Chaos Read online

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.

  Copyright © 2020 by IJ Development

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  First Edition: September 2020

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Names: Johansen, Iris, author.

  Title: Chaos / Iris Johansen.

  Description: First edition. | New York : Grand Central Publishing, 2020. |

  Identifiers: LCCN 2020008881 | ISBN 9781538713136 (hardcover) | ISBN 978-1-5387-1899-5 (large print) | ISBN 9781538713167 (ebook)

  Subjects: GSAFD: Suspense fiction.

  Classification: LCC PS3560.O275 C45 2020 | DDC 813/.6--dc23

  LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2020008881

  ISBNs: 978-1-5387-1313-6 (hardcover), 978-1-5387-1316-7 (ebook), 978-1-5387-1899-5 (large print), 978-1-5387-1995-4 (Canadian)

  E3-20200706-DA-NF-NG

  Table of Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter ​14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Epilogue

  Discover More

  About the Author

  Also by Iris Johansen (in order of publication)

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  Chapter

  1

  St. Eldon’s Academy

  Morocco, Africa

  Screams!

  Shots!

  And Sasha had seen the two bloody bodies of the security guards outside in the paddock when she’d released the horses a few minutes ago.

  Her heart was beating hard as she ran back into the stable and down the long aisle toward the back stall. She dived into the shadowy dimness and pressed back against the wood, trying to catch her breath.

  The screaming. She closed her eyes as terror and bewilderment washed over her. They must be hurting those girls, or they wouldn’t be screaming like that.

  What else could she do to help? Sasha thought frantically. She’d tried to call the police but there was no signal. She’d even tried to reach Alisa on her satellite phone, hoping that even if a tower was down the satellite might somehow be working. Nothing. The attack had come out of nowhere and the school seemed to be entirely cut off.

  And there was no telling when those men who had killed the security guards would decide to come into the stable.

  Sasha crouched lower in the back stall where Thor had been quartered before she’d released him. A weapon. She should find some kind of weapon…

  “Sasha?” Paul Boujois, the school’s head trainer, was ducking into the shadows of the stall beside her. His face was pale, and his voice was shaking. “I’d hoped you’d managed to get away yourself when you released the horses. It might be too late now.”

  “I had to make sure the horses were heading toward the hills away from the all the gunfire. I’m responsible for them. But I need a weapon, Mr. Boujois. Do you have a weapon?”

  He shook his head. “And what are you going to do with a weapon? We’re better off giving up as soon as they start pouring into this stable. They might let us live.”

  “They killed the security guards. And those girls are still screaming outside.” She swallowed. “They’re all my friends and classmates. They might be killing them, too.”

  He flinched. “I know.”

  Then why wasn’t he doing something, she thought in frustration. She’d been working for the past four years as a volunteer at the school’s riding stable, and she respected Boujois’s expertise with the horses. She even liked him most of the time. But it was clear she was not going get any help from him in this situation. He was even more afraid than she was, and his solution was for her to bury her head and hide?

  “I need a weapon,” she repeated, looking desperately around the stall. She saw a horseshoe in the far corner, grabbed it, and tore off her neck scarf. She twisted the horseshoe into the scarf, forming a makeshift sling. “Who are they? Do you know why they’re doing this?”

  He shook his head. “I saw three trucks with machine guns mounted on them. The men are all wearing military camouflage fatigues. I’d guess it’s a raid on the school by some military guerrilla group who’ve heard there are fat pickings to be had here at St. Eldon’s with all you rich girls as students.”

  “Ransom? Then maybe they’re not killing them. Maybe there’s some way we can save them.”

  More shots. Someone was yelling outside the stable.

  “Sasha. Let it go. Don’t fight them.” Boujois’s hands were shaking as he grabbed her shoulders. “You’ve done all you can. You’ve got to live through this.”

  “You said she ran in here?” Cursing. A man’s strident voice as he strode into the stable and started down the aisle. “Find her, you asshole. If she got away, I’ll cut your throat, Baldwin.”

  “I swear I caught a glimpse of her. She’s here somewhere.”

  Run for the stable door. Take their attention away from this stall and give the trainer a chance. If Boujois was right about the ransom, she might be safe, but there was no way he would be.

  She ran.

  She heard a shout as she dived past the two men walking toward her down the aisle. A tall, fair-haired man reached wildly out to grab her arm, but she swung her scarf at his head and heard him grunt with pain as the horseshoe struck his temple.

  Just a few more feet and she’d reach the stable door—

  Pain.

  She stumbled to her knees as the butt of the other man’s gun crashed against her temple. Then his hand was tangled painfully in her hair as he jerked her head up so that he could look into her eyes. Through the dizziness, she was only aware of brown, close-cut hair, dark skin, and savage anger. “You’re the one who released those horses?” he hissed. “Do you know how long it’s going to take my men to round them up and put them in horse trailers?”

  “Too long,” she said hoarsely. “The police will be here by then and they’ll be safe. You won’t be able to hurt them.”


  “The police won’t be here for more than an hour. I’ll be long gone by then.” He gave her a brutal backhand blow to her cheek. “I’ve taken down the cell tower.”

  “I’ve found someone else, Masenak.” The fair-haired man she’d struck with the horseshoe was dragging Boujois out of the stall. “He’s wearing those same fancy English boots you wear sometimes. It’s probably that horse trainer you told me to look for. What do you want me to do with him?” Then he forgot about Boujois as he saw Sasha. “Can I have that bitch in my tent tonight?” His glare was venomous. “She needs to learn a few lessons from me before you give her to someone else.”

  “We’ll talk about it later. She may be of use,” Masenak said absently as he looked down at Sasha. “We wouldn’t want to damage such a pretty little girl if she can help us get those horses back.” He let go of her hair, and his hand touched the nameplate on Sasha’s suede jacket. “I believe I’ve heard a few stories about you, Sasha Lawrence.” He turned to Boujois. “Is she really as good at training horses as the rumors have it?”

  “She’s very good.”

  “Better than good? What I’ve heard is she’s something of a horse whisperer. She can coax a horse to do almost anything for her?”

  “I wouldn’t say that good. She’s only a student volunteer.” Sasha could tell he was searching desperately for what to say that would be safest for her. “I’ve always found her…efficient.”

  “Let’s see how efficient.” He jerked Sasha to her feet. His face was suddenly only inches from her own, his eyes glittering. “I’ve no intention of hurting those horses. They all have excellent pedigrees. Which means they have enormous value for me. But there are dozens of young girls like you being put on those trucks out there who have very little value for me in comparison. So you will go with my friend Baldwin into the hills and you’ll capture every one of those horses you freed and place them into the horse trailers I brought. You’ll do it quickly and accurately because I will start killing those girls after the next thirty minutes. There were twelve horses. If you miss retrieving even one of those thoroughbreds, one of those sweet friends of yours will die because you weren’t efficient enough. Do you understand?”

  He meant it. His lips were pulled back in a feral grimace, and she could see that he was enjoying every nuance of the terror she was feeling. “I might not be able to get all the horses back right away. I deliberately spooked them.”

  “Then you’d best be better than Boujois was telling me. Because I don’t take excuses.” He looked at his watch. “Your thirty minutes starts now. Get her up in those hills, Baldwin.” He pushed Sasha toward the door. “You’d better hope the police don’t show up too soon or the carnage might have to start early. I’m looking forward to seeing you later, Sasha.”

  “Don’t do this.” She was running toward the door in panic. “I’ll do whatever you say. Just don’t kill them. Give me time to get those horses back.”

  “I’ll think about it.” Masenak chuckled. “But you should look on this as a challenge to prove your worth in case I decide not to be generous.” He paused. “On second thought, I really think you should be punished for causing me this much trouble.”

  Kaboom.

  She stopped. She whirled to see Paul Boujois falling to the floor, his head blown off. Sickness. Shock. Horror.

  “I do hope he was a good friend,” Masenak said softly. “Punishment should always be as thorough as possible.” He turned away. “Better hurry, Sasha. The clock is ticking.”

  * * *

  Zawar Palace

  Morocco

  The dogs were barking!

  Alisa Flynn froze on the top of the wall as the howls of the Doberman guard dogs broke the silence.

  Shit!

  This wasn’t supposed to happen. She’d planned it all down to the last detail, even to keeping those dogs silent for the time she’d needed to break into the palace and reach Gabe Korgan’s study. She’d been told that the dogs had to be given just the right amount of sedation so that they’d be quiet but not appear to be sluggish or drugged. She couldn’t believe she’d screwed up that dosage.

  The dogs had stopped barking. Their handlers had probably gone to check on them and found nothing suspicious. She might be okay.

  Or she might not.

  No sign of the sentries who usually patrolled the veranda area of the palace grounds at this time of night. But then they weren’t due to make their rounds for another fifteen minutes. She’d counted on that fifteen minutes to get in and out of Korgan’s study and back over the wall. But now she was sitting here trying to decide if that damn barking would cause those sentries to change their schedule.

  And she couldn’t hesitate much longer or that brief window would disappear. Go for it? Or cancel and try again tomorrow night? She knew what she should do, what she’d been taught to do.

  But that twenty-four hours could make a difference, and she didn’t know if she could live with that difference.

  So screw it, she thought recklessly. Go for it anyway. Trust that all the preparations she’d made would hold and luck would be with her. That study was just off the veranda and she could be in and out in less than ten minutes. She was already lowering herself from the wall to the courtyard, her eyes on the veranda. After that, rely on the fact that she was very fast and could make it back here before the sentries reached the courtyard…

  She ran.

  No sign of any guards yet.

  The veranda was right ahead, the study dark. She’d waited for two hours after those lights had gone out before she’d climbed over the garden wall.

  She ran up the veranda steps to the French doors and waved the RFID chip over the security panel’s illuminated face. The screen changed from blue to green.

  So far, so good.

  She keyed in a six-digit pass code, and after a pause that seemed like an eternity, the door unlocked. She pulled it open. No alarms, no blinking lights.

  She was in.

  She moved to the side of the door and disarmed the interior alarm with another swipe of the RFID chip.

  She drew a deep breath and waited, listening.

  No sound.

  Then she moved toward the desk where she’d seen Korgan working for the past three nights. She was right on schedule. Just another two minutes and she’d have it…

  “Enough,” Korgan said impatiently from across the room. “Lights, Vogel.”

  Lights illuminated the room.

  Alisa whirled to the easy chair where Gabe Korgan had been sitting in darkness.

  She recognized him at once. Why not? Those silver-blue eyes and intense features were familiar to most people in the world these days. And at the moment the bastard’s eyes were lit with interest, and he was smiling with satisfaction.

  Busted! she thought, disgusted. Why shouldn’t he be smiling?

  And the man he’d called Vogel was crossing the room toward her with a gun in his hand and a grim expression on his face. “Don’t move,” he said crisply. “Reach for a weapon and I’ll put you down.”

  She was trying to smother her frustration and gather herself together. She might be able to get out of this, she just had to figure out how. She immediately lifted her hands. “I have no intention of resisting you, Vogel,” she said quietly. “I wouldn’t be that stupid. I’ve done my research and I realize how good you are and how loyal you are to Korgan. And I don’t have a weapon. Not that I don’t carry one on occasion, but I didn’t come here to shoot anyone, and I didn’t want Korgan to think I did. Search me.”

  “I will.” His hands were already running over her quickly and thoroughly. He stepped back. “Clean, Korgan. Do you want me to call the local police or do you want to question her yourself?”

  “Let’s not be in a hurry.” Korgan’s gaze was searching Alisa’s face. “So you didn’t want to shoot me, just rob me?” he asked mockingly. “How kind. Who the hell are you? And may I ask what you were after, and how you were able to get past my alarms? You were incr
edibly fast when you were disabling them. You shouldn’t have been able to do that at all, much less with that degree of speed.”

  “I had a little help.” She looked him in the eye. “But that wouldn’t have done me any good if you’d had the new XV-17 alarms installed here at this palace instead of the older XV-10. That comes very close to being totally foolproof. The V-10 has been around long enough to be studied and breached if the technician is clever enough. I’m a very good technician.”

  “Evidently.” His lips tightened. “But that doesn’t mean I like the idea of you using my own work against me.” He paused. “You would have needed an RFID chip to get past these panels. Did you steal one from one of my staff?”

  “No, I didn’t need to. I cloned yours.”

  He raised his eyebrows. “Now, how the hell did you manage to do that?”

  “When you went to the airport the other day. I played the part of a maintenance worker in a lumpy, unflattering jumpsuit. I’m sure you didn’t even notice me.”

  “I didn’t. Lumpy…I assume to hide an RFID reader?”

  She nodded. “It’s very effective within six feet or so. I know it’s on your key ring, but you should really find a way to sheathe that thing. It’s a scary world out there.”

  “Tell me about it. And how do you know about the XV-17? It’s still in beta testing. Are you into corporate espionage?”

  “No, I don’t give a damn about your alarm systems right now. It’s you I’m interested in.”

  “One of my favorite subjects.”

  She stepped toward him. “No, it’s not. You try to keep everything about yourself out of the spotlight. But it’s pretty futile. Everyone knows you’re one of the greatest minds of this or any other age. An innovative genius who comes up with a miracle or two every couple years. Your upcoming subspace passenger jets are on the verge of revolutionizing the travel industry. Straight up into the upper stratosphere, then down to almost any place in the world. New York to Tokyo in sixty minutes.”

  He shrugged. “It’s looking closer to seventy.”

  “We’ll suffer through it. You won your Nobel prize with your fleet of solar-powered drones that plant, water, and fertilize crops, maybe solving the world hunger problem.”