“Got a bunch of customers coming in tomorrow night. Nice to have some new meat to offer. She’d bring top dollar. I might even have a shot at her myself.”
The men laughed and walked off, continuing their discussion out of earshot. Jet’s eyes gradually adjusted to the darkness, a small amount of light shining from beneath the door. A hole in the floor on the other end of the cell served as the toilet and drainage, and a single steel bench running the length of one of the lateral walls was seat and bed. Her nose wrinkled at the stink of the place, but she resigned herself to making the best of a bad situation and sat on the edge of the bench, her mind working furiously.
The guards’ discussion alarmed her, but if she had grasped the gist correctly, it might serve as the opportunity she needed. If they were running a prostitution ring using the female inmates, there could be a chance to feign interest and escape.
The problem was that she didn’t know any more than what she’d heard and was guessing. Which she hated, as it was the antithesis of her training. But desperate times demanded drastic measures, and she could hardly imagine anything more dire than being locked in a Russian prison, awaiting a vengeful sibling with enough clout to have her extradited and incarcerated. She was quite sure that was a date she didn’t want to keep, and anything that gave her a chance to break out had to be attempted. The guards might be sloppy, but she knew by the competence of the men who’d snatched her that the brother’s people wouldn’t be.
A muffled moan carried down the hall and Jet blocked it from her thoughts. She needed to find her cherished internal stillness and draw from it, to replenish her reserves before the guards came for her again. She was confident that eventually they’d figure out she had been telling the truth and hadn’t instigated trouble, but for now she was alone and could use the opportunity to her advantage.
She closed her eyes and an image of a crying Hannah flooded her imagination. She swallowed back a knot in her throat the size of a baseball and whispered to the walls, “Don’t worry, honey. I’ll figure out a way to get back to you. Be brave. I will. I promise. Whatever it takes.”
In her vision, her daughter nodded understanding and wiped away her tears, snuffling quietly, her clear eyes visions of loveliness so real to Jet that she almost began sobbing herself. They’d had so many months of peace and quiet that it had seemed realistic that they were finally safe.
A dangerous idea for her to ever accept, she now knew. If she got out of this alive, she’d never let down her guard again.
She took a deep breath through her mouth and exhaled through her nose, willing away the disturbing image of her daughter and emptying her mind of everything but her mantra. As her awareness narrowed and dimmed, the rhythm of the repetition a silent pulse, she fell still and, for a little while, at least, was at peace.
Chapter 23
Dobra, Romania
Matt pulled off the main road and followed the lane into the forested hills, looking for somewhere to park so he and Hannah could snatch some sleep. They’d been driving for almost six hours. The border crossings in Serbia and Romania had been uneventful, and they’d stopped at a gas station to refill an hour earlier and grabbed some convenience store food, heated courtesy of the station microwave, for their dinner.
Hannah was slumbering beside him in the passenger seat, the long drive and the afternoon without her customary nap having caught up with her. She’d been quiet the entire way, lost in thought as she stared through the window at the passing landscape, now so dark Matt could barely make anything out beyond the glow of his headlights.
He eased off on the gas as he studied the map by the light of the instrument panel. The road he’d turned off on was a faint line leading nowhere, as far as he could see.
Matt slowed further at a fork in the road and debated which way to go. Off to his right he caught the flicker of a campfire and saw a circle of caravans and beaten vehicles in a field. Gypsies, he supposed, who lived off the land and by their wits, ubiquitous in the region, moving from place to place as the mood struck them and weather allowed. Reviled by many cultures, Matt had heard stories in Kosovo demonizing the traveling bands, but this was his first glimpse of them in person.
He rolled past the gathering and saw a few dozen figures sitting around the fire, several with guitars. Not quite as threatening as he’d been led to expect, he decided, and he pushed on until the fire had disappeared in his rearview mirror. The gypsy camp confirmed for him that he’d have no problems camping out by the side of the road, and he scouted for a suitable clearing through the dense brush. Several minutes later, he found what he was looking for and eased the camper from the lane and onto the grass before switching off the engine.
Hannah stirred at the sudden absence of movement and sound and her eyes opened. She looked at him sleepily, and he offered a smile.
“Ready for bed?”
She nodded.