Black wind

stood in front of each room’s open door. If they were going to make an escape, it probably wasn’t going to happen here, he figured.
    As Summer dried her wet hair, she briefly became lost in the luxury and allowed herself to enjoy the surroundings. She sniffed at an array of exotic lotions and perfumes aligned on the marble counter, settling on an aloe vera body lotion and a lilac-scented fragrance. A rack of silk clothing stood in the corner, a conspicuous offering for female guests. Running her fingers through the brightly colored collection of petite-sized robes and dresses, she spotted a flaming red pullover dress with matching short jacket that looked like it might fit. Squirming into the silk dress, she eyed herself in the mirror and admired the results. A little tight in the bust, but a fair representation of a china doll, albeit tall and red-haired, she thought, smiling at the reflected image. Finding an assortment of shoes at the foot of the rack, she rummaged through a dozen pairs before finding a black set of low-heeled flats that fit. Wedging the shoes on, she cursed as a thumbnail cracked while tugging at a heel. Instinctively, she rummaged through the bathroom counter, bypassing combs and brushes before discovering one of a woman’s essentials: an emery board. Not a cheap cardboard version, the metal file sported a small flat porcelain handle. Admiring the tiny tool, she absently stuck it in a side pocket after smoothing her thumbnail. An instant later, a pounding at the room door indicated her interval of private luxury was over.
    Exiting the room into the corridor at gunpoint, Summer found Dirk standing casually with two rifle muzzles pointed at his back. He looked at his sister in the stunning silk dress and let fly a wolf whistle.
    “I’m afraid we’ve only got a few rats to guide your chariot tonight, Cinderella,” he joked, jerking his thumb in the direction of the two guards behind him.
    “I see you’ve decided to stick with the Mr. Goodwrench look,” she countered, observing that he wore the same grease-and-sweat-stained NUMA jumpsuit he’d worn since they were abducted.
    “Afraid my available wardrobe was a little on the short side,” he said, pulling the cuffs of his jumpsuit up to midcalf range for emphasis. “Never did care much for the Alfalfa sartorial look.”
    The four guards grew annoyed with their chattering and forcefully guided them to the elevator, where they rode silently up one floor. The doors opened on Kang’s impressive dining room, with the broad vista shimmering through the picture windows. Kang sat at the head of the dining table, quietly reviewing the contents of a leather-bound folder, while Tongju stood erect off his left shoulder. The Korean magnate looked the part of an industrial captain, attired in a custom-fitted navy blue suit from an expensive Hong Kong tailor, with complementary maroon silk tie. His steely slate eyes darted toward the elevator briefly, then returned to the documents before him, his face a mask of cold austerity.
    Dirk and Summer were escorted to the table, where their eyes briefly drank in the scenic river scape view through the window before settling on their captor host. They both mentally noted how the cove below was fed by a narrow winding inlet that led to the wide river in the distance. Standing before the table, Summer felt a chill run up her spine as Tongju shot her a lascivious look, while Kang peered up coldly. Her minor gaiety at being clean and finely dressed withered away in the palpable presence of evil. She suddenly felt foolish in the silken outfit and subconsciously clasped her hands in front of her waist in nervous fear. But her anxiety diminished after she glanced over at Dirk.
    If her brother felt any fear, he didn’t show it. Dirk stood tall with his chin thrust out defiantly, yet carried a bored-with-it-all look on his face. He seemed to enjoy peering down with derision at Tongju, who stood nearly ten inches shorter. The assassin paid no heed and instead spoke directly to his boss.
    “The submersible operators from the NUMA vessel,” he said with a touch of disdain.
    “Dae-jong Kang,” Dirk retorted, ignoring Tongju, “CEO of Kang Enterprises.”
    Kang nodded slightly, then motioned for Dirk and Summer to sit down. The guards eased back to a side wall, where they kept a vigilant watch over the two captives, while Tongju slid into a chair opposite Dirk.
    “Mr. Pitt here was responsible for the death of