Isabel looked up at the Australian in confusion. He didn’t acknowledge her. He merely stood there like a giant stone gargoyle.

“She’s all yours my friend,” Felix continued.

“I’ll need a soundproof room and some privacy,” the Australian said.

Felix gestured toward a door in the corner. “The interrogation room is down the hall on the right.”

“I’m still a cop,” she protested.

Felix laughed. “When I spoke with your superiors, they said that no one’s feelings would be hurt if you fell into the darkest hole I could find. And remember, Constable, I am the Angel of Death. I have some pretty dark holes.”

He gave a look to his men, and they hauled her up to her feet and, latching meaty paws around her biceps with vise-like grips, carried her toward the door in the corner. She kicked and screamed and fought the whole way out of the office and down the dark hall, but her resistance was futile. She was at the mercy of sadistic killers, and no one could her hear screams.

Chapter 12

Nic burst out the door of the comm center and rounded it with his Sig Sauer pulled and at the ready. The ERT, or Emergency Response Team, had already rushed forward and taken control of the person coming out of the building. Nic could tell it was a woman, but a hood covered her head and hid her features. A piece of plain white paper was taped to her chest. But that wasn’t what immediately drew Nic’s attention. He recognized the vest that had been affixed to her torso. He had seen them many times during his tours in Iraq. She wore the vest of a suicide bomber.

The ERT team covered the woman and shielded her from the front of the GoBox building as they led her away from danger. But Nic knew that she was far from out of the woods. He ran up to one of the uniformed officers standing next to a patrol car, which formed part of the barricade around the building. The uniformed cop was fifty pounds overweight and looked scared as hell. He had gray hair, but a baby face, making it impossible to guess the man’s age.

He pushed the cop away from the door of the cruiser and yelled to the ERT team, “Bring her over here and sit her down.”

The team followed his orders and brought the woman over to the cruiser. Nic helped her down onto the seat and pulled off the hood. Her face was beet red and streaked with tears and mascara. She was an older woman, a bit heavyset, with white hair.

Nic took both of her hands in his own and said, “You’re safe now. I’m going to help you. Did they tell you anything? Give you any instructions?”

She was on the verge of hyperventilating, but she said, “No, they just dressed me up in this and told me to walk.”

“Okay, that’s good. What’s your name?”