The sedative kept me in a gray half-sleep. My eyes would not stay open. Hands lifted the stretcher, a vehicle door slammed, and later a mattress rolled beneath me in a slow rhythm.
An engine vibrated under the floor. Water struck the hull. I was on the yacht.
I woke in a small private cabin furnished with polished wood and cream upholstery. Someone had cleaned and bandaged my thigh, then replaced the bloody shift with a cold silver silk gown.
Before sitting up, I checked the inner seam. The USB was still inside its stitched hiding place.
Madame Helga entered and pointed at the floor. "Get up."
I obeyed.
"Mr. Vance has overruled me. He says your breakdown adds to your allure. His words were 'tragic beauty.' He insists that you be presented."
Solitary was supposed to hide me from the
