Chapter 17 #2
She moved her feet. Tension around her ankles restricted them.
She leaned forward as far as her bound arms would allow.
Rope circled her ankles, tying her feet together.
Her chest deflated. She might be able to get her arms over the back of the chair, but she wouldn’t be able to walk.
She could hop with both legs but wouldn’t get far.
The door opened and she jerked her head up. The man walking in had curly brown hair, glasses perched on the end of his nose, and waxy lips. He smiled, the smirk unnatural on his tight face. She’d seen him before, but where? Her brain worked at warp speed to place him.
The papers. Weeks ago, when she’d researched his company before accepting Sven’s proposal. Ubrigg Lichti.
“Hello, Ms. Metcalf,” he said, in a thick German accent. “I’m Dr. Lichti.” He grabbed a stool, sat down, and rolled toward her.
Despite his professional demeaner, she coiled away. She swallowed, curled her hands into fists, and narrowed her eyes.
“I’m sorry for the”—he waved his hand in the air as if searching for the correct word—“restraints. They must be uncomfortable. Please understand, it’s for your own safety.
” He crossed one knee over the other and placed his hands on top.
“I must warn you. I have a man stationed outside with a gun. Please don’t try anything.
” He pursed his mouth in a placating manner.
She curled her lip. “The same gun that murdered the innocent people at the Eiffel Tower?”
His crisp green eyes, loaded with intelligence, sharpened. “The people you endangered, yes.”
“The people you killed.”
“You have something of mine. Something you never should have stolen. You’re working for terrorists and I ought to turn you over to the police, but if you do as I ask and tell me where the formula is, I’ll let you go—once it’s recovered, of course.”
Bullshit.
He wouldn’t keep her alive, let alone let her go.
“You’re right. I wish I hadn’t stolen it. Why would you make something like that? Other than to kill off half the planet.” The accusation came out hard.
He didn’t flinch but straightened his spine and grinned smugly. “I can see how it would seem that way, but I created it with the best intentions.”
“The only outcome for a virus like that is death, so please, enlighten me.”
He tapped his finger on his knee as if trying to decide if she was worth explaining it to.
Then he pushed his glasses up higher on his nose.
“I created it for the purpose of protection. If we come under attack, we need a weapon that would completely immobilize. It’s much better than a nuclear bomb, you see, and very simple to activate.
People would die by the thousands and finding an explanation for or source of the disease would take months—or years—of research. ”
“You planned to kill innocent people. Same thing.”
He shook his head and chuckled. “That’s where you’re wrong.
I created it to use against countries that decide to attack France, the US, and our allies.
The person who hired you to steal it planned to do exactly as you said—take out millions of innocent people.
You and your employer planned a global terrorist act with my formula, which was secure in my lab.
” He opened and closed his hand on his knee.
“You’re not worried about someone releasing the virus before you do. You’re worried someone will copy the formula and sell it before you get the chance.”
Anger flashed across Ubrigg’s face, but she didn’t regret her words.
“Believe what you will. But you, my dear, are the terrorist the police are after.” His tone broke the smooth wave of professionalism and boomed through the stark, empty space.
A tremor racked her spine, and she curled her fingernails into her palms. She hadn’t known, for god’s sake. He should have expected people would be out for the weapon of destruction he’d created. Arguing with him was futile and wouldn’t help her survive. She needed to stall and outsmart him.
She wet her lips. “Where am I?”
He surveyed her and rocked on the stool. “A lab owned by a French colleague of mine.”
Yes. That meant she was still in Paris and not far from Brock.
“You obviously didn’t find the formula on me or we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”
“You’re right. We searched your purse.” He leaned over to the computer desk and grabbed her bone-colored clutch.
He reached inside and flipped a card between his fingers.
“Only thing we found is this room key and an encrypted cell phone. My friend Romy,” he said, nodding at the door, “is going to pay room 1912 a visit. I wonder what—or who, I should say—he’ll find. ”
The threat hung in the air, and Dani’s guts churned. She clamped her teeth together and locked her stare on Ubrigg. If she got out of these ropes, he’d be sorry.
“You could save us the trouble and tell me where the formula is.”
She rolled her tongue along the inside of her cheek.
She knew the exact whereabouts of the flash drive—in Brock’s suit-jacket pocket.
Ubrigg wasn’t stupid. He already knew about Brock or he wouldn’t have made the threat.
The evil glint in Ubrigg’s eye made her stomach muscles clench.
They’d kill Brock if they found him. She had to throw him off Brock’s trail.
She shrugged. “Go ahead. But it will be a waste of time. We handed the formula off this evening at the Eiffel Tower.”
Ubrigg’s body tensed. His face didn’t change but his eyes darkened in his alabaster skin. “You’re lying.”
“No, I’m not. We needed a public place to make the trade-off. The remainder of my pay was wired to my account while we ate dinner. We set the flash drive on the table when we paid the bill and the buyer collected it as soon as we left.” The lie rolled off her tongue.
“Who was the buyer? What did they look like?”
The blonde woman Dani had spotted on the train and hotel popped into her head. “A woman no older than forty, blonde, shoulder-length hair. That’s all I know.”
He slid the stool to the computer desk. Shaking the mouse, he brought the sleeping screen to life and a password box popped up.
Force of habit brought her gaze to his fingers as he punched in the password.
She’d learned to study keystrokes a long time ago.
Curiosity and the desire to keep the skill sharp had her practicing it whenever the opportunity arose. Ubrigg’s fingers moved over the keys.
PSNMA
Had he hit a symbol or a number after that?
The screen blinked and a webpage with several tabs popped up.
The familiar small blue square with an F caught her eye.
Ubrigg’s social media account. She dropped her gaze to her shoes and focused on her breath.
If he caught her staring, he’d suspect she’d picked up his password.
He tapped on the keyboard. “Was this her?”
Dani lifted her chin and stared at the screen. The blonde woman with hard brown eyes stared back at her from what looked like a mug-shot photo. Victory bells rang in her head.
She nodded. “Yes, that’s her.”
Ubrigg stood quickly, sending the stool flying backward. It toppled to the ground and the metal connected with the tile with a sharp clank. His face turned a reddish purple, and he curled his hands into fists.
She might have thrown them off Brock, but she’d just secured her own death.
“You have no idea what you’ve done.” He lifted her purse and pinched her encrypted phone between his fingers in the air. “Let’s see if your friend has the same story.” He stormed toward the door and flung it open. “Lock the door! Keep her alive until I give you the cue.”
The bottom of her stomach dropped and her shoulders sagged, making the tendons in her neck yank sharply. Shit. Her foggy brain hadn’t predicted he’d call Brock. Her plan to save him had just gone to hell in a handbasket. Brock would do whatever Ubrigg wanted, which would only get him killed.
Because of her.
Her face heated and tears pooled beneath her lids. She watched the door close. The shooter who’d dragged her by her hair and hit her in the head caught her eye. His mouth hitched into a smirk and the door banged shut.