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Although the tiny bathroom was grungy, she appreciated the break. Obsessed with escaping, she searched every inch of the walls and floors. No window, no air vent, no cabinets—just an old toilet, a filthy sink, and a cracked mirror. She longed for a toothbrush. The faucet handle squeaked, and rust-color water drained out before turning clear. An ancient chunk of soap, veined with dirty black lines, and far from sterile, rested on the basin. Frowning, she washed her blood-stained hands and splashed handfuls of freezing water on her face. The mirror revealed a splotch of purple encircling her lacerated cheekbone, and one eye had swollen half-shut. With gentle dabs, she cleaned the wound using the questionable soap. Acknowledging no escape was possible from the room, she shook the water off her hands and marched out.
In the hallway, Sergey waited to escort her back to the cell. He gestured at Mark, who rose to his feet and exited into the hallway.
As the two men walked, another gunman with a maze of scrapes and stitches across his forehead appeared and signaled at the first. “Ya prinesu zaklyuchennym zavtrak.”
“Khorosho, Alexi.” Sergey saluted him.
After Mark finished, the gunman deposited him back in the cell and locked the door.
“What did they say?” She detected interest in his expression.
He stepped closer. “Our captors are getting breakfast for us. The guy I sewed up last night is Alexi. I’ll keep listening to figure out their plan,” he whispered.
Her stomach growled in anticipation of food and water. The slightest motion sent pulses of pain into her cheek, and little by little, she eased herself onto a hay bale to wait.
The new gunman, Alexi, appeared a few minutes later. The cell door slid open, and he leaned inside to hand them a sizeable brown paper bag along with water bottles.
A maze of cuts and stitches marred his scalp, which resembled raw hamburger. Stomach turning, she averted her gaze.
He slid the door shut, relocked it, and left.
She opened the bag and found a package of brown bread labeled in English and French. Its expiration date passed three days ago. Rifling around, she uncovered a pack of sliced cheddar cheese and two bruised red apples. “Well, at least they don’t intend to starve us.”
After moving one block of hay to serve as a rough table, she and Mark split up the food. Sitting on their respective hay bales, they ate without discussion. Famished, she tore off hunks of the bread and layered cheese slices on top. The bread tasted like cardboard, and the apple mushed against her teeth, but she was grateful for the energy. “They can’t keep us in this barn forever, no matter how remote this is. The other guests must have escaped Cedarcliff and called the police by now.” At least, she hoped they had.
“They won’t have much to go on, though. No one saw the truck, including us.”
“Right. No one will find us here, so we need to escape, fast.” Reconsidering their options for the thousandth time made no difference, and promising solutions eluded her. Digging her pocketknife out of her hidden jacket compartment, she handed it to Mark. “Here, take this. For later.”
Scowling, he shot a glare at the knife before plucking it from her palm. “I’m not convinced we should do this.” He fidgeted before pocketing it.
“No other option.” She patted her jacket pocket to confirm her pepper spray canister was still at hand. “Last night, Riku warned me Kingsley Tech might be in danger.”
“Did he say why?” Mark leaned his back against the wall.
“A new enemy motivated by politics and allegiance has emerged, and robbing banks for money is only one part of their modus operandi. He wanted to meet with David and me Sunday in a secure location.”
“Any chance Riku was playing for the other side?”
“Of course not,” she responded with an indignant glare. “He’s on our board. If any threat existed, he would alert us right away.”
“Sounds like you trusted Riku.” The hint of a question remained in his voice.
“Implicitly. He’s mentored me for years, and David longer.”
“You must have something they need, or else we wouldn’t have survived the night. Any ideas what they want?”
Before she could answer, the exterior barn door opened, and footsteps approached.
The cell door slid open without warning, and Sergey and Alexi appeared.
“You come with us.” Sergey pointed at her.
Anxiety crushed her like an anvil. Taking a deep breath, she straightened her posture and offered a silent prayer the criminals wouldn’t torture her. The gunmen took her by the arms and guided her out into the daylight. Unable to block the light, she squinted and tilted her face toward the ground. They crossed a small agricultural compound and passed a covered area which sheltered feed troughs behind the barn. Puddles of mud dotted the barnyard, and her boots made squishing sounds with every step. The rank smell of cow manure assailed her nostrils.
A ramshackle shed made of industrial aluminum siding stood a short distance away. Trees lined the rest of the property, which contained acres filled with open pasture. Angus cows grazed in the nearby grass, oblivious to the nearby criminal activity. To the south, a dense forest of trees swelled onto an imposing hill.
The captors directed her toward the metal shed across the barnyard and jostled her through the doorway. Parked inside sat several ancient tractors and random farm equipment, all covered in dust and cobwebs.
