She nods, but I can see the terror behind her eyes.
“They’re going to Tura, so I hate to think of the circumstances in which they were kidnapped. Stay behind me, okay?”
She leans into my touch. “Okay.”
Taking her hand, we walk the stairs to the bottom level of the yacht. There is a bedroom, and off to the side, there is a small door. It looks like a utility closet. In vain, I open the bedroom door and see nothing out of the ordinary, which I suspected.
Which leaves door number two.
With a sigh, I turn the handle, and no surprise, it’s locked. There is an ax in a glass case on a wall.
“Break in case of emergency,” I say, reading over the small print on the front of the case. “Well”—I elbow the glass, it shattering into pieces—“this is an emergency.”
Reaching for the ax, I gently ushe
