Jet was thrown into a helicopter with no seats. Only the pilot and copilot had them. Everyone else had to huddle in the back. She watched in horror as a dozen or so men climbed into the transport.

“Who the hell are you guys? And what do you want with me?”

A burly man with a moustache and slicked back hair entered her field of view. A nasty scar marred the left side of his face.

“You are my prisoner and will be silent until spoken to. But you can look forward to many long hours of interrogation. You will tell us where to find the doctor.”

“What doctor? I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” Jet said.

The man turned to speak with one of the soldiers. Jet caught a glimpse of the man’s name patch. Jet committed the name to memory.

Norris? Where do I know that name from?

“Sir, we were not able to find anymore survivors,” a man in a white combat uniform said.

“Those fly boys got trigger-happy with this one. But we captured another one of them, so the mission is not a total loss,” Norris said.

Another? Did they catch Nigel?

Moments later, they were airborne. About a hundred yards to the north lay the remains of the chateau. Jet’s heart ached at the thought of April dying in the attack.

“What is your name?” Norris said.

The man didn’t ask it as much as he growled it. The man had the disposition of an angry bear.

“Josephine.”

“Was the doctor inside when the Angels attacked?”

Angels? Who are they? And who is the doctor? Jet wondered as the brisk chilly breeze seeped into her bones.

“I don’t know who are you are talking about,” Jet said.

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“Fine. Play it that way, but Damien will get answers out of you.”

The remainder of the flight was uneventful. About a half hour later, the helicopter landed at a deserted airstrip. Several helicopters and small aircraft were parked near an enormous hangar. Several people scrambled as they hurried to refuel planes or helicopters. A man with an eyepatch strode to the helicopter. After a brief exchange, the man known as Norris pointed at Jet. A soldier pushed her in the man’s direction.

“Move!”

“I can’t. My legs don’t work,” Jet said defiantly.

“Fetch a stretcher and bring her to my office,” the man with the eyepatch said.

Moments later, Jet was being carried to the hangar. The soldiers put her in a chair, then handcuffed her arms behind her back. Her arms ached as the soldier pulled her against the chair. A flash of memory overwhelmed her. She was tied to a bed and gagged while a creepy man—touched her. She still had nightmares from the experience.

“Well, isn’t it a small world? Hello, Jet! It’s great to see you again,” a familiar voice said.

The man behind the voice entered her view of view. It was Seymour, the Sultan’s lackey.

What the hell is he doing here?

A wave of dread overcame Jet. The man caressed her cheek and kissed her on the forehead. She screamed, but the man didn’t stop. He unzipped her jacket and started unbuttoning her blouse.

“Don’t worry, I will get you warmed up for the boss,” Seymour said in a taunting tone.

“Stop this,” a female voice said.

Seymour raised his hands. “I was just trying to make our guest more comfortable.”

The creep scurried out of the hangar like an injured rodent. Moments later, a teenager pulled up a chair across from her. She had long, wavy blond hair.

“I’m sorry that you had to experience that man. He’s always given me the creeps. I don’t know why my father keeps him around,” the girl said.

“Who are you?”

“Oh, sorry. My name is Sally.”

“Can you untie me? These handcuffs are painful.”

Sally looked unsure. “I don’t have a key, but my father will be here to question you soon.”

“Why am I here?” Jet demanded.

Sally gave her a look of surprise.

“Step away from the prisoner, Sally,” a gruff voice said.

“Yes, father.”

Sally stepped away while an enormous man sat in front of her. She recognized him from the airstrip. He had long hair and wore an eyepatch.

“My name is Damien, and I run this place.”

“Do you mind getting me out of these handcuffs? I lost the use of my legs and it’s not like I’m going to run away.”

Damien had an unreadable look, but after a moment, he removed her handcuffs. She rubbed her wrists.

“Where did you get this?”

The man snatched the necklace from her neck and held it up to the light.

“Hey, my boyfriend gave it to me.”

“Boyfriend, huh? This is an angel helper signet. We give these out only to trusted compatriots,” Damien said.

“Well, that describes Nigel,” Jet said.

“Nigel Watson?” Sally asked.

“Yes, now who the hell are you people?”

“You’re not with the doctor? Are you?” Damien said.

“No! What doctor?”

Damien shot her a look of regret.

“Sally, wait here with our guest while I fetch Seymour. He has some explaining to do.”

Jet watched Damien leave into the fading afternoon light.