large screen.
Imre watched, his jaw set, having learned the futility of trying not to look the last time. He still had hematomas in his arm, from Novak’s hideously strong fingers, his thick, yellowed nails.
A bedroom, dimly lit with pale morning light. A man and a woman, moving slowly together on the bed in the classic rhythm of love, her astride. The camera clearly showed the woman’s lovely profile, her graceful back, the gentleness in her hands as she cupped Vajda’s face.
Vajda’s face had a look upon it that Imre had never imagined seeing. He clasped the woman’s hands in his, lifted them to his lips.
Imre watched, in growing amazement. This was not pornography.
In truth, the other one had not been either, but this one was still less so. It was imbued with tenderness. Imre saw it in every gesture. A concert pianist, he had trained intensively all his life in the art of imparting real emotion, true tenderness with every gesture, every phrase. He knew the real thing when he saw it. He felt it in his chest, his gut. This was real intimacy. Intimacy that had been kidnapped and held for ransom.
He felt an urge to weep at the awful irony of it. His Vajda loved this woman, of all women. This was Vajda’s chance at having what Imre had had, for those few short, wonderful years with Ilona. Seven years of grace, and then a lifetime of gratitude for even that much, despite the loneliness, the silence. The waiting.
He would not let this be taken from his poor boy. Vajda had been robbed of too much already.
Imre’s doubts were gone. This thing would be done out of love, not fear.
Tough, tender Vajda. Son of his heart. Tears started from his eyes, crept down his cheeks. He was such a pathetic ruin, his captors might notice. He did not bother to wipe them away.
He looked up, and saw Ilona smiling at him, from the other side of the computer table. An angel, untouched by the filth of that place. She wore her old blue housedress and sweater. Her sweet face shone with pride. His heart leaped at the sight of her. It wouldn’t be long now.
He dragged in a deep breath. May God have mercy on his soul.
Novak sat in front of the computer screen, grinning as the pixels tightened into focus.
“You received the footage?” Val asked mechanically.
“Yes, of course. Very moving, most romantic. Although I personally preferred the dynamism of the previous encounter,” Novak said. “Perhaps the next time, you could vary the menu a bit?”
Val sat there and stared at him, rendered mute by impotent fury. Novak waited for Val to apologize for not being sexually entertaining enough. He stared stonily into the camera’s black eye.
Novak made an impatient sound. “Well, then,” he said. “I will let you speak to your friend. He intrigues me, you know. Despite his dislike of conversation. Here, move your chair a bit. I’ll get out of your way.”
Novak gestured and the computer was shifted so that the angle included Imre, who sat next to him.
He was even more reduced than he had been before. A shriveled wraith. Only his eyes had life. They were luminous with tears.
Answering tears surged up, clogging Val’s throat, and blocking the meaningless questions poised on his tongue. Are you well. Have they hurt you. Can you hold on for a little while longer.
“Vajda, listen carefully,” Imre said softly, in French. “I am about to give you a gift, my son. Take it and be free.”
He put his hand to his mouth and pulled out what appeared to be a small shard of glass.
Horrified dread swelled inside Val. “Imre, no! What are you—”
“Good-bye.” Imre’s hand stabbed down. Someone shouted. People leaped for Imre, and the chair spun back. Blood sprayed high. Imre’s hand waved in the air, drenched with shiny red. Novak was bellowing, incoherently. The wall spun into view, spattered with blood.
Someone hit the keyboard with their fist. The image disappeared.
Chapter
23
András sat in the beachside bar, sipping his sixth espresso as he studied the monitor that revealed Janos’s position. The man had been wandering around the beach aimlessly after renting himself a car. The local man with the handheld monitor had him under visual surveillance, not far away. Everything was firmly under control.
Unfortunately, he had not brought Tamara on this pleasure jaunt. András had hoped to wrap this matter up this morning and get on his way. He wondered, with a stab of doubt, if Janos had bonded with Steele. Fucking a beautiful woman could have that effect on an unwary man. But Janos was anything but unwary. He was a seasoned professional and Novak’s hold over him was strong.
He would order the man to deliver her today, and perhaps the matter would end there. A swift, professional exchange.
If not, however, the situation would probably require protracted, sophisticated torture, and he suspected that Janos would take a great deal of time, effort and soundproof privacy to break. András was more than equal to the task.
His cell vibrated. He glanced at it, and was surprised to see that it was from the big boss himself. He answered promptly. “Yes?”
“Do you have them yet?”
András paused, startled at the urgency in the old man’s tone. “I have Janos under my eye physically right now, but not Steele.”
“Bring them in,” Novak rapped out. “Today. Immediately. Do everything you can to bring them in. There’s been a change in plans.”
“What change?”
“We’ve lost our leverage with Janos,” Novak said. “The old man killed himself. Slashed his femoral artery, right over my favorite Turkish rug. While on the videophone to Janos.”
András leaned back and was grateful that his boss could not see the appreciative smile that curved his mouth. “Don’t worry. I’ll bring him in. The woman as well. And I have another prize for you.”
“And that is?” Novak’s voice sounded sulky.
András savored the moment. “Steele’s daughter. Three years old. A lovely flower for you to pluck. Already en route from Seattle.”
There was an astonished pause, and then a harsh, wheezing crack of laughter. “András, you are a genius.”
I know, you selfish old bastard, and so why did you favor that fawning pup Luksch over me? “I live to serve you, boss,” he said.
“Call me when you have them,” Novak said.
András considered his options. He had no idea when Janos would rejoin the woman. No idea what she might do in the meantime. Too many unknowns. She could take off on her own and fuck them all.
Best to force her whereabouts out of Janos now, reduce the number of variables immediately. He texted the others of his makeshift local team to converge on Janos’s beach.
