Chapter
39
THE OLD PLANE BUMPED ALONG the runway before coming to a stop with its wheel brakes grinding, the fuselage shuddering, and the dual turboprops spinning slower until they too ceased.
The cabin door opened and steps came down.
A man in a black uniform stepped out first, followed by the only unwilling passenger on this flight from hell.
Julie was bound and gagged and a hood was over her head. Since she couldn’t see where to go, the man behind her, also dressed in the same black uniform, lifted her down the stairs. When her feet hit the tarmac he pulled her roughly over to a white van with no windows. Julie was loaded in and the van drove off along roads that quickly went from asphalt to macadam and, finally, to plain dirt.
She slumped against her seatback. She made no attempt to look around since the hood prevented her from seeing anything or anyone. Two minutes after she’d walked into her house she had been attacked. They had been quick and effective. A wet cloth over her face, fumes that made her head spin, and then nothing. The next thing she knew she was coming to as the plane she was in was taking off. And now she was in a van.
She didn’t even know if her guardian, Jerome Cassidy, was alive or dead. She didn’t know why she’d been taken.
Well, she had a guess. It might have to do with Will Robie. Or Jessica Reel. It seemed to her far too coincidental that as soon as she had been dropped off by them she had been kidnapped.
The van drove for another half hour and then stopped. She was jerked out of the vehicle and led through a doorway, down a set of stairs, and through another doorway. It closed behind her. She was pushed into a seat, and through the hood she could sense a light being turned on.
The hood was abruptly pulled off and she blinked rapidly to adjust her eyes to the brightness. She was in a small room with stone walls and a dirt floor. She was seated at a rickety wooden table. On the walls were swastika banners. An overhead bulb crackled and blinked.
These observations were really afterthoughts.
Seated across from her was a thin man of medium height with dyed black hair carefully parted and sharp, angular features. His eyes did not match his hair color. They were pinpoints of shocking blue. Like the other men in the room, he wore a black uniform, but his was different from theirs. It had more stuff on it, Julie noted. Stars and medals and the armbands were a brilliant red, with the black swastika in the middle and three white stripes around it. A military-style officer’s cap lay on the table within the man’s reach.
The man flicked a hand at Julie, and her gag and bindings were quickly removed. He put his hands on the table in front of him.
“Welcome,” he said, a smile flitting across his lips but never coming close to reaching the blue eyes.
Julie simply stared at him.
“I’m sure you are wondering where you are and why you are here.”
“Did you hurt Jerome?” she said.
“Jerome?”
“My guardian. I live with him. Did you hurt him?”
“Not to the extent that he will not recover. Now, getting back to the matter at hand, I’m sure you have no idea where you are or why you’re here.”
She looked him over. “Well, we’re not in Germany. The plane was a turboprop. No transatlantic range. And no plane can take you back in time to, say, the 1930s.” She said this last part with a disgusted look at the swastikas on the walls. She continued, “We were in the air about two and a half hours. So I’d say we’re somewhere in the Deep South.”
He looked bemused by this statement. “Why not the North? You don’t think our brethren dwell there?”
“Your accent is southern.” She glanced down. “And the dirt floor is red clay. Georgia. Alabama, maybe.”
The man’s bemusement receded and he looked stonily at her. “You would make a good detective.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that before. What do you want?”
“I want nothing from you.”
“So it has to do with someone connected to me, then?”
The man nodded.
“Do you want me to guess?”
“You’re good at deductions. Continue making them.”
“Your hair doesn’t match your eyes, and your face is way too old for the hair, which means you dye it. With all those age spots on your hands I’d say you’re probably in your late fifties or even sixties. And the type of uniform you have on was worn by Himmler, who headed the SS. He was also the asshole behind the concentration camps. Congratulations. Something really to be proud of.”
Julie heard the breathing of the men behind her accelerate, but the man across from her didn’t change expressions. He said, “No, I was speaking of who you might be connected to. Please elaborate on that.”
“And give you intel you might not otherwise have? No, I think I’ll pass.”
“You are a most unusual young woman, not at all like I expected.”
“What, did you expect some timid pre-feminist girly-girl quaking in her boots at the sight of you? Sure, I’m scared. You guys kidnapped me. You have me outnumbered. You have guns. I’m completely in your power here.” She looked at the swastikas again. “And you’re all obviously full of hate and seriously demented. I’d be an idiot not to be afraid. But that doesn’t mean I’ll help you, because I won’t.”
“I actually have no need for you to do anything, Miss Getty.”
“I’m not impressed that you know my name. Easy enough to find out.”
“Do you know the name Sally Fontaine?”
“No.”
“How about the name Jessica?”
Julie said nothing.
“Tall, lean woman with blonde hair?”
Julie still said nothing.
“Your silence speaks volumes.”
“Okay,” said Julie. “So what’s the plan? Me for her? Won’t be happening.”
“Well, for your sake, you should hope that it does happen.”
“It’s not up to me. It’s not up to you. It’s actually not up to her.”
“So you do admit knowing Jessica?”
“I admit to nothing. But let me ask you something, if I may?”
She waited until he nodded.
“You think this Sally Fontaine is the same person as this Jessica?”
“I know that she is, beyond doubt.”
“And how do you know Sally Fontaine?”
“She used to be one of my most loyal followers.”
“Okay, that’s bullshit.”
The man hiked his eyebrows. “And how do you know that? A guess with no factual foundation?”
Julie shook her head but said nothing.
“You don’t seem intimidated by your surroundings. Most people, even adults, would be very distressed at being kidnapped and held at gunpoint.”
“It’s not my first time being kidnapped and held at gunpoint.”
“Really?” he said in a skeptical tone.
“Yeah. The last time was a Saudi prince with serious jihadist tendencies. He nearly killed me.”