“I wouldn’t exactly say that.” The whispered voice came from the dark of the kitchen, and five bulky shapes, holding automatic weapons, slid into the living room, surrounding its occupants. There was no need to announce to Cilla who they were, even though all were wearing ski masks.
Andre climbed to his feet. “Grecco! Thank God! Let’s get these handcuffs off me. The black woman has the key.” He bent his head in Frances’ direction. Ingalls handed it over without argument. Andre’s grin was broad as he took in the other masked men.
“I see you made it OK, Frank. Oh, for Christ’s sakes, keep your mind on the job. We’ll get you a woman later.”
The big man, caught in an intense stare at Cilla, turned guiltily back.
“He was looking forward to her,” said Cabral. “Jesus, is he always like that?”
Andre shrugged. “He has his good and bad days.”
“Check the house,” said the leader to the other masked men, who began searching other rooms with military meticulousness.
“You have masks, Cabral,” said Cilla softly. “I hope that means you’ll spare those who haven’t seen you.”
“Why, Andre,” asked Loni. “Why would you do such a dreadful thing?”
Andre turned his back to Cabral and held out his arms to have the cuffs unlocked. “Ever seen a billion dollars, lover? I haven’t, but I’m going to. My idea, all of it.”
“But my organization,” said Cabral softly. His men filtered back from different parts of the Carver house.
Loni was shaking. “You met this man through my father, didn’t you?”
“Let’s get going, Grecco,” said a big, bulky man Cilla took to be Groper. “The plow might come through any time.”
“Probably not until it lets up a bit. If it does we can take off through the woods on the kids’ snowmobiles.”
Cilla’ had her arm around Loni. “You didn’t hurt those children at the foot of the hill!”
“Don’t worry...about others.” Gil’s broken voice. “It’s time for...your date.”
“What’s he talking about, Cilla?” asked Wally.
“You don’t want to know.”
“Yeah, I keep my promises.” Cabral looked at Andre. “Which is her room?”
“On the right at the head of the stairs.”
“Up there, Frank.”
“And don’t...kill her. She...goes out of my plane.”
As Frank took Cilla’s arm, Frances grabbed his. Gil slashed at her with an arm that sent her tumbling.
“What’s going on?” Wide-eyed, Loni looked from one to the other of the gang.
Cilla shook her head.
Carver watched helplessly. For the first time since he’d met her, Cilla appeared defeated. Head bowed, she allowed herself to be led up the stairs, into the dark of the second floor.
“What’s going to happen to her,” Loni was shaking. “Why doesn’t someone tell me what’s going on?”
“Everybody just sit back down,” said Cabral. “We’ve got a few minutes to wait. Then, if you’re good, we’ll leave you. Maybe even alive, since you haven’t seen our faces.”
“Your face has been in every paper in the country,” said Bob Gold, with more guts than sense.
“Where I’m going it won’t matter. Keep this up and no one comes out alive.”
Suddenly the house was rent with horrifying screams, screams that carried unimaginable pain and terror.
“God! What’s he doing to her?!” Bob Gold struggled to get out of his chair.
“Stop it!” shouted Carver. “You’ve got what you want. Make him stop!”
The screams became louder. Loni threw up. Even Andre turned pale.
Then just as suddenly they stopped. All eyes turned to the stairs. It seemed like hours, but it could only have been a minute. A door could be heard opening, and a moment later Frank appeared. He was holding a limp Cilla in his arms, and, as he started down the stairs, even in the faint light cast by a dozen candles, they could see her clothes were torn and her chest covered with blood. He dumped her body on the floor. Cabral looked at it with distaste.
“You really did it. Shit, you even make me sick, you maniac.”
With a roar Frank delivered a blow to Cabral’s jaw that knocked him cold. He turned to the other members of the gang. “Who else wants to call me a maniac?”
They stepped back a pace. “Hey,” said Gil. “You can’t help ... being crazy...you...”
A second blow and Gil stretched out beside Cabral. Frank had the attention of the remaining two. They raised their weapons. Suddenly Carver saw movement from Cilla’s body. She was still alive! Cilla raised herself to her feet and, with the distraction caused by Frank, was able to throw herself on the back of the smaller of the two men still standing, staggering him.
“Frances!” she yelled.
The FBI woman had been as stunned by the action as the others, but was trained to react more quickly. “Look out!” she bellowed. The shout was just enough to distract Groper, the bigger man. Frank grabbed at his weapon, twisting it out of his hands. Then Frances went into action, butting her head into Crow’s midsection. He went down with both women on top of him, but hit Frances on the side of the head with his weapon. She rolled off, stunned. Cilla hit him, and the two struggled on the floor. Bob Gold raised on his crutches and, seeing Frank had knocked out the bigger man, hit the maniac on the back of the neck. Frank went down. Of all of them, only Andre remained standing. He picked up Gil’s rifle and pointed it at Cilla.
“Get off him, Cilla.”
She cautiously got to her feet, leaving the unconscious Crow on the floor. Bob started toward him on crutches. Andre knocked one of them away, and Gold went sprawling. But this was all the opening Cilla needed. In a flash she was on Adams, kneeing him in the crotch. As he doubled up, she brought a fist to his jaw. He collapsed.
A burst of gunshots and Cilla jumped back, hitting the staircase and sliding to the floor. “All right, game’s over.” Cabral was on his knees but had an automatic weapon in his hands. He got slowly to his feet, went over to Frank and kicked him in the stomach. The man groaned.
“Get up, you bastard. I’m going to tear you apart. Who the fuck do you think you are, laying hands on me.”
Frank crawled to his knees; Cabral fished a long blade, coated with red, from the monster’s pocket and threw it to one side. Weaving, Frank got to his feet. Cabral snorted with disgust and placed the rifle on the floor.
“I don’t need this to finish you. Let’s see how handy you are without your knife, butcher boy.”
The two circled each other, Cabral, though not as tall, far more ready for battle. Wally thought about going for one of the guns, but knew he’d never make it. Who did he want to survive, the monster that had brutalized Cilla? Or the fiend who intended to massacre all of New England? The only hope he could see was that the survivor would be so weakened he or Evans could reach one of the weapons scattered around the room.
Cabral got in the first blow, a hard right that smashed Frank against a wall. Frank, almost unaffected, got to his feet in time for another blow from Cabral that sent him against a wall of shelves, knocking over books and small figurines. He bounced back, grabbing Cabral with both arms. Cabral kicked his legs out from under him. Frank crashed into the fireplace, Cabral on top of him, forcing his head back into the flames.
“I’ll save hell the trouble of burning you,” he grunted, with his hands around Frank’s neck. In desperation, Frank got Cabral by the throat. It was a silent struggle of strength, and Carver knew the insane can call on more strength than those considered “normal.” Sure enough, gradually Frank emerged from the fireplace, forcing Cabral back. With his ski mask ringed by fire, the man known for his work with a knife looked like hell was already his home. With one hand still on Cabral’s throat, he grabbed his midsection with the other. The tableau that emerged, as a dazed Cilla’s eyes cleared, struck a chord in her memory. There was Cabral raised high over the other’s head, then brought down hard, back first, onto a knee. There was a dull `crack’, and Cabral was tossed aside like an empty bag of bones.