Freedom Incorporated (50 page)

“
Welcome back
to the world of the living.” Esteban sneered.

She was lying on a bed,
her hands untied. Her vision was still blurry and she squinted to
check her wrists for signs of permanent damage. They were badly
swollen and lacerated, and her skin had turned dark purple, but her
fingers moved. She tried again to move her arms and was gratified
to see them lift from the bed. But the effort cost more energy than
she could spare and soon they flopped back to the mattress. Extreme
fatigue stopped her from sitting up. She could barely move her
mouth to talk, and when she did, it was a whisper. “Where am
I?”

Esteban puffed on his
cigar before saying, “Your new home. Don’t you like it?”

Jen’s eyes roamed the
walls. “No.”

“
Well get used
to it,” Esteban laughed. “You’re gonna be here for a
while.”

“
Where?”

“
America,”
Esteban snapped. “Which is all you need know.”

“
Aren’t you
going to kill me?” Jen asked, the fire draining from her tired
eyes.

“
No,” Esteban
said quietly. “Not yet. We’re waiting for our audience.”

Morbid curiosity made her
ask, “Audience?”

“
Yes, your
boyfriend.” Esteban laughed again, manically. “I’m sure Dan wants
to watch us bang you. Seeing it on a videotape just isn’t the same
as watching it live.” Esteban knew Dan would come – he had Jen for
bait. If anything, he felt overconfident. But he
was
a talented assassin.
He was ready for anything Dan could pit against him.

“
You’re sick,”
Jen hissed in disgust. “You’re totally fucking insane.”

The mirth evaporated from
Esteban’s eyes and they promptly hardened to steel. It frightened
Jen to see malice stamped so clearly in his gaze, especially when
he was looking squarely at her. Then they softened to their earlier
glee, his personal trademark. It was unnerving to watch a volatile
man back-flip twice in the same breath.

“
Yeah, maybe.”
He smiled sweetly at her. “But the rich and powerful are allowed to
be.” He held up her chip selector. She looked hungrily at it,
panicked that he’d snatched her ticket to the portals. Without it,
she was stranded, and that terrified her as much as the threat of
death.

“
It was kind
of you to save us the trouble of digging a chip from your back.”
Esteban balanced the device on his index finger. “Actually, I’m
impressed you avoided the squads for as long as you
did.”

Jen seethed with hatred;
he was violating everything she considered sacred.

“
You’re free
to walk around,” he offered with mock politeness. “You can’t get
far without this.” Esteban slipped the chip selector into his
pocket and opened the door. “Just don’t cause any trouble, you
hear?”

And with that, he was
gone.

Jen let her eyelids slide
shut, trying to summon the energy to sit up. She fought her
drug-induced fatigue and swung one leg after the other over the
side of the bed before twisting sideways and propping herself onto
an elbow. The next phase was the hardest but by pushing with all
her might she finally achieved her goal.

She felt light-headed and
fought to stay conscious while the room spun around her. And she
rested on the bed long after the whirling subsided, waiting
impatiently for strength to return to her body.

Come on
Jen,
she coaxed. When she tried to stand her
knees quivered and threatened to buckle. But they didn’t, they
gathered strength until balance returned. Her room was pleasantly
furnished.
Prissy,
Jen thought, already hating her prison. Tasteful pictures hung
on two walls and a plush carpet greeted her bare feet.
Bare feet?
She wondered
who had bothered taking her boots off. They stood neatly at the
foot of the bed, her socks folded and tucked inside. She was glad
nobody had removed her other clothes, though she felt underdressed,
wearing only what was appropriate for the Australian
desert.

Esteban’s
cigar smoke was dissipating and Jen smelled how musty the room
was.
Nobody’s been here for a long
time.
A thick layer of dust had settled on
the polished wooden table. The room wasn’t large, but neither was
it small. It comfortably housed a queen-size bed, the sort that
ha
d
a metal
frame.
Perfect for tying arms and legs
down.
Jen shuddered
and
examined the frame more
closely
. She was looking for
signs that piano wire had scoured or scuffed the
black paint.
Nothing.
It was unmarred and didn’t look as if anyone had retouched
it.
So
they
probably
didn’t kill
Dan’s wife here.
She derived only a little
comfort from the knowledge.

Next, her
attention shifted to the door. She took several unsteady paces and
braced herself against the frame. Taking a tentative peek into the
brightly lit corridor, she found no guards. She doubted guards were
necessary: Esteban had her chip selector.
But one thing at a time.
First, she
wanted to look around, familiarise herself with her new
surroundings. The hall was long and she could only see activity at
one end, though her vision was still too blurry to recognise
anyone. She rubbed her puffy eyes and looked again, with no
improvement. All her life she’d enjoyed twenty-twenty vision so the
blur was difficult to endure. Her eyes strained to focus, giving
birth to a dull headache. The other end of the hall was dark and,
for no other reason,
appeared
more sinister.

Jen crept
toward the light, hugging the wall and trying not to
stumble.
She
unobtrusively peered into the bulbous room at the end. It was
a study in diplomatic style, its décor tasteful and its hangings
expensive. The subtle tones of wood and leather blended too
perfectly for it to have been an accident. Somebody had spent a lot
of time and effort assembling the perfect interior.
A professional, it has to be.
But that begged the question why somebody like Esteban would
bother making such an impression. She heard voices and inched
closer, trying to see who it was.

“
Ah, look,
here she is now. You see, I told you.” It was Esteban. He snapped
his fingers at her. “Come here and meet the others
properly.”

Jen unwillingly obeyed,
not knowing what else to do. As she drew closer, she stubbed a toe
on a coffee table because she hadn’t yet reacquired fine motor
co-ordination.

Esteban was
flapping an arm at the man who had driven the land cruiser, the one
with
the thick jaw and
strawberry hair curling around his ears. “This is Frank Albert
Hansen.”

“
Hi.” He
tipped is beer bottle in mock salute.

“
Junior?” Jen
asked, remembering his name through the thick haze clouding her
mind.

Esteban laughed, highly
amused.

“
I hate it
when people call me that,” he grumbled in protest.

“
Don’t worry
about offending him,” Esteban interjected. “Most of the time he
deserves it.”

Jen jotted another mental
note.

“
The quiet one
next to him is Adrian Miller.”

“
How do you do
ma’am?” Adrian asked politely. It was the first time she’d seen his
face, even though it was through blurry eyes. He was thinner than
Junior and his neatly cropped hair was almost jet-black. It
contrasted with his pallor and made him look seedy. And nobody ever
mentioned his sail-ears anymore – classmates in primary school had
teased him relentlessly until he’d punched one kid’s front teeth
out. He’d fostered a ruthless reputation ever since and people
whispered warnings about him behind his back.

He’s
surprisingly polite for a killer.
“I’m fine
thanks.” Jen had no idea why she was being so genteel in
return.

“
If you need
anything, just let me know and I’ll see what I can do, okay?”
Adrian looked genuinely concerned.

Why?
She couldn’t even begin to
fathom.
He must be the one who took off my
shoes.
“Okay, I will.” Jen replied in
stunned civility. She earmarked him as someone that might assist
her escape. He was certainly more courteous than the
others.

They were all impeccably
dressed, though Adrian was the only one who hadn’t loosened his
tie. Their suits looked expensive, probably personally
tailored.

“
What do you
intend to do with me?” She wanted to hear the answer while Adrian
was there to see whether he’d
demur
.

Esteban answered as
offhandedly as he could. “Why, my dear Jennifer, you’re the
bait.”

“
For
Dan?”

He nodded. “That’s
right.”

“
And then
what?” Jen asked with dread expanding in her throat. She understood
Esteban’s vindictiveness, but she couldn’t fathom the others’
motives.

“
Well that’s
when the fun really begins.” Esteban grinned like the maniac he
was. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

Was I just in
the wrong place at the wrong time?
“This
doesn’t really have anything to do with me, does it? This is all
about Dan.”

Esteban nodded. “Yeah,
that’s a fair assessment. The fact that you’re a Cameron is just a
bonus.”

“
And what if
Dan doesn’t come?”
He doesn’t owe me
anything, does he?

“
Then you’ll
be here for a long, long time,” Esteban replied. “I wouldn’t worry
though, he’s knows we killed his wife.” He had the temerity to say
it without looking uncomfortable. “So he’ll come.”

Then you
don’t need me for bait.
Jen began to
understand the broader picture.
Oh, shit…
I’m not bait.
That was merely how they
intended to keep her placid.
I’m the
entertainment once he arrives.
Of course!
What’s the best way to torture him? Tell him they’ll rape and kill
me, and then make him watch it.

“
Why must you
insist on playing these games?” It was Adrian, as Jen had hoped,
championing her cause. “Just kill Sutherland and get it over with.
You should’ve finished this back at his farm.”

Esteban shook
his head. “And spoil my fun? No, not yet.”
He hasn’t suffered enough.
If he had
his way, he’d
grant Dan Sutherland eternal
life
. Then he could think forever
about what had happened to his wife and what was
soon to happen to Jen.

Jen had heard
enough.
Time to find a way out of
here.
She didn’t intend lie back and
a
wait her fate. She turned
and walked away, ignoring the calls of “Good night!” from the three
brutes toasting their success in the lounge room.

There were
several corridors, nodes and perhaps a hundred rooms in her prison.
Because, despite its opulence, it was still a prison. It reminded
her of a maze, and many of the halls looked hauntingly
similar
.
S
he was beginning to wonder whether
she’d ever find her room again when a feminine voice lured her into
a darkened room. “Excuse me.”

“
Me?” Jen
asked, hiking a thumb at her chest.

“
Yes, come
here… quickly.” Her voice was hushed and scared.

Jen obeyed, willing to
trust anyone from her own gender in such dire
circumstances.

“
Are you new
here.” It wasn’t a question. “I’m Claire Robinson.” She had a
thick, pretty accent that Jen couldn’t place. She wondered how her
slurred Australian accent would sound to foreign ears.

“
I’m Jennifer
Cameron.” There was a momentary pause where neither woman knew what
to say, finally broken when Jen asked the inevitable. “What’re you
doing here?”

“
Same thing as
you,” she replied huskily. “I’m a prisoner. They removed my chip as
soon as I arrived and without it there’s no escape.”

“
How long ago
was that?”

Claire thought for a
moment before answering, “About two and a half years I think, maybe
a bit longer. I know what you’re thinking, but there’s no way out.
We’ve all tried.”

“
We?”

“
There are
twelve women down here, thirteen now including you. We’re
underground, deep underground. Somewhere near Baltimore I think.
The only way in and out is by portal.” Claire had a resigned note
in her voice, a desolation that was already beginning to infect
Jen. “
W
ithout a
chip we may as well be on the moon.”

Jen’s mind reeled as she
struggled to take everything aboard. She wished she could see the
woman she was talking to. “Can I turn on the light?”

“
No!” Claire
reached out to stop Jen from flipping the switch, the briefest
touch enough to silence any protest. “I sometimes use this when the
dark gets too much.” She fumbled for something. “One of the others
gave it to me. She has a nice master and he sometimes smuggles
things for her.”