“We will leave soon,” the man said to us.
Leave? How? Snow still blasted the windows. Snowmobiles again?
“What about him?” I asked. Connor was doing a good job looking barely alive. “He needs medical care.”
“He will have it when we arrive at our destination.” But the guy didn’t look like he cared.
“Can we at least have water?” Veena asked.
“Soon.” He turned and walked out. The guards kept a close eye on us until they shut the door.
Veena sat down hard by the fire, deflated. Exhaustion fell over me again, making me wobble. I took two deep breaths, pushing it away. No time to be tired. Connor pried open an eye.
Grunting, he pushed himself onto one knee, keeping his injured leg straight. Veena and I grabbed his arms to help him up, then, arms around his back, we supported him on each side as he took a few limping steps. He could put weight on the heel of his left foot, but when he did, he sucked in a breath.
“Where do you think they’re taking us?” Veena asked as we walked.
“Wherever it is, I don’t think we should go willingly,” I said. “My team knows you two are in trouble. They probably figure I’m with you or somewhere nearby.” Or maybe buried under a snowdrift, which might suit Brown fine at this point. “With enough time, and a break in the storm, they’ll start searching. If we let these guys take us away—they might never find us. I think we should do whatever we can to stay here for as long as possible.”
Connor nodded.
I thought of the weapons I’d ditched outside. “I guess neither of you knows how to operate an assault rifle?”
“I do.” Connor grimaced as he took another step.
I smiled, figuring he was joking, but he wasn’t. “What were you hunting in those Vermont woods?”
“You’d be surprised.” He took another step and yelped. Sweat beaded on his forehead.
“Okay, you proved you were tough,” I said. “Now you should rest.”
“I want to try taking a few steps alone,” he said.
“Fine.” My voice was gruff. I was worried about him, worried about Veena, worried about the kidnappers’ plan, but if I softened, I might fracture like an eggshell.
Veena and I stepped away, he took a few gimpy steps, his right leg carrying most of the weight, and lowered himself back down to his spot on the floor. From his closed eyes and thin lips, bending his knee was the worst. I wouldn’t be surprised if the wound bled again under his pants. No point in checking; we couldn’t do anything about it.
“So, what’s the plan?” Veena asked me as we settled down next to him.
“How many of them do you think there are out there?” I asked.
Connor answered, his voice cracking. “Four on the snowmobiles. Three or four others who were already here, and the leader. Maybe one or two we haven’t seen.”
Around ten, then, plus dogs. I thought for a few minutes, working out the angles, then told them my plan.
“So that’s what you two will do,” Veena said, after a few clarifying questions. “What about me?”
My stare was pointed. “You do exactly what they tell you to do—and stay alive.” I squeezed Connor’s hand. “And you be careful. Don’t assume that leg will hold up. You’ll have to move quickly.”
Veena couldn’t stop moving. Her legs bounced up and down like a trapped butterfly’s wings, and she picked at her fingernails. Connor rested a little, throwing looks my way as I tugged my mostly dry socks back on and paced around to keep the blood flowing. I couldn’t find a single decent object in the room to use as a weapon.
“I still can’t believe they’re doing all this for some high-tech fabric,” I said to Veena.
She shrugged. “It’s really high-tech fabric.”
“Maybe it’s not just about that,” Connor said. “Maybe they want the tech . . . and to keep Veena off the podium.”
“But who would care about both of those things?” I asked. “And who has the ability to fund this kind of sophisticated operation? It has to be ridiculously expensive.”
“I don’t know.” That guilty look was back in his eyes. “But Nic, I really need to tell you something.”
“What?” I didn’t mean to sound so testy, but this wait was killing me, too. Veena looked at him curiously. He kept his eyes on the ceiling, avoiding our gazes.
“Veena’s parents hi—”
The door flew open, and seven armed men filed in. They were in full gear with Kevlar vests over snowsuits, balaclavas, helmets, gloves, and boots. Before Connor closed his eyes to pretend to be unconscious, an apology shone from them.
Two guys shifted him onto a basic field stretcher, and he moaned a little. Hmm. Good actor.
The leader gestured at Veena and me and then to the door. “Please.”
We stood, I pulled on my boots, and two men took our arms to lead us out. We followed the guards schlepping Connor down the hallway to the front entrance. My body was stiff with fear. I zipped my coat and prepared myself to act.
Outside, a man held the dogs with leashes and a firm grip. The shepherds growled at us, ears up.
The snowstorm had weakened a bit—what the kidnappers must have been waiting for. Floodlights now lit the place up. I paused for a second, mesmerized by the snow shimmering in the air, frosting the chateau, and coating the grounds in silvery white. Under other circumstances, the chateau might be the centerpiece of a Swiss snow globe. But not tonight.
Veena kept her head down, watching me from under her lashes. I took a measured breath. Time to do this. Faking a slip on
