He completed a series of random turns and was just about to head for the safe house when he passed Kairouz’s car. It was parked in plain sight on the side of the road, the driver leaning against the side and smoking his pipe. What the hell was the old kike doing here? Coincidence? He didn’t believe in coincidence. But if it was some sort of trap, why was he parked in the open? Braun continued, scanning his surroundings with even more care than usual.
Farley rubbed himself through his pants. Braun would likely dawdle, picking wine and other Frenchified crap. Not like a proper bloke who’d grab a few cases of Guinness and some grub. Farley had time. And he’d thought on the virgin thing. No problem. She could give him a gobble, then take it up the bum.
She blinked up at the light.
“You need a stretch.” He smiled as he cut the tape on her wrists and ankles.
“Th… thank you.”
“We should be friends, Cassie. Nice to each other, like.”
“I… I guess so.”
“Good,” he said, unbuckling.
She drew away, but he grabbed a fistful of hair with one hand and pushed down his pants with the other.
“Here’s a new friend then. Come on. Give him a kiss.”
Braun continued his circuitous route, confidence returning as each unnecessary detour failed to reveal a tail. Then he spotted Gillian Farnsworth at the bus stop. How’d she find them? That idiot Sutton must have let something slip to the Coutts hag, who then told Farnsworth. Sitting in plain sight in that ridiculous disguise was proof enough she was acting alone. Even the police weren’t that incompetent.
However she’d found him, she was a complication, bound to call the police when she spotted him. But he had to get the laptop and take care of Farley and the girl. She turned toward him, then looked away without recognition. Good. She’d be confused when he turned into the drive and likely delay calling the police. He’d finish his business inside and be gone, two minutes tops. He’d put a bullet in her head on the way out. Even if she’d already called, he’d have plenty of time before the cops showed up.
He turned into the drive, his plan in place, to be undone by an earsplitting scream from 17 Saxon Way.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Cassie tried to stay calm, remembering the secret things Mrs. Farnsworth taught her. She chanted to herself in the dark, comforted by the words and the rigid sliver concealed between cupped palms. Then he was there — all kind words and a mean smile. She felt a sharp pain as he yanked her by the hair and shoved her face toward his ugly, swollen thing. She fought down her terror and lived the rhyme:
Farley screamed when she drove the needle through his penis. He groped himself with both hands, and Cassie jerked his pants down and scooted away. Farley lunged and fell forward, his clawing fingers just brushing her as the needle snagged the carpet, tethering him in place by his member.
Cassie burst from the closet and raced through the house. She found the front door locked tight with a keyed dead bolt and retraced her steps, racing past the bedroom where Farley bellowed. She rushed through the kitchen toward the door to the garage, but the sound of the garage-door opener brought her up short. She darted into the pantry, making herself small against shelves to squeeze the door closed to a crack just as Uncle Karl burst in from the garage, gun drawn, rushing toward Farley’s voice.
As Uncle Karl disappeared into the hallway, Cassie bolted through the open kitchen door just as the big garage door kissed the concrete. The windowed back door was also locked with a keyed lock. Heart pounding, Cassie mashed the wall control and raced to the big garage door. She fell to her hands and knees as the door inched upward, intent on the widening opening.
Farley held up bloody pants with one hand and gripped his Glock with the other.
“You get her?” he asked.
“You lost her? You bloody imbecile.”
“She stabbed me. You must—”
Braun heard the garage-door opener and cursed as he raced back through the kitchen and around the van. The rising door was eighteen inches off the concrete, and Cassie’s feet disappeared beneath it. He thought quickly. The Farnsworth bitch would rush to the girl. He’d drop them both and drag the bodies inside. Then he’d deal with Farley and be away before the cops arrived. There was time still. He dropped to one knee, waiting for the rising door to reveal his targets.
“One. Can your man wound him?” Anna asked into her throat mike as the van turned in.
“If he gets out before the door closes. And the house?”
“Have your lads crash it on your shot.”
“Roger,” he said.
A scream split the air, and Anna watched Gillian Farnsworth stand and rush forward.
“God damn it,” Anna said. “Stand down, One.”
Anna turned, but Harry was already moving.
Harry overtook her in the drive as the garage door closed. He grabbed her arm.
“Come along, luv. Off the street.”
Gillian turned. “Let me go, you bloody fool. Cassie’s in there.”
“And we’ll save her if you don’t muck it up,” Harry said, pulling her along.
They both turned at the sound of the rising door to see a blond head appear. Cassie wriggled free, and Gillian flattened Harry’s nose with an elbow worthy of an NBA point guard and bolted. He rushed after, blood pulsing from his nose as he drew his gun and focused on the door, alert to pursuit.
“Get her across the street!” Harry yelled to Gillian, moving to shield them. He saw Braun’s feet and fired, cursing as the feet disappeared and the big garage door reversed course. He backed after his charges, gun trained toward the threat.
Mrs. Farnsworth held Cassie, whispering reassurance. Despite her outward calm, Gillian Farnsworth simmered. Anna saw it in her eyes as she touched the girl’s bruised face. Only Cassie’s need was containing that rage. Anna turned back to the task at hand.
“Good work, Harry,” Anna said. “They’ve no leverage now, and they’ll be rattled.”
“What’s the plan?” Ward asked.
“We’ll let them stew a bit until they’re ready to deal,” Anna said. “With any luck, they’ll surrender, and we can separate them — play one against the other.”
The men nodded, then everyone looked toward the windows at the sound of gunfire from Braun’s hideout.
“Bloody hell,” Anna said. “Now what?”
“I think, Agent Walsh,” Reyes said, “someone is securing a monopoly on marketable information.”
“Crash the house,” Anna yelled into her mike.
Braun was angry but not rattled. He fully intended to surrender — after he’d taken care of things. The laptop was on the living-room coffee table, with the programmed destruction of the hard drive in progress.
“I finally got it out,” Farley said as he limped in. “Where is that little bitch?”
Farley was oblivious, having left Cassie’s pursuit to Braun to sequester himself in the bathroom, preoccupied with his punctured dick.
“She escaped, you idiot. And we’re surrounded.”
“What?” Farley limped to the window as Braun mulled options.
With the girl free, he had only information to trade. He had a bit of negotiating time, perhaps as much as twenty-four hours before the next attack, then the value of his information would plummet as the body bags were stacked. Farley knew little, but the authorities wouldn’t know that. They might waste valuable time on the idiot, a costly delay for Braun. He drew his gun. He had to clarify the situation for them.