Laynie Portland, Spy Resurrected by Vikki Kestell

Author:Vikki Kestell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Religious & Inspirational Fiction, Christian Books & Bibles, Christian action & adventure, Christian mystery & suspense, Espionage, International Mystery & Crime, Women Sleuths, Political Intrigue, Spy Thriller, Christian Thriller
Publisher: Faith-Filled Fiction
Published: 2020-06-01T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 21

WITH FOOD IN HER STOMACH, Laynie slept well that night. When she woke, she was hungry again and hoped one of the soldiers would bring her another meal soon. When the gate clanged open, the rumble in Laynie’s belly became a demanding roar.

It wasn’t one of the soldiers. It was Bula, and the cold look on his face told Laynie breakfast wasn’t on today’s menu. She noted how he kept one hand behind his back.

“Get up.”

Laynie stood. Bula pulled his hand from behind his back. In it was a rope.

No. A leash.

“Do not fight me on this,” he warned her. “I will not hesitate to break your arm.”

Laynie looked down, indecision fogging her sight. Then the stones beneath her feet came into focus.

I have licked water from these filthy stones—and it does not matter. My standing before you, God Almighty, has not changed. Lord, I humble myself under your mighty hand. In due season you will lift me up.

But she was tired. Cold and hungry.

In due season? Lord, when is “due season?”

The answer hummed in her spirit.

It is when I declare it to be, my daughter.

“All right,” Laynie murmured. “Due season it is.”

She straightened. “Whatever happens, I have determined to conduct myself in a manner worthy of the gospel of Christ.”

Bula cocked his head. “What are you saying?”

“Oh. Sorry. I was not talking to you.”

She held out her hands. Bula slipped a knotted loop over them, crossed her wrists and snugged the loop to bind them together. Then he unwound the veils from her head and tossed them aside.

“If you do not wish to be jerked off your feet and dragged, you will keep up with me.”

He set off, tugging her through the narrow passageway. The passageway curved, and the number of electric bulbs increased. The light grew brighter. Then they reached the junction where the tunnel widened, and she recognized it, the domed cavern on her right, the long tunnel straight ahead eventually reaching the mine cars.

But Bula jerked the leash and pulled her down the passageway to the left. To Sayed’s quarters. The same guards stood at the entrance to Sayed’s lavish salon and swept the heavy curtain aside. Eyed her as she passed. She stood tall and held her chin up. Stared straight ahead.

Sayed’s salon was empty except for Sayed, his servant in the far corner, and a figure shrouded in glistening veils seated next to Sayed. Bula led Laynie to the low table. He again forced her to kneel across the table from Sayed.

Laynie sank to her knees, keeping her expression a perfect mask but her eyes fixed on Sayed. His nose was swollen and distorted, the skin around both eyes a vivid kaleidoscope of blues and purples. Two fingers of his right hand were splinted and taped together.

The sight of her handiwork sparked a thrill of gratification in her flesh.

Sorry, Lord.

She glanced down at the table. On it were the remains of a sumptuous breakfast—figs, almonds and pistachios, breads, creamy butter, scrambled eggs, fresh chopped tomatoes, pickled herring.

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