David Morrell - Burnt Sienna

The guards looked apprehensively at each other.

“Hey, if we’d wanted to, we could have killed you,” the man said. “Play nice and you’ll get out of this alive.” He made a sharp gesture toward the van. “Move.”

The pilot and the guards reluctantly obeyed, but as Potter started to follow, the man said, “Not you.”

“If it’s money you want, I -”

“Sit down. We’ll soon be taking our own ride.”

Seeing the pilot get out of the helicopter and into the van, Potter said, “But who’s going to fly the -”

“I am,” a voice said.

Disturbed by its familiarity, Potter turned toward the pilot’s hatch, where a man with a severely bruised face appeared, but even with the bruises, the face was instantly recognizable. Potter’s stomach contracted.

Malone.

Ahmed’s pilot announced they would soon be landing. But not soon enough , Ahmed thought. The four-hour flight from Istanbul had seemed interminable. He didn’t like Bellasar. He didn’t like to travel. Being away from the sounds and smells of home always put him on edge. Whatever Bellasar’s demonstration was, it had better be worth the trouble of coming to see it. If there was one more hint that Bellasar’s affairs were out of control…

Ahmed’s jet set down. Bellasar had promised that passing through customs and immigration would be swift, and encouragingly, that was the case. But when Ahmed emerged from the processing area, neither Bellasar nor Potter was in sight. If this was an indication of how the meeting was going to…

“Mr. Ahmed?”

A heavyset man with short blond hair emerged from the crowd. He wore a suit and looked apologetic as he extended his hand. “I’m Raymond Baker. I’m sorry for the slight delay. Mr. Bellasar sent me to get you.”

“He couldn’t come himself?”

“Unfortunately, he was occupied. He sends his apologies. He’s so determined to make your visit successful that he’s personally taking care of the final details.”

“I’ve not met you before. Why wasn’t Alex Potter sent to meet me?”

“I’m new on the staff. Mr. Potter had some security matters to take care of. He’ll meet us at the helicopter. If you and your escorts” – the man nodded toward the two guards Ahmed had brought with him – “will accompany me. It’s a short flight to Mr. Bellasar’s estate.”

Ahmed hesitated, annoyed that Bellasar had sent an underling to greet him but gratified by the man’s subservient manner. “The sooner this meeting is over, the sooner I’ll be on my way back to Istanbul.”

“In that case, you’ll be pleased that Mr. Bellasar has made arrangements to be certain there won’t be any delays in your return flight. If you’ll follow me…”

Approaching the helicopter, Ahmed couldn’t help frowning when he saw Potter waiting stiffly next to the open hatch. Ahmed had never liked the man’s perpetual disapproving look. His presence turned everything dark around him. Potter didn’t even extend his hand as Ahmed neared him. Typical. I’ll rot before I extend my hand first, Ahmed thought.

As he started to get in, Ahmed blanched when two men in coveralls turned from the helicopter and put a gun in the small of the back of each guard. A van pulled up. Five seconds later, the guards were in the vehicle, the men in coveralls had gotten in with them, and the van was driving away. The speed with which everything had happened was bewildering.

“I couldn’t warn you,” Potter said. He tilted his head toward the interior of the helicopter, where two other men in coveralls pointed weapons at them.

“Inside,” the man who had met Ahmed in the airport said. His right hand was beneath his suit coat, as if ready to draw a pistol at the slightest provocation.

“Who are you? What do you -”

“Shut up and get in the helicopter.”

Pushed inside, Ahmed was searched, buckled roughly into a safety harness, then handcuffed along with Potter to a bar on the side of the fuselage. But as dismaying as all this was, nothing prepared him for what he felt when the pilot turned to look back at him, revealing a face swollen and purple with bruises.

“Welcome to Payback Airlines.”

“Potter’s and Ahmed’s bodyguards are handcuffed and having a nice morphine sleep in the back of the van,” Jeb told Malone as he hurried to fasten his copilot’s harness. “Our local contact will drive them to a secluded campground and wait to hear from us.”

“And twenty-four hours from now, if he still hasn’t heard from us?”

“He’ll know everything went to hell and he’ll let them go.”

“But everything won’t go to hell.” Malone’s voice was hoarse with emotion. “Except for Bellasar.”

He radioed the control tower, getting clearance for takeoff. Then he flicked some switches. The rotors started to turn.

“When I was taken to Bellasar’s estate and later when I stole the chopper to escape, I was puzzled by an extra panel of switches I couldn’t account for,” Malone said.

The rotors spun faster.

“I’ve been trying to figure out what they’re for,” Malone said louder, in order to be heard above the engine’s roar. “When the chopper crashed and the gas tank exploded, the blast was greater than it should have been. Finally I think I understand.”

“What are you getting at?”

“It’s just what you’d expect an arms dealer to do. He went after me with four-wheel-drive cars that were actually assault vehicles equipped with machine guns. Why wouldn’t he modify his helicopters the same way?”

“You’re telling me -”

“This thing has retractable weapons. It’s a gun-ship.”

“What else did you dream?”

“I can’t concentrate anymore. I need to lie down. I -”

Derek slapped her.

She stumbled back.

“What you need to do is what you’re told. What else did you dream ?”

“I can’t remember.”

Derek slapped her harder.

“You promised you’d never hurt me!” she shouted.

“That was before you ran off with -”

“I meant Christina! You promised not to hurt her again. Tomorrow.”

“What?”

“She died tomorrow.”

Derek slapped her a third time. “Tell me how you know so much about -”

“There was a yacht.” Sienna strained to remember more of the photograph.

Derek froze, his hand drawn back to strike her again.

The photograph had shown Christina as a voluptuous adult, wearing a bikini, sunbathing on the deck of a yacht. Behind her, the yacht’s name had been stenciled on a life preserver.

“The yacht was called Christina . There were parties and -”

“Always parties! Christina couldn’t get enough parties! Whenever my back was turned… She betrayed me, the same as you did.”

“It had nothing to do with betraying you! I had to try to save my life!”

Derek’s glare remained riveted on her, then wavered, as if her logic had made an impression on him.

“Why does it have to be this way?” Sienna pleaded. “Why can’t we start over?”

Derek studied her.

“Why can’t we forgive each other? Five years ago, we loved each other. Why can’t we go back?” She took a tentative step toward him, holding out a hand to touch him.

“What else did you dream?”

“What?”

“Tell me how you know so much about my sister.”

Sienna’s spirit plummeted.

“The balcony, the pony, the carnival, the yacht, the time and date of…” Derek’s eyes widened. “Jesus, you saw them.”

“What?”

“You saw them!”