Presumed Dead

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Death in the mountains can come at you a thousand different ways. Alice Webley knew that. She’d spent years relishing the savage beauty of this hostile terrain. But nothing in her darkest dreams had prepared her for the savagery of her own fate.

Suddenly she’s awake. Something has her by the ankles. Hauling her face down towards the open door. A blast of freezing air hits her, bringing her to her senses. She realizes for the first time exactly where she is.

She’s being lifted, bent double. She screams his name trying to make him stop. Kicking and punching she tries to fend off the powerful hands propelling her towards the dark opening. But he’s much too strong.

Moments later she’s tumbling head over heels through space. Screaming as she falls into the black, freezing void.

Ross Webley drummed his fingers impatiently on the side rail of the launch as it ploughed through the dark waters of Monte Carlo harbor, out towards his host’s yacht: one hundred and fifty feet of floodlit white steel and bronzed glass, riding gently at anchor in the bay.

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