(1987) Night Magic by Karen Robards

Author:Karen Robards [Robards, Karen]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Contemporary, Suspense, Romance
ISBN: 9780446692489
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 1987-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

XVII

“Now, I am going to give you a final chance to be sensible. Miss Winston, I will ask you first: Where is the microfilm?” Then he smiled at McClain. “Oh, yes, Yuropov told us all about it. Did you doubt that he would? Toward the end he was very eager to tell us everything he could.” His eyes shifted back to Clara. “Well, Miss Winston?”

The moving van was rumbling down the road. Huddled half clad beside McClain on the cold metal floor, back pressed against the narrow wall at the forward end of the mobile prison, Clara felt her skin quiver with horror as Rostov looked at her. She prayed that he would not touch her again.

They were going to die, sooner or later, she knew. No one would know what had become of them. Knebel and Thompson’s bodies had been loaded back into the car in which they had been killed, and that car had been driven up a ramp and inside the second moving truck, which had headed in the opposite direction from the first. The backup car, Clara’s last hope, had not shown up. It had been deliberately delayed by another moving van that had pulled across the road in its path, ostensibly to turn around. By the time the occupants of the backup car figured out that the other car was not in front of them, all three vans would be long gone. And the authorities, being what they were, would undoubtedly assume that the hijacking of the agents and their car had been carried out by McClain. One more act of bloody mayhem by a crazed agent.

When McClain and Clara’s bodies were found, if they ever were, they would be in the purloined CIA car at the bottom of a river somewhere. Thompson and Knebel would be discovered in the trunk.

Rostov had related this plan almost casually as they were herded aboard the first of the trailers. Then she and McClain had been forcibly strip searched in the most humiliating way possible. The two thugs with Rostov had first stripped McClain, roughly examining every part of his body and then going over his clothes with minute thoroughness before shaking their heads and tossing the garments back at him. McClain had borne the indignity with stony lack of responsiveness.

Clara had tried not to watch. But when they had turned to her, it had been a different story. She had screamed and struggled, to no avail. They removed every stitch of her clothes, ran their hands over her body, looked in her hair and mouth and ears and made her bend over so that they could check the most intimate of body cavities. When it was over, Clara was reduced to a trembling wreck of humiliation. They had allowed her to pull on her teddy, flannel shirt and sweater (simply because the items had been dangling from the handcuffs that still chained her wrists and were therefore in the way) before pushing her stumbling toward McClain, who sat impassively against the front wall, clad once again in jeans and sweatshirt.

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