I am in motion as soon as I realize who is in that machine, but it is too late.
The helicopter flares to a stop barely a dozen feet overhead, the down-blast of the rotors nearly flattening me. A door slides open, and two ropes drop to the rooftop. Cocoa is a brown blur of fury, moving stand in front of me, teeth bared in a snarling rictus. Black-clad figures slide down the ropes, and one levels a handgun of some sort, aims it. There is a quiet thump, and Cocoa whines, collapses. I cry out, grab for her, find a dart protruding from her neck. Hands grab me. I fight, thrash.
A gloved hand goes over my mouth, silencing my scream before it can leave me. The hand is replaced by a gag, a length of cloth tugged between my mandibles and tied tight.
My cell phone is tossed aside.
I am lifted off the ground. My hands are wrenched behind my back, and something hard is wrapped around them with azzzzzhhhhrrrrippp, binding them painfully together. My vision is obscured suddenly, something thick and black draped over my head. A black bag, or a pillowcase, something totally opaque.
Terror claws at my heart.
More ropes are tied around me, but this time in a kind of impromptu harness, under my armpits, around my thighs near my groin on both sides, back up around my armpits, low around my waist beneath my belly, again and again in a swiftly and expertly woven pattern that assures there is no pressure on anyone part of my body as I am hoisted off the rooftop. Up, up, up. I am glad in that moment for the bag making it so I cannot see myself being lifted off the ground.
I dangle and sway in the air as I am brought up and up. Hands grab me, pull me in, set me down. Untie the rope harness. Sit me down, and buckle me in, a five-point harness,click-click—click—click-click, all centered over my torso.
The noise of the rotors is deafening.
Perhaps thirty seconds have passed, total, since the aircraft halted to hover above me.
No one speaks. A door closes and the noise of the rotors is quieter. I feel the helicopter resume forward motion, and then it is banking. Even without the use of my eyes, I can tell that we are moving with horrifying speed through the canyons of the city.
I am still wearing my sunglasses, I realize. It is an odd thing to notice in such a situation. But it just reinforces the speed and precision of the snatch.
Perhaps twenty minutes of flight, at most, and then I feel forward motion become downward motion. I feel touchdown, a gentle bump. My harness is unfastened, hands lift me and set me to my feet. Hands guide me across what I guess may be another rooftop and through a doorway. I hear a door close behind me, and the sound of the helicopter is muted.
The hands on my biceps guide me, turning this way and that, and then halt. Elevator sounds. A brief downward journey in the elevator car, the only sound that of my captor’s soft breath. I am nudged forward, and I take three steps. Hear the elevator door close behind me. A sense of wide space, echoing of my breath within the bag, my bare feet shuffling on some kind of cool hard floor.
“Here she is, sir.” A deep, accented male voice. European accent, of some kind. German, possibly. I am not sure.
Then your voice. “Thank you, Kai.”
“Of course, sir.”
“I’ve added a bonus, to ensure that you and your men remain... discreet.”
“Discretion is the byword of our business, Mr. Indigo.”
“It had better be. You wouldn’t want me to have to buy your silence through... other methods.”
Kai’s voice, behind me, is cold. “That would be unnecessary, and ill advised, sir, even for you.”
“Good-bye, Kai.”
“Auf wiedersehen.”Bootheel-clicks recede.
Silence. I can only breathe through my nose and fight panic and fear, and hope my knees do not give out.
I feel you.
In front of me. Close, so close I can feel your body heat and smell your cologne.
“I apologize for the dramatics, Isabel.”
I would not say anything even if I weren’t gagged.
You breathe, just breathe. Looking at me, I assume. And then I feel a touch. Hear you inhale. Your nose, sliding along the curve of my neck. Your fingers, then, tracing the V opening of my robe.
“What are you wearing beneath this, I wonder?”
