CASSIE SCRAMBLED ACROSS the scrap yard filled with the skeletons of cannibalized vehicles. The dogs’ barking echoed through the night, but they sounded as if they were getting close. Climb, she had to get to high ground where she’d have the advantage.
She spotted a large piece of equipment similar to a crane but that had a large metal disk hanging from its derrick instead of a hook. The magnet used to lift the heavy vehicles. Perfect.
The layers of silk she’d wrapped her feet in had shredded to nothing and she felt every stone, every discarded shard of metal as she ran. She forced herself to focus on the magnet. If she reached that, she would be safe from the dogs, and right now that was all she could think about. That and the sight of all the gruesome maulings and dog bites she’d ever treated.
There was a reason she was a cat person. Rosa had hated dogs, said the Nazis used them to torment prisoners. Had talked as if it were a personal experience. Said it wasn’t the poor creatures’ fault, it was the men who’d trained them, but still, she just wouldn’t have them in the house.
Cassie’s breath quickened at the thought and she had to force herself to remember her Kempo training and regain control. Center yourself, she thought. Just like sparring. You have a plan, make it work.
Dodging around another stack of flattened cars, she saw the magnet ahead. The dogs sounded as if they’d surrounded her, were closing the net, coming in for the kill.
She clipped the folding knife she’d stolen from the guard into the bodice of her dress. No pockets meant no choice but to keep hold of the pistol as she climbed. She shot forward with one last burst of speed, ignoring the pain in her feet, and lunged for the ladder leading to the magnet’s control box. The box was like a truck cab but much higher in the air and enclosed with glass, giving it a good view of the magnet as it swung its heavy and potentially lethal loads. If she could get inside, she’d be protected from the dogs.
If it was unlocked. Perched on the small platform at the top of the ladder, she yanked on the door handle, locked. She peered through the window, tried to see if there was another way inside. Nothing.
The first dog arrived below her, lunging at the lower part of the cab, leaping as high as possible, its jaws snapping in the air below her feet. Close, too close. She inched around to the backside of the cab, away from the dog. The derrick holding the magnet joined the cab here.
It wasn’t designed to be climbed like a ladder, the rungs were spaced too far apart, but it was possible. The only hope she had of reaching high ground. Another dog joined the first, racing back and forth at the bottom of the magnet, growling and barking in frustration.
She swung one arm onto the nearest horizontal support and hauled her body up the derrick. As she climbed, the dogs’ handlers joined them, throwing swaths of bright light up at her.
“Come down,” one shouted. “There’s nowhere to go.”
Wrapping her arm around one of the vertical supports, she swung to face her pursuers, her pistol aimed at them. Two men were scrambling up the ladder leading to the cab. She shot out the window inches above their hands. “Stop! The next one hits your head.”
It was a futile gesture and they all knew it. They could easily out wait her and they had more ammunition than she had. Not to mention more men to out flank her.
But she wasn’t planning to stay up here all night. She just needed to give Vincent enough time to escape. How long had it been?
The men below seemed in no rush—in fact, they had leapt off the ladder and were now laughing at her. She was certain she was a sight they’d never seen before: barefoot in a billowing white wedding gown, hanging off the side of a derrick, aiming a pistol at them. If she wasn’t gambling with Muriel’s life, she might have laughed herself.
As it was, she was closer to crying. Especially as their high-powered flashlights caught the black streaks of grime and blood that stained Muriel’s poor dress. There were so many more important things she should be worried about: had Vincent made it to the phone yet, was Muriel still alive, could she reason with Kasanov?
But still, she couldn’t stop a gush of tears at the sight of Muriel’s dress, her gift to Cassie. Awkwardly, she ducked her face into the crook of her shoulder, wiping her tears so she could see clearly. Time to bargain.
“Come down,” one of the teens called up. Several others were circling around to the other side of the magnet. Cassie whirled on her perch, one foot slipping free, dangling in the air until she was able to find purchase on the metal run once more. She aimed her pistol at the new threat.
“Tell them to stop. I want to speak with Kasanov.”
“No, you don’t. He’s really pissed off at you. Says your friend will pay dearly.”
“If he hurts her,” Cassie gulped, hoped her bluff would work, “tell him he’ll never get the gold. Tell him, if he doesn’t let Muriel go, I’ll kill myself.”
She raised the pistol to her temple. The men took a step back. Even the dogs quieted. The only sound she heard was the rustle of silk against metal.
The scrapyard spread out below her like an alien landscape. As alien as the thought of pulling the trigger.
Would Kasanov call her bluff? Or would he free Muriel?