Page 43 of The Atlas Maneuver

“I can get Citrone back.”

And she told him what she had in mind.

He smiled. “I like the way you think. The key to the boat is down in the kitchen. I’ve been on it before.”

She pointed at the map. “We’ll use that as bait.”

CHAPTER 25

KELLY BLINKED HER EYES.

Her face was on fire and she was shaking. Badly. She hadn’t felt such fear in a long time. Not since that night when her car crashed.

That awful, awful night.

Consciousness came in slow gentle waves as she rebounded from the turmoil that had assaulted her stunned mind.

Had she bitten off way more than she could chew?

Maybe.

She was enclosed in a tight, dark space with little room to move. More reminiscent of the car crash where she’d been trapped.

Except this time she was moving.

A wave of cold apprehension passed through her.

Was she inside a car trunk?

Her throat hurt from the choking and she struggled to calm her burning lungs. The chain of events she’d initiated had definitely spiraled out of control. Take a moment. Grab hold.

Think.

What started out as trying to do the right thing had gestated into a free-for-all that now involved a hostile foreign government. One that had just tried to kill her. Or had they? She’d never, ever considered that possibility. Nor had she expected Cotton Malone.Seeing him again, after so long, had been amazing. Incredible, actually. Yes, he’d hurt her. More than he ever realized. But she hadn’t been innocent in the situation either. Having affairs with married men came with consequences. And she should know. Cotton had not been the first, but he had been the last.

Her problems went way back. She’d never really been close to anyone. In every relationship that had ever hinted at a possible commitment, she was the one who ended things. If not her, when nothing they gave was returned, they always went elsewhere. A vicious destructive cycle, one she’d never been able to break. Cotton’s reemergence here, after so many years, had released a flux of ugly, long-suppressed recollections. Apparently, she’d been living in the illusion that her emotional wounds had scarred with time, but seeing him had revived the pain and humiliation she’d felt long ago.

And it wasn’t anger.

No.

Regret.

Unfortunately, she could not have children. Another side effect of the wreck, which had necessitated a full hysterectomy. She was alone. On her own. Dependent on no one.

She rid the last wisps of fog from her brain and began to assess her situation. The good thing was that the PSIA and the bank needed her alive, only for different reasons. That choking? Surely designed to send a message that they were not playing around.

Okay. Message received.

She was unbound and felt around in the dark, finding the latch that held the truck lid closed. Thankfully, she’d never been claustrophobic. Sight was impossible in the dark, but touch worked and she examined the spring-loaded catch with her fingers, finally managing to release it. But she held the lid closed with a tight grip on the catch.

Careful.

If she allowed it to open too far, the car would surely alert the driver. All cars did that now. Instead, she eased the lid open just enough to peer out and see a car following on the road.

COTTON STAYED WITH THE CONSULATE CAR, ALLOWING ANOTHERvehicle to move between him and the BMW. The time was approaching 4:00P.M.and they were headed out of Basel, south, toward Geneva, which lay about 150 miles away. The consulate car was maintaining a steady pace with no evasive maneuvers, indicating that his target was unaware of any tail. He had to stay with them and retrieve Kelly.

Then he noticed something.

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