Page 98 of Once a Hero

If they took her to Molyneux, to where the fake brooch box was, she could stay close to the box. Perhaps Kenichi would soon find a way to track down the box.

Regardless, her only hope was in God and Him alone.

After a long drive in the back of the vehicle, she felt sleepy. She was used to sleeping in the backs of vans, so it wasn’t too torturous for her—except she was tied up and had a yet another piece of tape over her mouth.

She wasn’t sure what would happen to her next, so whatever she could do now had to be done. She counted two things: pray and sleep.

When she finally awoke, she could hear voices outside the van. Spanish words everywhere. Since she didn’t understand the language, she couldn’t figure out what was happening outside the van.

Finally, the door opened.

She was in a garage of some sort. No one spoke English around her.

They made her walk to another van. This one had a Mexican tag on it.

Are we in Mexico?

How long had they driven her? As far as her recollections went, driving from Charleston to the border of Mexico would take at least twenty-one hours.

Had she slept all that time?

Or had she been drugged?

Strong arms pushed her into the back of the Mexican van. She felt a sharp sting on her arm. A syringe?

Before she could think about it, she felt another lull…

* * *

And woke up in a canopy bed surrounded by the sounds of birds outside the diamond-shaped leadlight windows. The glass looked old and salvaged, but the cames seemed to be authentic lead.

Where am I?

She lifted the comforter off her, and found herself in a pair of pajamas. She did not recall changing clothes.

She stayed still for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts.

I’m alive.

The door opened. A woman walked in carrying what looked like her clothes.

“Washed and ironed for you, madam.” She placed them on an armchair next to the bed. “Molly asks that you get ready and join her for tea.”

“Tea?”

“She said you asked to be invited to tea, and here you are.”

When she last talked to Molyneux back in California, she hadn’t expected to follow through on tea time with the certifiably insane.

“Where are we, exactly?” Beatrice still didn’t move.

“You’re in Poland, madam.”

“Poland? As in Europe?”

“Is there another?”

“I just want to make sure,” Beatrice said. “Why am I in Poland?”

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