complication or the embarrassment of involving the Americans.”
The numbness in Joost’s hand was shooting along his arm.
“I know nothing of any plot.”
“This is not the time to lie,” Linden said. “Yuri arranged for you to deliver an item containing something critical to this plot. What is it and where is it?”
Joost’s shoulder began throbbing.
He glanced at the antidote, then searched around his office, coming to a snapshot of a staff Christmas party, finding Aleena, smiling, innocent. If he gave her up, they would find her and kill her.
“Yuri was mis-mis-mistaken.”
Linden said nothing as de Groot began rummaging through files, the schedules, staff lists. Minutes passed as Linden tapped the antidote vial with the frequency of a ticking clock.
Painful spears of lightning shot through Joost’s brain.
His body had turned to stone. He saw de Groot drawing his face to a corkboard of upcoming editions and the small harmless note Joost had written on the look-ahead list: “Aleena in NYC for feature.”
Aleena’s full name was in the magazine. Her desk was a few feet away.
The room began spinning for Joost and he smelled bread.
Warm and fresh.
He was a boy again in his father’s bakery in Saint Petersburg. The happiest time of his life, helping box the pies, the tarts, and bag the bread. His Dutch father had big hands and he kneaded the dough like a master. His Russian mother smelled of sugar and cream when she hugged him against her apron.
Before he died Joost embraced the memory of how the ovens kept him so warm through the coldest winters.
44
Cole woke in darkness.
His heart was beating fast because today they were going to get away.
But he didn’t move a muscle.
Ever since they’d found the handcuff keys he prayed that the guard wouldn’t realize that he’d dropped them. Chances were good they would not be missed, because ever since Cole and his mom were taken, the guards had only used the keys once to release Cole’s mom when they took her away.
Cole and his mother had held off acting on their discovery.
“We have to wait for the right time,” she had whispered.
Buoyed by the hope of escape Sarah decided they must make their move when their captors were at their weakest.
In the predawn.
“We’ll do it before sunrise,” Sarah had told Cole last night before urging him to get some sleep.
Now he was wide-awake, his heart racing as he checked on his mother lying on her mattress near him.
Sarah was awake, too, keeping vigil of the men far across the old factory floor where the scene was akin to a military encampment.
Snoring and coughing echoed in the still air.
Most of them were asleep in cots, or in sleeping bags on air mattresses. In the ambient light she saw a couple of them at the tables working at computers, talking softly on cell phones or to each other. The various tiny lights of their equipment winked and light reflected off the metal of equipment peeking from tarps.
Sarah studied their guard.
He was wearing a holstered gun.
He was in a padded high-back office chair some ten feet away where he’d spent much of last night in a lip- smacking feast of spicy-smelling food from a plate on his lap.
Now, his chin was on his chest and he was snoring.
Sarah gathered her chain and inched closer to the guard.
The luminescent digits of his watch showed 3:39 a.m.
The guard was out cold.
Sarah glanced toward the others in the distant darkness.
Sarah moved to Cole, who retrieved the keys from their hiding spot.
When he tried the first one in his mother’s cuffs, it didn’t work. Neither did the second key. He glanced fearfully at her. She bit her lip, checked to make sure the guard was still sleeping, then tried the key in Cole’s cuff.
It clicked open.
She gasped, clasped her hands over his cuffs, then freed Cole from the chain. She closed his open dangling handcuff around his wrist so it would not make a sound. He now had two cuffs closed on one wrist.
“Heavy,” Cole said, testing the weight.
The metal against metal made a little noise but not too much.
“Okay, honey, are you ready?”
Fear flooded Sarah’s voice as she fought to stay calm for Cole.
“I think so.”
“Remember what we talked about?”
“Yes.”
“Each time I went to the bathroom I loosened the cover of the air shaft,” she said. “I’m pretty sure it leads to the next room.”
Cole nodded.
“Pull it off and find your way out of here. Just get out and tell the first person you see who you are and to call 9-1-1 and send police.”
“I’m scared to leave you, Mom.”
“I know but you have to be brave. I want you to get out and be safe.”
Sarah took Cole’s face into her trembling hands.
She couldn’t believe any of this, couldn’t believe all that had happened, that she was now pulling her son so tight to her that he nearly cried out.
Cole stood; she kissed him frantically, squeezed his hands, tight.
So tight.
“I love you so much, honey!”
“I love you, too, Mom!”
Cole hugged her and she heard him gasp for air.
Then he moved soundlessly, crouching and gathering his chain, pulling it into the bathroom and carefully closing the door. If the guard woke it would appear Cole was using the toilet.
Their guards didn’t pay much attention to Sarah and Cole when they used the toilet because they were chained.
She watched as his tiny figure vanished in a blurring stream of thick, salty tears.
Inside, Cole flushed, using the loud splashing to mask the sound of him removing the air-shaft cover. He lowered himself, then entered the hole, glad there was enough ambient light for him to quietly squirm and crawl along the tin shaft until he exited through an uncovered end that opened into another large room that flowed into
