MasterStroke (29 page)

The confusion on her face said everything. The paramedic’s lips compressed slightly, as if he realised he’d let slip something he shouldn’t.

“Just a minute,” he said as he scrambled out of the ambulance. Sandrine watched him go. The street outside was crowded with fire engines, police cars and other emergency vehicles, parked at crazy angles. It was dark but red and blue lights bounced off every surface, hurting her eyes, coming and going and coming back again.

Policemen and fire fighters wandered past the open doors of the ambulance. A few looked in, their faces alternatively grimy or curious. One stopped, clad in an over-large black jacket with thick horizontal lime green and silver strips across the chest and arms.
It’s a turnout coat
, the thought popped into Sandrine’s head, although she had no idea how she knew this piece of information. On his head was a black helmet and a facemask with a thick air-hose hung casually over his shoulder.

“You’re looking a lot better than when I first saw you. Are you feeling OK?” the man asked, leaning into the ambulance to be heard over the street noise. He was tall and, despite the dark smears across his face, good-looking. His smile was wide and bright and, Sandrine considered, very well practiced. A crazy thought came to her and she was reminded of the calendars she’d seen of half-naked firemen with ridiculously well-built physiques.
Do you spend your spare time working out?
she wondered.

Initially, Sandrine was too perplexed to speak but it was clear he’d played some part in rescuing her so she made an effort to respond.

“Yes, I’m fine, thanks. A little woozy.”

“That’s understandable. It was a mess in there when we arrived. No fire but the blast had wrecked the front of the store and there were books and bits of burning paper everywhere. What wasn’t damaged by the blast, didn’t come out too well with all the water we had to pump in.”

No, no, no. The store. All the books. There must be nothing left. How could this have happened?

The fireman stood outside, a little unsure of what to say next as Sandrine’s expression threatened to crumble. She slammed her head back against the pillow, trying to move, pull out the tube from her arm, climb out of the ambulance and have a look at the store she’d devoted so much time and attention to for what seemed like an eternity but was, in reality, little more than a year. It was more than a job, it was her home and family and despair fell upon her. Tears sprung to her eyes and she started to thrash about in panic.

At that moment, a figure launched into the ambulance, brushing aside the fireman, who shrugged with resignation and stalked away. Jack was holding her hand, almost crushing it with the force of his relief.

“Oh, darling, it’s so good to see you’re awake. I’ve been incredibly worried about you. How are you feeling?”

What is this with everybody’s concern? Just get me out of here.

“What happened? The fireman mentioned a bomb.”

Jack scowled. It obviously wasn’t news he was happy discussing.

“Yes, in a van parked outside the store. It was packed with explosives. Luckily, your store is slightly below street level so the thick stone blocks at the front of the building took most of the blast.”

A fragment of memory bubbled to the surface.

“I saw it. I saw the van being parked, just as we were walking back to the store room. I watched the driver get out and walk away and I stood there thinking what a shame it is that there’s never traffic police around when you need them.” Sandrine’s words rushed out while she tried to recall what the driver looked like. It was no good, however, she could see the man but no words formed. The confusion, the inability to express herself in her normal logical way, crowded in on her.

Jack noticed her distress.

“Lay back, darling. It’s all right. There’s nothing we can do now. You need to rest. It’s been a big shock.”

“Was anybody hurt?” she pressed.

“A few injuries but there were no passersby close enough when the bomb exploded. In itself, that was pretty freakish, being mid-afternoon. An hour or so either way, lunchtime or the afternoon peak rush, and it would have been a completely different story.”

“How is Marcus? Marcella? Mariel?”

“Marcella and Mariel are fine, although Marcella has been taken to hospital for observation. Mariel has already filed a story for the newspaper and, looking suitably battle-scarred, has fronted interviews for two television news programs.”

Sandrine waited, expectantly, watching Jack closely. There was something he wasn’t telling her and the more she stared at his blank expression the more a dark dread chilled her.

“Marcus,” she probed. “You haven’t said anything about Marcus.”

His eyes flicked to a spot above her head and Sandrine feared the worst.

“There’s something you need to know. Marcus was kidnapped. Just after the bomb blast, while we were all lying stunned in the wreckage, he was taken away. I have no idea whether it was Sergei and his group or where he’s been taken.”

Oh, no, not Marcus, he’s not well. I hope he’s OK. He must be OK. There’s no two ways about it.
Sandrine squeezed Jack’s hand in a gesture of reassurance.

Jack ran a hand through his lank and gritty hair. A patch above one ear was crusted with what looked like dried blood and stitches traced a closed gash on his forehead. His clothing was torn and ragged, coated with ash and soot, and stank sharply of smoke. While his face was pale and drawn, and his lips compressed into a grimace, his hazel eyes glowed with a fierce intensity. Sandrine could see he was trying hard to keep his anger from boiling over.

Jack looks terrible. He’s taken responsibility for us and now this has happened.
The pain in his eyes triggered in Sandrine a sudden momentary revelation. Jack’s dedication to looking after her, after all of them, maybe even for his line of work, had much to do with the loss he’d suffered in other parts of his life. She felt he didn’t want others to know the anguish he’d felt and her heart melted further for him. He was an amazing man. It was a shame, she recognised with a tinge of guilt, that she’d been so angry with him just hours before when all he was doing was trying to help the best way he knew.

Jack unbuckled the restraints across her chest and waist and reminded her to be careful with the IV line in her arm. His eyebrows arched in surprise when she sprang up and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“You’ll be a little sore,” he continued. “A section of the bookcase fell on you, pinning your legs. You’ll have some nasty bruises, especially on your right hip and thighs.”

“I’ll be fine, Jack. Considering what happened, we’re very lucky we weren’t killed.”

“I don’t think that was part of the plan. If they wanted to kill us, they would have tried a lot harder. The bomb disposal team said the amount of explosives was minimal and the petrol tank of the van almost empty. On the available evidence, it would seem the idea was to create the sort of chaos that would allow Marcus to be snatched.”

“Why? Why would they do that?”

“Leverage. Whoever is employing Sergei and his boys has lost his patience. He’s making his move right now.”

Jack’s intent was obvious. He’d warned of the danger and nobody had paid much attention. He knew the world he moved in. He was the expert.
We had no idea just how serious it was. And now Marcus is paying the price.

“What now?” Sandrine asked.

“We know Sergei’s current location. I’m heading a group to take him. If he’s behind this, hopefully we’ll find Marcus as well.” Grim determination had etched lines deep into his face. His eyes were smudged with tiredness, and the timbre of his remarkable voice faltered slightly when he spoke. He was on the edge, that was plain to see, but pushing himself forward. This was personal and he was intent on seeing it through.

“
IF he’s involved
? How can there be any doubt? He threatens us all and, not long after, a car bomb demolishes the store and Marcus is kidnapped. Jack, who else
could
it be?” Sandrine was unsure of exactly what Jack was suggesting.

His body language betrayed his unease.

“On one hand, yes, who else could it be? On the other, it just doesn’t feel right. I have a bad feeling about this,” Jack shrugged.

Instinct
, Sandrine thought.
He lives by his wits and they’re telling him that all is not as it appears.

“I want to go with you,” Sandrine said.

Jack shook his head.

“No way. Too dangerous.”

“I wasn’t asking for permission, Jack. I need to go. I need to know that Marcus is OK. He could be hurt.”

“You’ll be better off getting some rest in the safety of a hospital.”

“Nonsense. I’m fine. Just a little shook up. And I’d feel a lot safer with you rather than on my own.” In reality, she was far from fine but she needed to persuade Jack otherwise. She was still woozy, and the medication, while it had taken the edge from her physical pain, left her feeling nauseous. But she didn’t want to be shunted aside and spend the next few days in hospital if Marcus needed her help.

He leaned in close, gave her a lingering but chaste kiss on the lips and squeezed her hand reassuringly. His eyes were cold and alert and reflected a grim determination. It was clear he was engaging in an internal discussion that could go either way.

“You’ll be able to protect me much better if you know exactly where I am,” Sandrine added.

“Yes, OK. I accept that. But it’s important you do everything I say. I need you out of harm’s way. This was a close call already this afternoon and I can’t have anything else happen to you. Is that understood?”

In other circumstances, she would have argued. She didn’t like being told what to do. Such attempts at control annoyed her greatly and even at that moment she could feel her scalp prickling with irritation. Ever since she was a small child, she’d been incapable of following orders, no matter how well-intentioned. It continually drove her Aunt to despair.

But since she’d become involved with Jack, a lot of things had changed. The independence that had been such an enduring facet of her personality throughout her adult life had tempered. Jack had such a strong character that something had shifted in her own. She wanted to please him in so many ways; it wasn’t subservience although sexually there were certainly aspects of that. It was almost that Jack represented parts of a whole that she was lacking, that made up an image that she’d never felt would be her. Yet it was and she was glad to change in order to reflect the person he wanted her to be. It was complicated and she didn’t fully understand but she was becoming a different person and it was all Jack’s doing.

Sandrine enjoyed Jack’s company and responded to his needs and desires. She loved him as he undoubtedly loved her. The role she assumed in this relationship was unlike any she’d ever been involved in. It was new and uncharted territory. Earlier, she’d been uncertain, even scared, of the changes, unsure that she really wanted to alter herself in such radical ways. Sexually, she’d become submissive and this excited her enormously, opening up new avenues of desire and satisfaction. But she also recognised that Jack would never harm her or place her in danger. She trusted him implicitly and this gave her a confidence and sense of wellbeing that was refreshingly new.

Whatever Jack asks me to do, I’ll do. Wherever he wants me to go, I’ll go. There are times I may be scared but I’ll never doubt him.

“Agreed.” She nodded enthusiastically.
Anything to get out of here
, she added to herself.

Jack helped her into a sitting position. The paramedic appeared at the open doors of the ambulance.

“She’ll be fine,” Jack assured him. “She’s coming with me.”

Parked beyond the tangle of emergency vehicles was a drab-painted armoured personnel carrier. A number of large men in black combat fatigues, made bulkier by bullet-proof vests, milled around, carrying helmets and automatic assault weapons, waited for Jack. A couple did double-takes as Jack steered Sandrine toward the vehicle, their hard weathered faces unable to hide their surprise.

Jack introduced her around.

“She’s coming with us.”

If they objected, they had the good sense to remain silent. They climbed in, closing the rear loading doors behind them. Jack and Sandrine squeezed onto benches along the sides of the truck. Nobody spoke or made eye contact as it lurched forward. There were no windows so Sandrine couldn’t see outside and had no idea where they were heading.

“It should take about ten minutes to get there,” Jack explained to her, leaning back, a hand resting carelessly on her thigh. Across from her, one of the men was watching her carefully. When she made eye contact, his gaze slipped away, his expression neutral.

The only sound was the rugged whine of the engine as it navigated the city streets, swaying into corners and bumping over potholes.

The truck stopped eventually. All of the men were now buckled into helmets, their guns checked and rechecked. Slowly, as the rear doors opened, they moved out into the street until only Jack and Sandrine remained.

“You’ll be safe here. One of the men will stay with you. I’ll be back once we have Sergei.” He leaned in close for a kiss and Sandrine felt the electricity spark between them.

“Please, be safe,” she said breathily.

“Always.” He had his own bullet-proof vest which he slipped on over his shirt, adjusting the Velcro straps to hold it snugly in place. As he stood, his cell phone rang loudly, echoing though the metal interior of the truck. He looked at it, raised his eyebrows, and sat back next to Sandrine.

“Interesting,” was all he said.

The volume was high enough for Sandrine to hear the conversation.

“Jack Lucas, this is Sergei. We need to talk.”

The surprise on Jack’s face was enough to cause Sandrine’s stomach to lurch uncomfortably.

Chapter Thirty Six

Jack and Sandrine made their way through the lobby. Flanked front, sides and back by SWAT team members, anonymous within black helmets with reflective visors, squat and ugly submachine guns and assault rifles, sweeping in all directions. Maintaining a tight formation through the marble lobby, crouched slightly, breathing steadily but heavily, their attention riveted on foreground, background, everything at once, six individuals in battle dress corralling two civilians, moving them with as much safety as they could ensure as they approached the open doors of an elevator.