Return to Cyprus
An hour later, they were airborne, on their way back to Tuscany. Murphy had proved capable this one time. The jet was ready quickly. He didn't ask too many questions, either.
Thank goodness the jet had two beds. They settled Barbara in one. McCall sat next to her, watching her carefully. Kostmayer was sleeping on the other.
It looked like she was asleep, too, but he knew better. She did not rest peacefully. Ten years ago in that prison, they did terrible things to her. She had survived. But the damnable drug forced open the room in her mind where she had carefully locked away her memories of rape and torture, then amplified it all, unleashing demons of imagination that made the terrible far worse.
She moaned and twisted one way, then the other, trying futilely to escape the devils in her head.
She had forgiven him. But would he ever forgive himself? Looking up, he could see his face reflected in the window. Never.