Zoe waited. Her cell quickly filled with the stench of the men’s urine and the contents of their bowels. That was when she knew they were dead. Or close enough. She threw the mattress on the floor as a path to the door. Then, fixing the scene in her memory, Zoe lay flat on the desk and unplugged the heater. From her pocket, she pulled out the plug with all the wires twisted together and plugged that into the socket. The dim light in the hall went out as her plug shorted out the circuit. Upstairs, other voices cursed about the lights.

Carrying the bed leg as a club, Zoe felt her way toward the door, trying to stay on the mattress, trying to ignore the smells of death, trying to forget the sounds of mortal anguish that she had inflicted on the men.

Once in the hallway, she heard new sounds: sirens! Her heart soared as she felt her way along the corridor wall toward the door she knew led to the main warehouse. Pushing her way through the door, she saw there were lights here. Across the cavernous space, she saw flashing lights coming from under a roll-up door. Two of the men she recognized as the Hulk’s superiors were jogging toward the art studio.

Zoe ran in the other direction, toward a door beside another loading dock at the other side of the warehouse. When she lunged through the door into the crisp cleanness of the night, she said a prayer of thanksgiving. She was running down a paved alley toward the flashing lights at the front of the warehouse when two shadows shaped like men detached themselves from the darkness of the warehouse wall.

“Quickly!” One man grabbed her as the other twisted the bed leg from her hands.

Suddenly, she was hustled away from the light, toward the depths of the night

EIGHTEEN

The flashing lights of police and fire vehicles, ambulances, and other emergency vehicles exploded through the darkness and dazzled Seth Ridgeway as he sat alone in his train compartment, cheek pressed against the cool glass. The train had slowed to a crawl as it slowly approached Zurich’s main station.

Seth kept his eyes on the bright flames as he slowly got to his feet to stretch his legs. It had been a long train ride, more than ten hours. He dragged his eyes away from the lights and scanned the blackness of the night.

“Where are you?” Seth said softly to himself as he stared through his own dim, ghostlike reflection in the window’s glass.

Are you out there? Can I see the light that shines on you right now?

Rubbing his eyes wearily, he sat back down, closed his eyes for a moment, and let the knotted ropes behind them unwind a bit. Once again he was thankful he had booked all six seats in the compartment for himself. He needed the time to think and he’d wanted no distractions from other passengers. He had also wanted to be sure that a killer didn’t sit down next to him. It had been expensive, but worth it. Rebecca Weinstock’s money had covered that and would cover many more contingencies.