Page 53 of The Secret of Secrets

The warmth of Sasha’s afterglow began dissolving…and then, without warning, a surge of bitter sadness crashed over her like a wave.

She now remembered everything.

Brigita is dead.

My one true friend.

Her eyes jolted open, and she found herself looking up at the handsome but kind face of the man who was still cradling her head.

He smiled gently at her and whispered, “Welcome back.”

Chapter 33

The interior of the van was getting colder by the minute, and Jonas Faukman was shivering. His hands were still bound behind his back, and his fingers had gone completely numb. Faukman’s captors had torn off his vintage gray peacoat before tying him up, searching the seams and pockets, before dumping it onto the floor beside him.

The editor wondered if his phone was still in his coat pocket. He was half tempted to shout, “Hey, Siri! Call 911!”

The stocky man with a buzz cut was sitting on his milk crate, only a few feet away, and his partner remained in the front seat, typing intermittently on his phone. He seemed to be having a conversation with someone.

A commanding officer?

Faukman had been trying to put the pieces together, but he could not fathom who these guys were or that they had brazenly abducted him off the street. They stole one specific manuscript…and destroyed all of the publisher’s copies? Even if Katherine’s book was a runaway bestseller, to hack a corporate system, destroy hard copies, and kidnap people over it? This is book publishing, for crying out loud…not Die Hard!

“Okay,” Buzzcut said, glancing up from his iPad. “I have some questions for you, Mr. Faukman.”

“You can call me Jonas,” he chirped. “Kidnapping is much less formal than it used to be.”

Buzzcut stared at him, clearly unamused by the quip. “Is Katherine Solomon overseas?”

“Yes.”

“Where overseas?”

“You know where. You’re just calibrating your little lie detector by asking me questions to which you already know the answers.”

“Where?” Buzzcut repeated.

The editor had no desire to be sucker punched again. “She’s in Prague.”

“Very good.” He looked back at his iPad. “At some point before seven a.m. local time, Dr. Solomon left her Prague hotel room and entered the Four Seasons Business Center.”

Faukman did a double take, feeling a trace of panic. “Wait…you’ve been spying on her?”

“Let’s just say we’ve been paying attention.”

“Who the hell are you guys?!”

“While in the business center,” Buzzcut continued without answering, “Dr. Solomon used a hotel computer to log into the PRH server. She accessed the latest version of her manuscript.”

So what? Authors frequently get last-minute jitters when their editors are poised to start reading. Katherine was probably second-guessing something and decided to reread it.

“Why didn’t she use her own laptop in the privacy of her own room?” Buzzcut asked.

“Because Dr. Solomon does not have a laptop. She prefers a full screen, keyboard, and mouse.” And if you were really watching her, you’d know that.

The guy on the laptop nodded. “True.”

Buzzcut looked back at his iPad. “Our records show that this morning Dr. Solomon printed a complete hard copy of her manuscript—all four hundred and eighty-one pages—and left the hotel with it.”