Vision Impossible (36 page)

After she’d tucked it away, I leaned in close to her ear and said, “Go back to the room and wait for him there. I’ll try to get away from Maks to find Dutch and send him to you. He’s got to read that note far away from prying eyes, do you understand?”

Mandy nodded, but she didn’t look happy. “I’ll miss the party!” she whispered back.

I glared at her so hard she shrank away from me. “Okay,” she said when I didn’t ease off the glare.

I moved back to the door and opened it, smiling brightly at Maks, who was quite close to the door. “Is everything all right?”

“Of course!” I said, putting my arm around Mandy.

“Have you seen Rick?” she asked suddenly, and for the first time since I’d known her, I thought she’d asked an intelligent question.

Maks nodded. “He’s downstairs with the others.”

Mandy then turned to me and said, “I’m going back to my room for a bit; I’ve got cramps. Would you send Rick up to me?”

In that moment I could have hugged her. “Of course, Mandy.”

We exited the room and Maks locked the door, pocketing the key in his jacket pocket. He offered me his arm and we left Mandy to go back upstairs while we headed down.

As we descended the stairs, I could feel the tension radiating off Maks. He knew Mandy and I were up to something, but as of yet, he hadn’t asked me about it. I pretended I didn’t notice that he’d noticed.

We got to the bottom of the stairs and I could see that most of the guests were already there. The large sitting room just off the back terrace was filled with people, and for every man I saw, there were at least three drop-dead beautiful women. “You weren’t kidding when you said that Boklovich would be bringing in the ladies,” I said to Maks, hoping to distract him from Mandy and me.

He grunted, his mind clearly still occupied by other things. When we reached the terrace, we could both see that Sheikh Omar was surrounded by no less than ten of the most gorgeous women at the party. I would have felt intimidated by their beauty too if I weren’t so relieved that his attention had seemingly been completely diverted away from me.

And then I spotted Dutch off in a corner with Boklovich, who was waving to the crowd to gather round.

Maks had me around the waist and we edged closer. I wanted to break free and hurry over to Dutch, but the crowd and Maks’s firm hold on me prevented that.

When everyone was circled around Boklovich, he began speaking in Russian. Several other men gathered around also began speaking, but softly and in a variety of languages.

I realized that they were translating the fat Russian’s speech. I glanced over at Maks and without looking at me he said, “Vasilii will now give a demonstration of the drone and its technology.”

On the wall of the tent a projection appeared, showing short clips of each guest arriving at Boklovich’s compound. Around each guest were vivid bubbles of color. I saw a clip flash by showing our arrival, and got an unsettled feeling. Once that footage had played, another image appeared—an aerial view of the crowd emerged, a cluster of pulsing blobs of color distinct from the surrounding dull green terrain. Immediately I looked to the sky, trying to spot the drone, but there were thick dark clouds overhead and finding the small drone in the mass of gray was next to impossible.

I lowered my chin as the crowd began to murmur, and looked again at the projection on the tent. The aerial view was closing in on the crowd and a small circle appeared on one of the patches of color. I realized in an instant that the circle was a bull’s-eye, and I also knew exactly whom Intuit was targeting—I’d recognize that signature aura anywhere.

“Dutch!” I squeaked, completely forgetting to use his alias.

Luckily, my reaction was lost in the increasing murmurs of the crowd, but Maks had heard me. I could feel his steely glare on the side of my face. I attempted to pull out of his grasp as the image on the tent drew closer and closer to its target.

Intuit was going to kill Dutch, and I had to get to him. “Let me go!” I whispered threateningly, pulling at Maks’s hand around my waist.

“Stay still!” Maks ordered, and he wrapped his other arm around me.

I looked frantically over at Dutch, and in that moment his head swiveled to me and behind those dark shades I knew he was looking right at me. “DUCK!” I mouthed at him, and in the last second before the drone dive-bombed him, Dutch hit the deck.

To my immense relief the drone zoomed harmlessly over Dutch’s head and came to land right next to the tent.

The crowd erupted, roaring its approval and clapping and laughing at Dutch, who got to his feet as quickly and gracefully as possible. I did not applaud, but stared hard at the drone, looking for the gun with the darts in it, wondering if it had shot my fiancé and he wasn’t even aware of it, but the gun didn’t seem to be mounted onto the airplane, just the small black box with the camera and Intuit.

I let out a long breath. Dutch appeared okay. “What are you two hiding?” Maks asked under his breath, and I knew we’d been made.

I turned in his arms and smiled at him, but it was only an act and I knew he could tell. “Hiding?” I asked. “Nothing, Maks. I would just prefer if my business partner weren’t murdered right in front of me, if that’s all right with you?”

Grinkov glared hard at me. “You play a dangerous game, Abigail,” he warned.

“So do you,” I told him tartly. By now I’d seriously had enough of the friendly pretense.

Maks let go of me abruptly. “I have forgotten something in our room. I will be back in a moment.”

He left me then and I made my way through the crowd, working hard to catch Dutch’s eye again. He was receiving a rough pat on the back and a glass of champagne from our host, who couldn’t stop laughing and mimicking Dutch’s rather inelegant fall to the ground. Dutch was wearing his cop face through all of it, but I knew he badly wanted to wipe that smile off Boklovich’s face . . . permanently.

I waved frantically to my fiancé behind Boklovich’s back, and I watched as he downed the contents of his glass in one swallow, motioned to it like he was going to get another one, and took his leave of Boklovich.

The vile man followed my fiancé with his eyes, and I knew it was too risky to have Boklovich see me talking to Dutch, so I subtly motioned to the bar and met him there.

“Boklovich is trying to kill you,” I whispered.

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he murmured.

I remembered the note I’d given to Mandy. “You have to go see Mandy. She’s not feeling well and she’s asked to see you.” I said this loud enough to be overheard.

“Where is she?” he asked, moving in front of me to place his drink order.

“Upstairs in your room.”

Dutch looked around as if he was simply taking in the crowd while the bartender poured his drink. “I’ll try to slip away,” he said softly. “Boklovich’s keeping a tight rein on me until after the auction.”

“Mandy said it was urgent,” I told him, hoping he could read the subtext.

Dutch thanked the bartender and turned away from the bar, allowing me to move ahead of him. “Got it,” he whispered, his hand subtly brushing my arm as he left.

I could have wept there and then. I’d had my radar wide open all afternoon, and there was terrible danger threaded all throughout Dutch’s energy, and it hadn’t passed when he’d managed to duck under the drone attack. What if that soft caress was the last time he ever touched me? What if those were the last words he ever said to me?

I stepped forward to the bartender with these heavy thoughts tangling my mind but somehow managed to order my drink and, while I was at it, one for Maks, because I knew he’d be back soon.

I think that’s why I didn’t immediately realize it when another man stepped close to me and took me by the elbow. “Come with me,” he said, his voice hard as steel.

“Excuse me?” I replied, trying to break out of his grasp while not spilling the drinks.

“Your presence is requested,” the stranger said, his fingers tightening on my arm.

I looked up at him and saw that he dressed in the typical Arab fashion, except that he carried a sidearm tucked into a sash around his waist. I could see that he was trying to steer me over to the cluster of women gathered around Sheikh Omar and I dug in my heels and refused to move. “I’m here with someone,” I told him firmly. “And I’ll thank you to let me go!”

I’d said that last part a bit loudly, hoping someone in the crowd would notice and come to my aid, but no one paid us any attention and I was simply dragged along beside the unruly jerk until I was standing right in front of the sheikh himself.

He smiled wide when he saw I’d been brought in front of him, and I took the opportunity to pull out of his bodyguard’s grasp. “I don’t appreciate being manhandled!” I snapped.

“Apologies,” said the sheikh, and he waved his hand to his guard like he was shooing away a pesky fly.

“Sheikh Omar,” said a voice from behind me, and I wanted to sag in relief. “I would like to introduce my woman, Ms. Abigail Carter.”

I took a step back to stand next to Maks and handed him his drink . . . or what was left of it. “Here you go, honey,” I said to him. When he took it from my hand, I wrapped my arm around his waist and he wrapped his around my shoulder.

The sheikh spoke in Arabic and I was surprised when Maks replied to him in the same language. Turning to me, he said, “Sheikh Omar thinks you are very beautiful.”

I smiled and waved my drink in the direction of all the girls nearby. “Not nearly as pretty as these women, though.”

Maks didn’t repeat what I’d said, and I suspected the sheikh understood every word, because he pointed to me and said, “Most beautiful woman here.”

This won me lots of catty looks from the surrounding women, and I could only laugh like I thought he was very silly to think such a thing while I tried to wave it off. “Thank you, but I really doubt it.”

The sheikh then spoke again to Maks and whatever he said made Grinkov redden slightly. Turning to me, he said, “Sheikh Omar would like to know if you are satisfied with me?”

I blinked. “Satisfied?”

Maks’s lips thinned and I understood the subtext in an instant. “Oh! Um, of course I am!” When Sheikh Omar continued to scrutinize me, I added, “Maks is a wonderful man, and he is very good to me . . . in
every
way.”

The sheikh swatted at his neck like he was slapping a mosquito just as a rumble of thunder echoed across the sky. The weather had been threatening rain all afternoon, and I couldn’t have asked for more perfect timing. “Maks!” I said. “Don’t you think we’d better move into the tent before we get wet?”

Maks nodded and bowed to the sheikh before moving off with me toward the tent. Another rumble of thunder reverberated overhead and I looked around to gauge its direction, spotting Dutch sneaking off into the house in the process.

I felt a flood of relief and almost didn’t see it when Maks swatted at his own neck. “Mosquitoes must be out early,” I said to him. He nodded and rubbed the side of his neck, and that’s when I noticed something small and red drop to the ground.

I stopped walking, which forced Maks to stop as well. “What is it?” he asked.

Stooping down, I bent to retrieve the tiny dart from the ground and looked up at him in horror.
“Oh my God!”
I whispered.

Maks lifted the object out of my palm. It was no bigger than a thumbtack, with a tiny needle at the end pricked with blood. Automatically his hand went to his neck and he seemed to be putting two and two together.

I grabbed him by the hand. “Come with me now!”

“What was in the dart?” he asked, moving with me as fast as the crowd would let us.

“Don’t talk,” I warned, my stomach turning at the thought of what was about to happen to Maks. “Just move as fast as you can without calling a lot of attention to us.”

Maks stuck to my side like glue and my heart hammered hard in my chest. How much time did I have to get him the antidote? A minute or two? Maybe less? I couldn’t remember.

Maks stumbled suddenly as we were making our way up the steps. “I’m dizzy,” he said to me.

I tightened my grip on his hand. “Keep moving!”

Behind us I heard a woman cry out. “What’s wrong with him?”

I thought she was talking about us, so I chanced a look back and it was then that I noticed that the sheikh was being held up by two of his men, looking pale and sweating profusely. I remembered him swatting at a mysterious bug about two minutes before Grinkov. The sheikh was now beyond my help, not that I really would have helped a misogynist pig like that even if I could.

“Come on!” I urged as Maks and I got inside and were moving to the inside stairwell. Sweat had broken out all across his forehead and his breathing was labored. “Listen to me!” I snapped when he paused to grab the railing and wouldn’t move. “If you don’t make it up those stairs,
you’ll die
! Do you understand me?”

Maks nodded dully. I lifted his arm over my shoulders and pulled him along with me up the stairs. By the time we reached the top, we were both breathing hard.

Our door was only a little down from the landing, thank God, as I was now supporting most of Maks’s weight. “Please!” I coaxed. “Just a little farther!”

Somehow Maks was able to get his feet to cooperate and we made it to the door . . . which was locked.

“Where’s the key?” I said frantically. Maks mumbled something and his now trembling hand came up to rub against his jacket pocket. I set him on the ground because I couldn’t maneuver with him draped over me, and fished through his pocket, removing all the contents, including a folded piece of paper and the key. I inserted the key into the lock and got the door open, then pulled him limply into the room, because he was no longer able to stand.

His eyes were quickly rolling up into the back of his head, and foam began to form at the corners of his mouth. “Jesus!” I cried, dropping the key and the rest of the contents of his pockets next to him as I dashed into the bedroom, over to my luggage, and began rummaging through the contents.