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72
Armin escorted me down the hall. It was narrow, with lots of closed doors and fluorescent lights. There was no one else around.
Then we left the hall and stepped onto a wooden deck with a railing. Cool, salty air rushed over my face, and silver moonlight sparkled on water.
We were under a covered walkway, so I couldn’t see above us, and Armin pushed me forward roughly when I tried to look behind him. But from the hallway we’d exited to the bow of the boat was at least a hundred feet. Between them lay a swimming pool, a Jacuzzi, and multiple deck chairs.
We were on a giant yacht of some sort.
Fitting for an evil mega-millionaire bitch.
Armin opened a door that led into a dimly lit room without windows. There was a table inside, and chairs bolted to the floor all around it.
In one of the chairs sat a figure with a black bag over its head.
Fear surged through me. I watched the shape, afraid it might rear up like in a horror movie – but it stayed slumped over.
Armin forced me into a chair across the table from the mysterious figure. He unlocked my left hand and left the right hand bound. Then he used the empty loop to shackle my right arm to the smooth, brass cylinder that made up the chair’s armrest.
“Why are you doing this?” I asked.
“It pays well.”
Armin walked over to the figure in the chair.
“I’ll let the two of you talk before the fun begins,” he said, and pulled the black bag off the man’s head.
I saw a shock of pale blond hair. “Sebastian?!”
He looked up blearily. “…Lily?”
Then he saw who had unmasked him. “…Armin?!”
Armin didn’t answer. He just walked out and shut the door behind him.
“…what’s going on?” Sebastian asked, his speech slow and dazed.
““Armin kidnapped me and drugged me. Looks like somebody did the same to you. You don’t have handcuffs on – can you stand up?”
He tried, and I heard a metallic clinking sound. Sebastian looked down in confusion at the floor, then shook his head. “…they’ve got my ankles chained to the chair… where are we?”
“On a yacht. Miranda’s, I think.”
“…how did you get here?”
“Armin was driving me back from the airfield, after you left. There was a car crash… I think they were waiting for me. Then he – or somebody – knocked me out with some sort of chemical. Either way, he was in on it.” I frowned. “How did you get here? What happened in Tanzania?”
“Tanza… nia…” Sebastian murmured, struggling to think. Then his face froze. “Oh God… Stan’s dead. They shot him.”
“What happened?”
“We were hiding. We saw them unloading crates… someone opened one of them. There were guns. Lots and lots of guns.”
“Miranda’s shipping guns to Tanzania?”
“She’s probably selling them to people fighting wars. Congo… Somalia, maybe.”
“Then what happened?”
