Page 46 of France Face-Off
How would she survive without knowing that feeling again? For that matter, how would she survive if she didn’t find a way to free herself soon?
She felt around the interior of the trunk, searching for a rough edge to scrape the duct tape off her wrists. Every edge was smooth and of no use. With no other way to work through the tape, she tore into it with her teeth, working as quickly as she could. She had no idea how long they’d keep her in the trunk or where they were going.
Just as she tore through the last layer of duct tape around her wrists, the vehicle slowed to a halt. Muffled voices sounded outside. Alex strained to hear them. She only caught a few words, but it was enough to know they were speaking German.
They were being questioned by someone who was manning a gate. A moment later, she heard the clink of metal and something moving.
Alex reached for the tape at her ankles and tore at it with her fingernails, searching for the end so that she could unwind it.
Then the vehicle lurched forward and drove at a sedate pace for a short distance, eventually coming to a complete halt. The engine was shut off, and car doors opened and closed. Footsteps sounded around the side of the vehicle, coming to a stop behind the trunk.
Alex still had to work at getting the tape off her ankles. She wouldn’t get far if she attempted to make an escape with her ankles bound.
Working quickly, she reached down to pull the tape from around her ankles. It only took her a moment to find the end and unwind the rest.
To keep her captors from discovering that she’d freed her wrists, she pulled the canvas sack over her head and lay still.
Just as she settled against the bed of the trunk, the lid opened and cool air wafted in. They weren’t in Nice anymore.
Alex shivered. Wherever they’d taken her was much colder. She was almost thankful for the bag since she didn’t have a coat to keep her warm.
Strong arms scooped her out of the trunk and flipped her onto a massive shoulder. She was carried into a building. They seemed to walk for a long time before they came to a stop. She heard the sound of a metal gate or door sliding open.
The man carrying her stepped forward. They sank a tiny bit, enough to let her know he’d carried her into an elevator.
The metal door closed, and the car descended at least one level before coming to a stop.
Alex was carried out of the elevator and dropped to the ground.
She landed hard on her hip and rolled to her side.
The sack was ripped off her head, and she blinked up at lights hanging overhead. She held her hands together so that her captors wouldn’t know she’d broken her bonds.
She’d been brought to what appeared to be some kind of control room with an array of monitors on one wall. The monitors were all blue screens with nothing else on them.
Men sat at keyboards, keying frenetically, shaking their heads.
“Anya Federov,” a familiar voice spoke from behind her. “Or should I call you Alexa Sokolov? What name are you most comfortable with?”
Alex rolled over and sat up.
Sergei Baranovsky stood with his arms crossed over his chest, his lip curled up on one side.
“Where are we?” Alex asked in Russian.
“You are at one of the Nord Stream substations, which is currently under attack due to ransomware.”
“Why have you brought me here?”
Baranovsky held up a small object.
Alex’s heart sank into her belly. He had the flash drive. For two years, she’d kept its secrets safe. Just when she’d planned on turning it over to the CIA, Baranovsky had come along and taken it before she could deliver it.
She tipped her head toward the device. “What do you think is on that flash drive, Sergei?”
“A way to keep from being crippled by vicious ransomware.”
Alex raised her eyebrows. “The pipeline has been hit?”
