Sophie had a general idea where they were. Now she had to co
ncentrate on which direction the car moved, the turns, anything.
She counted in her head, left, left again, then a tight turn right, straight. She guessed they’d entered some sort of drive. Nearly there. Her heart was thudding. She was afraid, very afraid.
“Can I take the hood off?”
“You’ll have to keep it on until you’re in your room. You must be starved. I’ll make sure you’re given food and drink. Please, Sophie, don’t worry, we only want to keep you safe. I’ll be nearby.”
The car stopped and Alex helped her out. She could make out no light, nothing. She began to feel claustrophobic. He heard her breathing quicken. “Relax. Not long now. Here’s the steps.”
She stumbled once, but he steadied her. She listened, but heard nothing to give her a clue where they were.
Up three flights of stairs, he walked her down a long hallway, then stopped. “This is your room. One second more.”
She heard him open the door. Once they were inside, he pulled the hood off. He actually ran his fingers through her hair before she jerked away.
He stood by the door and watched her look about the room. Dark walnut canopied bed, yellow-and-white striped wallpaper. It was beautifully appointed. She turned back to him. “What happens now?”
“I’ll be back soon.”
She grabbed his arm. “Don’t you dare leave me here, you bastard.”
He pulled away her hand, squeezed it. “Sophie, you’ll be fine. Try to relax. I’m going to send someone up with food and tea.”
When the door closed behind him, she heard the sound of a key turning.
She wasn’t meant to be kept safe. She was a prisoner, pure and simple. He’d locked her in. He’d lied. She shouldn’t have pulled the hood over her head, she should have forced him to try to stick that needle in her, and she’d have fought him, maybe hurt him badly. But no, she’d trusted him, taken the easy way.
She felt numb as she walked to the window. She had to keep it together, she had to stay calm and think.
She was on an estate, and clearly the house was big. She looked out over a large expanse of gardens. She saw a fence running away from her, and a very long tree-lined graveled driveway. All she knew was she was north of London, in the country, locked in some rich person’s house.
No phone, no computer, and no way to get out. The windows were locked. Even if she broke a window and shouted, who would hear her? She saw no one outside, not a single gardener to maintain those beautiful gardens.
She was studying the ledge outside the window when someone knocked on the door. She heard the key turn, and the door opened. She ran into a young girl bringing in a tray. The tray went flying, scones and jam hit the carpet and the hot tea splattered both of them and the girl yelled, then ran.
A chance. Sophie burst into the hallway. Not six feet away stood a large man. He wasted no time and was on her in an instant. “Get back in there, stupid bitch.” He grabbed her arm and pushed her back into the room. She stumbled against a wall as he slammed the door, locked it.
He was armed, she’d seen the large gun at his belt. An armed guard, in the middle of nowhere.
If Alex Shepherd had walked into the room at that moment, she would have tried to tear his throat out with her teeth.
She was a prisoner, but Alex wasn’t. Even as she prayed, she knew this was not going to end well.
54
Over the Atlantic
Harry Drummond answered the phone on the first ring. “Nicholas. Calling me twice in two days. If you keep this up I might think you’re doubting your decision to move to America.”
“I’m glad you can still joke, Dad.” But he’d heard the tension in his father’s voice. Something was happening and his father knew what it was.
Harry paused. “Is everything all right?”
“No, I’m sorry to say it isn’t. I’m on a secure satphone on a plane on my way to London. I need you to be honest with me. I need you to tell me what’s going on over there.”
“Nicholas, I told you we have Alfie’s murder well in hand. Why are you coming to London? You’re FBI now. You have no business here.”