Page 68

CORDES-SUR-CIEL, FRANCE

Ryan retrieves the gun with the oversized barrel from the floor next to the bloody mess that remains of the attacker. He unscrews the barrel, a silencer he presumes, jams it in his pocket, and tucks the gun at the small of his back.

Ali seems to be in shock. She’s said nothing more since the man stopped moving. Ryan studies his body. The man’s chest is rising and falling, he’s alive.

A wail of sirens comes from the street. Ryan looks at her. “Wait here.”

He darts down the hallway to the gallery’s front door. Peering through the shades on the door’s window, he sees people on the street staring toward the main road. The distinctive sound of European emergency sirens fills the air. Ryan opens the door, looks toward the intersection. Cars are veering to the side of the main road to give way to the procession of police cars and ambulances. In the distance, Ryan sees smoke billowing in the sky. Like there’s been some kind of explosion or fire.

He goes back inside, stands in the entryway, trying to gather his thoughts. They should call the police, right? Their attacker is in bad shape, but it was self-defense. But who is he? And why is he after Ali?

Ryan’s aching hands are shaking now. When he returns to the main space of the gallery, his blood turns cold.

The man, his face ghoulish, swollen, and covered in blood, stands behind Ali. He has what looks like a phone or computer cord pulled around her neck. He’s unsteady, but the cord is tight.

Ryan raises his hands, palms out.

The man starts pushing toward the door using Ali as a shield and maybe to support him since he’s badly injured. But not so badly that he can’t kill her.

Ryan should take the gun from his waistband, shoot him. But he’s no sharpshooter. And the killer could finish Ali before Ryan even has time to reach the weapon.

It all occurs so fast, Ryan’s mind can’t comprehend what’s happening: Someone moves swiftly and silently from the back of the gallery, approaching the attacker and Ali from behind.

Hands seize the bloody man’s head and twist it abruptly to the left, then right, and the attacker’s limp body falls to the floor.

Ali yanks the cords from her neck, turns, and throws her arms around the other man.

“Daddy,” she sobs.