Do you think he ever thought of the women’s eyes? Mila asked herself. He never did. Ever. Let it go.

She did and she drove. She wondered if Sam Capra was still alive, if she would ever tell him what she’d done. She thought not.

75

I FELT THE LOCK GIVE. I pushed open the door. My back was soaked with sweat.

I ran upstairs. I could hear distant shots. The men lay where I’d left them, except for one. He was by the wall.

All of them had bullet holes in their foreheads.

I ran up to the vat room. The guard I’d shot on the catwalk was down by the stairs now. Bullet hole in forehead.

I stumbled up the hallway to the storage room. The spill of cell phones still lay on the floor; the video game had run its course, showing an empty battlefield. The steel door was partly open; I pried it back. The five I’d corralled into the freezer room sat slumped. All of them shot dead at point-blank range.

I felt stunned. Edward had killed his entire team.

Why?

I hurried back up to the loading dock area. It smelled of blood and beer.

I could surrender to Howell, tell him about Lucy.

And hope that he believed me? If Lucy was already gone, I had no proof. And Howell would not let me escape again.

So.

No surrender.

I had to get out without being seen.

I heard the back door crashing open. I ran. Or rather, I half stumbled, half ran. I darted through the wide open rooms, ran past the dead men. A window in the brickwork faced an empty field and a slightly decrepit windmill. First one I’d seen since getting to Holland.

I pulled myself up to the window, worked the lock, shoved it open.

“Stop! Sam Capra!” Howell’s voice rang out like a bolt from the blue. I stopped. I shouldn’t have. But I did. I looked behind me and he had a gun leveled at me, two men behind him, Glocks aimed at me.

“Step away from the window, Sam.”

“She was just here,” I said. “Lucy. She was just here.”

“Step away from the window and we’ll talk about it,” he said. He wanted me alive.

“You don’t believe me,” I said. “I know. She was just here. I came here to rescue a hostage they have and Lucy is with them. You were right. I was wrong.”

Howell’s voice was stone. “Let’s talk about it, Sam. Come tell me what you know and we’ll find her.”

I looked at him, in his pressed, perfect suit and his steel-rimmed glasses and his stage actor’s voice. I hated him. “I’m going to find her myself. She’s alive. She lost the baby.” I didn’t want him asking about my child.

“Just come down, Sam.”

They were going to shoot me; that was my last invitation. “How did you know where I was?”

He nearly laughed. “Our informant in the Ling organization wasn’t happy you robbed their shipment. She called us. We tracked the truck with a GPS device the Lings keep hidden inside the cab. I can guess how you found out about the Lings. August went for a long walk the other night, didn’t he?” He shook his head. “You should be ashamed, ruining your friend’s career. Get down from the window, Sam, or I’ll shoot you in the back.”

I considered my options. Get shot or throw myself through the window or surrender. None were good. He would not let me escape from him again. I’d be bound and tied and kept with a pistol to my temple and not given a mockery of a life in Brooklyn. I’d be back in that prison that wasn’t supposed to exist, the plaything of Howell’s Special Projects group inside the Company.

I got down from the window. I staggered and I put my hands in the air. And the three of them closed in on me, with fists and guns.

76

THEY CUFFED MY WRISTS, they shackled my ankles, and they dragged me to their van. They shoved me inside; Howell sat across from me. He briefly examined my injuries; his fingers probed my head, my back, my shoulder.

“Well, Sam, you’re a mess.” Then he told his two puppies to start processing the scene. The van door slammed closed. We were alone.

“I need a doctor,” I said. I enjoy stating the obvious.

“You’ll get one if you cooperate. How did you know August was in Holland?”

“I saw him when I stopped a guy from shooting him at that machinists’ shop,” I said. “I stopped those psycho twins from shooting you, too. And you’re welcome.” I could smell my own blood sticking to the clothes on my back, my arm. My injuries were untreated; I’d been Tasered and then tranquilized. My limbs felt heavy and awful and disconnected from bone and tissue.

“August got sent home because he was hurt. I’m glad. I think he would have affected my judgment regarding you. He is actually your friend, useless as that position is to him.”

“I can explain all this. Sort of.”

“Listening.”

I took a painful breath. “I’ve been undercover. Kind of.”

“Governments and police agencies give cover. You pretending you’re someone else is just breaking the law, Sam. Sort of, kind of.”

“Please, I want to talk to Langley. This guy, Edward, that took Lucy—he’s moving illicit weapons of some sort.”

“Is that who shot at us as we arrived?”

“Yes. I don’t know. Was it a truck?”

“We didn’t see a truck leave. A man in an Audi shot at us as we arrived.”

“Audi. That’s him. Please, take me seriously. Call the ports.” But Edward wouldn’t use Rotterdam. Not with this heat. He’d move the weapons out of France, or Belgium, or Spain. “Here, I can tell you what was in the Ling shipment. You can stop it. Call Langley, get authorization. I’ll talk to them—”

“Maybe Langley doesn’t want to talk to you, Sam. Maybe Langley just wants you to go away and stop being a giant pain in the ass.”

I swallowed. “What I said about Lucy is true. Please. She was here—”

He raised a hand. “I’m going to offer you a deal, Sam. I want you to consider it carefully, because right now your life is in my hands in a way it never was before. I don’t like your answers, I put a bullet in your brain and we’re done. I have permission to do whatever I need to do to you.”

“The Company won’t let you execute me. They want to know what I know. They want the connections I’ve made here. They want information and I have it.”

“The Company doesn’t know that I have you yet, Sam. Right now, you and I get to write our own history. You were found in a building full of dead bodies.”

“The woman, and one of the men—they have tattoos like the guy in Brooklyn who tried to kill me. Novem Soles. You asked me about it, well, here they are.”

He stared at me, ran a finger along his chin. “And you killed them all?”

“No! Edward killed them because he didn’t need them anymore.”

Howell folded his arms and he looked at me with a glare I had not seen on his face since I had been his prisoner in Poland. “I think you’re the sole survivor, Sam, but I think these people were your colleagues. I think they helped you blow up the London office and I think they helped you escape me in New York. The guy in Brooklyn could have brought you your money and papers to escape, and you killed him to keep him quiet.”

“He tried to kill me. These people sent him to kill me.” And then I wondered: Edward or Lucy? It had to be Edward who’d dispatched the assassin. Lucy had let me live twice.

“And where’s the lovely Mrs. Capra?”

“She Tasered me and she left. Look at my chest. I’ve got the Taser rash.”

He opened my shirt and inspected the needle marks.

“So she works with these people. Goodness, after all those months you kept insisting on her innocence.” His tone was mocking.