Lucas told me a story once about a great-great aunt of his who spied for the Allied Forces during World War Two. She’d free prisoners by smuggling keys to them, hidden in her long hair, wound on top of her head in an elaborate bun.
Fortunately, I have a lot of hair, and a lot of kirby grips.
Édouard is back to escort me to the dining room with all the gravitas of a soldier leading me to my execution, which is likely. The dining room is lit by a dozen candelabras, and the smell of melting beeswax is stifling.
Hugo’s seat is at the head of the table, and I’m always put to his left. Édouard politely pulls outmy chair and nods. “Master Hugo will be with you in one moment.”
Just as he leaves through the service door, Hugo makes his grand entrance, followed by two guards who stand sentry by the door.
“I am sorry to keep you waiting,mon petit chou,I had a bit of business to conduct first.” He puts his hand to his stomach, frowning for a moment.
“Are ye feeling awright, Hugo?”
He waves it off. “A bit of indigestion, perhaps.”
There’s another chair set to his right. He follows my gaze as he seats himself. “I see the question in your eyes, we do have a guest of honor for dinner tonight.”
It’s all orchestrated so grandly, this moment. The guards open the huge wooden doors, and two more drag in a man. He’s stumbling, hands tied, head down. He’s thrown into the seat, a rope strapped around his chest to keep him upright and they step back.
It’s Lucas.
***
Kirby grips - the Scottish name for bobby pins.
Mon petit chou - French for ‘my little cabbage’ which is sometimes a term of endearment.
Chapter Thirty-Five
In which life and death are seconds apart.
Lucas…
“What have ye fecking done!”
Cat’s scream forces me to lift my head. She’s across the table from me, eyes wide with horror, surging out of her seat.
Earlier…
I knew it was a risk, letting myself get caught, but I was certain Hugo would want to use me against Catriona, to make her work faster. Being inside this hellhole would make it possible to protect her when the firefight begins.
Thanks to my pickpocket, Emir, whose brother supplied detailed blueprints for the entire facility, we found several different ways to infiltrate the cave aside from the heavily guarded front and back exits, including air ventilation shafts, sewage, and water tunnels. There were multitudes of armed men hovering for theirorder to open fire. My team. The MacTavishes. And Marabout Badis supplied a legion of men eager to end Dubois’ hold on the region. He has not been kind to these people.
I’m used to thinking through every possibility, making plans for every variable. And yet, I dinnae anticipate this.
I’d been tied up and knocked about just a bit, more for show than anything when his soldiers brought me in. When Dubois steps into the little room where they’re holding me, his face flushes nearly purple.
“Ah, the bodyguard. Iknewthere was more between the two of you. So undignified, associating with the help. I will have a stern discussion with Catriona about this.”
His hand goes to his suit jacket, patting the pocket as if looking for cigarettes, then he growls, pulling out a nicotine patch and unbuttoning his shirt cuff enough to slap it on his arm. He huffs a bit, taking out a handkerchief and wiping his sweaty face and neck.
“I’d intended to have a nice dinner with Catriona, myfiancée,we would talk about the antidote, discuss our future together…” He sighs deeply, “Still, you will be useful. The first live test of C-1161 was not, it seems, enough to push my fiancée to use her full potential to create the antidote. I believe you will have the proper motivating effect.”
“Ye know this canna last, Dubois,” I say. “Every government on the planet will rain down hell on ye if ye market something as deadly as C-1161.”
He throws back his head dramatically, chuckling as if it’s the most entertaining thing he’s ever heard.
Leaning closer, like he’s sharing a secret, he says, “Who do you think has been purchasing some of my other creations? The crime world never pays as well as an ambitious government official.”
