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Diane was back in the basement with Melanie and Natasha. When she’d seen the picture of the cats and the china statue of a cat before she sat down in front of the fireplace, she knew they were the only way she could try and tell Steve where they were. She had no idea if it would work. She had been terrified Volkov would suspect she was up to something, but he hadn’t. He seemed far too focused on getting the video sent.
“Do you think he’s going to take us all to Russia?” Natasha asked. She had told them what Volkov had made her do.
Again she debated about whether to tell them about the sarin attack, but she knew she couldn’t. A terror attack was a matter of national security, and the only reason she knew was because her Special Ops husband had told her. In confidence. Instead, she shared what truth she could.
“From what I heard, he plans to leave Melanie here and drop me off somewhere on the way to Russia.”
“Perhaps he is going to do what he said then? Melanie goes free. He’s leaving you somewhere they will find you when we land in Russia.” Natasha sounded hopeful.
Diane glanced at Melanie. They both knew it was unlikely either of them would be set free. They had both seen and heard too much. With a knowing look of silent agreement, neither of them said anything. Natasha felt guilty enough. She didn’t need that on her conscience.
Standing up, Diane looked around.
“What are you looking for?” Melanie asked.
“A way out.”
“The locked door is the only way in and out.”
“What about the windows?”
“They’re too small. We’d never get through there.”
“I don’t know, we might. Or perhaps we can signal for help.” She walked to the boxes blocking one of the windows. Reaching up she started moving them. She couldn't just sit and wait for whatever Volkov had in store for her. She’d left Steve the note and she’d done her best to draw his attention to the cats, hoping he would work out her clue. He would come. The team would find them. She had to believe that.
In the meantime, she was going to do whatever she could to get out of this basement and find out where Volkov was holding Megan. She had to be in another room in this house. While she still had breath in her body, she would try and get to her daughter.
Without speaking, Melanie and Natasha joined her and together they cleared the boxes, exposing the window. The three of them stood looking at it.
“It’s bigger than I thought. Do you think we could squeeze through there?” Melanie asked.
“Is there a step stool or anything down here I can stand on?” Diane said. “We need to reach it first. See if we can open it.” She began looking around the basement. The three of them checked everywhere, but there were no ladders, or step stools. Lots of boxes, and a shelving rack, though, filled with everything from linens to paint supplies. Diane pulled on the shelving rack, but it was secured to the wall. There was nothing sturdy enough to stand on.
“What about the sofa? Maybe if we stand on the back?” Natasha said.
Diane nodded. It was a small low back sofa, but it was worth a shot. “Let’s try.”
Together they pushed the sofa underneath the window. Diane didn’t hesitate to climb up on the back. Her head was level with the glass. A small lever lock secured the window. She tried to slide it down to the open position, but it wouldn’t budge.
“Shit. It looks like this thing hasn’t been opened in years.” She went on tiptoes, straining to see outside. Disappointment flooded her. All she could see was grass. Apparently, Janssen’s house was not on a busy street. Refusing to give up, she glanced down at Melanie and Natasha.
“See if you can find any tools, or oil, or a knife. Anything I can use to try and free this lever.” The women rummaged through the shelving rack and boxes. As Diane waited, she looked outside again, trying to see down the side of the house, but all she could see was more grass.
“What about these?” Melanie held up a pair of pliers and a hammer.
Diane reached for the pliers and tried them on the lever. It didn’t budge. She took the hammer. About to swing at the lever, she stopped. The noise.
“One of you go to the door. Listen for anyone coming.”
Natasha went up the stairs. “Can’t hear anything.”
Diane swung the hammer at the lever. Once, twice, three times. On the fourth swing, the lever moved. At the same time, the frame cracked. But when she tried to open the window again, she had no luck. Damn! Frustrated, she swung the hammer at the glass. It shattered. She jumped and fell back on the sofa.
“Oh, my god, are you alright?” Melanie asked helping her get up.
“Yes. I didn’t mean to do that. They must have heard it.” Heart pounding, she struggled upright. Now there was a way out, but she had a feeling Volkov or Oleg would be coming down those stairs any minute.
“Screw it. I’m going to try and get out. I have to find Megan.”
Ignoring Melanie’s and Natasha’s pleas to be careful, she climbed back on the sofa and hauled herself up. Though broken glass cut into her skin, she grabbed the window frame and pushed her head and shoulders through the gap. It was tight. As she inched her way through, shards pierced her chest and arms, but the pain barely registered. Her only focus was to get out and find Megan.
She heard shouting behind her. “They're coming!”
Diane kept inching forward. She had no idea what she was going to do if she got to the other side. Was there another house close by? Would she be able to look in other windows to find Megan? Would Oleg be waiting for her? Her arms and shoulders were through now and just as she was about to crawl forward, she heard screams and strong hands grabbed hold of her calves. Ruthlessly, she was dragged back through the window. Pain shot through her arms as they got caught awkwardly in the small space. A burning sensation spread across her chest.
Then she was on the floor of the basement staring up at Oleg and Volkov.
“You think you can get away from me, bitch?” Volkov spat then leaned down and hauled her up by her arm. A pain like she’d never experienced before surged through her arm up to her shoulder and she screamed.
“You’re fortunate I need you alive, but if you try anything else, I will kill Ms. Costas. Do I make myself clear?”
She nodded, in too much pain to speak.
Volkov turned to Oleg, said something she couldn't hear, before he walked out of the basement without looking back.
Oleg faced them and pulled out a gun. Natasha gasped; Melanie grabbed hold of her hand in support.
“All of you. With me.”
Diane struggled to walk. She glanced down to see her sweatshirt was covered in blood. The glass had ripped through the fabric and cut into her skin. Her hands were bleeding. The pain in her arm was making her feel sick.
Melanie came to her aid, putting an arm around her waist. She shuffled forward. Oleg led them upstairs to one of the bedrooms. Inside, he checked the window.
“You stay here. We leave in fifteen minutes.” Oleg walked from the room, but one of the other men stepped inside and sat down on the chair by the door, resting his gun on his lap.
“I’m sorry,” Diane said to the other women. She had put them in danger, and she felt terrible.
“Shh. You almost made it,” Melanie said in barely more than whisper. “And who knows? Maybe somebody saw you.” She motioned. “Come and sit on the bed and let me take a look at those cuts.”
Diane sat down, wincing anytime her arm touched anything.
“I think you may have dislocated your arm,” Melanie said. “I’m not a doctor, but I don’t think it’s meant to hang the way it is.”
“It hurts like hell.”
She bit her lip while Melanie examined her hands and gently lifted her sweatshirt. “You have some really deep cuts which are bleeding pretty bad.” She turned to face the man at the door. “Diane needs medical attention.”
The man shrugged. “Not my problem.”
“It’s OK. I’ll be fine.” Diane grimaced.
Melanie moved toward an open door on the far wall that appeared to lead to the ensuite bathroom. The man raised his gun and stood.
“Get back here.”
“I’m just going to see if there is a first aid kit, or something to stop the bleeding. We are leaving soon. Unless you want a blood trail following us, I should clean up the wounds. Volkov said he needs Diane alive. If I don’t clean the wounds, they may get infected. I expect that could cause problems.”
The man hesitated, then nodded. Melanie entered the bathroom, returning with towels, a small first aid kit, and a washcloth.
“Not much. But let's see what we can do.”
Diane nodded, fighting back tears. In less than fifteen minutes, they would be gone. Then what would happen?
Where are you, Steve? I need you. Megan needs you.