The Bullet Page 6

  She closed her eyes as the tears stung.

  And are you frightened, my Cara?

  * * *

  Darkness …

  Music …

  Cara’s heart was pounding so hard it was hurting.

  She couldn’t breathe.

  She wanted to scream, but there was something in her mouth.

  She tried to move her arms, but her wrists were tied.

  But she could move her legs, and she began to kick out.

  “Stop it.” It was a man’s deep voice, filled with impatience. “I knew you’d be this disturbing. I could tell you’d have no sense of dignity.”

  She tried to speak, to ask him to take out this damn gag. She kicked out again and connected with something.

  Swearing.

  Then he was tearing the blindfold off her eyes.

  A stinging blow to her cheek!

  Her head jerked back and hit the floor.

  Dizziness.

  “Behave. I don’t want to have to kill you yet.” He slapped her again. “You have duties to perform.”

  What was happening to her? Cara kept her eyes closed to buy time until she could gather her senses and try to think. Whatever it was that was happening, it was terrifying. All she could remember was the darkness of the bedroom, then the sharpness of a needle in the back of her neck. A sedative …

  Why?

  And who? She wasn’t going to learn that by playing possum.

  She opened her eyes.

  A man was sitting in an easy chair only a few yards from where she lay on the floor. “Good evening.” His voice was smooth, the tone sounded modulated and educated with just a hint of an accent of some kind. “Are we ready to begin?” He was not a young man; his skin was firm but crinkled at the corners of his slanted dark eyes, his hair pure white but elegantly barbered. His thin, spare body also possessed a certain elegance in the beige trousers and silk shirt set off by a dark paisley vest. “I do hope so.” He took a sip of his whiskey. “You’ve been terribly boring. I thought you’d regain consciousness much sooner. Though I didn’t expect all that disgusting kicking and grunting.”

  She made another disgusting grunt behind that gag.

  “Oh, very well. You can’t be expected to be very entertaining if I can’t talk to you.” He reached down and jerked down the gag. “If you scream, I won’t put the gag back, I’ll sew your lips shut.”

  She believed him. His eyes were gleaming catlike as he stared at her. He wanted to do it. She felt the fear ice through her as she realized what kind of man this was. Careful. She had to be very careful. “I won’t scream. I won’t do anything that you don’t want me to do. I only want you to let me go.”

  “I’m afraid that would be impossible. I chose you very carefully. I need you to perform for me.”

  “Chose me? I’ve never seen you before.”

  “But I’ve seen you, Cara.” He reached down and stroked her cheek. “And I know how you manage to charm all those people who listen to you. You have no real talent, but you’ve found ways to fool them. Even I have to fight it.”

  His touch was delicate and those cat eyes … It was like being stroked by a jaguar that was probing before the strike. Keep him talking. Find out everything she could about him. “I’ve never wanted to fool anyone. I’ve just wanted to play for them.” Where was she? What could tell her what she needed to know? Her gaze flew around the room. Not large. It looked like the interior of a cabin. A fireplace, easy chair, a kitchenette. A huge TV on the far wall.

  And the music …

  The strains of the Mendelssohn violin concerto.

  She vaguely remembered the sound of that music when she’d been regaining consciousness.

  “You’re looking for a way out?” He laughed as he studied her expression. “It will be amusing to watch you try to find one.”

  “It can’t be very amusing when you have my hands tied like this. Not amusing and not brave. It’s not as if I’m much of threat. Just look at me.”

  “It’s true you appear very fragile. But your guardian is a police detective. Surely he’s taught you to protect yourself.”

  He knew about Joe. Not good. Everything he knew about her made her position weaker. But she’d already decided he was not going to be easily fooled. “Naturally, but I’m a musician, not a ninja.”

  “But I believe you may be very intelligent. So the ropes will remain for the time being, Cara.”

  “You know my name, but I don’t know yours.”

  “How rude of me. I should really level the playing field as much as possible. I’m John Svardak.” He took another swallow of his whiskey. “Now you have a name to tell your Joe Quinn if you happen to run into him on one of your strolls.”

  “Strolls?”

  “Just a bit of whimsy. You’ll understand later.” He bent down and took off her gag. “I find whimsy comforting when the world sometimes seems very dark. Would you like a drink of water? You haven’t had anything since I took you from that lovely suite in Atlanta.” He frowned. “I had to wait a long time for you to come back that night. I was beginning to get annoyed. You looked so pure and innocent in that gown. I should have known that you’d show yourself to be the slut you are once you got away from an audience. Who did you fuck before you staggered back to your room?”

  Then he didn’t know about Jock. “No one. I was just out with a friend.”

  “You’re lying. Oh well, it’s not important. But you made me angry by keeping me waiting. I’m afraid I did serious damage to your pretty gown.”

  She looked down and realized that she was no longer wearing the white lace gown. She had on a pair of khaki jeans, tennis shoes, and a loose white shirt. Why would he go to the trouble of changing her clothes? It was on a par with the rest of his bizarre actions. “It doesn’t matter. I didn’t like it anyway.”

  “How kind of you to absolve me of blame. But I really think I have to show you why you mustn’t irritate me. Actually, I’ve been looking forward to it.” He got to his feet. “One has to know where one stands in the scheme of things.”

  “And where do you stand? Svardak? Is that a Russian accent?”

  “I was actually born in Estonia. And I ask the questions, Cara.” He reached down and pulled her to her feet. As she swayed, he caught her by the waist to steady her. “Definitely not displaying any ninja qualities. Perhaps you were telling the truth.” He clicked a button, and the TV on the wall began to glow. “Now watch closely.”

  Her suite at the Marquis.

  Blood.

  Everywhere.

  He was moving around the bedroom slinging it from a large vial. The bed, the carpet, the wall. Then he moved to the bathroom. Her gown lying on the vanity was torn and barely recognizable.

  She inhaled sharply as she watched him hurl the blood on the lace. It wasn’t the damage but the force of his action that frightened her most. She could believe he’d been angry with her when he’d destroyed this room. Angry … and unhinged.

  She had to take a moment before she could speak. “So now you’ve shown me.” Her gaze was still fixed on that blood-spattered gown so that she wouldn’t have to look at his face. “You’ve destroyed a perfectly nice gown and caused the hotel housekeeper at the Marquis a good deal of extra work with all that blood. Since I was unconscious, who were you intending to intimidate with such a useless action?”

  His hand tightened on her waist and an unexplainable expression flickered over his face. For an instant she thought it was rage, but then he smiled. “You have courage. I might enjoy our time together.” He tilted his head. “Who would be intimidated? Who would go over this scene with an entire team to find some trace of you? Joe Quinn. Don’t you believe he would be filled with fear and rage?”

  “Joe is tough. He wouldn’t be afraid of you.” But Joe would be afraid for her she knew. She had been so shocked and bewildered since she had regained consciousness that she still couldn’t put everything together yet. It was the second time Svardak had mention
ed Joe, and she was definitely uneasy. “And he’s used to blood. It won’t take him long to find out it’s not mine. Even if it’s the same type. There’s DNA these days.” She stiffened as her gaze flew to his face. She had to ask him. “Whose blood is it?”

  “I might have stolen it from a slaughterhouse.” His gaze was watching her expression maliciously. “Or I might have broken into a Red Cross blood bank,” he murmured. “But I needed so much. You haven’t seen all of it.” He turned the video back on and was leading her back into the bedroom. “And this was most important of all.”

  The violin.

  Blood coating the strings.

  Blood gushing from the F-holes.

  Shock.

  She felt as if that blood was smothering her as it was smothering any music that violin could ever produce. She was struggling to keep from gagging.

  “I thought that might disturb you a bit,” Svardak said. “But you can see how I needed so much blood. It was necessary to impress not only you but your devoted guardian.”

  She shook her head to clear it. “It’s not even my violin.”

  “No, I couldn’t bear to use that beautiful Amati for the demonstration. Besides, I needed it for you.” He enlarged the image of the violin. “And after all, it’s only right she have her tribute.”

  She moistened her lips. “She?”

  “Marian Napier.” He nodded at a black-and-white photograph on the wall portraying a young woman holding a violin. “It was Marian’s violin.” He turned and smiled into Cara’s eyes. “So was the blood.”

  He wanted to see the shock and horror. She could see the hunger and anticipation. Don’t give it to him. Whatever he wanted, don’t give it to him. “You killed her?”

  “That’s obvious, isn’t it? You mustn’t be too upset. She was even less worthy than you.” He tilted his head as he punched a button on the remote, and the music of the violin concerto flooded the room. “Just listen to her.” He grimaced. “A total amateur. Her string work was abominable. I tried to guide her technique, but she couldn’t grasp the proper way to do it. Of course, she was under stress when she made that CD for me.”

  The music was surrounding Cara. Now that it was louder she could hear the faint vibrato as the artist tried to perform the concerto. But the technique was terribly stilted. The shakiness of the bow strokes … the agony of trying to create beauty out of sheer terror.

  “Why?” she choked. “For God’s sake, why?”

  “I gave you a hint. Perhaps you’re not as clever as I thought you might be.” He smiled. “It’s all about tribute, Cara.”

  The music was swelling and so was the agonized sadness Cara was feeling as she listened. “Will you turn off that CD? It’s making me ill.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t want to do that.” But he didn’t turn down the volume on the CD. His gaze was fixed hungrily on her expression, drinking it in. “Perhaps we’ll only use it as dinner music.”

  “Dinner? You mean you intend to keep me alive for a while? Why?”

  “The same reason that I had to discard Marian. Tribute. I’ve only been able to offer Anna inferior gifts of late, but you’re very special for many reasons.”

  “Anna?”

  “Questions.” He smiled. “You’re full of questions. You’re hoping to turn questions into answers that might save you. I might even answer them sometime. It depends on how cooperative I find you.”

  “I’ll keep asking,” she said. She couldn’t stand that music any longer, and she added recklessly, “And I think you’ll answer because you’re egotistical and a little crazy and you want someone to think how superior you are.”

  “I’m not crazy.” His lips thinned. “But I’m superior to you in every way. Or I’d slice your throat right now and cheat myself of the pleasure later.”

  The chords were grating unbearably on Cara’s nerves. She should be able to ignore it, but she couldn’t. The concerto was controlled, painfully disciplined, and the young violinist’s fear seemed to be rising as the music rose. Cara couldn’t stand it. “Turn off her music,” she said through set teeth. “Please.”

  “Such a sensitive soul.” His eyes were glittering with malice. “Are you feeling close to poor Marian?” He was pulling her toward the front door. “Let’s get you a little closer.” He opened the door and pushed her outside. Cold wind was suddenly pulling at her hair and plastering her shirt to her body.

  Night sky.

  No stars.

  Mountains. Hills. Wilderness.

  Trees.

  He was dragging her forward. “Come along. She’s waiting for you.”

  Through the veil of pine trees she saw that she was on the edge of a huge canyon looking down at an abyss hundreds of feet below.

  The wind whipped her face, and she thought any minute it would sweep her down into the abyss.

  “Do you hear her call you?” Svardak asked softly. “Perhaps if she still had her violin, she’d play for you. She’s probably lonely. She’s only been down there two days.”

  She couldn’t take her gaze from the darkness below. “You threw her down there?”

  “Why not? She was dead, wasn’t she? I’d already taken the blood, and I had no more use for her.”

  “Why not? She was innocent.”

  “She was an unskilled amateur who stole the glory from those who deserved it.” He scowled. “And I don’t like you criticizing me. You will not do it.” He shoved her against a pine tree, untying her hands, looping the rope around her body and tying her to the pine. “See how you like keeping Marian company out here.” He was standing before her, the wind blowing his thin hair back from his face. He gestured to a shadowy figure in an anorak standing watching a short distance from the cabin. “Don’t bother thinking Abrams will help you. You can scream, but my guards know better than to interfere. It’s really only you and Marian alone together. It’s cold and windy, isn’t it? It’s always windy here. You’ll probably be stiff and frigid by morning. If you beg me, I might let you come back inside.”

  “Or you might not.” She was already shivering. “Did you offer that option to Marian Napier?”

  “Perhaps. I don’t remember. I had her for more than a month, and it was difficult to keep track of what I did to her.” He smiled. “But I do know it wasn’t on the first night. I knew you would be special.” He turned and started back toward the house. Then he stopped and glanced over his shoulder, his dark eyes gleaming maliciously. “Do you remember I mentioned you might run into your beloved Joe Quinn on one of your strolls?” His gaze shifted to the canyon. “I was thinking of that place that Marian makes her home now.”

  She went rigid. “Joe? Why? That doesn’t make sense.”

  “It makes perfect sense. I’ve been making plans. If I’m to keep you as long as I intend, I can’t have him interfering. Policemen can be so bothersome.” He opened the front door. “Just another thought to keep you warm through a long, cold night.”

  The next moment, the door had slammed behind him, and he was gone.

  No, not quite gone. He had turned up Marian Napier’s violin CD full blast so that it was loud enough to reach her and once more make the music a painful assault.

  She was alone.

  She didn’t feel alone. She was surrounded by that sharp wind, nightmares of blood and horror, and the knowledge that Svardak was just beyond that door. He was probably waiting for her to call out to him so that he could prove to himself how weak and vulnerable she was.

  And there was no doubt she was vulnerable, she thought wearily. But that didn’t mean she had to bow down to this Svardak when he was probably going to kill her anyway. She had come close to dying many times during her early years, and she knew that men as evil as Svardak couldn’t be stopped unless you had weapons to fight them. They just went on and on, re-creating themselves like one of those monster transformers in the comic books.

  And she had no weapons or skills. She wasn’t Jock, who was trained as an assassin, nor Joe, who was an ex-SEAL. Sh
e was only a musician.

  A musician who sounded so sorry for herself that she was suddenly filled with self-disgust, she thought. There was nothing “only” about being a musician. It was magical. It had purpose. It merely had certain drawbacks.

  Like the ability to stay alive.

  She was getting colder. She couldn’t be sure how low the temperatures would dip tonight. It was April, but she must be somewhere in the mountains, and that could mean that the weather could plummet to below freezing. The wind would make it even worse. These clothes she was wearing wouldn’t ward off hypothermia. She just had to pray the temperatures didn’t plunge that low.

  First, make certain the ropes that bound her were secure. He’d tied her so quickly that there might be a way to free herself. She began wriggling, struggling against the confines of the ropes around her body. They gave only a little, allowing only very limited movement. No possibility of freeing herself. Though she might be able to keep her circulation going if she moved frequently.

  But she had to accept that she was going to remain here until Svardak freed her. It might be wise to surrender now and live to fight another day. But she had an idea that it might not be wise at all. For some crazy reason, Svardak wanted her to be a worthy adversary. And she had no doubt that he was totally insane after what she’d experienced tonight.

  But he must be able to hide it well if he’d been able to get past hotel security and into her suite to do that horrible damage. And then there was that poor girl Marian, whom he’d kidnapped and killed. None of it would be easy unless he was able to appear normal on occasion. Cara felt again that terrible sadness she’d experienced when she’d first heard Marian play that Mendelssohn concerto. She had been trying hard to do what that bastard had wanted her to do. Yet he had found Marian boring and inadequate and had no compunction about killing her. She was not proper “tribute.”

  Tribute. Cara didn’t even know what that meant. But if she didn’t find out and use it to escape Svardak, then she’d probably die.

  And Joe might also die. She knew Joe would be searching for her. It was clear Svardak knew that as well. Joe might be caught in a trap as she had been swept up at her hotel.