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car’s doorway. There was still plenty of slack. Peter stood on the curb.
    “You’ll ride up front with the driver. You may have to be along, but that doesn’t mean you get to watch everything.” John climbed in and let Shadow follow, closing the door.
    He waited while Peter climbed into the front with George. When the car moved away from the curb, John turned to the girl. She sat silent, hopeful, yet resigned.
    “Aren’t you beautiful?” he whispered. Reaching into the minibar, he pulled out a security wand. Jezek wasn’t above bugging his own women to find out more about one John Reyer. He ran it over her.
    She pressed back into the seat.
    He wished he could ease her. He slowly brought the wand up to check the damn collar and chain the bastard had put on the girl.
    Nothing beeped. No light shown on the back of the wand. No bugs, no plants, no GPS chips. He sighed, dropped the wand back into the minibar and turned to his charge.
    “Be quiet,” he told her, letting go of the chain and dropping the South African accent. “You must do exactly as I say if any of us are to get out of this alive, understand?”
    She frowned and just stared at him.
    “Understand?” he asked again.
    She quickly nodded and mumbled, “Y-yes.”
    He waited as garish lights blurred by, the sex slave suburb falling behind. The tawdry suburb shed away into the beauty of Old Prague and the Staré Mesto. In the distance he could see Prazský hrad, the Prague Castle, dark, its walls washed green from the lights illuminating it. Regency buildings gave way to narrow medieval streets and bridges.
    He spared another glance at the woman. She watched him. He supposed he could call her Dusk, but he really didn’t like that bloody name.
    She watched him with icy eyes that he couldn’t pinpoint, then cleared her throat. “Y-you asked for m-me?”
    He nodded. “An American. It took a while to track you down after we received the yellow notice.”
    “Yellow notice?”
    “When missing persons cross international boundaries, yellow notices are initiated by Interpol. Yours was issued some time back.” When hers was issued, it stayed active until they found her and knew where she was probably located. Then they pulled the notice, for her safety, if she was indeed involved with the person they believed. And she was. Up to her neck.
    “Interpol? W-we?”
    “I’ll explain later.”
    She frowned. “When did you see me?” she asked, still not moving. “I was just bought down this afternoon.”
    He watched the landmarks. They drove over Karluv most, crossing the Vltava River. It snaked dark beneath the bridge. “A contact spotted you two nights ago in Cheb. You danced. I asked around and found out what I needed to know.”
    He moved toward the front of the limo, where the window separated the occupants from the driver. Shadow nodded to him and pulled his own gun from his shoulder holster. John waited until they reached the bridge. Looking behind, he saw no headlights. He pulled a gun, a P88 Walther with a silencer, from inside the minibar. One sharp tap against the glass had the car slowing as they neared the center of a bridge. The dark partition slowly lowered.
    George looked in the mirror.
    Peter was turning around.
    John, his Walther at the base of the man’s skull, pulled the trigger. “Hurry, before someone comes along.”
    George didn’t so much as blink as he turned and took another street, driving along the river.
    Sighing, Shadow said, “Gor, I really hate when you do that. There are more convenient methods, you know.”
    John shook his head. “But this is so effective.”

Chapter 3
     
     
    Prague; 11:29 p.m.
     
    Dusk pushed back into the seat as shock lightninged through her. He’d killed him. The man just . . . just killed her guard. Oh. My. God. Not that she’d ever liked Peter, but this man just . . . just . . . killed him without even blinking. She didn’t move, sat frozen.
    Blood had splattered over the windshield and front