Trapping Zero (An Agent Zero Spy Thriller—Book #4)

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

“I’m not going to tell you again,” said the fake-agent Nolan, a sneer on his face as he held aloft a black pistol. “You’re coming with me. Now.”

Maya, trapped with nowhere to go in the narrow space between the beds of the hotel room in Engelberg, put her hands up and slowly rose to her feet. “Okay,” she told him, keeping her voice as even as possible. “I’ll come with you. I won’t give you any trouble. But Sara stays.”

Nolan c****d his head to one side, amused. “Does it look like you’re in much of a position to negotiate?” He pointed the pistol directly at her, and her breath caught in her throat. “If only one of you is coming, it’s because the other is de—”

There was a sickening crack and Nolan jolted forward, collapsing face-down onto the bed as splinters of wood showered down around him.

Sara, wide-eyed and breathless, stood behind their assailant, holding a jagged half of log from the inert fireplace. The other half was on the floor, broken over Nolan’s head.

“You okay?” Maya asked quickly.

“Yeah,” Sara said softly. “You?”

“Yeah. Good job.” Maya knelt beside the man. He was unconscious, but might not be for long. She quickly relieved him of both the black pistol and a second gun, a silver revolver he had tucked in his pants. She passed both to Sara. “Put these on the dresser over there. Be careful.” Then she rifled through his pockets. He had a cell phone, but no wallet, no identification. In his back pocket was a folding black spine-lock knife.

While Maya disarmed the man, Sara squeezed the small black panic fob. She listened intently, hoping to hear the alert from somewhere nearby, but there was nothing. Silence. It seemed they were on their own.

“Quick,” Maya said, “help me get these sashes off the curtains.”

It took a few minutes, but Maya managed to get the heavy, unconscious body into the armchair by the window while Sara tore the long silk sashes from the red curtains. Together they tied the sashes around his midsection and the chair, pulling them tight and knotting them behind him.

“Here,” said Sara. “I found this on the floor.” She held out the thin black stick, the mini stun-gun.

As Maya took it from her, Nolan’s eyelids fluttered and he groaned. “Oh. My head…” He blinked several times before he noticed that he was sitting upright and secured to the chair. “What the hell?” The man struggled, trying to tear loose from his bonds.

“Stop,” Maya ordered. She uncapped the stun-gun, reveal a pair of narrow silver prongs. “This will hit you with a hundred thousand volts if you don’t tell me who you are.”

Nolan smirked. “You really think I’m going to tell you anything?” He shifted his weight to one side as the fingers of his right hand wiggled towards his back pocket. Then he scoffed. “You little bitches… you took my knife?”

“And your guns,” Maya replied. “Who are you, and how did you know we were here?”

Nolan rolled his eyes as his demeanor shifted to an ugly sneer. “Look, we both know I’m not gonna tell you s**t. I know that you’re not gonna hurt me. I can see it in your eyes. You don’t have it in you, little girl.” He struggled again.

Maya gritted her teeth. “Sara,” she said, “call the front desk and tell them to get the police here.”

Sara hurried over to the phone.

“You think they’ll get here in time?” Nolan asked as he worked his shoulders back and forth. “It’s only gonna take me a few minutes to get free of this. You’re better off just grabbing one of my guns and shooting me now.” He laughed derisively. “But you won’t.”

“Maybe not,” said a deep voice behind them. “But I will.”

Maya spun at the sound. Agent Watson had slipped silently through the broken door and held a gun aloft, pointed at the bound man. He was bleeding from the forehead, and the sling on his right arm was gone. Maya understood immediately; he didn’t need it anymore. He had only been wearing it to make anyone watching believe he might be less than capable. “You two okay?”

“Yeah,” said Maya. “We’re fine. Are you okay? You’re bleeding.”

“Got jumped right outside the hotel. Friends of his, I assume,” said Watson, gesturing towards Nolan. “They’re not doing much talking anymore, though. Put the phone down, Sara. I’ll handle this.” He leaned over into the man’s face. “Who are you?”

The bound man grinned. “I’m Agent Nolan,” he said sarcastically. “You must be Watson.”

“That’s right.” Agent Watson grabbed a fistful of the man’s hair and jerked his head to the left, and then to the right. Maya watched in confusion; it looked like the agent was inspecting the man’s neck.

“Hey, watch it!” the man winced.

Watson ignored him. “You checked his pockets?”

“Yeah,” Maya confirmed. “But he didn’t have any ID on him. Just a knife, a gun, and a phone. The screen is locked with a four-digit password.”

Watson nodded his approval. “Very thorough.” He holstered his own gun as he said, “If he tries anything, you stick him with that stun-gun.” Watson grabbed the spine-lock knife from the bed and flicked it open.

“Hey, whoa,” the bound man protested, his eyes suddenly widening. “What are you doing with that? What the hell…”

Maya winced as Watson sank the blade into the man’s upper right arm. Sara looked away. Even Nolan gritted his teeth and hissed a panicked breath.

But there was no blood. Watson wasn’t slicing the man’s flesh; he was cutting away the sleeve of his black leather jacket.

“What are you looking for?” Maya asked, keeping the revolver pointed steadily at the man’s stomach.

“A brand,” Watson replied as he tore away the sleeve and inspected the man’s upper arm.

“Are you nuts? You think I’m branded?” Nolan said in desperate confusion.

But Maya understood. The fanatical members of Amun were each branded with an Egyptian glyph. Watson was making sure that this man wasn’t another assassin like Rais, some renegade remnant of the terrorist organization their dad had helped shut down.

“Huh.” Watson shook his head. “I don’t believe it.”

Maya craned her neck to look over his shoulder. There was no brand—but there was something. It was a small tattoo, a triangle, and inside it was what looked like a coiled black snake.

“You’re with the Division?” Watson frowned deeply.

“No. I’m just a real big fan of theirs.” The sarcastic Nolan rolled his eyes again.

“What’s the Division?” Maya asked.

But Watson didn’t answer. “We should go,” he told them. “Grab your things, quickly.”

Maya dropped the stun-gun onto the bed and rushed over to get her and Sara’s coats from the hook by the door, while Watson grabbed the suitcases.

But when Maya turned again, her younger sister was standing in front of the bound man in the armchair, facing him. “Sara?” she said hesitantly.

In one of the young girl’s hands was the stun-gun that Maya had dropped.

“Wait—” Maya started.

Sara jammed the pronged end into Nolan’s ribs. Every muscle in his body jerked in wild spasms as his head whipped back. The veins in his neck bulged; his eyes widened to the point they threatened to fall out. His mouth opened in a yawning scream, though no sound emerged other than the crackle of electricity coursing through him.

Sara’s expression was frighteningly flat as she held the stun-gun against him until the charge ran out, until his taut muscles relaxed and his head slumped forward.

“You were going to take us,” she murmured.

“Sara…” Maya prodded. “Sara, let’s just go—”

“He was going to take us!” She spun around to face her sister, and though tears were forming in her eyes were expression was furious and unforgiving. Maya took a small step back at the sight of her. “Just like before! Just like the others!” She shook her head. “No. Never again.”

“Sara,” said Agent Watson gently. But without warning, the young girl reached for the lamp on the bedside table. She grabbed it with both hand and yanked it out of the wall, not stopping, bringing it in a crushing blow across Nolan’s face.

Blood from his nose, mouth and lips spattered the wall. Maya’s stomach churned; she was certain she saw a few teeth bounce across the carpet.

“Never,” Sara said, her shoulders heaving, “again.” She brought the lamp up again, overhead this time, as if intent to crush the man’s skull.

Watson was on her in a second. He grabbed the lamp with one hand and wrapped the other around her midsection, half holding her back and half hugging her to him. “Hey,” he whispered hoarsely in her ear. “Hey. Listen to me. It’s not going to happen again, okay? I’m not going to let you out of my sight. But we have to go. Do you hear me? There may be more of them.”

Sara struggled for a moment in his grip, but then relaxed enough to relinquish her hold on the lamp. Nolan’s head lolled, the lower half of his face a bloody mess. Maya had to look away. She had never seen her sister act like that, or look like that, ever before. It was animalistic; she had responded to a brutal attack with brutality of her own. Despite Maya’s fear and apprehension, she couldn’t help but feel at least a little proud of her younger sister. She had experienced hell, and was determined to never go back. She wasn’t going to let herself be a victim again.

Watson let go of Sara, and then he grabbed up Nolan’s guns, the cell phone, and lastly their dad’s packed suitcase from the bed. “Come on.”

In the hall, Watson closed the door behind them as best he could with the broken jamb and hung the “Do Not Disturb” sign on the knob. He strode down the hall, a suitcase in one hand and his gun in the other, partially hidden behind his back. The girls followed quickly.

“You girls did well—really well. Your dad would be proud. Keep alert and follow me.”

“Agent Watson,” Maya asked as they hurried along, “what’s the Division?”

“They’re a, uh, private security force,” he explained. “Bunch of thugs, really.”

“But why were they here?” she pressed. “How did they find us? What does it mean?”

“I don’t know,” Watson said in answer to all of her questions. Maya had the distinct impression that Watson had some ideas, but if that was true he wasn’t elaborating. “Don’t you worry about that right now; let’s just get clear of here. I’m going to stay with you. I’ll watch your back and you’ll watch mine.” He paused before adding quietly, “Let’s just hope someone is watching your dad’s.”