Page 51
Story: Murder Island
CHAPTER 50
IT WAS MORNING, but barely. The sky was just turning from black to purple. I was bouncing in the passenger seat of a beat-up Land Rover with my right ankle chained to a metal bar running across the footwell. We were splashing through streams and weaving through stands of tall oaks and evergreens. Leo was at the wheel. Clearly, he knew the route.
“Where are we headed?” I asked. “Company picnic?”
“You’ve had enough rest,” said Leo curtly. “Time for evaluation.”
I thought again about killing him, but it still felt premature.
This was my first time outdoors since I got plucked off my sinking boat. I’d spent most of my time locked in a cell equipped with a universal and free weights.
My meals were delivered through a slot in the wall. It was top-notch fare, heavy on protein—chicken, salmon, venison. Every day, I worked out for hours on the gym equipment. I could feel my muscle mass returning.
I also had a lot of time to think. I spent most thinking about escaping. I knew it wouldn’t be easy. I expected that Leo would be pretty solid on security.
And then, there was the money. Leo hadn’t been lying about that. Every night, at exactly 10 p.m., somebody slid a wrapper through my slot containing a pile of hundred-dollar bills—ten grand in crisp American currency, neatly wrapped. I stacked it in the corner like building blocks. My little nest egg.
But for what?
Even if I could find my way out, where would I go? Back to Chicago, where a pack of assassins was probably waiting? No way. For all I knew, they’d bombed my apartment, too. I was probably homeless. Sure felt that way.
But that was nothing compared to how desperately I missed Kira. I had to believe she was alive; it was the only thing that kept me going. But I had no clue about where to start looking for her.
“Hold on,” said Leo. I braced myself as we headed down a steep ravine. For a few seconds, we were almost vertical. We bounced over an outcropping of rocks. I thought we were about to tip over. Leo held the steering wheel with his left hand. His right hand—the gnarly one—rested on the shift lever.
We hit bottom, scraping the undercarriage, then started climbing up the other side. As soon as we were back on level ground, we cut through a stand of trees into a small clearing, about the size of a tennis court. It was covered in stubby grass, and the center was worn down like a playing field.
Leo cut the engine and reached over to unlock my leg.
“Get out,” he said. “We’re here.”
He led the way to the center of the clearing and stood there with his arms folded. I looked around. Thanks to Kira’s conditioning, my hearing and eyesight were almost superhuman. But all I could hear was wind, and all I could see were trees.
Then, suddenly, I sensed movement. Not just on one side.
On every side.
Five men emerged from the tree line all around me. Three white guys. One Black guy. One Polynesian guy. They were all bare-chested—and built.
I thought I was big.
They were all a lot bigger.
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