Mistress-of-the-Game - By Tilly Bagshawe Sidney Sheldon Page 0,32

knife's edge.

"Yes, Jones. This is it."

"It'll be okay, sir. Everybody says these guys are the best."

"Hmm."

"According to reconnaissance - "

"Shhh." Agent Edwards put his finger to his lips. "Did you hear that?"

"What, sir?"

"Gunfire."

"I didn't hear a s - "

There was a blinding flash of light. A noise like a lion's roar but hundreds, thousands of times louder, erupted around them. Instinctively both men covered their ears and dived for the ground.

"What the...?" Agent Jones's ears were ringing. He could taste earth and grass and dust in his mouth.

"Bomb! Stay down!"

Another roar. Deafening, like being sucked up into a thunder cloud. Flames were visible at the top of the rise. The mill was lit up in an impromptu son et lumière. It was eerily beautiful.

Agent Edwards fumbled beneath his sodden shirt for his gun.

"Call for backup. I'm going up there."

"Sir, no! You can't. You don't know what's going on - that building might collapse at any minute."

Like my career, if I don't get that Templeton kid out of there alive.

"Just make the call!" Agent Edwards shouted over his shoulder. A third explosion swallowed his words whole. Agent Jones dived for cover again.

By the time he opened his eyes, his boss was gone.

Lexi had just finished eating when she heard the first gunshot. She knew instantly what it was.

They're here! They've come for me! I knew they would.

Thirty seconds later, the door to her room swung open. It was the leader, the foreigner. He must have had no time to grab a mask. A hastily tied scarf covered only the bottom half of his face.

"Get over here. Now!"

Curly brown hair. Brown eyes. Not many lines: he's young, younger than the pig. Pinkie ring. Small scar above the left eyebrow.

"NOW!"

Lexi stayed where she was. She pretended to be too terrified to move, but inside she felt elated. She watched the leader hesitate. The third man, the corpse who hit her in the face the day they brought her here, appeared in the doorway behind him.

"Leave her, man! I set the traps. Let's get out of here."

"Jeez, Bill, we can't just leave her. The place is gonna blow."

Bill. The corpse's name is Bill.

"You want her, you take her. I'm outta here."

Lexi saw him run away. Good-bye, Bill.

The leader hovered helplessly for a moment, then took a step toward her. Lexi stepped back.

He doesn't seem like much of a leader now. I can see the fear in his eyes.

"Fine. Have it your way. Stay here and burn."

He turned and ran after his friend.

Lexi waited until the sound of their footsteps faded. Then she stepped out of the room.

It was the first time she had ventured beyond her cell door since they brought her here, whenever that was. Days ago, weeks, months? She found herself standing in a narrow corridor that opened out after about ten feet into a vast, derelict space, like an airplane hangar. But she had no curiosity about her surroundings. She wasn't even looking for her rescuers.

She was looking for the pig.

Where is he? Has he gotten away already? Please don't let him escape.

Another brief volley of gunfire on the other side of the building caught her attention. Lexi turned toward it and froze. A giant fireball was hurtling toward her.

Like a comet in a bowling alley. And I'm the pin.

She was so surprised, she forgot to be afraid. After that it was all a blur.

Flames, everywhere. Glass and brick and wood falling from the ceiling. Walls folding, melting in the searing heat. Then a single, deafening BOOM, so loud not even the earth could contain it.

It was the last sound Lexi Templeton heard.
Chapter Nine

HE WAS THE MOST FAMOUS BARRISTER IN LONDON.

As he strode down the Strand toward the Old Bailey, the city's venerable criminal court, immaculate in his Savile Row suit and polished, handmade brogues, people stared.

You know who that is, don't you? That's Gabriel McGregor. Hasn't lost a case in six years at the bar. He's a genius.

A blond-haired, gray-eyed beauty, Gabe McGregor was built like a rugby prop-forward, broad-shouldered, barrel-chested and with legs as long and strong and straight as oak trees. There was a solidity about him, a strength, in his body, his jaw, his steady, direct gaze that made juries think: I believe this man. Underlying his physical strength was a powerful intellect. Gabriel McGregor could judge a case's nuances in a matter of moments. He knew instinctively when to push a witness and when to hold back. When to bully, to flatter, to cajole, to frighten,