated all at the same time. This shipment had taken a few unexpected twists and turns, but he’d pulled it off. The cargo was in place on time and intact.

He hadn’t had time to go back to Seagrove Village and dispose of Kelly Walker yet or take out Dutch—two tasks he relished seeing completed for entirely different reasons—but he had completed his mission. So long as the auction took place as scheduled, Raven wouldn’t be inconvenienced, and that was a very good thing for Karl’s long-term prospects with NINA and in life.

Considering the added challenges of Taylor’s old team, Raven might even feel generous enough to assign someone else to handle the Kelly Walker problem so Karl didn’t have to return to the village. Though it would be a personal-satisfaction perk to plant a little C4 at that stupid Crossroads Crisis Center and take out all those jerks at one time, he’d welcome Walker’s demise by any means. The Crossroads bunch needed to go. Everyone there knew far too much about NINA. Raven, no doubt, was monitoring that situation and would soon draw the same conclusion, if she hadn’t already.

Juan stood at the edge of the courtyard near a clump of spiky bushes planted in vats.

Karl walked up to him, grateful to find a little shade. “Glad you made it. Where’s Bandit?”

“Gone.” Juan seemed surprised Karl didn’t know it. “Mr. Chessman sent him somewhere. I do not know where.”

That wasn’t uncommon, though Karl would have preferred notice and to get a look at the man. “Any problems to report?”

“Just the virus. Otherwise, none at all.”

A weight lifted off Karl’s shoulders. That was his kind of news, and just what he’d been hoping to hear. “I’m going to hit the rack for a few hours.” Some pungent floral fragrance had his nose itching. He rubbed at it. “You stay here until after the auction, then ferry the buyers back to their planes. Where’s your boat?”

“At the marina. Should I go get it?”

“Have someone bring it over and dock it here. They’re not to step ashore, so someone needs to follow to ferry them back. It’s too far to swim.”

“Sí, señor.”

Juan took orders without challenge. Karl would remember that for future assignments, not that Juan would be happy to hear from him. But reality would set in. Once NINA tapped a man, he was a lifer. Settling his sunglasses on the bridge of his nose, Karl started toward the house. “I’ll be down in time for the auction. Anything comes up before then, come get me.”

“Where will you be, señor?” Juan’s gaze drifted up the six stories. “It’s a big
casa
.”

“Third floor.” He hiked his brows. It always had been his favorite.

“Sí, señor.”

Stepping under the colorful, striped overhang leading inside, Karl embraced the cool air emerging from the arched entrance. Why hadn’t Chessman notified him Bandit was being reassigned? Why hadn’t Raven passed Karl the assignment?

An internal alarm went off. Taylor’s team was afoot. Dutch Hauk hadn’t done anything to neutralize them, but they might have nailed him. He’d turn on Karl in a heartbeat.

Last check the man was still in Louisiana. Karl grunted. Was Hauk there hiding, or was he feeding the Shadow Watchers information to save his own skin?

Better check this out, Karl. Better check this out
.

The room was little more than a closet: bare white walls, no window, one door, and a twin bed with just enough room to walk beside it without running into another wall.

Memories of being a child and in a room just like it assailed Lisa, and yet the fear she’d felt then was different. Now, through a woman’s eyes, knowing that Mark, his old team, and the FBI were near, she wasn’t consumed by it.

Oh, she wasn’t foolish enough to fall for a false sense of security or any illusion of being safe. They were anything but safe. Given a chance, to protect its interests, NINA would kill them all. Mr. Phen would be more than delighted to do it.

When he’d hung a man on that rack and turned the crank until the poor man screamed in agony, begging for mercy, Mr. Phen bent down and turned the crank again.

The screaming stopped as suddenly as it had started.

Mr. Phen, in his pristine white suit, walked to the man’s head and pressed his fingers to his throat. He paused a long second. Lisa shrank back, as far away as she could get, wringing her hands, her stomach grinding, spots forming before her eyes.

“Oops, I fear that last crank got him.” Mr. Phen laughed and turned to Lisa. “He’s dead.”

She knew what dead meant. Her father had explained it and even took her to the morgue once.

“You see, Lisa? That’s what happens when you don’t listen to Mr. Phen. You die.”

Murder, she’d learned, came naturally to a man who loved to inflict pain.

Given certain circumstances, anyone was capable of murder. Dutch had proven that to her.