Stirred (43 page)

The zip tie broke within seconds.

Then we indulged in a real hug.

“Are you here to save us?”

I flinched, having forgotten someone else was in the room.

I turned and saw a stout woman, also wearing a collar. She had a tiny, almost beatific, smile on her round face. But her eyes…

Unlike Herb, Luther had blinded her permanently.

I braced against the horror and tried to sound positive as I said, “My name is Jack Daniels. I’m a prisoner here, like you. But I’ll try my damnedest to get you both out of here. Was that your lovely singing voice I heard?”

“It was. Though your friend was doing pretty good on melody. I’m Christine Agawa. When I was younger, I used to dream that someday I’d be Cher. But now…Stevie Wonder, maybe?”

I already liked her.

“I always preferred Stevie to Cher,” I said.

I let go of Herb and began to look around the room for a brass plaque. It was on the wall behind Christine, next to a keypad.

I trudged over to it.

CIRCLE 3: GLUTTONY
Where there’s a will, there’s a way.

I reread it again, but there were no numbers in the passage. I rubbed the back of my neck, trying to think.

“Herb, I need to punch in a code to open this door. There’s a plaque here. It says, ‘Circle 3: Gluttony, where there’s a will, there’s a way.’ Any ideas?”

“A way?”

“Yeah.”

Then Christine’s collar began to buzz.

I whipped my head around, but only managed to say, “Oh no,” before it exploded.

H
e’s spent so much time planning this, considering all possibilities, all outcomes, that there have been very few surprises. He built in safeguards and backups in case anything went wrong.

The hardest thing to ensure was Jack’s safety. Even with all she’s gone through, Luther made sure he could help her at any given moment. The bear had an electronic collar, ready to blow if he took a swipe at her. The same with überagent Cynthia Mathis. The furnace and the pennies had cut-off switches, in case it got too dangerous.

When you spend years planning something, you tend to pay attention to the little details.

There were some unforeseen events.
That idiot fangirl Lucy
is still wandering around somewhere, but he’ll take care of her like he took care of her oafish partner. Phin and Harry ruined one of Luther’s submission chairs, but that was a last-minute addition anyway, since he hadn’t even planned to abduct them.

Sometimes you had to roll with the punches.

Improvise.

He had expected, however, for Jack to pull off her earpiece at some point. Or for it to malfunction. As a redundancy, Luther had the dozens of remote-control cameras in his playland all wired for sound. Speakers and microphones.

It will make one helluva movie when he edits all the footage together.

After blowing the fatty’s collar, he hits the intercom button on his control panel.

“She died because you removed your earpiece,” he says.

She would have died anyway, for another reason, but why not heap on the guilt?

Guilt will be Jack’s biggest challenge in the months and years to come.

Or rather, not succumbing to it.

He watches the monitor, sees Jack staring up at him.

But she doesn’t appear guilty.

Or frightened.

She seems pissed.

“Before this day ends, I’m going to kill you,” Jack says.

Luther doesn’t like this. He needs her humble. To understand what’s happening, and why. Defiance cannot be tolerated.

But he knows how to make her grovel.

“You have thirty seconds to say goodbye to Herb,” he tells her. “Then I’m blowing his collar.”

T
he stitches in the eyes had been bad. Not just the pain, but the helplessness.

But Herb had managed, because there had also been hope.

Hope he’d get through this.

Hope he’d see another day.

See his wife again.

But hearing Luther’s words over the sound system, the last of Herb’s hope disintegrated.

He was going to die.

Such a terrifying, sobering, overwhelming feeling, knowing you were about to die.

That you’d soon take that final breath.

That everything you’d lived through and experienced had culminated in this final, terrible moment that would be your end.

But Herb summoned up some deep well of courage. So deep he didn’t even know he had it in him.

Rather than fear his fate, Herb accepted it.

He accepted it with strength.

And dignity.

All there was left to do was say goodbye.

“Jack…”

“GODAMMIT, LUTHER! DON’T DO THIS!”

“Jack! Listen to me!”

“LUTHER!”

“JACK!”

He felt her grab his hand, hold on tight. “Herb, I’m so, so sorry…”

“Shhh. It’s not your fault.”

“Herb…”

He managed to smile. “These are my last words, not yours. Let me talk.”

She hugged him. He gave her a brief hug back then pushed her away, fearful the explosion would hit her.

His lower lip quivered, but he managed to smile anyway.

“Jacqueline Daniels, I can still remember the day we met, in that morgue, all those years ago. I think I knew then what an amazing cop you were. It has truly been the greatest honor of my life to work with you. You’ve been the best friend I’ve ever had. I hope that someday you think as highly of yourself as I think of you, because in all the time I’ve walked this earth, I’ve never met someone as selfless, as brave, as loyal as you.”

“Herb—”

“You’re going to get through this, Jack. I know you will. And when you get out of here, tell my wife that my last thought was of her, and how her love for me made my last moments happy.”

Jack let out a sob.

Then she said something Herb hadn’t expected.

“No.”

Herb made a face. “No? Are you kidding?’

“You can tell her yourself,” Jack said. “Because, damn it all, you are not dying today.”

Then Jack grabbed him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and pressed her neck up against his.

H
e frowns.

The heroic monologue Herb just orated had been moving and seems to have touched Jack deeply.

But she still refuses to submit.

Instead, she does something Luther hasn’t anticipated. Something entirely unacceptable.

There is no way he can blow Herb’s collar with Jack holding on to him like that. Though the shaped charge is pointing inward, the possibility of her getting hurt or killed is too great.

“Herb, I’m going to blow your collar in five seconds. If you care about Jack, you’ll push her off you. Five…four…three…”

Luther watches as Herb tries to push Jack away.

She knees him in the balls, staggering the fat man sideways, but continues to hold onto him.

“Are you going to cling to him forever?” Luther asks into the microphone.

Jack doesn’t answer.

Luther hisses out a deep breath. While it is gratifying to know that Jack has finally realized the value of her friends, this stunt brings the whole operation to a standstill. He supposes he could wait her out. Eventually she’ll fall asleep. Or pass out from exhaustion or her eclampsia. Or he could bring in the last bit of QNB gas, even though he’s been saving it for another use.

But these aren’t best-case scenarios. Luther is anxious to get to the next phase and doesn’t like the idea of waiting around for hours.

“I’ll make you a deal, Jack,” he says. “I’ll give you the key to Herb’s collar, but you have to follow my orders.”

“No deal!” she yells.

Luther is surprised. “Then I’ll leave you both in there for a few days.”

“You don’t want to do that. I could die. We both know you don’t want that.”

“So what is it you want? Surely you know I’m not going to let you go.”

“I want the key to Herb’s collar and your promise that you won’t kill him.”

Luther considers it. He can lie, of course, and kill him anyway. But if Jack is willing to make a deal, it shows compliance on her part.

Compliance is the first step to humility.

Besides, Herb might still be of some use.

“Done,” Luther says. “It’ll take me a few minutes to get there.”

He goes to his key cabinet and finds one of the tiny padlock keys used for the collars, makes sure he’s got a full magazine in his Glock, and then heads through the warehouse, past the cells containing the corpses of those who didn’t work out.

He’ll never tire of this place.

The smell of rust and mildew.

Of abandonment.

Perhaps one day, he and Jack will hunt in these warehouses together.

Five minutes at a brisk pace brings him to the gluttony door.

He unlocks it, his pistol at the ready.

Jack is still clinging to Herb. Luther considers trying to physically separate them. But that would mean getting in close, and both Jack and Herb are capable fighters.

He could just shoot Herb in the head, be done with it, but he needs Jack compliant for the next part of her journey, and right now, the threat of killing him is a more powerful motivator than if the fat man is dead.

But then, he still has Harry and Phin. They can be motivators, too.

Luther walks into the room, gets within three meters of the pair.

“Here’s the key,” he says, holding it up. “I’m going to toss it to you. Don’t drop it in the muck.”

He throws it, watches its arc, watches Jack snatch it in midair.

It takes a few seconds of fumbling for her to unlock Herb’s collar.

“Okay, now step away from him,” Luther orders.

Jack shakes her head. “You’ll kill him.”

“I said I wouldn’t, if you agreed to follow orders. Now step away or I will kill him.”

Jack hesitates, then steps away.

Luther aims at the fat man and fires.

“N
o!”

Herb pitched forward, falling into the mud. I rushed to him and kneeled down in the freezing slop.

“Goddamn it, Luther!”

“He’s still breathing,” Luther said. “I didn’t kill him. But I will if you don’t do as I say. Now get up and come with me.”

“He needs a doctor!”

“He’ll need a coroner if you don’t listen. Start walking, Jack.”