Burn

The woman squeezed Sydney’s arm and glanced up at the camera in the corner of the elevator car. Frustrated, Syd turned so that only the back of her head faced the camera. "On TV, there’s no sound on elevator surveillance tapes."

The woman smiled, a completely humorless stretching of her lips, and whispered, "This isn’t TV."

On the twenty-third floor, another woman joined them.

They reached the twenty-fifth floor, exited the elevator, and the second woman fell into step with them. Sydney darted a frightened glance at her and was met with a cool look that sent chills down her spine. She was with them, then – whoever "they" were.

Silently she followed the first woman, with the second one pulling guard duty. They took a right, then walked all the way down a long hall to the double door at the end. A suite, then.

The woman took one of the key cards, swiped it, and opened the door. A firm hand on Sydney’s back ushered her into the foyer, then turned her to the left, toward the parlor. Immediately the first woman went over to the window and closed the curtains, while the other one, behind Sydney, turned on the lights. She also turned the air-conditioning to a cooler temperature. Sydney stood beside the round dining table and watched them, feeling more impotent than she ever had in her entire life. What was going on?

The second woman had long brown hair pulled up into a pony-tail. She was prettier than the first woman, but her body was just as taut and muscled. She pulled off her jacket, and Sydney saw a knife in a sheath at the small of her back. A knife! What was this, Charlie’s Angels gone bad?

But somehow the knife was more frightening than the gun. Guns made noise – well, unless they were silenced, and the gun she’d seen hadn’t been – and brought people running. A knife was silent; her body might not be found for days.

She plucked up her courage. "Now will someone tell me what’s going on?" She tried very hard not to let her fear show, but she heard her voice waver in the middle of the sentence.

The first woman said, "You don’t need to know. You just need to do what you’re told. My name is Dori, and this is Kim. Please sit down while we wait for Adam."

Sydney sat. She tried to calm herself, but it wasn’t easy. Would they have told her their names if they intended for her to survive? She could describe them, she knew their names. Of course, the names could be fake, but the fact that they’d made no effort to disguise their faces still wasn’t good.

The enormity of it all suddenly hit her like a slap in the face. She gulped and tried to control the violent shaking that seized her, tried to stop the tears that suddenly welled in her eyes and dripped down her face, but all of her willpower was useless against her sudden despair and she covered her face with her hands, sobbing. She didn’t cry just for herself. She cried for her dad, who would be in so much pain and blame himself, if this kidnapping proceeded as she suspected it would and she ended up dead – or worse, she simply disappeared and he never knew what happened to her. And Jenner … was she being held this way? Had she been met at the airport by more of these people, was she also taken to a hotel somewhere for God knows what purpose?

Dori and Kim left her alone for a couple of minutes, then a soft but strong hand gripped Syd’s arms and pulled her up, to an unsteady standing position. Those hands remained in place, literally supporting her.

"First things first," Dori said, gently taking the bag Sydney had continued to clutch. She opened the bag and searched through the contents, removing both Syd’s iPod and her cell phone, a nail file, two pens, a safety pin, and anything else that was remotely useful. In a moment of bad timing, the cell phone began to ring. Sydney jerked, startled by the tone, and automatically reached for it.

Dori silently took the phone and slipped it in her pocket.

Kim took Syd’s arm and led her back through the foyer, past the double doors, toward the bedroom. "In a little while, we’re going to call Ms. Redwine. Use the time to pull yourself together. You’re going to give Ms. Redwine instructions, and if she does as she’s told and you do as you’re told, everyone will be all right. I give you my word."

She sounded sincere. It was all Syd could do not to laugh in her face. Was she supposed to trust these people? She’d do what they said, because she had no choice, but their "word" didn’t mean a thing. What kind of fool would take comfort in the word of a criminal?

They stepped into a spacious corner bedroom. Light poured into the room, which was decorated in blue and beige – mostly beige. There was a king-size bed, a comfortable-looking chair by the window, and a private bath.

"In a day or two we’ll let you call your father, since it’s possible he’ll hear that you aren’t on board the ship."

Yes, Syd could imagine that happening. An e-mail or a phone call from someone aboard the Silver Mist could cause all sorts of complications.

"You’ll tell him you were too ill to make the trip, you must have caught a virus, but you’re feeling better and you’ll spend some more time in San Diego, with Caro, until Ms. Redwine returns from the cruise."

"If I’m better, then why don’t I just fly to Hawaii and join the cruise there?" Sydney blurted.

Kim stared at her, then gave a shrug. "You’re feeling better, but the virus is still holding on."

"You’re not going to … ask him for money?" Why else would they be holding her?

"No," Kim said briefly, and her expression hardened. "Here’s the situation, Ms. Hazlett. You’ll notice this bedroom has no walls common to another room. There are two outside walls, and the emergency stairwell runs beside the third wall. We’re on the top floor, so, barring an emergency, of course, traffic in the stairwell will be limited."