Robin Cook - Host

Alone in the large, aging house, Lynn had been careful to make sure she had completely closed and securely locked the front door when she had arrived. Although she had turned on a number of lights during her despondent wanderings, she had turned them all off. As far as she knew, the only lights on in the whole house were the two library-style brass lamps on Carl’s desk in front of her. Even the corners of the study were lost in shadow.

Then there was another noise, a faint creak. Was it her imagination from her heightened sensitivity from not having identified the first noise? Then, almost instantly, came a rapid series of creaks from the ancient wood flooring in the foyer below, followed by another rapid series of noises from the stair treads. With a shudder of fear, Lynn sensed she was not alone. Someone was coming up the stairs!

In a panic Lynn snatched up her mobile phone. Quickly she tapped in 911. But then she hesitated to place the call. It suddenly had occurred to her that she was the trespasser, and the people coming might be Carl’s parents or a neighbor with a key who knew what had happened to Carl and were responding to the light in the study.

Unfortunately for Lynn these thoughts came more from hope than reality, and her hesitation cost her the chance to call for help. In the next instant a large figure dressed in black with a black balaclava silently flashed into sight from the dark hallway. Worse yet, clutched in the individual’s hand was an automatic pistol with a silencer. Lynn’s heart leaped into her chest.

Tuesday, April 7, 11:31 P.M.

Darko had arrived at the southern end of the Charleston peninsula twenty minutes earlier. He’d parked the van on South Battery. Wearing a long Burberry coat and carrying a small satchel, he’d met up with Timur, who had been standing vigil beneath a large shade tree on Church Street, across from Vandermeer’s house.

Both expatriate Russians spoke fluent English, as the two had been living in Charleston for five years, like Leonid, and had made an effort to learn the language. Still, when they were together, they much preferred the mother tongue.

“Was the house dark when you got here?” Darko asked Timur while eyeing the structure. He liked that on the side of the house with the veranda there was an empty lot, the remains of what had once been a formal garden. That meant there was a close neighbor on only one side, instead of both.

“Yes,” Timur said. “But I was in the car at that point and couldn’t see all the windows.”

“Has anyone come by?”

“No. She is alone. Initially she moved around a lot, as lights went on and off in various rooms, but for the last hour the only light has been in one window on the second floor.” Timur pointed to be sure Darko could see the light through the heavy drapes.

“Good job,” Darko said. “Sorry it has been a bit of an effort. I’ll take it from here. You can head back.”

“You don’t want me to help?” Timur asked, his voice reflecting his disappointment that his role was over. Darko was a legend among a number of the security and enforcement personnel of Sidereal Pharmaceuticals. Working with him on a job beyond mere surveillance would have afforded Timur bragging rights.

“No need for help,” Darko said. “I want to do this alone. I intend to enjoy myself.”

Timur laughed and nodded. “Got it! And she’s a looker.”

After taking what he needed from the satchel, he left it and the Burberry coat in a safe and convenient location to pick up later. With the proximity of neighbors, since the houses were built close to one another, Darko eschewed the normal explosive entry technique, which he generally favored, but instead used a Halligan bar, a tool he had become acquainted with only after coming to America. It was generally used by US fire departments for gaining access through locked doors. He knew that, handled appropriately, it was nearly silent in comparison to an explosive charge.

Once he breached the front door, Darko knew that timing was of the essence. Moving quietly but quickly, he ascended the main stairway and dashed toward the lighted room. Lynn was sitting at the desk, holding a mobile phone.

Darko reacted by pure reflex. He covered the distance between the hallway and the desk in the blink of an eye, snatching the phone from Lynn’s grasp with his free hand before she had a chance to react to his presence. Carelessly, he tossed it aside to bounce off the carpet and skid across the bare floor into the far corner of the room.

Lynn started a scream of terror, but it barely got out. Darko viciously backhanded her as part of the follow-through of getting rid of the phone. The blow caught her squarely on the side of the face, crushing capillaries in her upper lip and in her nose and sending her sprawling facedown to the floor. The sudden action and noise propelled the cat into a headlong retreat to safer areas of the dark house.

Lynn tried to get up to follow the cat and save herself from this whirlwind assault that had materialized out of the night, but her legs temporarily wouldn’t cooperate. The next thing she knew was being pressed against the floor with a foot in the small of her back. She struggled to free herself to be able to breathe.

“Stay still!” Darko hissed. “Or you will be shot!”

Lynn let her body go limp. The foot eased up the pressure against her.

“Roll over!” Darko commanded.

Lynn did as she was told, looking up at her attacker. The only details she could see were his dark eyes and yellowed teeth. After her initial panic that the attack had caused, she now began to think in a survival mode. Would the neighbors hear if she suddenly screamed bloody murder?

“I will shoot you if you yell,” Darko snarled, as if reading her mind. Then, without warning, he reached down and yanked the cinch around her waist to loosen the knot of the bathrobe. The robe fell partially open, exposing one of her breasts.

With a quick flick of her wrist, Lynn covered herself. At the same time she brought her other hand up to her face and touched her lip, which was swelling and tender. Taking her hand away, she could see that she was bleeding. She knew she was also bleeding from her nose.

As if taunting her, Darko reached down with the gun and used the end of the silencer to re-expose the breast. Lynn didn’t try to re-cover herself. She had the impression the man was smiling behind his mask, possibly leering at her. Was this a rape? Her first thought was that perhaps the man standing over her had somehow heard about Carl’s condition and had come to rob the house and that she was a surprise. Except for Michael, no one knew she was there.

Reining in her terror as much as she could, Lynn had the presence of mind to understand that her survival might depend on cunning. Perhaps she should try to get the man to talk. Maybe she should pretend to cooperate, as it might help. It had registered in her mind that he had an accent, which her panicked mind had yet to identify other than thinking it was familiar.

“Take off your robe!” Darko commanded. He took a step back and lowered the pistol to his side.

Assuming a false smile, Lynn sat up and then re-covered herself. “Why so fast?” she asked. She eyed the gun. Her goal was to get the man to put the gun down. If he did, maybe she could flee. With a little lead, she might be able to get away, as she knew the house intimately and assumed the intruder did not.

“Don’t play with me!” Darko snapped.

“And why not?” Lynn asked with raised eyebrows. She shakily got to her feet and recinched the robe, berating herself for not having gotten dressed after her shower. Her nakedness was a handicap on many levels, magnifying her vulnerability.