“How do you explain that we found this place?” asked Laura, gesturing with her thumb at the two Russians. “If anyone finds out what we did with these two, we’re finished. Not to mention that a judge will probably rule that we put the administration of justice into disrepute and toss the evidence.”

“As far as I’m concerned, these two fine gentlemen in the back of the car are our informants. There is no need to get into how they were ... cultivated.”

Laura nodded. “And as informants, we keep their identity secret.”

“It’s not like I expect them to stay once we release them anyway. They’ll be running for the airport.”

Laura looked toward the house and said, “Do you think they’re telling the truth?”

Jack looked up at the night sky as the full moon momentarily shone through a break in the clouds. That’s eerie ...

He glanced at Laura and said, “Yeah, I think they’re telling the truth. Looks like the driveway might lead to a garage out back. I’m going to grab my flashlight and picks out of the trunk.”

“You’re not going inside the—”

“No. I’ll check the mailbox, if there is one, and then the garage for a plate. If I’m lucky, the garage will have a window. If it doesn’t, or I can’t see in, I’ll pick the lock if there’s no alarm system.”

Laura opened the trunk and Jack reached for his briefcase, removing a penlight flashlight and a small leather case from it and put them in his pocket. He looked at her and said, “If there aren’t any cars, I’ll come back and we’ll wait here. Tap the horn twice if a car arrives and I’ll take off through the back. I’ll have my phone, but I’m shutting it off.”

“Good luck.”

Jack casually sauntered down the sidewalk while glancing at neighbouring houses. The ones with lights on made it easy to see that nobody was looking out. He turned into the driveway and walked toward the house. He could see a slot in the front door for mail. So much for that idea ...

He followed the driveway to the rear and peeked around the corner at the back of the house. The back porch light was on, as well as a light from inside the kitchen. Another light shone out from the ground behind some bushes close to his feet. It came from a sunken window well and he tried to peer inside, but blinds blocked his view.

The garage extended out on the far side of the back door. The overhead garage door faced him, but he could not see the far side of the garage or the rear, where he hoped to find a window to look in—or a door where he could pick the lock unobserved.

He quickly surveyed the situation. The light from the porch did not extend to the back fence, where an ample supply of bushes would provide cover.

He crept back from the house and slowly made his way across the backyard, crouching to keep his silhouette even with the bushes around him. He was at the midpoint in the yard when he realized that the back door to the house was wide open. His pulse quickened as he quickly knelt beside a shrub.

Bushes rustled close to him and his body tensed before realizing that it was just the wind. Slowly, he turned his head and scanned the backyard again. The house backed onto a lane, but the only access was a small gate beside a wooden structure that held garbage cans. He did not see anyone and waited. With the wind picking up, and the hint of more rain to come, it did not make sense that someone would leave the back door of a house open for long.

Moments later, a car drove slowly down the lane behind him. He held his breath as the headlights flickered past the cracks between the board fence behind him, hoping that the headlights would not reveal his silhouette to anyone who might look out from the house.

Without warning, the small gate to the lane smashed back against the fence.

Jack instinctively reached for the butt of his 9 mm that stuck from the holster on the back of his hip. He waited, unaware that his mouth was open as his body went into survival mode ... acutely listening for any sound of danger.

The gate smashed a second time and Jack realized it too, had been left open and was simply at the mercy of the wind.

He took out his phone and used his jacket to shield the light as he jabbed the numbers. The sound of the wind covered the tone that each number emitted as he dialled.

Laura took the call on her cell.

“It’s me,” whispered Jack. “I’m hiding in the backyard behind some bushes—the back door to the house is open ... but I don’t see anyone around. Lights on in the kitchen and basement. I’m going to wait a few minutes. A gate to the lane was also left open. Maybe the owner popped over to the neighbour’s place or something. Would be just my luck to have him come back as I’m leaving.”

“Anything I can do?”

“Just hang tough where you are, this might take awhile. If a car comes, lay on the horn a couple of times and I’ll leave through the back gate.”

“Got it.”

“I’m shutting my phone off. See ya later.”

The longer Jack waited, the more his curiosity got to him. What the hell, I’m not a cat ...

He got to his feet and crept toward the gate in the lane and quietly slid the bolt to latch it shut. A hole cut into the wood would still allow a hand to reach through and open it, but he hoped the noise would alert him first.

He stood erect and walked straight toward the back door. If someone comes out I’ll say I was walking past in the lane—noticed the door was left open and was coming to close it like a good Samaritan.

As he neared, he saw a smear on the door. Muddy hand print ... He stepped closer, his eyes looking past the door and into the foyer behind. A couple steps up to the kitchen—more steps leading down to the basement.

He took another look at the door. That’s not mud! He looked at the bloody handprint and glanced down at the linoleum floor. Bright red drops of blood leading to the basement stairs—not even congealed yet!

The muffled sound of a girl’s scream came up the basement staircase.

Jack jerked his pistol from the holster and raced inside.

chapter thirty-eight

Laura accepted the next call on her cellphone and recognized her husband’s voice.

“What are you up to?” Elvis asked. “Want me to put dinner on the stove?”

“Oh, hello,” said Laura, as she sat sideways in the seat, watching the two Russians, who were listening closely to her conversation. “Yes, I’m just out with that good-lookin’ fiancé of mine. We’re shopping.”

“I see,” replied Elvis, who was not unaccustomed to the coded phone conversations he had with his wife when she was working undercover. “Bad time to chat?”

“That sounds nice,” replied Laura. “Tomorrow night would be fine for dinner.”

“Maybe I’ll call Natasha and see if she wants to join me for dinner tonight,” Elvis chuckled. “I bet she’s available.”

Laura smiled and hung up.

Jack ran down the basement stairs while fumbling to turn on his phone. The first room he entered contained weight-lifting equipment and he followed the sound of a man’s laughter and a girl crying to the next room.

He saw a small panelled door that was partially open in the wall and quickly pushed the redial button on his phone.

Busy signal! Not now, Laura!

Another scream caused him to yank open the passage door and crouch down to enter. The sound of the man’s laughter abruptly stopped and Jack knew he had been heard. His finger tightened on the trigger and he pointed his gun in front of him as he scrambled through.

The first thing Jack saw was a naked man staring at him. The man’s arm muscles bulged as he gripped a naked young girl by her hair. The girl had a length of chain wrapped around her ankle.

Jack started to rise out of the passageway and screamed, “Police! Don’t—”