She had to talk to him, she knew, however much she dreaded it. She was about to take out her phone, then decided that a cab wasn’t the best place for what would undoubtedly be an emotional call. More procrastination, an accusing voice said inside her head, but she needed calm, quiet, time to gather her thoughts—
The cab braked sharply, jolting her back to the present. It had turned on to one of the crosstown streets - but there was no traffic ahead. So why were they stopping?
The door to her left opened, a huge bearded man squeezing in beside her.
Shit! She was being mugged!
Grabbing her bag, she slid across to the other side—
The right-hand door opened as well, a smaller, skinny man pushing her back. She was sandwiched between the two intruders. Both were dark-skinned - Indian? The cab set off again. The driver hadn’t reacted - he was in on it.
But if they thought she was going to surrender meekly, they were wrong.
One hand fumbling in her bag, she drove the point of her other elbow against the smaller man’s cheekbone, snapping his head back. The big guy reached for her with a rough, hairy hand - as she pulled out a can of pepper spray and squirted it in his face.
He recoiled, eyes clenching shut - but in more of an instinctive flinch than the agonised thrashing she expected. Her own eyes stung horribly as the vapour reached her in the confined space. She tried to move away, but the second man was still pressed against her. Another swipe with her elbow—
His hand clamped round it, stopping the motion as if Nina had just hit a brick wall. Startled, she tried to pull away, but the grip tightened and held her arm firmly in place. The smaller man was a lot stronger than he appeared. Fear rising, she looked round at him.
A shark’s mouth grinned back at her from below malevolent dark eyes. His front teeth were filed to ragged points. He opened his mouth wide, leaning closer—
Nina screamed as he bit deeply into her upper arm. She tried to blast him with the pepper spray, but the big guy had already recovered, barely affected by the hot capsaicin, and swallowed her hand in his own, squeezing hard until her joints crackled agonisingly against the can.
‘Don’t struggle, Dr Wilde,’ said the driver. They knew who she was! It wasn’t a mugging, but a kidnapping.
The shark-mouthed man opened his jaws, Nina’s blood running down his chin. ‘Jesus Christ !’ she gasped. ‘What do you want?’ The bearded man released her hand, and the dented can clattered to the floor. In the flickering light of passing streetlamps, she saw that his lips were heavily scarred by what looked like burns, his cheeks oddly hollow.
‘You’ll find out soon. Here.’ The driver pushed a paper bag through the cash slot in the screen. The big man took it and tore it open; Nina saw that it contained a small bottle of antiseptic and several Band-Aids. ‘I wouldn’t want you to get an infection.’
‘Thanks for caring,’ Nina growled bitterly, snatching the bag from her captor.
The cab headed north into upstate New York. The drive took well over an hour, Nina losing track of where they were once they left the main highway.
Their final destination was a private airfield. The cab stopped beside a business jet, its engines already whining. Her captors pulled her roughly from the taxi and took her to the plane’s steps.
A figure appeared in the hatch. Nina recognised him immediately. ‘Funny,’ she said defiantly. ‘I was just thinking about you.’
Pramesh Khoil’s smooth, bespectacled face was as blank as it had been in San Francisco. ‘Hello again, Dr Wilde.’ He looked to the larger of the two Indian men holding her. ‘Bring her aboard. Was she any trouble, Dhiren?’
She expected the big man to speak, but instead he responded with a gurgling grunt. Horrified, she realised the meaning of the facial scars and his sunken cheeks - he had no tongue. It had been burnt out of his mouth. The other man said something in Hindi, his filed teeth giving his voice a wet, lisping quality.
‘Thank you, Nahari,’ said Khoil. He stood back as they shoved Nina into the plane. She blinked at the change of lighting, looking down the luxuriously appointed cabin to see Vanita Khoil coldly regarding her from one of the plush seats. Another Indian man, square-jawed and wearing a black turtleneck, stood beside her, his alert stance that of a bodyguard.
‘What do you want me to do now?’ asked the cab driver from outside.
‘Follow the plan, Mr Zec,’ Khoil told him. ‘Dr Wilde, your keys.’
‘What? Hey!’ The sharp-toothed man rummaged in her bag and handed her keys to Khoil, who tossed them to the Slav.
‘Wait for Mr Chase at their home,’ said Khoil. ‘I am sure he will ask to speak to his wife.’
‘What do you want with Eddie?’ Nina demanded, covering her rising fear with anger.
‘Your husband is going to get something for us,’ said Vanita, voice as icy as her expression. ‘The Talonor Codex.’
Nina gave her a mocking look. ‘Dream on. You know that Interpol already figured out you were behind the robbery in San Francisco, don’t you?’
‘They may suspect,’ said Khoil, dismissing Zec without a further word. A crew member closed the hatch. ‘But they will find no proof. Not until it is too late to matter.’
‘So why do you need Eddie? If you want the Codex, why not just make me get it for you?’
‘It would be too easy for you to raise the alarm. Besides, with you as our hostage, Mr Chase will be more malleable than you would be in the reverse position.’
‘You think you know us?’ she sneered.
‘Qexia knows you. All information about you and your husband has been collated and analysed. Mr Chase is more predictable than you, hence more controllable. His concern for your safety will ensure his compliance with our demands.’
‘He’s controllable, huh? I’ll tell him that when he calls - I’m sure it’ll give him a laugh.’
‘Bite your tongue,’ Vanita snapped, her dangling earrings swinging. ‘Pramesh, take us home. I have had enough of this country.’
‘As you wish, my beloved.’ Khoil turned and entered the cockpit. Nina expected him to issue orders, but was surprised to see him sit in the pilot’s seat and don a set of headphones.
‘Back there,’ ordered Vanita, jerking a dismissive thumb towards the rear of the cabin. The two men holding Nina pulled her with them. ‘Chapal, the drug.’
‘Drug? ’ Nina cried, seeing the man in the turtleneck raise a gun-shaped device - a jet injector, used to administer drugs without a hypodermic needle. She struggled and kicked, but her captors had too firm a grip.
‘I would advise that you take the drug, Dr Wilde,’ Khoil called from the cockpit. ‘Otherwise Mr Tandon will be forced to use his martial arts skills to render you unconscious. I understand it is excruciatingly painful.’
The man in black gave Nina a broad, menacing smile. ‘There are a hundred and eight marma pressure points on the body. Twelve are instantly fatal when hit by a varma ati master.’
‘Let me guess,’ said Nina unhappily. ‘You’re a master.’
‘Oh, yes. But the deadly points are very close to ones that cause unconsciousness or paralysis. If you struggle, even I could hit the wrong one.’ The smile broadened. ‘Would you prefer the drug?’
She clenched her jaw, reluctantly accepting defeat. For now. ‘Just . . . get it over with.’
Tandon pressed the injector’s nozzle to her neck and squeezed the trigger. There was a sharp hiss of gas, and she jerked in pain as the drug was blasted through the pores of her skin. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen . . . then her legs turned to rubber. The two men hauled her to a seat. The engines’ whine rose to a shrill roar as the plane prepared to take off.