As they closed the back door to the van, Teuling glared at her from where he stood beside a black limousine, his chin bleeding, holding his skinned hands out while a security guard applied bandages.
Marta didn’t feel the least bad for pushing the man. He deserved a lot worse treatment for all the lives he’d snuffed out and those he planned to kill in the future.
The man who’d carried her into the van sat on a seat, holding her across his lap, her arms clamped to her sides. The only windows were in the front of the van.
From what Marta could see, they were heading for a large building, maybe an industrial complex. As they drove up to a loading dock, she spotted HELVETIC BIOSOLUTIONS in large block letters over the dock doors.
All the other signs were in a language Marta couldn’t read.
Where had they taken her?
What country?
The van door opened. When her captor loosened his hold on her, Marta jabbed an elbow into his gut and dove for the door.
She hadn’t gone two feet when another large man snagged her around the middle, swung her around, and pushed her back into the vice-like arms of her former captor.
He carried her into a door beside the loading ramp.
They passed an older man pushing a large, wheeled trash bin toward the ramp.
“Help!” Marta cried. “I’m being held against my will!”
The man didn’t make eye contact, just kept pushing the bin through the door and out onto the ramp.
God, she hated when brute strength won out over intelligence. If she got out of this situation alive, she was taking some serious self-defense lessons. No more letting her smaller stature and weaker muscles relegate her to captivity.
No manner of yelling or screaming captured the attention of any of the workers in the complex. Not that they passed many. Just the janitor and more of the darkly dressed security personnel.
Eventually, she was deposited in what could only be called a cell no bigger than her apartment closet. There was a small cot in one corner, a toilet in the other, and a sink affixed to a wall. Her gorilla dropped her on the floor and backed through the doorway, closing it quickly between him and Marta.
“Bastard!” Marta called out. “You just wait. I’ll get out of here, and you’ll be sorry you ever brought me here!”
“Good luck with that,” a muffled female voice sounded through the wall. “I’ve been here for over a week and still haven’t found a way out.”
Marta’s heart sank into the pit of her belly. “You’re American?”
“Yes,” the woman said. “As are you,” she stated. “I’m Cate.”
“Cate,” Marta repeated. “A week?”
“A week,” Cate said. “And you are?”
“Marta,” Marta said.
“Marta Hale?” Cate asked, her tone pitched a little higher.
Marta frowned. “Yes. Do I know you?”
The other woman laughed, though the sound wasn’t full of humor. “I’m here because of you.”
“What?” Marta shook her head. “I don’t understand.”
“Do you know Devon Marsh?” she asked, her voice softer, a little shaky.
“The traitor who turned me over to Teuling?” Marta snorted. “Yes. Why?”
“He’s my father.”
