Blood Kills, Nanci Rathbun [best books to read for self improvement TXT] 📗

“Pull the handle on the wall,” he said, his voice becoming fainter.

I searched around me and located a pull-down lever. The shelving unit slid quietly into place and locked with a soft clunk. While my heart raced, I sat for a moment, listening. The sounds of the door bursting open and heavy boots thundering down the stairs jolted me into action. I crept along the tunnel.

It opened into a room equipped with a bed large enough to accommodate the family, a toilet and sink behind a screen, and a rocking chair. On the other side of the room stood a computer table with a magnificent monitor, a large steel cabinet, and shelves of food, bottled water, diapers, toys, and other necessities for a prolonged stay. A safe room.

The twins were giggling and chasing each other, eventually ending up on the bed, where they happily began to bounce.

“Shh,” Aunt Terry cautioned them.

Joey reassured her, “It’s okay, the woom is soundpwoof.”

She sank down on the rocking chair next to the bed, obviously shaken, but trying to act calm in front of the children.

I crouched before Joey, sure that this was all a game to him—a game the family had doubtless played many times. “Are we under the house?” I asked.

“Nope.” He pointed up. “That’s the gawage.”

“Is there another way out?” It terrified me to think about taking these precious children into the path of imminent harm, but it might come to that if the attackers found the room.

He pointed to a steel plate in the ceiling. “Up theah. But Daddy says this place is safe as can be.” He strolled over to the monitor and pressed a button. The screen activated. “Look, Miss Angie. The bad guys.”

The closed-circuit TV displayed three assailants in the house—one searching the basement and two clearing the rooms upstairs. Outside, near the tree line at the back of the property, the fourth man stood, speaking into a walkie-talkie. When his mouth moved, the inside men nodded and murmured into their own devices.

From the rocker, Aunt Terry gasped.

Joey walked over and patted her hand. “Don’t wowwy, Miss Tewwy, it will be all wight. Daddy will be home soon.”

Chapter 51

All violence consists in some people forcing others, under threat of suffering or death, to do what they do not want to do.

Leo Tolstoy

Once Yuri sent the all-clear message, Artur moved inside the large farmhouse. “Did you locate the box?” he snapped at the team.

Speaking for the others, Yuri replied in a conciliatory tone. “Nyet, boss. No sign. But there is a room upstairs that we cannot penetrate. Eyeball scanner and a solid steel door. And the door to the basement was locked. We had to break in. Nothing down there.”

“Chert!” Artur swore. “They must be in the locked room.” He paced, his crew careful to step out of his path. Then, with a sharp about-face, he climbed the stairs and shouted, “Angelina Bonaparte, I wish you no harm. I only want what you took from Mikhail’s house. Give it to me and we will leave. Thwart me and I have no choice. I will destroy the samples—and everyone inside—with fire.”

With a sweep of his arm, he marched outside and the men followed.

Chapter 52

Danger is real. Fear is a choice.

Unknown

Aunt Terry sucked in a breath as the words came sharp and clear from the monitoring equipment. I will destroy the samples—and everyone inside—with fire.

Artur knows who I am, I realized. Remembering his ruthless murder of the man in Rebecca Franken’s parking garage, I knew Artur would never walk away. He would forge a path of destruction in order to eliminate anyone with knowledge of Mick’s story and the samples. Should I take the samples out and leave the others here in the safe room?

From inside the steel cabinet, a low-pitched buzzing sounded.

“That’s the special phone, Miss Angie.” Joey pointed to the top of the unit. “The key’s up theah. Daddy doesn’t want us kids to weach it.”

I was too short myself, so I hauled over the chair from the computer desk and climbed up, thinking, Please don’t hang up. Please.

Key in hand, I scrambled down. The buzzing continued as I opened the storage cabinet and grabbed a chunky black phone with a thick antenna extruding from the top. Spider, read the display.

I clicked the button and spoke. “We’re in the safe room, Spider, but there’s a team of four men—one of them is Artur—on the property. They think we’re locked inside the home office. He’s threatening to set the house ablaze if we don’t come out with the samples from Mick. Can we survive a fire in here?”

After a pause, Spider’s voice, pulled taut with tension, said, “Theoretically. But I don’t want to put it to the test.”

“Then I’ll go out alone.”

“Wait! There’s an alternative… if you’re willing.”

“Tell me.”

“I’ll have boots on the ground in twelve minutes. You can disable them long enough for me to get there, but there’s an element of danger to it.”

It took less than a breath for me to decide. If Aunt Terry and the kids came out of this safe, the risk would be worth it. “Go on.”

“Take the watch on the top shelf of the cabinet.”

“Got it.”

“Press the two buttons while turning the dial away from you. The house security images will appear. See them?”

“Just one. The men are all outside in a huddle. They have jerry cans.”

“The watch only displays active images. Perfect setup, with them all in close proximity. Now open the metal box on the top shelf.”

I eyed the cylinders inside the container. “Are these… grenades?” My mind recoiled at the thought of blood, tissue, and broken bodies.

“They’re called flash-bangs or stun grenades. Suckers produce more light and sound than you can imagine. Causes several minutes of blindness and deafness. Debilitating. Ever use one?”

“Uh, no. Not my usual equipment.”

“Easy-peasy,” he reassured me. “You’ll need the ear protectors and goggles. You pull the pin, count two seconds, and lob it in their direction. It’ll disorient