Saint Read Free

fresh blood.
    Englishman faced him. “A simple and quite lethal device has been surgically implanted at the base of your hypothalamus gland. This explains the bleeding at the back of your head. Any attempt to remove this device will result in the release of chemicals that will destroy your brain within ten seconds. Your life is in our hands. Is this clear?”
    The revelation struck Carl as perfectly natural. Exactly what he would have expected, knowing what he did, whatever that was.
    â€œYes.”
    â€œGood. Your mission is to kill a man and his wife currently housed in a heavily guarded hotel at the edge of the town directly to our south, three miles away. Joseph and Mary Fabin will be in their room on the third floor. Number 312. No one else is to be killed. Only the targets. You have two cartridges in the gun, only two. No head shots. We need their faces for television. Do you understand?”
    A wave of dizziness swept through Carl. Aside from a slight tic in his right eye, he showed none of it. Beside him, Kelly moaned. How could he ignore his wife’s suffering so easily?
    Carl eyed the pistol on the sill. “I understand.”
    â€œWe will watch you closely. If you make any contact with the authorities, your wife will die. If you step outside the mission parameters, she dies. If you haven’t returned within sixty minutes, both she and your son will die. Do you understand?”
    Carl spoke quickly to cover any fear in his eyes. “The name of the hotel?”
    â€œThe Andrassy,” Dale said. He withdrew a knife from his waistband, walked over to Carl, and laid the sharp edge against the red nylon rope that tied Carl’s right leg to the bed frame.
    â€œI’m sure you would like to kill me,” Dale said. “This is impossible, of course. But if you try, you, your wife, and your son will be dead within the minute.”
    â€œWho are the targets?”
    â€œThey are the two people who can save your wife and son by dying within the hour.” The man cut through the bonds around Carl’s ankles, then casually went to work on the rope at his wrists. “You’ll find some shoes and clean clothes outside the window.” With a faint pop, the last tie yielded to Englishman’s blade.
    Kelly whimpered, and Carl looked over to see that her eyes were open again. Face white, muted by horror and pain.
    For a long moment, lying there freed beside the woman he loved, Carl allowed a terrible fury to roll through his mind. Despite Dale’s claim, Carl knew that he stood at least an even chance of killing their captor.
    He wanted to touch Kelly and to tell her that she would be okay. That he would save her and their son. He wanted to tear the heart out of the man who was now watching them with a dispassionate stare, like a robot assigned to a simple task.
    He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry. He wanted to kill himself. Instead, he lay still.
    Kelly closed her eyes and started to sob again. He wished she would stop. He wanted to shout at her and demand that she stop this awful display of fear. Didn’t she know that fear was now their greatest enemy?
    â€œFifty-eight minutes,” Dale said. “It’s quite a long run.”
    Carl slid his legs off the bed, stood, and walked to the window, thinking that he was a monster for being so callous, never mind that it was for her sake that he steeled himself.
    I’m in a nightmare . He reached for the gun. But the Makarov’s cold steel handle felt nothing like a dream. It felt like salvation.
    â€œCarl?”
    Kelly’s voice shattered his reprieve. Carl was sure that he would spin where he stood, shoot Dale through the forehead, and take his chances with the implant or whatever other means they had of killing him and his family. The only way he knew to deal with such a compelling urge was to shut down his emotions entirely. He clenched his jaw and shoved the gun into his waistband.
    â€œI love you,