If he’d said this to one of the men, Frank had no doubt he’d have been given a taste of whatever Nick had done to that girl. But Irena merely nodded and left the room, locking the door behind her.

Alone again, Frank hurled the tea at the door and threw the cup onto the bed before marching over to the window. He’d seen Karel and Nick drive away in the Transit ten minutes earlier, but he knew at least one of the other lackeys was still here.

Right on cue, one of the men strolled around to the front of the house and lit a cigarette before leaning against the gatepost. Moving away from the window when the man glanced up at the house, Frank looked at the tea still dripping down his door and cursed himself for tossing it. His mouth was bone dry, and he needed to take his tablet to steady his racing heart, but he had a feeling that Irena wouldn’t bring him another drink anytime soon after the way he’d spoken to her.

Whisky.

Remembering the bottle he’d brought up to his room the night Irena had arrived, he rushed over to the side of the bed and reached into the space between the bed-base and the bedside cabinet. He’d half expected it to have been removed, but it was still there, and he pulled it out and quickly unscrewed the cap. Neat alcohol wasn’t ideal when he needed to keep his wits about him, but he was too thirsty to care right then. Anyway, he needed something to wash his tablet down.

The one swig he’d intended to take turned into several more, and he lay down on the bed and closed his eyes when he felt the tension lifting from his shoulders.

22

The sky was darkening when Frank woke up, and deep shadows were creeping across the room. Blinking the sleep from his eyes when he heard male voices and laughter drifting up through the floorboards, along with the clatter of crockery and cutlery, he glanced at the clock and guessed that Irena must have called the men in for dinner when he saw that it was 5 p.m.