The Assassin's Game by H. Terrell Griffin

Author:H. Terrell Griffin [Griffin, H. Terrell]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tangerine Press, LLC
Published: 2013-07-29T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

SOMEWHERE IN EUROPE

Molly came awake slowly. She didn’t know where she was, but she knew it was different from where she’d been held for the past two days. The room was a bit larger but similarly furnished, right down to the single cot, the chemical toilet, and the camera perched in the corner. Her left wrist was chained to a U bolt high in the wall above the bed with enough slack that she could move about the windowless room.

She had a splitting headache and a parched throat. There was a basin of water and a metal pitcher and cup on the small table by the bed. A washcloth and a bar of soap sat next to it. She washed her face and used the soap and cloth to wash parts of her body. She wasn’t going to let the bastards watching her with the camera have the satisfaction of seeing her naked.

She was hungry but that was the only indication of any passage of time since the man had come into her cell and stabbed her with the needle. She had thought he was going to kill her, but apparently he’d only drugged her. She didn’t know how long she’d been unconscious.

A woman wearing a blue burka appeared with a tray of food; scrambled eggs, sausage, potatoes and rolls, set it on the small table by the bed, and left without speaking. It was by far the best meal Molly had eaten since being taken. She felt much better when she finished the meal and the pot of coffee that had come with it.

The servant was the same woman who’d brought her meals in the place she’d been taken from. The same blue eyes, the same Rolex, the same manicure. Molly wondered if she was in the same town as before, but she thought not. She thought she may have been moved somewhere across water.

She had a vague memory, perhaps of a dream, or maybe real. She couldn’t tell. In the dream, if that was what it was, she awoke in a small room that smelled of diesel fumes. She was tied to a bunk and just across from here was another woman in another bunk. The room was pitching and rolling in a rough sea and she heard the sound of engines straining and changing pitch as they were slowed and then sped up. She knew she was on a boat, but had no idea how she’d gotten there. A man entered the cabin with a needle and the next thing she knew she was waking up in this room chained once again to the wall.

She tried to grab hold of the dream, flesh it out, make some sense of it. She didn’t know if it was indeed a dream or some errant memory fused to her brain from a brief interlude in her drugged sleep. She couldn’t hold onto it. The images were dissipating like the smoke of a dying fire leaving her with an unsettled feeling of regret that she hadn’t talked to the woman on the other bunk.

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