Double Cross Read Free Page A

seemed to work out to keep herself thin.
    He showed her something now—a box cutter! Very nasty-looking tool. Convincing.
    Her eyes widened.
    “Get up, you weak coward,” he said close to her ear. “Or I will cut your face in ribbons.” He knew that the softness of his voice was more threatening than any shouting could be. Also, the fact that his English had suddenly improved would confuse and frighten her.
    When she tried to rise, he startled her with a sharp grab at the back of her scrawny neck. He stopped her right there—still on all fours.
    “That’s quite far enough, Mrs. Olsen. Don’t move, not another inch. Be very still,
very still
. I’m using the box cutter now.”
    Her expensive black dress fell away as he cut it down the back. Now she trembled uncontrollably and tried to scream from behind her gag. She was prettier without her clothes—firm, somewhat appealing, though not to him.
    “Don’t worry. I am no dog-style fucker. Now go forward on your knees. Do as I say! This won’t take much of your busy day.”
    She only moaned in response. It took the heel of Yousef’s shoe at her backside to get the idea across.
    Then finally she began to crawl.
    “How do you like it?” he asked. “
Suspense
. Isn’t that what you write about? That’s why I’m here, you know. Because you write about crime in your books. Can you solve this one?”
    They moved slowly through the kitchen and the dining room, and then into a spacious living room. One entire wall was books, many of them her own. Glass sliding doors at the far end led to a terrace filled with fancy garden furniture and a shiny black grill.
    “Look at all your books! I’m very impressed. You wrote all of these? Foreign editions too! You do any translations yourself? Of course you don’t! Americans speak only English.”
    Qasim pulled up sharply on the leash, and Mrs. Olsen fell over onto her side.
    “Don’t move from there. Stay! I have work to do. Clues to plant. Even you are a clue, Mrs. Tess Olsen. Have you figured it out yet? Solved the mystery?”
    He quickly set up the living room just the way he wanted it. Then he returned to the woman, who hadn’t moved and who seemed to be getting her part down now.
    “Is that
you
? In this picture?” he asked suddenly, with surprise in his voice. “It
is
you.”
    Qasim prodded her chin with his foot to get her to look. A large oil portrait hung above the ornately scrolled sofa. It showed Tess Olsen in a long silver gown, her hand resting on a polished round table with an elaborate floral arrangement. The face was austere, full of unearned pride.
    “It doesn’t look like you. You’re prettier in real life. Sexier without any clothes,” he said. “Now,
outside
! Onto the terrace. You’re going to be a very famous lady. I promise. Your fans are waiting.”

Chapter 5

    AFTER QUASIM GAVE ANOTHER STRONG PULL on the leash, Tess Olsen struggled to her feet, then put her arms out, finally gaining some balance so that she could walk, at least.
    Everything about this felt so unreal. Trembling, she backed her way onto the terrace—until the iron railing caught the small of her back.
    Her whole body shivered. Twelve stories below, rush-hour traffic was crawling along Connecticut Avenue. Pedestrians, hundreds of them, navigated the sidewalks, most of them with their heads down, unaware of what was happening up in the Riverwalk tower. It was perfect symbolism for life in Washington, DC.
    Yousef Qasim reached out and tore the tape off the woman’s mouth.
    “Now, scream,” he said. “Scream like you mean it! Scream like you are terrified out of your mind! I want them to hear you
in Virginia
. In Ohio! In California!”
    But the woman spoke to him instead, spoke in a barely intelligible rush. “Please. You don’t have to do this. I can help you. I have a lot of money. You can take anything you want from the apartment. I have a safe inside, in the second bedroom. Please, just tell me —”
    “What I