"Your wife will be all right," Molinas said. "It will be a bit longer before she comes around, but she will be all right. There are two separate drugs that can be mixed together in varying amounts. We were having trouble with the balance and the dose. Everyone reacts differently. Some people are particularly sensitive. Your wife is one of them."
Very slowly, Savich turned and laid Sherlock on the tattered black blanket spread on the wooden floor. He rose, then faced Molinas and smiled. It was a terrifying smile.
I didn't move. This was up to Savich. I looked over at Sherlock. Laura was kneeling beside her now, stroking one of her hands.
"Get up," Savich said.
Molinas slowly rose.
There was no graceful display of martial arts, just the raw power of Savich's fist into Molinas's belly, then his knee into his groin. Molinas went down like a stone.
"Good," Laura said. "He deserved it, but now we've got to get him into good enough shape to get to a radio and order up a plane."
"I want Jilly," I said.
Savich stared at me. "What did you say, Mac? Jilly? She's here?"
"She came to me when I was just coming out of a session with their drugs. She warned me not to eat or drink anything. Whatever she's doing here, Savich, she kept Laura and me away from another round of drugs."
Laura didn't argue with me, just said, "If she's here then we'll need a bigger plane."
"Jilly's small and so is Sherlock," I said. "We can fit the five of us in a Cessna."
"Mac," Savich said, lightly touching his bruised fingers to my forearm. "Is your brother-in-law, Paul, here too?"
"I don't know," I said. "If he's here I say leave the bastard. He's the one who developed the drug with all its charms. I just want Jilly." I looked over at Laura. She was staring at the floor, and I saw her eyes narrow in fury.
I followed her line of vision. Savich was shackled to a ring in the floor. It was Molinas's bad luck that I'd pushed him far enough into the room for Savich to reach him.
No wonder Savich hadn't escaped. As simple as that.
"Savich, I don't believe this."
"They enjoyed the fact that I could strain and curse, but not reach them. They laughed about it. They knew exactly how far the chain would let me reach. Thanks for bringing that big bastard close enough so I could get him."
"Savich," Laura said quietly, as I tried all the keys on the ring Molinas had given me. "He's Alyssum Tarcher's brother-in-law, John Molinas."
"I remember."
Finally, Laura found the key that fit the shackle on Savich's right ankle. When it fell open, he knelt down and rubbed his ankle. He pulled down his sock. There was dark bruising but no broken skin. "I have Sherlock to thank for these thick wool socks. It's good to get that thing off me." He sounded like himself, which was a big relief.
We had no choice but to wait for Molinas to come to his senses. There was a bucket of water on a rickety table in the corner. Laura threw it on him.
Savich pulled Sherlock up against him. "Sherlock. Come on, love, wake up. You can do it. Wake up." I watched Savich lightly slap her cheeks. "Come on, sweetheart, open your eyes. Hey, I'll let you throw me the next time we're in the gym, but you've got to wake up for me now."
Finally, she did open her eyes and look up at him. She looked drugged, strung out, and when she whispered, "Dillon?" her voice was slurred.
"She recognizes you," Laura said. "That's a good start."
"It's me, Sherlock. It's all right now. Mac and Laura are here. We're leaving."
"He's here, Dillon," she whispered, rubbing her fingers against her temple. "He's tucked right behind my left ear. He's laughing. He won't leave me alone, and he's still laughing. He won't stop. Please, Dillon, please make him stop." She closed her eyes again and slumped back against Savich's arm.
"Is she talking about Marlin Jones?" I asked, kicking Molinas lightly in the ribs. He was still trying to catch a breath.
"Yes," Savich said, never looking away from Sher-lock's chalky face. "The drug they've been giving her brought him back, planted him in her mind and magnified him, made him into even more of a monster than he really was, and that's saying something. He's there in her head, as real as you are."
"It did the same thing to me," I said slowly, "but it just happened once. I relived the car bomb in Tunisia. You're right. It was worse remembering it than when it actually happened. Paul said the drug was supposed to lessen the power of a bad memory."