Page 57 of Circle of Death
“For what?” says Maddy. “Stopping me when I was about to catch the killer?”
“For stopping you when you were about to get torn to shreds.”
“I think you’re just hoping for a gold star from Lamont.”
“And I think you have some trust issues.”
Maddy nods. Pretty perceptive. Just like the Jericho in the books. “You’re right,” she says. “I do.”
CHAPTER 68
MY HEAD IS swimming. I have no idea where I am. It takes me a few seconds to realize that I’m actually still alive. No pain. Just a significantly altered state. I turn my head to the side. I’m in bed with Margo. Her eyes are just starting to flutter. The whole world is moving in slow motion.
“Lamont? What happened?” Her voice is a croaky whisper.
I squeeze my eyes shut. It comes back to me in small pieces.
The airport. The drone. The envelope.
I lean over toward Margo. It feels like I’m talking through molasses. “Sedated. We were… sedated.”
I try to push myself up, but there’s almost no resistance from the deep mattress.
It’s like pressing against a giant cotton ball. I can see that we’re at one end of a palatial bedroom. The walls are stone. The floor is polished oak. A huge fireplace is set into one wall.
Margo lifts the bedcovers and peeks underneath. Her voice sounds as numb and groggy as mine. “We’re still in our jumpsuits.”
“Are you okay?” I ask. “Are you hurt?”
“All in one piece,” she says slowly. “You?”
I swing my legs over the side and stand up. The room spins. I grab the bedpost for support. I walk carefully across the room and lean against the window. We’re on a high floor. Out front, I can see a circular gravel drive and a massive fountain. I feel a click in my brain. My focus sharpens.
I know that fountain. I’veseenthat fountain.
“Where the hellarewe?” asks Margo, struggling to sit up against the headboard.
I turn back from the window. “We’re in the villa. The Destroyer’s villa.”
“Christ,” says Margo, rubbing her head. “So much for catching him by surprise.”
I try lifting one of the window sashes. No use. Welded shut. The glass is thick and ballistic. Unbreakable. I move to the door and wiggle the handle. Locked from the outside. I start pacing around the room, pressing on panels and baseboards, as if I’m about to find some secret exit. But I know it’s a waste of time. Nice room. Nice prison.
There’s a knock on the door. The lock clicks.
I tighten up, ready to take on whoever comes through, but my arms feel like noodles. I doubt I could even land a solid punch. I wait a few seconds. Nothing happens. I touch the door handle. It turns freely now.
I open the door a crack. Nobody there. But resting on the carpet outside is a silver tray with two French presses and a basket of croissants. I pull the tray inside and set it on a bedside table.
There’s a small card leaning against the basket.BIENVENUE A LA DOMAINE DE SOL,it says at the top. Elegant type, like fancy hotel stationery. Below is a handwritten note. Margo plucks the card off the tray and reads it.
“Looks like we’re about to meet our host,” she says.
She holds the note up to let me read it.La Chambre Jardin, 9 a.m.
I take a stab at a translation. “The Garden Room?”
Margo rips up the card and lets the pieces flutter onto the carpet. “Maybe the Destroyer of Worlds has a green thumb.”
