It was the clank of the bolt being drawn back that woke her up.
It was the same routine whether it was for food, to empty her bucket, or to just check on her. First, there came the scrape of the exterior bolt to her prison and then the order. But this was out of the ordinary. It was too late for meal times, too early for the changing of the bucket and she was not yet due for more pain medication.
She sat up on the sofa, alerted, and her mind instantly went to the sharpened weapon that she had concealed in her bandage. It was still safe, buried under the first layer of bandage and flush against her palm.
The cold night air hit her and the two shadows stood framed against the moonlight. The smaller figure stepped forward and she saw that it was the younger, angrier man again, the one who she had heard the others call Yusuf. The bruise on the side of his face was clear to see, even in the dingy confines of the container and she wondered how he had come across it.
“You must come with us now,” he said.
“Why?” she replied and her hands came together, secretly feeling out the contours of her concealed weapon.
“Because I order it.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” she said and now she could feel the thick wedge of the improvised weapon, her off hand ready to draw it and attack if she had to.
The other man behind them, the guard, mumbled something in Arabic and Yusuf snapped at him. He stared at Sabina for a moment, holding himself back. “I have been ordered to take you back to your people. It will be tonight.”
“My brother… where is he?”
“You must come now, put on this hood!” he shouted.
“No!”
He lunged and grabbed her and for a moment she thought she would take the next step and draw her weapon. But some reflective part of her, perhaps her survival instinct, said that would be a mistake so near to her freedom. Sabina could smell his breath and his body odour and their faces were inches apart, so much so that they were eye to eye.
He held her face tightly in his hands and then, ever so slowly and deliberately, he licked the side of her face in one long-drawn-out motion. Sabina turned her eyes away and she could feel her skin crawl and her body shudder.
“If anything goes wrong or if anything happens, you will be the one that I will kill first. I want you to remember that,” he whispered seductively.
Then the hood was pulled over her head and darkness came. She was once again in the hands of, and under the control of, her tormentor.
Azrael was waiting in the back of the van when Yusuf brought the girl to him.
The girl was nothing more than bait to be used. She would die this night just as much as his soldiers would eventually, they were all expendable. The only thing that mattered was the prize, the scientist, and even he, in the fullness of time, would cease to exist anymore. But for now, he needed to keep her calm and believing that all was going to be well.
“Do not be concerned. We are taking you back to your people,” he said, looking over at the black hood covering her face. She was seated on the bench opposite him, their bodies less than a foot apart.
Sabina shuddered when she heard the voice. It brought back jarring memories of the scrape of a blade and the searing pain as her fingers were cut away.
“When we get to the meeting point, do exactly as you are told and you will be home soon. Please nod if you understand,” he said reasonably. He was in control now and it showed in the patience of his voice.
Sabina nodded on cue. She felt the other younger man sit down next to her, could smell his odour. Then the doors were slammed shut and the engine started.
“Make yourself comfortable,” whispered Yusuf to her. “It is not far to go to the end.”
They had been driving for twenty minutes at a steady pace, not hurrying, when Wolf/Pavel tapped him on the shoulder.
“Check your watch. It’s time to set the trap,” said Wolf.
Tom Lyth looked at him in the rear view mirror. It was disconcerting to hear his Team Leader’s voice coming from his agent’s face.
The skill needed to design the holographic face mask was incredible, both from a technological perspective and from an artisan’s detailed eye. It was like looking at a doppelganger! Savini and his disguise talents were truly remarkable. In the Seventies and Eighties, his special make-up effects had astounded audiences on both sides of the Atlantic in all manner of horror, Sci-Fi and fantasy movies, but with the advent of computer-generated imagery the art had become a secondary concern.
The enforced retirement had left Savini with enough free time to help out with Prism operations and had given him a new lease of life. He had also been introduced to the Prism’s future-tech such as nano-technology, 3D printing, as well as holographic face-sculpted digital masks and so much more. He now considered himself the Michelangelo of disguise technology.
Lyth nodded. “You’re right. Let’s spoil his night some more,” he said and dialled the number through the Lexus’s hands-free system.
The phone vibrated in his pocket. Azrael lifted it out and answered it.
“Yes?” he said.
“Are you at the meeting location?” said the American.
“No, not yet.” There was irritation in his voice and he cursed himself for allowing it to show.
“How long?”
“Fifteen minutes.”
“Good, because there has been a change of plan,” said the American, confidently.
“What? What do you mean?” Again, the irritation of the night was evident in his voice.
“My people have been scouting out the original location. They have spotted a police presence in the area that could interrupt our business arrangement,” said the Fisherman, selling the lie.
“Is this another one of your games? We had an agreement…”
“Which I am now altering. Meet me at the Schilerbach railway station, south of Linz. It’s abandoned and no one will disturb us. It should take you about forty minutes to get there. Approach it from the north and we will enter from the south. That way there is no confusion. There is a shunting yard to the rear and that’s where we’ll do the exchange. When you get there, call me.”
Azrael growled down the phone. “This is the last time that you do this. Any other sudden changes and I kill the girl.”
“I understand,” the American replied. “Look, this is the best deal on the table. We have an agreement but we want to do it safely.”
Azrael thought that the change of venue could be genuine, there could easily be a police presence in one of Vienna’s public parks… or it could be that the American was running a counter-surveillance operation against them to see if Azrael was sending some of his killers ahead to lie in wait. This American spy was cunning.
“No more tricks, I promise,” said the Fisherman finally, as if reading his opponent’s mind.
Azrael knew that the American held the advantage, at least for now, so all he could do was play along until the optimum moment. But he hated being manipulated and outplayed; after all he was usually the master manipulator on his own operations.
“I will see you soon,” he warned, before hanging up.