Page 32

CHAPTER 31

I SHOOK MY head to dislodge the bugs crawling on my forehead. I arched my back and jerked my arms and legs as hard as I could—again and again.

No use. I was practically delirious. I hadn’t eaten in three days. They gave me just enough water to keep me alive until my trial. Which was due to start in a few hours. Sham trial. I knew everybody’s mind was already made up.

I was staked out on the dirt floor of a filthy shed, chained to metal posts sunk deep in cement. It was some kind of village workshop. No power tools. Just rusted saws and antique hammers hanging from nails on the walls.

I took a deep breath. My mind cleared for a second.

I knew what I needed.

I turned my head and started wiggling my fingers through the dirt. Right hand. Then left. Scraping. Poking. Digging. There! Just a few inches from my right fingertips. A bent, rusted nail. If I could grab it, maybe I could work the cuff lock on that hand. I clenched my teeth and willed my arm to stretch beyond its limits. I could feel my muscles and tendons burning. One more inch…

My fingers brushed the head of the nail. I felt it flip out of reach.

Damnit!

I heard shouts and footsteps outside. Getting closer. I curled my fingers back and looked toward the door. It was corrugated metal, locked from the outside. The voices got louder. More agitated. I heard somebody kicking the door with full strength. The sound reverberated through the shed. The door shook and rattled. The metal bent in at the bottom.

A second later, daylight burst in. Two huge men were ripping the door off its hinges. A half dozen more rushed in and clambered over me, their sweaty chests pressing against me as they tried to unfasten my hands and legs. I saw one guy pull a hammer from the wall. I felt the shock against my wrist as he pounded the cuff. On the third try, the metal broke open. Another man hammered at the cuff on my right ankle. He missed and hit my shin. I gritted my teeth and swallowed a scream.

I started shouting “No!” I figured that was one word they could understand. But a few seconds later, all four cuffs were off and I was being carried out of the shed by the mob.

I knew in that instant it was over for me. There wasn’t going to be any trial. Just a summary execution. I twisted and kicked. I managed to yank one arm loose and get one of the men in a headlock. I felt a steel rod slam across my midsection. The man squirmed out of my grip and punched me in the neck.

They were carrying me up a small hill behind the shed. My head was tipped backward now. One guy had his hands on my scalp, using my hair as a handle. Then they slammed me down on the ground, face-first. They were chanting a single word I didn’t understand. I looked up. Ten yards away, at the peak of the rise, was an eighteenth-century cannon.

I felt weak, sick, helpless.

Now I knew what was coming. It was an execution the British used to inflict on pirates and escaped slaves. I was about to be blown to bits.

By cannon fire.

I looked back toward the water, about fifty yards away. If I could get there, I could dive deep, maybe get away. I gathered my strength and bolted, knocking down two men in my way.

I felt a crack on my skull and dropped to my knees.

My eyes went blurry. When I could focus again, I felt cold metal against my back. The cannon barrel. I was tied to the front of it.

I heard a female voice and jerked my head around. It was the woman from the first day, the one who spit at me in the shed. She pulled a lighter from her pocket and stepped up behind the cannon. I saw a two-foot fuse dangling from the touchhole.

She lit it.

The men started chanting the single word again. Maybe cannon ? Maybe murderer ? Maybe justice ?

At least it would be over in a second. I heard the hiss and crackle of the fuse. I could smell the smoke. I closed my eyes and thought about Kira.

One last time.

Suddenly, the chanting stopped. I turned my head and saw Aaron Vail pushing his way through the crowd in his crisp white suit. I looked behind me. The spark was two inches from the hole. Vail licked two fingers and snuffed it out. The crowd stayed mostly quiet, but there were a few angry shouts.

My knees went wobbly, but the ropes were still holding me up. I knew Vail was no friend, but maybe he could buy me some time. Minutes, even. Enough to bargain, maybe. Not that I had anything to offer.

Suddenly, Vail was in my face. He reached behind me to pat the lip of the cannon. “Dramatic exit,” he said. “But much too quick.”

He turned to the crowd and shouted a few phrases in their language. He sounded like a fire-and-brimstone preacher. The crowd erupted again, happy now. I felt the ropes loosen around my body. Men grabbed my arms and legs.

I whipped my head toward Vail. “What’s happening? What did you say?”

He stepped back and straightened the lapels on his suit jacket. “I told them a child killer deserves a more protracted death.” He smiled that sick little smile. “They totally agree.”