The Sixth Day (A Brit in the FBI 5)

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.”

Nicholas pushed down the rage and the fear, pushed away the sight of his father’s body, dead, burned. His mother’s face—he felt the fear clog his throat, then: “You call me the moment you know something. We’re talking to Radu Ardelean, Roman’s twin brother. Do you know where Ardelean is?”

“No, we don’t. The whole operation went sideways. There are several teams heading your way, with medical services. You’re bringing out both the brother and Dr. Marin?”

“To be determined.” Nicholas turned back to Radu. He said, his voice so rough with rage Mike flinched. What had he been told? Nicholas enunciated every word. “Where. Is. Your. Brother?”

Radu shrugged. “So he’s escaped you. I never doubted he’d beat you. Killed your team, did he?”

“He murdered my father!” Nicholas raised his Glock, but he couldn’t get a clear shot. He couldn’t run at him, the oubliette was in his path.

But Isabella saw her chance. She drove her elbow into Radu’s belly, and he went flailing backward. The tubing in both their arms tore free.

There was a moment of silence, then Radu cried out. He was looking at his arm, watching blood begin to well at the site of the needle. He pressed down so hard his knuckles whitened with the pressure, but it didn’t stop the blood. He had to compress the vein so no more blood could get through. It was physically impossible—only it wasn’t. Radu said, his voice strangely calm, remote, “There is hemostatic gauze in the drawer. I need it.”

Mike said, “We can’t get to you. The oubliette is in the way.”

“On the wall, to your left. There’s an override switch. Please, hurry.”

Gareth slapped at the button, and the floor closed. Nicholas rushed to Radu, rolled him onto the hospital bed. Radu cried out in pain and curled into a ball, moaning. “No, don’t touch me, I can’t stand it.”