lights brightened. Kira could see now there were two sets. Two police cars, they couldn’t have shown up randomly.
The driver said something in French.
The headlights closed in until they flooded the sedan even through its tinted windows. Kira thought of the strobes at Helado—
Hit your sirens, pull us over, be the good guys—
Jacques squeezed her hands tight in her lap so she couldn’t show them her cuffs. The first police car drew even. She just had time enough to glimpse the officer in the front passenger seat looking them over before the car pulled away. No. Oh come on.
The second sedan passed without even slowing. The cruelest joke yet. “Please.” Even as the word left her lips she knew she shouldn’t have spoken.
Jacques gave the sedans a fingertip wave as they disappeared. “Please?” He touched the pistol to her temple, its muzzle cool against her skin. She made herself keep her eyes open.
“Beg.”
No. He wasn’t going to shoot her, not after going to so much trouble to take her. “No.”
He pulled the pistol back, held it sideways in front of her so it pointed at Rodrigo’s window. Its silver muzzle glinted in the dim interior light. “Walther. Semiauto. Do you know how it works?”
* * *
She knew. One side effect of having an FBI agent for a mother. The week after Kira’s eighteenth birthday, Rebecca brought her to Quantico for target practice. You don’t have to hit a quarter from a hundred feet, but we have a firearm in the house. You should be able to use it.
I’ve seen movies. It’s just a gun.
Not a gun, Kira. Use the right word. Firearm, pistol.
Just like Becks to insist on the terminology. Whatever. Pull the trigger, boom.
Don’t be dumb, Kira. How to load it, swap out the magazine, clear it if it jams, fire it. It’s like a car, it can be dangerous or it can save your life.
It’s nothing like a car, Mom.
Yet discovering her mother trusted her enough to put a pistol in her hands felt good. She stopped arguing.
Rebecca’s first lesson: Never point it at anyone unless you’re willing to pull the trigger. Which means, never point it at anyone who isn’t a threat. Not even if you’ve checked it and are sure it’s unloaded. Never.
* * *
Too bad Jacques hadn’t had her mom as a firearm-safety teacher. He pressed the pistol into her ribs. “I said, do you know how it works?”
She shook her head. No point in giving away too much.
“It’s called a double-action pistol. That means once it’s loaded, I fire just by squeezing the trigger. I pull it halfway to cock it, then the rest of the way to shoot it.”
He twisted forward to look at her face. He was enjoying himself, she saw. He wanted to feel her fear.
His finger tightened around the trigger, millimeter by millimeter, until the pistol gave a tiny metal click. “It’s cocked now—”
“Please.” She had never been so afraid. She hadn’t imagined she could be so afraid. “I’m sorry.”
She didn’t even know what she was apologizing for. Being alive.
On her other side, Rodrigo stirred. “Jacques—”
Jacques leaned forward.
The two men stared at each other and then Kira felt Jacques pull the pistol away.
“I think he likes you,” Jacques said. He grinned as he decocked the pistol and shoved it away.
* * *
Grab it. Just grab it. Her hands were cuffed in front of her, not behind. She had a chance. She might be able to reach it. She couldn’t shoot all four of them. But she should be able to get at least one shot off. Maybe through the back of the driver’s seat. Or toward Jacques. What then? Maybe they’d freak out and let her go. Maybe the Walther was the only gun in the car.
Jacques cocked his head, smirked at her. She had the eerie feeling he’d shown her the pistol hoping to tempt her into going for it.
Anyway, she wasn’t sure she had the guts to do anything if she did get it.
She’d better be sure.
Still. It was so close.
The driver turned on the radio. Kira had the mad fantasy she’d hear a bulletin, If anyone has seen an American girl. Instead, the car filled with crappy Spanish pop she never would have put up with if she’d had her own songs. Oh the irony, ha ha. She’d had an iPhone since she was twelve. She’d never had to listen to music she didn’t like, never had to wait for the next day’s paper for news.