She pulled the small pocketknife Caspian had found earlier in the van and used it to strip the ignition wires. Her hands trembled slightly,not from fear of the dog—though there was a bit of that too—but from the knowledge that she only had seconds.
Seconds to get this right or everything would fall apart.
Another growl. Much closer now. Liesel forced herself to block it out, narrowing her world to the three frayed wires in her hands. Sparks jumped as she twisted two of them together, the acrid smell of burnt plastic stinging her nose.
Five more seconds. That’s all she needed.
“C’mon, Liesel,” she heard Caspian mutter. “C’mon. It’s about to turn ugly.”
She connected the final wire, praying the old bike still had enough life left in it. The engine coughed once, then caught with a roar that felt like salvation. Adrenaline flooded through as she swung onto the seat.
“Let’s go! Get on!” she shouted to Caspian, looking over her shoulder.
That’s when she realized she’d taken too long. Not by much, just a second or two, but still too long. The dog had launched itself into the air, its jaw wide open, aiming straight for Caspian’s throat.
Caspian held his fire. The dog wasn’t attacking out of malice; it was just protecting its territory and owners. He couldn’t bring himself to shoot it. Not for doing its job.
Instead, attempting to draw the dog off course and give Liesel a few extra seconds, Caspian stepped away from the bike and raised his arm like a bullfighter offering his cape. The dog was charging even faster than Caspian had estimated. Which was a good thing because it would be harder for the dog to adjust its trajectory. Behind him, the bike’s engine roared to life, and he heard Liesel yell something at him, but Caspian didn’t dare look back.
Eight feet in front of him, the dog had launched itself, its mouth wide open, its teeth bared.
At the last moment, Caspian ducked. The dog soared over him, and Caspian heard the vicious snap of its jaw as it missed his head by less than two inches. A millisecond later, one of the dog’s hind paws clipped his shoulder. Not willing to go for another round, Caspian spun, then leaped onto the bike. To his right, the dog skidded to a stop, its claws scrambling for traction as it prepared to attack again.
“Hold on!” Liesel shouted as she gunned the throttle.
The rear tire sprayed loose gravel in every direction as the bike lunged forward. Caspian glanced over his shoulder. The shepherd mix was looking in their direction, but it wasn’t chasing after them. It had done its job: scared away the intruders.
Caspian wrapped his arms around Liesel. Ahead of them, the dirt road curved toward open farmland.
And in the distance, Istanbul.
Chapter Thirty
New York City, New York
Everett Westcott poured himself his first coffee of the day as sunlight spilled through the tall windows of his penthouse dining room. The night before, after all of Westcott’s guests had left the restaurant, Charles Mpassi had briefed him on the events that had taken place in Mallorca. While Mpassi’s update about Mallorca had carried some not-so-good news, Mpassi had kept his voice composed, as he always did. But now, as Mpassi stood in front of him, Westcott could see his associate was close to losing his temper.
“Coffee?” Westcott asked.
Mpassi shook his head as he sat down in front of him. “I had one my way here,” he said. “But thank you.”
“More bad news?” Westcott asked.
For the next little while, Mpassi shared with him the numerous situation reports his men had given him from Istanbul.
“Are we in any way exposed?” Westcott asked once Mpassi was done talking.
“Mia handled Mallorca,” the man replied. “But there’s still more work to be done.”
“What do you mean? Where is she now?”
“She’s resting in Ibiza with Verena, waiting for my instructions. I wanted to speak with you before issuing her new orders.”
“You’re considering sending her to Istanbul, aren’t you? That’s fine. Do it.”
Westcott knew Mpassi well enough to recognize when his director of the Office of Special Projects didn’t agree with him. “What is it, Charles? You don’t think it’s a good idea?”
“Maintaining Mia’s cover should be our priority here, sir. That’s what allows her to move pretty much anywhere she wants. Sending her to Istanbul will make it impossible for her to get to Budapest in time. And honestly, I wouldn’t even know where to send her in Istanbul. It’s too soon to send Mia.”
