Dance With the Enemy (17 page)

So she really
had
doubted the link when he’d first told her about it. Well, she certainly didn’t doubt it anymore. Despite himself, Logan couldn’t help but feel vindicated by that. But he was also angry. They could have both been killed today, and the situation certainly hadn’t been helped by her stranding him and running off after Blakemore alone.

‘And how exactly were you going to determine if the link was credible?’ Logan said, the irritation in his voice clear. ‘Knock on his front door and ask him nicely?’

She frowned at him. ‘Why, was that what you had planned,
action man
?’

He shrugged his shoulders, conceding the point. He hadn’t needed to be facetious. It was hardly her fault that she had almost been raped and killed, even if she had been reckless.

‘I just wanted to check it out first,’ she added. ‘See what I was dealing with before I brought anyone else in.’

‘Okay, I’m sorry. And you’re right. We should still do that. Check out his place, I mean. And soon.’

‘Soon?’

‘Let’s get some rest now. We need it. We can’t wait too long, though – just a couple of hours. It’ll be harder to scope out the place in the dark, but at least it’ll provide better cover for us than in the daytime.’

‘Agreed.’

‘Let’s get some sleep now then.’

‘So how do we do this?’ she said.

‘Do what?’

‘Well, are you just getting into bed like that? Fully dressed?’

‘I’ll close my eyes if you’re feeling a bit shy,’ he said.

She blushed.

‘It’s not that, Logan. To be honest, I was actually regretting getting a room with two beds. It’s kind of comforting having someone else close to you.’

Logan turned red as well. Her comment had been unexpected but she was understandably feeling vulnerable, and he felt a bit foolish about being so childish. It was just his way of dealing with an awkward situation.

‘These are bigger than singles anyway,’ Logan said, patting the bed that he was sitting on. ‘We can both squeeze onto here.’

He lay down on the bed, fully clothed, flat on his back on top of the covers. She came and lay down next to him. After setting the alarm on the clock radio for midnight, he turned out the lights and shut his eyes.

‘Listen to me, Frank, those other two are loose cannons. They’re uncontrollable. You should hear the things they’re saying outside of this room. They want you dead, Frank. They honestly believe you can’t help us and they want you dead. Because killing you is a much easier solution than just giving you back. You have to tell us what we need.’

Modena had his head down and his eyes closed. He could hear the words being spoken to him and recognised that they were from the slight man – the kind one – but his brain was a few seconds behind in processing them. The lack of food and water and the increasing physical and mental torture were quickly taking their toll. Sounds were more like echoes in his head. He was never quite sure whether he was awake or asleep. The one thing he was sure about was the pain. Each time the big man or Selim was in the room with him, the pain they inflicted was all too real.

Youssef Selim. Modena had long been aware of the man. His reputation. Not just as a terrorist but as a sadist. The stories of his victims were many and varied. He claimed to be a jihadist, but other than his religion and hatred for Westerners he shared little of the ideology of what most people would associate with Islamic extremists. He brokered arms deals. He trained terrorists for profit. He was, essentially, a capitalist. A capitalist with a penchant for inflicting pain and misery upon others.

Modena knew what they were asking of him. What he couldn’t understand was why the information was of any interest to Selim. And that was what worried him most. Because
Selim seemed intent on only one thing: hurting Modena. And so even if he was able to give the information they wanted, would that really stop Selim?

‘Frank, are you listening to me?’

Modena groaned and tried to lift his head, but then hung it down again.

‘Money,’ he slurred. ‘You can take it all. Just don’t let him hurt me anymore.’

‘It’s not money they want from you, Frank. Don’t you understand that? They’re already getting money for this. That’s why they’re doing it. They’ll get paid, but only if you give them what they want. That information is worth a lot of money. But if you don’t give it to them then it’s all over. All over for them. All over for you. All over for me.’

Modena shook his head. He wasn’t sure how long it had been since Selim was last in the room with him, a few hours maybe, but the pain was still coursing through his entire body. At the tips of eight of his fingers the metal nails remained, dug deep into his flesh. The fingernails had been torn clean off the other two when Selim tried to hammer in the nail. Surprisingly, when Modena focused on them, those two seemed to be less painful than the others. But the throbbing in his hands was constant, and every few minutes a bout of drowsiness would wash over him as his body battled against the agony.

‘Frank, you’ve only got a few minutes until Selim comes back in here. There’s only one thing that’s going to stop him. Just tell me what they need to know.’

‘No. No more,’ Modena garbled. ‘Please. Don’t let him hurt me anymore.’

Modena had mused about the fact that his captors were being so brazen about referring to Selim. None of the others had shown their faces or revealed their names. So why Selim? Modena could merely guess that it was because Selim was the only one who felt he had nothing to lose. The whole world already knew who and what he was. Modena knew that his capture was a major coup for Selim’s so-called cause. And maybe there was something else too. They were banking on Selim’s presence alone terrifying Modena into giving them the information they craved.

And Modena had to admit, if that was their plan, it was working.

A creaking noise came from behind the slight man. It took Modena a few seconds to process what it was. His heart had already started to pound when he realised that someone was coming in through the door. He pulled up his head and opened his eyes as much as the swelling would allow. It took a few more seconds for him to focus on the figure standing in the doorway, although he could already tell by the bulk of the man who it was. In a strange way, he felt a wave of relief. It wasn’t Selim at least.

‘Hello, Frank,’ the big man bellowed. ‘It’s my turn now. Say bye-bye to Mr Nice Guy.’

As the big man moved further into the room, Modena spotted Selim coming in behind him. Modena’s eyes met his and Selim gave him an evil smile.

Modena began moaning, his head shaking.

‘No. No. No. Please, no more. Please!’

‘This is it, Frank,’ the slight man said. ‘Please, just tell me. I’ll make them go away, but you have to tell me!’

‘Okay! Please, just … no more.’

‘Wait!’ the little man shouted. He held up his hand to the others, who stopped in their tracks. ‘Just wait a second. Frank, what did you say? Talk to me?’

‘I said okay,’ Modena said. ‘I can help you.’

‘I don’t believe it,’ the big man spat. ‘I don’t effing believe it. I knew he had it. The little shit’s been playing us all this time. Stringing us along, hoping he’d get rescued or something. What a hero, Frank. Well, don’t you worry, there’s still plenty of time for us to have some more fun with you.’

‘I wasn’t lying,’ Modena pleaded. He panted and wheezed, trying to get his words out. ‘I don’t have the information you want. But … but I think I can get it.’

‘Tell us how, Frank,’ the slight man beamed. ‘Just tell us how.’

He tried to move toward her, but his body wouldn’t react. It was like his feet were in quick sand. The more he struggled, the less he could move. The man held the knife high and then thrust it down into her chest. There was a sickening sound as the blade penetrated her flesh, but nothing more than a whimper escaped her lips.

She turned her head.

Grainger.

Those pleading eyes. Begging for it to stop. Begging for Logan to help.

He tried to reach out to her, but he couldn’t move. His arms were numb and lifeless.

The man turned to him. Lorik. A grin on his face. His eyes red with rage. He drove the knife down into her body again and again, moaning as he did so, louder and louder.

Logan tried with all his might to move. But something was stopping him, holding him back. He looked down. There were arms around his waist, around his neck. Pulling on him, preventing him from moving, from speaking.

He looked up. Lorik stood right in front of him now, his eyes bleeding onto his face. The bloody knife in his hand was only inches from Logan’s heart. Lorik lifted the blade, pushed it against Logan’s chest. The knife broke through his skin. Slowly, assuredly, Lorik plunged it deeper. The blade tore through Logan’s flesh with ease.

‘Logan!’

Grainger was still alive! He had to save her. But how? Lorik was forcing the knife deeper and deeper, the smile still on his face. Logan felt the knife touching his heart, then piercing it.

With one last burst of energy, he tried to break free, but he couldn’t. He wanted to save her. But it was too late now. He shut his eyes.

‘Logan! Wake up!’

All of a sudden the arms that had been holding him back were gone. He found a burst of strength. At last he could move. He sprang into action.

He opened his eyes …

Confusion swept through him. He was upright, out of the bed. His body was clammy, his breathing heavy.

‘Are you okay?’ she said.

Grainger. She was okay. The images had gone now, and his confusion was dissipating. His mind wasn’t completely with him yet, but he knew where he was. When he turned to look at her, he saw that she was upset. Then he remembered how he’d thrown the arms off him in his dream.

‘Oh, no. I’m really sorry. Did I hurt you?’

‘Kind of. I was trying to wake you, but you shoved me out of the way. I’m fine, though. Are you?’

‘Yeah. It was just a bad dream.’

‘Do you want to tell me about it?’

‘No.’

‘You were screaming.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Don’t be. But you were really screaming. Screaming my name.’

Logan flinched. How embarrassing could you get?
Yeah, way to go, macho man
.

He looked at the clock. It was almost one in the morning. The alarm hadn’t gone off. Maybe he hadn’t set it right. He lay back down on the bed, next to her.

‘Sorry for waking you,’ he said. ‘And for shoving you. You must think I’m insane.’

‘Not really. My dad used to get the nightmares as well. I know what it’s like. Well, I know what it’s like to see it, anyway.’

‘I’m just not sleeping well at the moment.’

‘I know. The stress of the job, right? I understand.’

‘No, it’s not that. It’s more than that.’

She put her hand on his shoulder.

‘Talk to me about it,’ she said. ‘Let me help you.’

He shrugged her off, got up from the bed.

‘I don’t need help,’ he snapped. ‘I’m fine.’

She looked like she didn’t believe him.
He
didn’t believe him.

‘I’m going for a shower,’ he said. ‘I need to try to clear my head a bit.’

He walked to the bathroom without waiting for a response.

He undressed and got into the shower. As the hot water coursed over him it seemed to relax not only his body but his mind too. By the time he turned the water off, all remnants of the nightmare had been banished.

After drying himself off he inspected his wounds in the mirror. Grainger had done a good job with the stitches. They were holding nicely and there was no sign of any infection. His hands were red raw on the knuckles, the skin completely gone, but the pain and the swelling had gone down some with the medicines he’d taken. He dressed and went back into the bedroom.

Grainger was still sitting up on the bed.

‘I didn’t mean to snap at you,’ he said, taking a seat beside her. ‘I just don’t like talking about it.’

‘You don’t need to say anything more. I get it. You’re a man: you don’t do feelings.’

He had to laugh at that, even though she’d sounded a little hurt.

‘Yeah. Something like that.’

‘But I really do know what it’s like,’ she said. ‘My dad had post-traumatic stress for five years. He used to get just like this.’

‘You talk about him a lot.’

She looked a little put-out. ‘Of course I do. He brought me up all on his own. He’s the reason I am who I am.’

‘He brought you up alone?’

‘My mom died when I was a kid. Car accident. I don’t really remember much about her – I was very young.’

‘That must have been hard. For both of you. Is that what caused the stress?’

‘No. Well, obviously for a while it did. But it was the job that caused him the most trouble. He saw some pretty terrible things.’

‘What did your dad do? For a job, I mean.’

‘Take a guess,’ she said, looking up at him, a glint of pride in her eyes.

‘FBI.’

‘You got it.’ She smiled. ‘I joined the agency because of him. I always wanted to be just like him.’

‘How did he get rid of it?’ Logan asked. ‘The stress, the tremors, the nightmares.’

‘He never did,’ she said, bowing her head. ‘He died on the job.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Yeah, me too. So that’s what you’ve got, is it? Post-traumatic stress?’

‘Apparently.’

She fiddled with her hair, as though wanting to say more, but not sure whether she should.

‘I can tell this is tough for you,’ she said, ‘but it really does help to talk. No pressure. But if you ever want to, just try me.’

‘You’ll be the first to know.’

And he really did mean that. There was something about her that comforted him. Perhaps it was that she seemed to understand what was happening to him. Perhaps it was because they’d both nearly died out in that field. Or perhaps it was just banal animal instinct, a physical attraction. But it felt like more than that.

He’d talked endlessly with the psychologist about his problems but he’d only ever said what she wanted to hear, not what he was really feeling. It was just easier to keep the issues locked in than to talk about them. But perhaps Grainger was right – maybe it was time to start opening up about what was happening to him. Even if just a little bit.

‘I get nightmares all the time,’ Logan said. ‘More or less every night. I even get them when I’m awake sometimes. That’s when it freaks me out the most. The dreams used to be real. I mean, they were the retelling of real events. Bad things that happened to me. But now they’re different. More graphic. And more painful. The one I had just now, we were back in the field. Only this time I couldn’t save you. Couldn’t save either of us.’

‘Yeah, but you
did
save us,’ she said, shuffling closer to him. ‘That’s why we’re still here.’

She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. It sent a tingle
all the way down the left side of his body. He thought about turning to face her and kissing her back.

But he waited too long and the moment passed.

‘Why don’t we get going?’ he suggested. ‘It’s later than we planned and we’re both awake now anyway.’

Without hesitation, she said, ‘Yeah. Let’s do it.’