The Sixth Day (A Brit in the FBI #5)(97)

CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT


She was falling, a black maw below her. She couldn’t think, couldn’t begin to understand. She heard Nicholas shout her name, but she couldn’t stop, she was falling, falling—something was choking her—

Nicholas, Nicholas, I’m so sorry— Her neck slapped to the side, hard, and she was jerked to a stop, like a bungee cord, only she wasn’t dangling in space. She banged into a hard wall, the breath knocked out of her. She realized she was choking and pulled hard at the gun strap now twisted tight around her neck. She couldn’t loosen it, it was cutting off her air. She heard Nicholas yell, “I have you!”

She dangled in the darkness, Nicholas’s hand holding the gun strap, and she was tearing at it, trying desperately to loosen it. She realized the strap was pressing against her jugular. She couldn’t breathe, spots started to dance in front of her eyes. She struggled, but nothing worked.

“You’re okay, Mike,” he called down to her. “Breathe, your wind’s been knocked out, little sips of air, I have you. You aren’t going to fall.”

He quickly pulled her up through the darkness, back into the white room. Her gun clattered against the metal edge of the hole, ripped free of her body. It was a long time before it hit bottom.

She landed on the floor, arms and legs splayed out, wheezing for breath. Nicholas saw what was happening and grabbed the strap he’d caught and pulled it away from her neck. “Breathe! Breathe!” She did, a great shuddering breath went through her, and she rolled up, pulled her knees to her chest, rocking, rocking. He was rubbing her back, her sternum. She wheezed out, “That’s better. I can nearly breathe again. Did I break my neck?”

Nicholas quickly looked back to see Radu hadn’t moved. He still pressed the scalpel to Isabella’s throat. He was watching them, a strange expression on his face. As for Isabella, she looked frozen, probably too terrified to move.

“No, your neck’s fine. Sorry, I didn’t see I was choking you.” Instead of saving her he could have killed her. He brought her close, continued to rub her shoulders, her neck. When she was breathing easily once again, she looked over at Radu Ardelean, but he wasn’t looking at them. He was looking at the empty expanse between them.

She looked down. There wasn’t a floor between them. It was gone. It had opened, and she’d fallen through.

Radu said, nodding, “Oubliette. It goes down a good thirty feet to a stone floor. Remember, I did tell you to stop.”

She stared into that huge black hole, at least ten feet by ten feet. Thirty feet to the bottom? If Nicholas hadn’t caught her by the gun strap, she would have died or her body would have been so broken— She swallowed. A gift, a miracle. She felt Nicholas’s hands now resting lightly on her shoulders. She was alive. She drew in a deep breath and lifted her hand to squeeze his.

Nicholas said slowly to Radu, “An oubliette, built into this house. It’s not on the architectural plans.”

“I wouldn’t know about that. Roman told me about it, said he couldn’t imagine it would ever be used but showed me what button to press—” Radu pointed to a small black spot on the edge of a counter close to him. “Roman said it was like an oubliette our ancestors used, like the one in their castle, a surprise defense.”

“What ancestors, Radu?”

“Tell them, Isabella.”

She felt the scalpel ease back, swallowed. “Their most infamous ancestor, and mine, too, perhaps, is Vlad Dracul III, but—”

“No, that’s enough,” Radu said against her cheek, and it looked to Mike like he breathed in the blood on her neck. He raised his head. “I assume your helicopter is what’s burning outside the windows? I heard it coming. Iago set off the missile. It would have crashed through the window, but Roman put in special glass. But you made it to the roof first. And you made it past the guns in the gallery, and the gauntlet.” He looked at Mike. “You were lucky this man caught you, or your body would be broken on the stone floor at the bottom on the oubliette. Iago says that luck is sometimes the conqueror’s best friend. If Vlad Dracul were here, though, he’d kill you both and stick your heads on a pike.”

Nicholas said, “It’s time to put a stop to this, Radu. We have your brother in custody.”

“No, that’s a lie. My brother called me, he was about to blow up a theater, I believe.”

Nicholas felt the blood drain from his head. He called over his shoulder, “Gareth, you and Mike cover him.” And unspoken was If he tries to kill her, shoot him dead.

Gareth was sitting on the other side of the oubliette, one of his socks tied around his wounded leg. He raised his gun to point at Radu. “I’m okay.”

Nicholas turned away, tapped his comms. “Is anyone there?”

There was silence.

He pulled his mobile out of his zippered thigh pocket and dialed his father’s number. It went to voice mail.

He called Adam, who answered on the first ring.

“Nicholas, are you and Mike alive?”

“Yes, but it’s very complicated. My father?”

“We lost comms with your dad. Nicholas, there’s been a bombing at the Prince Edward Theatre. We don’t have any information yet, but I’ll call the moment I get anything. Keep your phone close, okay? Your dad, I’m sure he’s okay.”