Page 58 of Wired Target

Raveaux shut his eyes and went limp, feigning unconsciousness.

Maybe he could buy a little more time for Sophie to send someone, before he ended up in a Greek jail—permanently.

Pim Wat’s eyes burned where the last bit of light had been extinguished with the closing of the elevator door; the rectangular shape of it echoed in her vision, red and pulsing, as her eyes strained in vain to find anything to fasten upon.

Time had ceased to matter, to have any meaning, except in the varied layers of agony she experienced as her body begged for the relief of being able to sit or lie down or relieve itself.

Her mind played the scene that had led to this moment in a feedback loop of reproach.

All had been going according to plan.Her source at the Yam Khûmk?n had tracked Connor’s departure for Hawaii.The assassin she’d been working with had made an attempt on Sophie using a drone; she’d cursed long and loud when that went awry.Sophie would be on alert, and so would the authorities.Time was of the essence.It had seemed fortuitous when Connor went to visit Sophie; Pim Wat could eliminate her targets in one fell swoop.The assassin double she’d worked with through Mendoza had been game for a trip to Hawaii and they’d made their move, tracking Connor to the estate.

While the double used the rental SUV to take him out, Pim Wat had slipped in the open gate and into the house, whose alarm was deactivated as she’d hoped.

She’d entered via the side door—only to encounter Armita in the kitchen, preparing a bottle for Sean; the children were not in sight so they must have been in the nursery.

“Pim Wat,” Armita had said, with surprise on her plain face.“I might have known.”

“You recognize me?Well, you haven’t changed a bit, Armita.Ugly as ever.”

She should’ve silenced Armita then and there, but she’d wanted to terrorize her a bit first.The woman been her handmaid for almost twenty years; Armita’s abandonment and betrayal had hurt Pim Wat more than Sophie’s ever had.

Armita wasn’t scared, though.She grabbed a chopper out of the block and threw it at Pim Wat, who’d barely managed to dodge it.

“If that’s how you want it ...”Pim Wat pulled her favorite knife and leaped for the wiry little woman to finish her off.

Armita surprised her again; she knocked the poisoned blade out of Pim Wat’s hand and dove for the doorway.Pim Wat grabbed a butcher knife from the fallen block and threw it, slicing along Armita’s ribs.

But her former maid wasn’t trying to escape, she’d been aiming for the pantry.Armita grabbed a jar of Italian sauce and threw it, and that was the last thing Pim Wat remembered.

She’d woken up here, hanging from a pipe in the ceiling of the basement, gagged with one of Sean’s bibs.

Humiliating as hell.

Enrique Mendoza had offered Pim Wat a cyanide capsule during one of their meetings at the Paris office.“It’s a microdose mixed with sleeping medication.None of that ugly frothing at the mouth or seizures like the old days.You’ll nod off like falling asleep, and then ...”he snapped his fingers ...“your heart will shut off.”

Pim Wat remembered the day so distinctly; the Paris light, clear and almost silvery in hue, had come through the window to caress Mendoza’s coiffed head, falling over her hands in their little lace gloves like a caress.

Talk of death had seemed foul.A blight.Ridiculous.

She was Pim Wat; she had more lives than a cat.If she was ever taken, she’d survive to escape another day.

“No, thank you,” she’d said.“I always find a way.”

“I believe you.Just thought I’d offer.”He’d returned the capsule in its plastic bubble pack to a bottle with several others.“It’s a perk I offer all our operatives.You never know when such a course might become a way out that makes sense.”

If she’d had that capsule with her ...Pim Wat was glad she didn’t have that temptation because right now, an easy death was appealing as darkness pressed in on her, unforgiving and absolute.

Her legs ached; her throat was sore from trying to communicate, her mouth raw, her bladder full.Her heart hurt from Sophie and Armita’s ruthlessness; she hadn’t believed those two had the stones to do this to her.

And things were going to get worse before there was even a chance they might get better.

Frank would live, because the man was that stubborn, but mostly because it wasn’t likely that her double had used poison on her blade.

That left Pim Wat standing here in the dark, waiting for the CIA.There was no way that fat, vindictive fool McDonald would let anyone else pick her up; that meant she probably had to endure two days without food, water, or a way to rest before he came.

Pim Wat hung her head in exhaustion.She loosened her knees, so she hung from her wrists, taking weight off her legs for a few moments.She moaned in self-pity.

But she couldn’t afford the lost water of tears, and after a bit she stood back up and mentally marshaled her resources.

---