Chapter 44
Propped up on the sofa, Tag clutched the smoke in his chest, struggling to let it steep into his lungs’ alveoli.
He pictured the tetrahydrocannabinol dissolving into his bloodstream.
The natural compound had both psychoactive and anti-inflammatory properties, perfect for easing tensions and dulling pain.
But more importantly for his condition, the drug had an anti-spasmodic effect on a body.
Unable to hold the smoke in any longer, he let it sigh out his lips.
By now, the tremoring strictures in his limbs had already lessened. His breathing, while still tight, had eased. Of course, the tab of Valium he had swallowed a short time ago certainly helped, too.
During her drug run, Naomi had also purchased rolling papers and a lighter from the dealer.
Once back here, she had helped Tag divide the single gram of weed into three joints.
He planned to parse them out for as long as possible.
It was why he had waited ninety minutes after taking the Valium before lighting his first joint.
Unfortunately, this one had already winnowed down to a tiny roach clutched in a set of tweezers.
His plan was to alternate between Western medicine and natural herbology, to bide his time while he and Naomi waited.
“Is it helping?” she asked him.
She stood by the French doors out to the balcony.
She had left the jamb open after he lit the joint, to help dispel the smoke and skunky odor.
Even the small gap had dropped the room’s temperature precipitously.
To keep warm, she had donned her coat and a wool hat and dragged a blanket from the bed and draped it around him.
Outside, the blizzard had finally struck the village. Winds blew in fierce gusts. Heavy snow obscured the view, lowering visibility to only a few feet past the window. A half foot of snow had already piled on the balcony.
“How are you feeling?” Naomi asked.
He grinned, far more relaxed, enough to offer a sarcastic “Bitchin’.”
He took another long pull on the joint, until it finally snuffed out and turned to ash. He held the smoke inside his chest longer this time, then slowly released the precious traces from his lungs.
As he sagged deeper into the pillows, Naomi waved the pall toward the open door, then closed it. “Done, my little pothead?”
“For now. Thanks. You’re a lifesaver. If you hadn’t—”
Behind him, the door to the room exploded open with a splintering crash. He jerked around, earning a stabbing pain in his neck. Armored men burst through, following a gray steel battering ram. They rushed inside with weapons raised, screaming for them to drop to the floor.
Tangled in his blanket, Tag struggled to obey. He rolled awkwardly off the sofa to the carpet, bumping into the coffee table and knocking aside his cane.
Naomi simply collapsed to her knees and raised her palms.
“Down!” a huge man bellowed at her, driving forward with a pistol leveled. He wore black armor and a matching helmet with a lowered face shield, all with no insignia.
She obeyed, sprawling flat, but not before Tag noted her agonized expression, her eyes sorrowful and pinched, wracked by guilt.
He felt a stab of the same.
They’ve found us . . . and we both know how.
Men surrounded them. Others searched the neighboring rooms. Then the one who had threatened Naomi called to the door, switching to French. “Tout est clair!”
Upon this acknowledgment, two figures entered, a man and a woman, both dressed in suits and bundled in woolen overcoats.
They were followed by a third who showed a clerical collar with a prominent crucifix hanging at his chest. Tag remembered the Rolls with Vatican plates outside their flat.
All of this dashed any hope that these assailants were a local police force.
Still, Tag imagined this group must have gained some cooperation from the Italian authorities.
He remembered Laurent’s description of the enemy’s convoluted ties to intelligence services across the EU and beyond.
In addition, the bastards must have waited for the cover of the blizzard to time this assault, to further mask their actions.
Still, the end result was the same.
The Confrérie had found them.
The man in the suit crossed briskly toward them, carrying no weapon, only a briefcase. He stopped between Naomi and Tag.
“Where are the others?” he asked with no preamble, no gloating.
Naomi propped up on an elbow to answer. “They . . . they went off to a pub. I don’t know where.”
Tag tried to support this lie and nodded to the spread of drug paraphernalia. “We stayed to party on our own.”
As the man frowned down at him, Tag squinted back, suddenly struck by how familiar this guy looked. Still, terror stifled his recall. He fought against it.
How could I possibly know this bastard?
Then knowledge struck him, maybe aided by the weed’s tempering effects on his anxiety.
Tag’s eyes widened. He fought to hide his shock.
After he graduated with a biochemistry degree, he had been headhunted by various companies, running the gamut from dreamy-eyed environmentalists to serious petrochemical reps.
But by far, it had been pharmaceutical companies who had pursued him, especially due to his degree’s emphasis on medical research.
He had been aggressively hunted by one outfit in particular, the leading drug company in the EU—NeuVentis Pharma.
And here stood its CEO.
Keir Marchand.
Tag turned his face, trying to hide this knowledge. The woman—someone of Indian descent per her burnished complexion—came up alongside him.
“Surely they’re lying,” she scoffed. “No one else has been spotted in the area. If it wasn’t for the patrol who sent out an alert, we might not have found these two.”
“No doubt you’re right, Burman.”
Tag bit down a curse, remembering Naomi’s tale of her drug buy and the fright she had experienced.
The Carabinieri officers must have been on the lookout for them and had been warned to report any sightings, but not to apprehend them.
And for good reason. The Confrérie wanted them in their clutches, not in a holding cell.
Still, if the Brotherhood had reached San Vito this quickly, it meant the bastards must know about what was hidden at Monte Antelao.
The enemy’s hack must have worked—but how well?
Tag tried to judge this. From the fact that the Confrérie had gone through such efforts to hunt down their group in town, it suggested the Brotherhood was still missing some critical data.
Like the exact location on the mountain.
This became clear with Keir’s next words to Burman: “We’ll have to coerce the information out of these two. Find out where the others went and what they know about this blasted mountain.”
The woman glanced to the shattered door.
“Perhaps we should move this pair to a more secure location. We may have this chalet locked down, but any loud screaming might unnerve other guests. Enough for someone to reach out and make contact beyond the sphere of my intelligence operations. Which could expose us.”
Keir waved this away. “The wind and snow will cover any noise. And the blizzard has already knocked down most communication. But you are correct that we should be expeditious.” Keir turned to the armored man who had called the all-clear. “Captain Ferhat, you have your dagger, yes?”
“Oui.” He unsheathed a long steel blade, serrated on one side, razor sharp on the other.
“We must pry one of their tongues loose.” Keir looked between his captives, then pointed at Naomi. “Take off this one’s ear if the gentleman refuses to answer our questions.”
Naomi fought to squirm away, but another soldier grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her head back. Captain Ferhat closed on her with his blade.
Tag stared at Naomi. Her face had flushed with a mix of fury and terror.
“Don’t tell them anything,” she gasped out.
“He will,” Keir warned.
Tag knew the man was right. He could not watch Naomi be tortured. He had to trust that cooperation would earn them a few hours of grace, especially as the bastards would want to corroborate anything told to them. And considering the blizzard outside, that might take until morning.
Still, in the end, Tag knew they would be killed. He was under no delusions otherwise. And anything he told them, if truthful, would only jeopardize his other friends, too.
He met Naomi’s frightened eyes.
I’m sorry. It was my fault. I got you into this, exposed us.
He flicked his gaze to the side, then to the French doors, before returning his attention to Naomi.
And I’m going to get you out.
He stared hard at her, hoping she understood. He then snatched his toppled cane and tossed it under the coffee table and onto Naomi’s lap. She grabbed it, spun it, and jabbed its end into her captor’s throat.
The man coughed and let go of her hair.
Freed, she burst toward the French doors, still left unlocked. She yanked it open as gunshots shattered the glass over her head. She ducked through to the second-story balcony, rolled over its rail, and vanished into the snow.
Men shoved outside and searched below, but visibility had dropped to nearly zero.
“Go after her!” Keir shouted.
Two men leaped over the rail. Others fled out the door behind him.
Tag stayed on his knees, allowing a hard grin to show. Ferhat pointed his pistol at the back of Tag’s head.
“What about him?” Burman asked.
Tag stiffened his back. “You won’t get me to talk, Mister Marchand.” He paused to enjoy the shock on the CEO’s face at being recognized. “I declined your employment offer in the past. And I’ll do so again.”
Keir turned and eyed the dagger in Ferhat’s other hand.
Tag shrugged, trying to sound brave. “Do your best. I’ve dealt with pain all my life.”
“That may be true.” Keir collected himself, turned, and placed his briefcase down, then snapped it open. “While this method will unfortunately take longer, it will get the job done.”
Tag shifted higher and spotted an array of syringes and vials nestled inside the case.
“What about afterward?” Burman asked.
Keir sighed. “I suppose we must keep him alive. For now. At least until we recapture the girl.”
As NeuVentis’s CEO began prepping the syringes, Tag turned to the balcony. The door had been left open, allowing gusts of snow to sweep in along with the cold. A lone gunman stood outside, searching below.
Tag remembered his earlier statement about Naomi being his lifesaver.
He willed her to keep running, to buy him more time.
To be my lifesaver again.