He used his hands while he spoke to the men, and his voice was low and angry. If he’d had my gun I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d shot all three of them. He motioned for them to pick up their weapons. He stood there watching them scurry away. He had told them to go outside and stay there. Then, after just a slight pause, he turned and walked back to Laura and me. He held up a key ring, pulled out a long brass key and handed it to me.
“This is the one.”
I gave the key to Laura. “Be careful. There might be a man inside.”
She nodded. I remained behind with Molinas, the Bren Ten pressed against his neck. “Nice clothes,” I said close to his ear while we waited. “I guess dealing drugs to kids lets you hobnob with a lot of Italian designers.”
“I haven’t been involved in drugs for five years,” he said. “I am doing this for other reasons.”
“Yeah, right. And you keep American federal agents just for the fun of it.” I focused on the slowly opening door. Laura eased inside, crouched low. I saw a light come on, then nothing. “Let’s go. One try at me and I’ll pull the trigger.”
Savich was half-crouched, ready to attack. He looked pale and drawn, his clothes torn and dirty, and there was such rage in his eyes that suddenly I didn’t want to know what had been done to him. “I was hoping you’d come,” he said, as he slowly straightened.
I came into the small room, pushing Molinas in front of me. Savich’s hands closed around his throat and he shook him like he was a rag. Molinas did nothing to defend himself.
“Savich, stop it.” I tried to jerk Molinas away from him, but Savich was out of control.
Laura cried out, “Sherlock. Oh, God!”
Sherlock was the only thing that could have distracted him and Laura knew it. Savich dropped his hands and whirled about, dropping to his knees beside Sherlock. She was unconscious, huddled on her side.
He gathered her against him and rocked her back and forth, back and forth, kissing her dirty hair. Savich looked up. His face was battered. He’d been beaten. I nearly pulled the trigger. “By God, what have you done to him? You damned bastard. I should have let him strangle you.”
“He is all right,” Molinas said, and I knew his throat hurt. Savich was strong, very strong, no matter what they’d done to him.
I shoved Molinas to the floor and closed the door, then walked to where Savich sat, still rocking Sherlock on his legs.
“Thanks for coming, guys. I’m glad to see you, to say the least. I did try, but I couldn’t get us out of here. I failed. I took out a couple of them but then four others came in and I got the crap kicked out of me for my efforts.”
He was coherent. He was himself.
“They didn’t drug you?” I asked.
“Not after I woke up when we first got here, wherever here is. They took Sherlock. I guess they wanted me to be clearheaded enough to see what the drug did to her.”
“What happened to her?”
“When she’s awake, she just keeps reliving that awful time in the past when she was hunting down that serial killer, Martin Jones.” I was nodding. I knew all about Martin Jones. Savich explained for Laura. “She was his prisoner. It was terrifying for her. She had nightmares about it for months. With the drug, it’s come back, only worse. Jesus, you can feel her terror, her confusion.” He looked over at Molinas. “I’m going to kill that sadistic bastard.”
But he didn’t move, just kept rocking Sherlock.
He said even as he rubbed his cheek against Sherlock’s hair, “After they beat me, they left me alone. They never did shoot any drugs into me.”
I looked down at Sherlock, and then I struck Molinas, I just couldn’t stop myself. I must have gotten him just right because his head fell back against the wall. I drew a deep breath. “I’m sorry, guys. He’ll be back with us in a minute. He’s going to get us out of here. There’s an airstrip out there.”