I move to place myself between Charlie and Kurt’s mercs. “Let her go.”
“That decision is up to the boss.” One of them picks up the weapon.
The other soldiers part, and Kurt comes through the gap, his small gray eyes on me. He looks even older and more withered than the last time I saw him, back when he was still a friend of the Montevor royals. Still impeccably dressed, he seems a little more unsteady on his feet than before, which explains the walking cane. But he holds his head as high as ever.
“First, give me the key.” He halts before me and extends his hand, palm up.
My heart bleeding, I hand the box to him. “Please, let her go. She won’t talk. And even if she did, no one would believe her.”
Kurt opens the box and studies the key for a long time, holding it against the light, turning it around in his fingers and inspecting it from every side.
The soldiers surrounding us stand motionless, waiting for their next command.
“Search them,” he orders his men. “This could be a decoy.”
Kurt’s men swarm around us and begin rifling through our pockets and bags. When they find no other key, Kurt motions for them to step away. They do—with my self-defense knife, my wallet, my phone, and my MESS-issued GPS alarm device.
“Mademoiselle Gotteland,” Kurt says to Charlie. “I am of the mind to let you go for the reasons so eloquently outlined by your valiant knight.”
“You can let him go too, for the same reasons,” she says. “You won.”
The armed men around us puff out their chests.
Kurt surveys them. “On your fifth try, gentlemen!” He twists his mouth. “And you’re supposed to be the crème de la crème!”
Tut-tutting, he turns back to Charlie.
“So?” she asks him. “May Darrel and I go?”
“Youmay, Mademoiselle Gotteland,” he says.
“What about Darrel?”
“He’s good, you know, despite this setback and his injuries from two months ago.” He strokes his chin. “He’s exceptionally good. Better than any of my men, in fact. So, I can’t let my enemies have him.”
To my face, he adds, “Did you know that Stalin once said, ‘Human resources solve everything’?”
I don’t answer him.
“He was a very wise man,” Kurt says. “I hope I can persuade you to work for me, Darrel.”
That gets a reaction from me. “Not a chance!”
“Let’s see if I can change your mind, shall we?” He motions to his men. “Tie him up!”
Several mercenaries rush forward and grab my arms, pushing my wrists together. One of them pulls zip ties from his belt pouch and begins securing them around my wrists. I clench my palms together, with my fingers interlocked, to make it harder for the wrist bindings to be tight. The merc tying me scowls. He’s no doubt familiar with the trick aimed at gaining some wiggle room. Another man smacks me hard across the cheek for good measure. They finish up the best they can.
“Cuff her, too,” Kurt barks, pointing at Charlie. “And gag her until we’re out of here.”
She tries to resist, but they overpower her in no time.
Kurt turns to me. “I do hope I can make you change your mind about working for me. But if you refuse, then I’m afraid you’ll be too dead to work for anyone.”
A faint whirring of chopper blades reaches my ears while he’s threatening me. I hold my breath.It could be ours!
How long has it been since I messaged Adam? Twenty minutes? Twenty-five? If he’d organized an extraction team double time, or if Nikolai had a MINDFUCH Intervention Squad working near enough, like when I was held in Vosier-en-Haut, then clinging to hope wouldn’t be so crazy.
My heart pounds as a black speck appears in the distance and rapidly grows larger. But as soon as its silhouette becomes more distinct, a lump forms in my throat. The shape of the blades and the markings on the machine are not from Mount Evor. This is a Swiss chopper. It’s Kurt’s.
