A/N: As always, I am filled with gratitude for my excellent reviewers. Please keep it up, and enjoy!
What?! Equal parts of fear and anger swept through Frank. How had Krieger gotten away? They'd delivered him right into the hands of the authorities!
And now the authorities were here for them. Fear quickly became the prevalent emotion as he realized just how much trouble they were in. Nancy seemed to realize it too, clinging to his side as they opened the hotel room door.
Frank raised his shaking hands in surrender, but his voice was surprisingly steady as he said, "Krieger isn't here. If he escaped, he did it without our help."
The police captain he'd seen earlier at the scene of the banquet stared grimly back at him as several uniformed officers slipped through the doorway, guns drawn, fanning out to cover the various rooms. There was a shriek from Bess as they invaded the balcony, and she and Joe were herded back into the main room to join them.
"Mr. Cole Addison. Mr. Cooper Addison." the captain said in heavily-accented English. He did not address the girls directly, but his body language indicated that he was viewing them as appendages of their respective husbands. "You are wanted for questioning regarding your connection to John Krieger. He is wanted now not only for attempted murder of a senator, but of a police officer as well. If you have any information on his whereabouts you will share it with us, or this will not go easy for you."
"Krieger's escaped?" Joe burst out. "What happened?"
"You are in no position to demand answers." the captain warned.
"We have a right to know what we're being held on." Frank protested, despite a sneaking suspicion that that would not hold true, not for them, not in Egypt. "We're willing to cooperate. We just don't know what's happening."
"As John Krieger was being transported from the station to the holding facility, he was somehow able to gain access to a weapon. He shot one of his transporting officers and escaped in the confusion."
"Mahfouz?" Joe asked.
"Still in custody." the captain answered. "It is he who led us to you. He alleges that you assisted Krieger in smuggling a bomb into this country. If you are indeed his accomplices, you may have knowledge of where he will go next."
"No," Bess moaned. "You don't understand—"
He silenced her with a scornful look. "Let us go."
Frank's arms were taken roughly and cuffed behind his back, and he watched helplessly as his friends were given the same treatment. They were frog-marched through the grand lobby of the hotel, but Frank was too stunned to feel embarrassed by the stares of the surrounding tourists—how had everything gone so wrong, so quickly?
His eyes met Nancy's and she looked utterly lost, more stunned, even, than he felt.
Outside, Joe and Bess were loaded into one waiting squad car, and Nancy and Frank were shepherded into the second. In the darkness of the backseat, Nancy leaned against him slightly as the car pulled away from the curb; again, he found himself unsure if she was seeking comfort or offering it.
As the cars wound their way through the city, a creeping feeling of wrongness began to edge though his initial panic. He noticed that the other squad cars seemed to be pulling ahead of them... or maybe it was just that they had dropped back gradually, quietly. The hairs stood up on the back of his neck as their car took an unexpected turn away from the rest of the procession, then another. They were no longer among the bustle of the city, or even a residential neighborhood. This area was dark, deserted, rife with long-boarded-up businesses and other signs of urban decay.
Nancy hadn't failed to notice it either. "Where are you taking us?"
The silent driver spoke at last. "If you think you will be the ones asking the questions, Miss Drew," he said in a chilling voice. "You're about to be sorely disappointed."
Krieger.
Just when it seemed the situation couldn't get any worse... Neither detective blinked at the use of Nancy's real surname; somehow the insurmountable problem of her amnesia took a backseat to the fact that they were now in the clutches of Krieger himself. Frank turned his attention to the officer in the passenger side. "So that's how he escaped." he said, trying to project a facade of collected calm. "A dirty cop. What did he bribe you with?"
The man said nothing.
Krieger chuckled. "I'm afraid Officer Halim doesn't speak much English. And you'd be surprised at how easily some people can be bought." He grinned at Frank in the rearview mirror. "I suspect the only one more surprised would be his partner, Officer Bassili."
Nancy gave a little horrified gasp. "Cal! He's the man you shot?"
Frank's gut twisted. Cal had gone out on a limb tonight to help them rescue Joe, Bess, Darius, and Leila, and the idea that he could pay for that trust with his life made Frank sick at heart.
"Why leave loose ends when they can so easily be tied up?" Krieger asked, pulling the squad car into a dark garage. "I didn't know how much you'd told him about me. Despite the fact that you have no proof, it doesn't do to have rumors spreading." He shut off the engine and turned to face them. "That's why we're here."
"You're going to kill us." Nancy said flatly.
"Probably." Krieger said lightly.
"But why go to all this trouble?" Frank asked. "All the hassle of kidnapping us by impersonating a cop—and you've only got half of us." As far as he knew (and desperately hoped), Joe and Bess were in the comparatively safe hands of the actual police.
"It's not you I'm worried about." said Krieger. "You're American teenagers traveling on fake passports embroiled in a bomb plot to kill an important political figure. You'd spend years—if not your lives—behind bars anyway."
Frank struggled to ignore that reassuring statement and stay a step ahead of Krieger's plan. "You want Darius."
"I want Darius." Krieger repeated. "You're no threat to me. Nasser will never tell about the illegal contracts. Darius' testimony is the only thing linking me to this. And you're going to tell me where to find him."
"We wouldn't even if we knew." Nancy said softly.
"That, my dear, is where you're wrong." Krieger said just as quietly. The threat seemed to hang in the air, physically lingering between them in the darkness.
Halim got out of the car and closed the garage door, gradually shutting out the ambient moonlight. He switched on an electric lantern and its sickly yellow light illuminated the garage. It was dirty and cluttered, with aisles of shelves loaded with boxes and cans, machine parts and hardware, stacks of old tires, unidentifiable barrels. In the center, a single chair and a table littered with a variety of grimy instruments. Several chains hung from the rafters, some sporting evil-looking hooks. Anyone who'd ever seen a spy movie or read a crime novel could guess the room's purpose, and Frank was no exception.
Suddenly rotting away in an Egyptian prison sounded almost peaceful.