Don't Let Go (30 page)

Zeke’s face went grim. “I thought I had, too. Then I woke up here.”

“Why wasn’t your door locked?”

“It was.” Zeke grinned. “But hell, I was picking harder locks than that when I was a kid. I was just waiting for the chance. When I heard the yelling, I figured this was it.”

Teo hesitated. He had so many questions; Zeke showing up like this was beyond strange. In his experience, when something looked too good to be true, it usually was. But Daisy was still downstairs, and any minute now the guards would discover what had happened to their buddy. “I have to go.”

“So let’s go.” Zeke was scrambling around the room, grabbing things from hiding places: a pack of matches from behind the oil painting over the fireplace, a small wad of cash from the bed frame. “I was going to take off tonight anyway. The guards are on ten-minute shifts, we can get past them if we time it right.”

“I still can’t believe it,” Teo said. This whole thing was too weird; it was like Pike was running some sort of ad-hoc foster home. “I mean, why is he keeping any of us alive?”

“Because he wants to use us. If he gets Noa, he’ll torture us in front of her, and force her to do what he wants. We can’t let that happen,” Zeke said firmly. “We need to get gone, now.”

“Three months is a long time,” Teo said skeptically. “Why’d you wait until now to try and escape?”

“Dude. You don’t trust me?” Zeke stopped dead in the middle of what he was doing and fixed Teo with a wounded look. “Seriously?”

“I don’t know, man.” Teo shifted uncomfortably. “It just seems kind of . . . convenient.”

Zeke stalked forward and drew up his shirt. Teo winced: Zeke’s side was a mass of ugly scar tissue. In a low, angry voice, he said, “Up until last week I was still in a wheelchair. So yeah, I figured I’d wait until I could walk before busting out of here.”

“Okay.” Teo held up both hands placatingly; Zeke looked like he was ready to punch him. “So Pike saved your life and brought you here? That—”

“Doesn’t make any sense, I know,” Zeke interrupted. “He spent a couple months asking about Noa, then pretty much just gave up. Did he give you his whole nice guy routine?”

“Yeah,” Teo said. “Fed me salmon and everything.”

“Well, don’t believe him,” Zeke growled. “He’s an evil bastard.”

“No kidding,” Teo agreed. “And he’s got Daisy.”

“All right, then.” Zeke crossed to the fireplace and reached up the flue, drawing out a knife.

“Where’d you get that?” Teo asked with awe.

“Steak dinner,” Zeke explained. “I’ve been waiting to use it for a month. Between that and the gun, we’ve got a shot. Now let’s go.”

Noa heard a window slam shut, then the sound of Peter scrambling back into the room. He was breathing hard, clearly agitated.

The voice from the bullhorn echoed through her mind. The FBI had found them. They were totally screwed. In a flat voice, she said, “I’m guessing they’re in the parking lot, too?”

“You win the teddy bear,” he muttered. “Crap. That creepy guy must have recognized us.”

Everything felt strange, dreamlike. This was it, she realized. There would be no going to Boston. They’d be arrested, then handed over to Pike. Noa squeezed her eyes closed, then opened them again. The details of the room were still fuzzy; no matter how hard she tried to focus, there were only dark, looming shapes. Like the shadows were slowly slouching toward her. “I really wish I could see.”

“Actually, right now I’d trade with you,” Peter muttered. A glow appeared to her right: the laptop. She heard him feverishly tapping away at keys. “All right,” he said with determination. “I’m reconfiguring the fail-safe passcode. If it doesn’t get entered every . . . what do you think, three hours?”

“Sure,” Noa said, although it felt like she was far away, staring down at the scene from above. “That works.”

The sound of his fingers flying across the keyboard. Noa stared toward the window. It looked like full daylight had blossomed outside the curtains; they were backlit and glowing. “How many cars are out there?”

“A lot,” he said curtly.

“So we’re surrounded.”

“Yup.”

As he tapped away, the bullhorn blared, “Leave all weapons behind and come out one at a time.”

“They’re going to come in if we don’t go out,” Noa said. For some reason she pictured Star Wars storm troopers, in blank white masks.

“Just one more sec,” Peter muttered. “All right, this is good to go. What do you think? Should we go out there?”

“They’ll just hand us over to Pike,” she said slowly. “And we still don’t know if he’ll care about the files. He might think he can stifle them.”

“Well, we don’t really have any other options.”

Noa could still barely make out his form, but his agitation was clear. “We have one,” she said. “It’s risky, though.”

“Anything that doesn’t involve getting shot by the feds sounds pretty good right about now.”

“At the very least, it should give us some leverage.” She laid it out for him.

A long beat, then Peter said, “I can tear a lot of holes in that without even trying.”

“I know.” Noa managed a weak smile. “But I think it’s our only shot. And there’s less chance of Pike doing something crazy if everyone’s watching, right?”

“I guess. So you’re sure about this?” he asked.

“No.”

Peter laughed sharply. “All right, then. Hell, you’ve had crazier plans before.”

“And they worked, right?” Noa struggled to sound confident, even though she felt anything but.

“There’s always a first time,” he mumbled. “You better get down on the floor behind the bed, just in case. Here, I’ll help you.”

She felt his hand in hers: It was hot, and a little sweaty. Peter carefully led her around the bed. Noa settled down, feeling the press of the frame against her back.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready.”

Peter gave her hand a squeeze, then called out, “I’ve got a hostage! If you come in, I’ll kill her!”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

A
ll the anger Daisy had been storing up exploded out of her. She shrieked and lashed out with pure, primal rage, slamming both feet into Pike’s gut.

Pike grunted and doubled over. A firm grip on her shoulder; she jerked around. Mason was gazing down at her with an inscrutable look. “I must say, you’re only making things worse for yourself.”

She shook him off, keeping her eyes on Pike. Like her, his chest heaved from exertion. His eyes were wild, enraged. The mask he’d been wearing for the past week had vanished, leaving behind sheer contempt and fury.

“I’ll kill you both myself,” he spat, still bent double.

A low chuckle. They both turned their heads. Mason was regarding them with a sardonic smile. “My, my, Charles,” he said, sounding bemused. “Undone by a couple of teenagers?”

Pike snarled, “If you’d delivered what you promised, I never would have had to take matters into my own hands.”

“Yes, and what a fine job you’ve done.” Mason didn’t seem at all perturbed by Pike’s crazed demeanor. He shook his head, then added, “A full week, and they haven’t told you anything? I’m surprised you waited so long to call me back in.”

Pike’s jaw was set. “She’s yours now.”

Mason inclined his head. “Of course.”

Daisy went cold. Based on what she’d seen of Mason, she’d honestly prefer to deal with Pike; at least then it would be over quickly. “I told you, I don’t know how to get in touch with Noa.”

“Oh, my dear girl,” Mason sighed. “We’ve gone so far past that now.”

Pike’s cell phone rang, the trill incongruously cheerful. He dug it out of his pocket and glared at the screen. Confusion flitted through his eyes. He put it to his ear and snapped, “Yes?”

As he listened, his eyes roved back to Daisy. A slow smile crept across his face.

“Thank you,” he said crisply, sounding once again like the guy who’d offered her more salmon. “I’ll be there shortly.”

“Good news?” Mason asked after he hung up.

“Yes.” Pike’s eyes were as cold and deep as a frozen sea. “We won’t be needing her anymore. I believe the boy will suffice.”

“Really?” Mason sounded mildly surprised. “So they’ve located Ms. Torson?”

“She’s in a motel outside Springfield. I’m going there now.” Pike checked the enormous Rolex on his wrist. “We should be back soon.”

“Well, that is a nice turn of events,” Mason said.

Pike was already striding toward the door. At the threshold, he paused and threw a final glare at her. “Clean up this mess before I get back.”

The door shut behind him. Daisy gulped in air, then turned to Mason. He was still sitting on the couch, gazing at the door contemplatively. After a moment, his black eyes turned on her. “Well, well,” he said. “It looks like I have my marching orders.”

Teo crept down the hall after Zeke, who held the gun out in front of him like it was lighting their way. He was the better shot, so Teo had gladly handed it over. In the past, they’d always used Tasers. His fingers were itching for one; it was the perfect way to disable a guy who had at least fifty pounds on you and a hell of a lot more training.

He drew a deep, shuddery breath as they approached the staircase.

“I think she’s on the ground floor,” Teo whispered. “Probably in Pike’s office.”

Zeke nodded, keeping his eyes on the stairs. Teo was forced to admit that it felt good, letting someone else take the lead again. Zeke and Noa were made for this sort of thing; he definitely wasn’t.

He wondered how Noa would react to the news that Zeke was alive—if she ever even found out. First they had to get Daisy, and slip past a slew of guards. Then, they had to pray that Zeke’s escape plan worked.

He wasn’t feeling very hopeful.

Suddenly, agitated voices from above; they must have found the guard he’d knocked out. The squelch of radios, and feet pounding down the stairs.

“C’mon!” Zeke said urgently. “Move!”

They raced down the staircase and into the main hall. Without hesitating, Zeke turned left, headed toward Pike’s office. Teo followed so closely he nearly tripped on Zeke’s heels. God, he hoped he was right. If she wasn’t in there . . .

There was a shout behind them. Teo checked back over his shoulder: two guards, less than twenty feet away. Their guns were drawn, and they looked pissed.

“Zeke!” he cried out.

Zeke spun and fired a wild shot toward them; it hit a vase, sending it crashing to the floor. Teo yelped, covering his ears; the gunshot had been loud enough to pierce his eardrums.

The guards started to return fire. They raced through a series of rooms, while bullets ricocheted and sent chunks of wood and other shrapnel flying at them from all sides. Teo kept waiting to feel the hot fire of a bullet piercing his body. Pike’s office was down the next hall. They were so close. . . .

A guard stepped out of the adjoining hallway. It was Baldy, and he had an automatic rifle leveled at them. Seeing Teo, his eyes narrowed beneath the ugly bruise on his forehead.

“Drop it,” he snarled.

For a second, Zeke wavered; Teo saw the gun shake in his hands. Then slowly, he lowered it to the floor. Straightening back up, Zeke raised his arms in surrender.

“Damn,” Baldy said, sounding disappointed. “I was really hoping you’d give me an excuse to kill you.”

The battered phone on the bedside table started ringing. Peter looked at Noa: She nodded for him to pick up. The handle was greasy; he’d never held a phone before that actually smelled bad. Wrinkling his nose, Peter placed it an inch from his ear and asked, “Who’s this?”

“Peter Gregory?” A man’s voice, as smooth and polished as a river stone.

“I asked first,” Peter said petulantly. Noa was settled on the floor beside the bed with her knees drawn to her chest, her hair pulled back into a loose ponytail. He still couldn’t get used to the red.

“This is Agent Smith.”

Peter snorted and said, “Smith, huh? That sounds fake. You’re with the FBI?”

“Yes, I am.” The man cleared his throat, then said in the same even tone, “I’ve got some concerned folks out here, Peter. They’d like to know who’s in the room with you.”

He drew a deep breath, then said, “Tell them I’ve got Noa Torson.”

A long pause, then the man said, “Are you claiming that Noa Torson is there with you against her will?”

“Oh, yeah,” Peter said. “I had to keep her drugged the whole time.” Which should jibe with what the creep in the next room had told them. He glanced at Noa, who was staring at a spot a foot to his right. Everything depended on whether or not he could sell this guy on their story.

“We don’t want anyone to get hurt, Peter.”

“I’ve got some demands,” Peter blurted, talking over him.

A long beat, then the man said, “What kind of demands?”

His voice sounded weary, and for a second Peter felt for him. It must be a pretty sucky job, trying to reason with lunatics who took people hostage, then asked for planes and cash.
This should come as a pleasant surprise for him
, he thought with a smirk.

“I want to talk to Charles Pike,” Peter said decisively. “In person.”

A longer pause. Incredulity in Smith’s tone as he asked, “The businessman? Why?”

“Just get him,” Peter ordered. He checked the clock; it was just before seven. If Pike was in Boston, it would take about two hours to get here. “Tell Pike that if he’s not here by nine p.m., I’ll start releasing files.”

Let him chew on that
, Peter thought smugly. Noa was grinning at him. In spite of everything, he felt a little giddy.

“Peter,” Smith said calmly, “you’ve got to understand, I don’t even know if I’ll be able to get in touch with Mr. Pike, never mind get him to come here. If you would just—”

“Oh, he’ll come,” Peter said with certainty. “Trust me, you’re not going to believe how fast he gets here.”

He hung up the phone, cutting off Smith’s sputtered protests.

“Good job,” Noa said approvingly. “They definitely won’t come in now.”

Peter sank down on the floor beside her, picturing Smith and his FBI buddies scratching their heads as they tried to figure out what the hell was going on. He was struck by a flash of inspiration. “I’ve got an idea,” he said, pulling the laptop onto his crossed knees.