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Alex was sound asleep, curled into Gideon, when her phone rang. Frowning, she picked it up from the table on her side of the bed and stared at the icon. Six-eighteen in the morning, according to her phone. Jerry. Calling her?
What the hell? She bolted upright.
Gideon looked puzzled when he saw the phone. “There’s no connection out here,” he said. “How did that phone call come through?”
“Must have used the wifi. Remember I told you my cell can do wifi calls?” She stared at Jerry’s picture. “Should I answer it?”
“Yeah. Put it on speaker and let’s see what Trotter has to say.”
Alex hit the green icon, and said, “Jerry? Why are you calling me? What’s going on?”
“Jerry is indisposed right now,” said an accented voice. A piercing shriek split the silence.
“Was that Jerry?” Alex asked, her stomach churning.
“I will send you pictures,” the voice said. “After you look at them, call me back on Trotter’s phone.”
The line went dead.
Alex turned to Gideon, who was dialing the satellite phone. After a moment, he said, “Mel. Alex just got a call from Jerry’s phone. From one of the Russians. They’re sending pictures. Someone was screaming.”
“I’ll mobilize everyone,” Mel said, her voice calm. “Call me back when you get the pictures and find out what the Russians want.”
“Will do.”
He tossed the sat phone on the bed and slid closer to Alex. Watched with her until the text message app chimed.
Alex opened the text. Gasped and slapped her hand over her mouth as she stared at the pictures.
Gideon took the phone gently from her hand, but the image was burned into Alex’s brain. Jerry, tied to a chair. Covered in blood. Two black eyes. What looked like a broken nose. And in the final photo, thick fingers held Jerry’s left hand in the air. Blood ran in rivulets down his arm and dripped onto the floor. His pinky finger was gone, leaving behind a bloody stump.
