The Phoenix Encounter (21 page)

“There's been an accident,” Robert said.

He saw the other man's eyes sweep the area, obviously looking for a vehicle that didn't exist. “My wife is badly injured,” Robert added.

The car door opened. Robert's heart pounded as he reached for the pistol. Turning his collar up against the downpour, the man approached him. “Where is she? Does she need to go to the hospital?”

“I need your vehicle,” Robert said.

The man's eyes widened. He turned to run to the car, but Robert was faster, grabbing his arm and spinning him around. “I just need your car. A young woman's life is at stake.”

The man's eyes flashed to the pistol. “The car is yours.”

Robert slapped the last of his cash into the man's hand. “Thank you,” he said in Rebelian and got into the car. Looking at the lightning flickering in the sky, he hoped the rain would hold until he reached the castle. Rain made good cover.

“Hold on, Lily,” he whispered and jammed the car into gear.

 

The winding stone staircase seemed to go on forever. Lily's dress was so long, she had to lift it to avoid stumbling over the hem. The only sound came from her shoes, the shoes of the young woman who'd come for her and the boots of the soldier accompanying them.

The knock on her door had come precisely at 6:55 p.m. By then, Lily had showered and dressed. She'd chosen the black gown. It had seemed only fitting since she was probably going to meet her death in the coming days. The gown was a tad too large, but the silk draped nicely—not that she
gave a damn. She'd chosen shoes with low heels—just in case she needed to run for her life.

Once on the ground level, the young woman and soldier escorted her through ancient arched doorways and past darkened stairwells toward a brightly lit chamber at the end of the hall. Just outside the door, they stopped. “General DeBruzkya waits for you in the formal dining hall,” the young woman said.

It was the same woman who'd taken Jack from her an hour earlier. Lily looked into her eyes, searching for a seed of compassion, something she could reach. “Where's my son?”

“He's in the nursery, sleeping,” the woman replied.

“I want to see him.”

“The general will see you first.”

“Please, take me to see my son—”

The soldier gave her a warning look. The young woman shook her head. “Please, madame, go to the general. Talk to him about seeing your son. It is out of our hands.”

Frustrated and angry and more frightened than she wanted to admit, Lily turned toward the door and forced herself to walk into the cavernous room. A fire blazed in the giant stone hearth. Lily could feel its warmth even from twenty feet away. Upon its mantel a dozen candles cast soft shadows on the stone walls, lending the room a feeling of warmth and opulence. A glossy mahogany table with a white linen runner down the center stretched like a sleek cat to the left of the hearth. A bouquet of white and red roses adorned the center of the table.

General DeBruzkya sat at one of the high-back chairs with a stemmed wineglass in his hand, watching her with predatory eyes. Lily felt his gaze follow her as she crossed to him, felt the gooseflesh raise on her arms, the chill sweep down her back. The intensity of his gaze unnerved her, so she concentrated on the table. There were two formal place settings. Matching stemmed Waterford wineglasses. Wedgwood china. White linen napkins. Gleaming silverware with
ornately designed handles. Expensive French wine. She hated all of it. The opulence. The beauty. The man who watched her as if she were nothing more than a pretty piece of crystal that had caught his fancy, or a rare wine that was to be sampled and then consumed.

DeBruzkya stood. “Ah, Lillian, you look ravishing.”

Her skin crawled when his gaze swept over her. He licked his lips and used his napkin to blot sweat from him forehead. “The black suits you.”

“I want to see my son,” Lily said.

Amusement entered his eyes. “Please, sit down. Share a meal with me. Some of this French wine. I had my chefs prepare the food specially for tonight.”

She looked at the silver servers spread out on the table like gaudy ornaments. Even though she hadn't eaten the entire day, her mouth soured at the sight of the food.

“Beef Wellington with asparagus and hollandaise,” he said. “Field greens with raspberry vinaigrette. Sorbet if you like. Truffles.”

When she remained standing, he frowned. “Please. I'd like to discuss something important with you.” He leaned closer to her and whispered in a conspiratorial voice. “The sooner you talk with me, the sooner you'll see your son.”

The words brought a dangerous rush of anger. Lily stared at him, hating that he would try to control her by using her son for leverage. In the back of her mind, she wondered how he would react if she snatched up the silver pitcher of water and splashed it in his face.

“Please.” DeBruzkya rounded the table and pulled out her chair. “Sit.”

Knowing anything but cooperation would be fruitless at this point, Lily lowered herself to the chair.

“Thank you,” he said. “That wasn't so bad, was it?”

She watched him round the table, inordinately relieved that he was sitting across from her as opposed to right next to her. She truly didn't think she could bear to be touched
by him. Even a casual touch would send her into a rage she wasn't sure she would be able to control.

She watched as he spread the white linen napkin in his lap. He reached for the bottle of wine and filled her glass. Topping off his own, he leaned back and studied her.

Lily stared back at him, aware that her heart was pounding. She couldn't fathom what he could possibly want from her. Couldn't imagine what was going on in that twisted mind of his. The possibilities made her shudder.

“I'm sure you're wondering why you're here.”

“The thought did cross my mind.”

He smiled, but cruelty glinted in his eyes. “I enjoy a woman of your…fortitude. It's refreshing. Most women are afraid of me. Most men are afraid of me. Are you, Lillian?”

“No,” she lied.

“I'm going to enjoy our dinner very much, indeed.” Smiling, he picked up his fork and knife and began to cut the tender pastry. “Eat,” he said. “Enjoy this decadent food. My chef is from Paris. One of the best in the world.”

“While your people starve.”

“The Rebelian people must learn to bow to their government. I mean only to help them. To lead them. To take them into the twenty-first century as a powerful nation.”

She didn't know why her mind chose that minute to think of Strawberry, but she did and had to blink back the uneasy burn of tears. Hating it that her hands were shaking, Lily picked up her silverware and began to cut, back and forth, barely aware of what she was doing. Because she didn't quite trust her stomach she started with water, then a small piece of the asparagus.

“The last time we sat down to a meal, you agreed to write my autobiography,” DeBruzkya said matter-of-factly as he salted his food.

When Lily didn't answer, he raised his head and glared at her. “Then you dropped out of sight.”

“I—I had a baby,” she said. “My…focus changed after Jack was born.”

“Ah. It is difficult being a new mother, no? Being alone with a child?”

“No, I just…put my writing on the back burner.”

His black eyes flashed to her. “Ah, Lillian, don't lie to me.”

“I—I'm not.”

“I know about the
Rebellion.
I've been reading it for weeks now. It's quite…entertaining.”

She tried to swallow the fear rising inside her, but it swamped her, a dangerous river flooding its banks, threatening to drown her. She looked at her food, felt a swirl of nausea and set her fork down.

“I didn't mean to ruin your meal.”

He knew about the
Rebellion.
That could only mean he knew she was involved with the freedom fighters. She knew what happened to the rebel leaders. They were shot or hanged—if they were lucky. The unlucky ones were imprisoned and tortured until they gave up the names of other rebel leaders.

She jumped when he abruptly stabbed his knife into the wooden tabletop. Fear and dread flashed inside her when he rose and rounded the table to stand behind her. Her pulse roared in her ears. She tried to calm herself with deep breaths, but she couldn't seem to get enough oxygen into her lungs. She thought of Jack, alone or growing up in orphanages the way she had, and her heart simply broke.

She closed her eyes when he leaned forward, trapping her by bracing an arm on either side of her. He was so close she could smell the wine on his breath, discern the crisp tang of Italian aftershave.

“You're shaking,” he whispered, running his finger from her shoulder to her elbow then back up. “Are you afraid of me?”

“I know what you do to rebels.”

“Are you a rebel, Lillian?”

“No.”

“Don't lie to me.”

“I'm a…a journalist.” She flinched with she felt the brush of his lips against her ear.

“You played me for a fool.”

“No—”

She yelped when he grasped her arm and pulled her out of the chair and to her feet so that she was facing him. A dozen emotions skittered through her brain, but simple terror took center stage and rendered her helpless. “Let go of me,” she said after several long moments.

His eyes glinted. “I'm never going to let go of you, Lillian. I'm going to keep you here, as my wife. You're going to write the autobiography you promised all those months ago. I'm going to raise your son as my own. We're going to have other sons together. Lots of them.”

The words curled around her like a snake, choking her. She tried to shove away from him, but he easily held her against him. Panic zinged through her, and she began to struggle in earnest, but she was no match for him.

“I'm a powerful man, Lillian. I have plans for the future. Not only for Rebelia, but all of Europe. Once I get my hands on the Gem of Power—”

“The Gem of Power doesn't exist.”

He laughed. “Ah, but it does. If you let yourself believe. I believe, Lillian. I'll make you believe, too.”

“You're delusional,” she whispered.

“I have something the Americans want very badly. With the Gem of Power and the help of Dr. Alex Morrow, the sky is the limit.”

The mention of Dr. Morrow gave her pause. She remembered Robert mentioning the American doctor who'd disappeared in nearby Holzberg. “I don't know who Dr. Morrow is,” she said.

“You don't need to know. But Morrow's here. In my headquarters.” He sighed. Lily felt the warm brush of his breath against her ear and shuddered. “Ah, Lillian, I'm going to do great things,” he said. “I need a wife with strength and courage and vision. You have all of those
things.” His gaze swept down the front of her. “And so much more.”

Lily knew then that if she was going to get out of this alive, if she was going to save her son, she was going to have to use her head and not her emotions. She had to stop being afraid.

“You may not love me,” he whispered. “But I can give you everything you've ever wanted. You'll learn to compromise.”

Lily thought about Robert and closed her eyes. “Love is…important to me,” she said, not wanting to sound too eager lest he realize she was playing him in a desperate attempt to buy time.

“Lillian.” He leaned toward her, brushed his lips across her temple. “I've dreamed of touching you like this for so long.” His hands trembled as they slid from her shoulders to brush the outsides of her breasts. “War can be a very lonely time for a man.”

She fought the rise of revulsion and endured the contact, trying desperately to think of a way out of this. “This is happening…too fast. I—I'll have to think about it.” She looked at him and tried desperately to smile. “You understand that a woman likes to think about these things.”

For a moment she wasn't sure if he was buying into it. She'd never been a good liar, even worse at hiding her emotions. She stared into his black eyes, terrified he would see the lie for what it was. That he would see right through her to the terror in her mind, the hatred in her heart.

Instead, he leaned forward and set his mouth against hers.

R
obert took out the first sentry with the miniaturized stun gun that doubled as a watch. One instant the young man was raising an ugly-looking Chinese-made SKS-47, the next he melted to the ground like a blob of gelatin.

“Thank you, Hatch,” Robert quietly muttered.

Glancing over his shoulder, he worked off his sweater and jeans, then quickly gathered the young soldier's uniform and put it on. The trousers were too large, but he didn't plan on running into anyone who might question the fit.

He found a set of nylon cuffs stowed in a pouch in the soldier's belt and secured the man's wrists to a steel bar on the window. He used his T-shirt for a gag, then picked up the gun and headed into the castle.

Robert had never been inside Veisweimar Castle, but he'd taken several minutes with his computer to pull up a set of blueprints that were stored on the ARIES database and put them to memory. He'd hoped to enter the behemoth structure on the south side, but sentries had been concen
trated there, so he swam the moat and went in from the north. With the help of an aluminum grappling hook, he scaled the twelve-foot wall, then climbed a pine tree and entered through a second-level balcony.

His leg ached with breathtaking ferocity as he jogged down the dimly lit corridor, but Robert had long since grown used to the pain. Pain was tangible. He could deal with it. What he couldn't deal with was the fear of not knowing where Lily was. Not knowing where Jack was. Not knowing what DeBruzkya had in mind for either of them.

Robert had seen the torture and the executions. If DeBruzkya somehow found out Lily was involved with the freedom fighters… He couldn't finish the thought. Terror slashed through him with such force that his stride faltered. Panic warred with the need for a level head. Panting as much from the run as the adrenaline streaking through him, he reached the end of a corridor then looked down at the GPS tracking device in his hand. The device showed that he was right on top of the transmitter. He was close, but the device wasn't sensitive enough to pinpoint her exact location. Left would take him to the main section of the castle where the kitchen and ballrooms were located. Right would take him into the basement that held the prison cells and interrogation rooms which, in Robert's mind, translated as torture chambers. More important, the generator room was also located in the basement.

He took a right. The corridor was narrow and dim and very damp. He could see an arched entry at the end of the hall. He was halfway there when he heard the voices. Glancing around, he realized there were no alcoves or doorways for him to duck into. Two soldiers were coming up the stairs. He saw the tops of their heads, then they spotted him. Robert didn't hesitate. Raising his hand, he greeted them in Rebelian, using the slang term for
slow night.

They met at the top of the stairwell. Robert noticed one
of the soldiers watching him intently and grinned. “Anyone got a smoke?”

The younger of the two immediately dug into his pocket and withdrew a small tin of brown cigarettes. Robert accepted one and put it to his lips. He'd never been a fan of tobacco, but leaned forward eagerly when the younger man struck a match.

“What's your name?” the older man asked.

“Bane,” he said.

“You new?”

“First night on the job.”

“What are you doing down here?”

He smiled. “I was on my way to the nursery.”

The soldier's eyes narrowed. “The nursery is on the third level.”

Robert let his smile turn sheepish. “The sentry told me it was down here.”

The two men looked at each other and laughed. Robert laughed along with them, wondering if they could see the sweat that had popped out on his forehead. Because he couldn't think of a damn thing to say—because his Rebelian left something to be desired—he puffed hard on the cigarette, then doubled over in a fit of coughing.

Laughing, the younger man slapped him on the back. “Maybe you need women's cigarettes.”

“Or mother's milk,” the other man chimed in.

While they laughed Robert worked his hand into the breast pocket of the shirt he wore, then straightened. The younger man was still cutting up, but the older one was staring at the watch Robert held in his hand.

“What is that you have there?” he asked, his smile fading.

Grinning like an idiot, Robert leaned close to him. “You ever see a James Bond movie?”

“Sean Connery,” the younger soldier said, grinning.

“Pierce Brosnan,” Robert corrected.

The two men leaned close to the watch, looking curi
ously at it. He touched a tiny button at the crown of the watch's face. The charge whistled. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the older man's hand tighten around his rifle. An instant later, he pressed the face of the watch against the older man's neck. One hundred thousand volts of electricity snapped, dropping him like dead weight.

The younger man lurched back, fumbling for his rifle. “What the
hell?
”

Robert lunged, tagged him with the watch. “Sorry, man,” he growled as electricity cracked through the air.

The young soldier hit the stone floor like a bag of potatoes. Looking left and then right, Robert stuffed the watch into his pocket. Knowing that in a matter of minutes the castle would be crawling with heavily armed soldiers, he sprinted to the stairwell and took the steps two at a time into the basement. According to the blueprints, the generator room was halfway down the corridor and to his right. Robert sprinted to the door, but it was locked. He backed up slightly, kicked the door and it flew open, banging hard against the stone wall. Heart pounding, Robert quickly located the generator at the rear and fished out two of the miniature explosive charges. He planted one on the underside of the generator. Because the castle also used natural gas, he searched for the feed pipe and planted the second device there, then set the timers for thirty seconds.

Knowing the blast was going to be huge because of the gas, he sprinted from the room, slamming the door behind him. He was halfway down the hall when the stone beneath his feet shuddered. An instant later the concussion struck him in the back like a giant fist and sent him flying. He saw debris, felt the heat of fire and hoped to God he could stay conscious long enough to find Lily.

 

Revulsion swamped her as DeBruzkya pressed his mouth against hers in a sick imitation of a kiss. Lily endured the contact but fought a greasy rise of nausea. Panic threatened, and she tried desperately to separate her mind from what
was happening to her, from the very real fear that this could escalate into something horrible. Just when she thought she couldn't bear it any longer, the floor shuddered beneath her feet, followed by an ominous rumble. At first she thought it was thunder from the coming storm, then the lights flickered and went out, plunging them into darkness.

“What the…” DeBruzkya pulled away, but he didn't release her.

Insistent pounding sounded at the door. Lily could hear shouting beyond. DeBruzkya turned to her, his rodent's eyes seeking hers. In the thin light cast by candlelight, Lily could see the hunger, the disappointment and thinly concealed cruelty etched into his features. Slowly, he released his grip on her arms, then ran his hands to her shoulders and squeezed hard enough to make her wince. “Stay here,” he said and started toward the door.

Lily sagged against the mantel, stunned, trying to decide what to do next. She watched DeBruzkya cross to the door and yank it open. She heard voices as he conversed with his men. She couldn't make out the words, but in a sudden burst of insight she knew Robert had come for her and Jack. The realization filled her with hope and the strength to do what she needed to do next.

Pushing away from the mantel, she darted to the table and quickly extinguished all but one candle. Behind her she could hear DeBruzkya barking out orders. She snatched the last lit candle, then started toward a door at the rear of the dining hall. If DeBruzkya or one of the men were to shine their flashlights in her direction, she would be in plain sight. She twisted the knob.
Please don't be locked.
Relief swamped her when the door swung open.

Lily smelled olive oil and garlic and yeast from the day's cooking as she stepped into what appeared to be the kitchen. The light from the candle in her hand flickered off the stainless steel work areas. Two industrial-size stovetops and ovens lined the wall to her left. Straight ahead, another door beckoned. Spotting a metal folding chair, she quietly
closed the door behind her, dragged the chair over and wedged it tightly beneath the knob. It wouldn't hold them for long, but it might buy her a few minutes.

Her heart raged against her ribs as she snatched the candle and jogged through the room toward the door on the other side. She yanked the knob, but the door was locked. “Damn!” she whispered.

She looked wildly around for something with which to pry it open. She could hear a cacophony of shouts coming from the dining room. Fear and urgency sent her across the room where she began yanking open drawers. She pulled out towels and gadgets, finally coming upon knives. Her gaze landed on the butcher's ax, and she snatched it up. Setting the candle down on the counter, she faced the door and swung the ax as hard as she could. Wood splintered with a loud
crack.
The sound seemed deafening in the stark silence, but she didn't stop. She swung again and again, animal sounds erupting from her throat as she pounded at the lock and surrounding wood. Panic and fear and a mother's desperate need to save her child drove her.

After endless minutes the door swung open. One moment she was swinging the ax, the next she was standing there, breathing hard, and looking down a long dark stairwell that seemed to go into the very bowels of the castle. She snatched up the candle, entered the stairway and took the steps at a dangerous speed even though she couldn't see more than five or six feet in front of her. The stairs seemed to go on forever. The shoes she wore were loud against the stone steps and hindered her progress, but she didn't dare risk kicking them off.

The stairs opened to a narrow corridor where the air was musty and cold. Lily could hear water dripping and echoing off the stone walls. Venturing into the corridor, she passed several ancient wooden doors on her right before noticing that the tiny windows set high on the doors were barred. Only then did she realize she'd entered what appeared to
be the dungeon. The thought of all the things that had happened within these walls made her shudder.

Holding the candle in front of her like a weapon, she walked into the inky blackness. The thought of being trapped in a catacomb without light or fresh air unnerved her. Surely there was a back exit, wasn't there? Panic pressed down on her. Lily broke into a run. She could hear herself breathing hard. The click of her heels against the stone floor. She felt as if the low ceiling and walls were pressing down on her, smothering her. She ran faster, the doors blurring past. The candle flickered wildly, casting bizarre shadows on the ceiling.

The hands came out of nowhere, strong and overpowering. One instant she was sprinting down the narrow passageway, the next strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her into a darkened alcove. The candle clattered to the floor, plunging her into darkness. Lily screamed, but the sound was cut short when a hand clamped over her mouth.

DeBruzkya,
she thought, and panic overwhelmed her. She twisted, but he yanked her against him. A scream echoed inside her head, but his hand over her mouth prevented her from screaming. She lashed out with her feet, missed his shin and ended up losing one of her shoes.

“Lily! Easy. It's Robert.”

His whisper lapped over her like a gentle ocean wave over sand, smoothing out her terror. She went still. The relief swamped her with such power that her knees went weak. “Robert? Oh, God.”

“I'm here, honey. Easy, it's me. You're okay.”

“I can't believe you're here.” The words tumbled out brokenly. “DeBruzkya—”

“Shh. Just calm down. Everything's going to be okay.”

Turning in his arms, her body flush against his, she looked at him. “We have to find Jack. They took him from me.”

“That's exactly what we're going to do.”

She didn't expect him to kiss her. Not at a moment like this when they risked discovery at any moment. But he did, and the kiss took down her panic. Eased her fear. Filled her heart with hope. Her soul with love for this man. He kissed her long and deep, stirring her and rousing her. And at that moment Lily knew in her heart that somehow everything was going to work out.

His jaw was taut with tension when he pulled back. “Are you all right? Did they hurt you?”

“I'm okay.”

“Jack?”

“I don't know. I don't know where he is. I think he's in the nursery.”

“That's where we'll go next. Where's DeBruzkya?”

“We were in the dining room when the lights went out. There was some kind of explosion.” Lily wasn't sure why she was telling Robert about the explosion when chances were he knew a hell of a lot more about it than she did.

“Hopefully, that will keep them busy for a few minutes,” he said.

“He's crazy, Robert. I mean, we were…he wanted to…” She couldn't finish the sentence. “He has this sick fantasy that there's something between us.”

“He didn't…”

“No.”

“That son of a—”

“He mentioned the Gem of Power.” The words were coming in a flood. She couldn't seem to get them out fast enough. “He mentioned Dr. Alex Morrow.”

Robert's gaze snapped to hers. “How so?”

“Just that he's here, in the castle.”

“Crazy bastard.” He paused, deep in concentration. “We find Jack first. Once the two of you are safe, I'll come back for Morrow.”

“DeBruzkya will kill—”