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I take that as my cue to turn on the drill and finish scoring the square I’ll punch out shortly. The element of surprise is my only weapon.
Emphasis on only.
My attention has to stay on the drill, but I’m not stupid, I look at the phone screen as well. John’s grabbing Lindsay and rolling her on her back. She’s groaning. Jane is in Stellan’s grasp, shaking. Her knees look like they’re about to give out.
“Fucking neighbor getting home improvements,” Stellan mutters, crumpling the note and throwing it right at the outlet where I’m observing. It pings, then bounces, rolling under my bed.
My bed.
Fury takes over, my emotions unrestrained as I watch my woman on my bed, naked and in peril. This is the first time she’s ever been to my apartment, and those fuckers do it like this?
She’s groaning, which means she’s alive. A nasty red line crosses her neck. I see bruises and small spots of blood on her legs.
They’ve hurt her.
Just how badly have they hurt her?
I should have a strategy here, some sort of plan for what to do after I rescue her. Right now, the plan is:
* * *
1. Break into the bedroom and use the element of surprise as a tactic.
2. Kill John and Stellan.
3. Get Jane and Lindsay to safety.
4. Hand off Jane.
5. Run far, far away with Lindsay and tell the world to fuck off.
* * *
But numbers one and two are paramount. The rest can’t happen if I don’t do them.
“Look,” I hear Lindsay say in a weird, strained voice. “Let Jane go. Why is she here? Just -- ” Her shaky sigh makes rage run through my bloodstream. “Just leave her alone. She didn’t do anything.”
“Nothing other than feed you information for years when you were on the Island,” Stellan says.
The room goes stone cold quiet.
I pause. Drilling sounds should be intermittent to keep up the ruse, I remind myself. But I pause to watch my phone screen.
Jane is staring at Lindsay.
Whose eyes are closed, body trembling violently.
If I’m lucky, I’ve got two to three minutes left to get in there and save her. The clock races faster than my pulse. I have to catch up.
The toolkit contains the simple tools I need to penetrate the wall, but it also has two .380 caliber handguns in there. I need a clear line and a few seconds to pick off one of them.
The problem is -- what will the second guy do?
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jane and Lindsay say in unison. I ignore them, turning the drill on again, scoring the wall. I penetrate slowly, feeling my way so I go through the wallboard just enough to be able to kick out the chunk I score, but not enough to pop through the other side. That would make what I’m doing obvious.
And that could kill Lindsay.
“Shut the dumb bitch up,” Stellan says, followed by a weird ripping sound. Muffled, higher-pitched sounds come through the wallboard, but I keep a steady hand as I cut the wall. Then I look at my phone.
