Deadly Journey (13 page)
Authors: Declan Conner
The Key
Leandra’s story
had taken all the thunder out of the revelation that I had acquired a key to my
ankle tracker. I no longer felt smug about possessing it, just thankful that it
was a distraction for her tormented mind. Also, it reminded me that just maybe,
somehow my brain cells had left a route open for me to squeeze out a final act
of defiance before fading out back in the torture room.
She wasted no time cleaning and preparing
to bandage my hand. She placed the key on the palm side of my partially
bandaged hand. Three more wraps of the bandage and she started to tie it off in
a knot.
The door snapped ajar, followed by the
guard shouldering it open and crashing it against the wall. He aimed his
assault rifle in our direction. Our eyes briefly locked. Glancing sideways at
the open closet door, the guard lowered his rifle and relaxed his stance as he
closed the door, then pulled his radio to his lips. Giving the all clear, he
hurried out of the room, closing the door behind him as he departed.
‘Phew, that was close,’ Leandra said and
wiped her hand across her forehead.
According to the clock on the news channel,
It had taken six and a half minutes for whoever was monitoring the room to
become worried enough to sound an alert.
Leandra asked, ‘How did you manage to get
the key?’
I tried to answer, but I could only gulp.
‘Never mind. I’ll see if I can find some glycerine
for your throat in the medical cupboard. I’m sure we have some.’ Leandra slid
off the bed and walked out of the room.
Part of me couldn’t help but dwell on her
story. The fact that they had her in checkmate, with no way out, other than to
tip over the king and to concede the game, brought on a shudder. Only pure evil
could devise such a strategy. Admiration
–
that was the
only word I could think of to describe what I felt for her. Admiration that she
had found the strength in captivity to live with her situation, to stand tall
in front of her jailers and to re-set the board in the hope of winning.
The door opened and in breezed Leandra,
carrying a large jar and a spoon.
‘Sorry, no glycerine, but I found some malt
extract. It should help.’ With the top unscrewed, she spooned the malt and
twisted the syrup on the spoon to defy gravity. ‘Open wide.’
Taking in the full spoonful by scraping it
on my teeth, I played with it using my tongue so a small portion could glide
down my gizzard. The rest followed, providing instant relief.
‘Water,’ I said. That single word brought a
smile to her lips.
This time I managed a full glass without a
straw.
‘Do you think you could eat solids?’
A shake of my head side-to-side answered
that question.
‘Fine, I’ll try blending some dinner and
see if you can manage that. We have to build up your strength. But first I’m
dying to know how you got hold of the key.’
‘It’s the key... from the guard who carried
me through the woods. I took it when he lifted me over his shoulder.’ I held
out the glass for more water. She filled it and passed it to me. I took a small
sip before continuing. ‘Luckily, he didn’t notice when I grabbed his chain with
the key and snapped it from around his neck. Then...’ Gagging, I took another
sip of water. ‘The chain slithered from my fingers along the trail in the
woods, hopefully for him to find it on his way back to the barracks and think
he lost the key in the undergrowth.’
My head sunk into the pillow from the
effort of talking.
‘You’d better hope that’s what he does
think, or they may just turn up and tear the room and you apart. Still, good to
hear they didn’t completely break you. Well done.’ A wry smile broke out and
transformed into a grin, showing her perfect set of teeth. ‘Listen, I’ll go
downstairs to the kitchen to blend you a liquid lunch. When I come back maybe
we can come up with some ideas for you to escape.’
‘Downstairs? How do you get...?’ I pointed
to the breakfast cart. ‘It’s been puzzling me.’
‘How do I get it up the stairs, is that
what you’re asking?’
I nodded.
‘Simple. I use the dumbwaiter at the end of
the corridor next to the CCTV monitoring room. Got to go, back soon.’
Trying unsuccessfully not to dwell on her
words that maybe they would come looking in my direction for the key, I watched
her leave the room, humming a tune as she closed the door.
I had to wonder if her tenacity was more of
a by-product of looking after me as her surrogate child, especially with the
way she fussed around me. Clearly, she had the ability to focus on the
positive, even if she had left me with a negative. Only the fact that she said
eighteen hours had passed and the few hours since, made me believe the guard
thought his key had
been lost somewhere back along the trail.
It occurred to me that I was fortunate to
have benefitted from her misfortune and experience. Except for Marina bullying
Leandra during her own journey and telling her to focus on the path ahead, I
guessed I could be still wallowing in my own self-pity. Perhaps, I thought,
without Leandra pulling me through the hole in the ice into which I had sunk, I
would have been no use to anyone, least of all my family. With my mind stuck in
the molasses of despair
–
as it had been
–
and only fit for a stint in a mental asylum, there was no doubt that
I owed Leandra my sanity.
Thinking about the miracle of the brain,
consciousness and the power of reasoning, I tried to relate them to my
experience with their methods of torture. Reasoning, though practical on many
levels, could be a blessing or a curse. Working out scenarios in a threatening
situation, as I now knew firsthand, was a curse. My mind painting pictures of
the many ways that they could have acted to hurt my family had finally done the
damage.
Back in the barracks room during the
waterboarding and interrogation, it had been a slow build up to a nightmare of
epic magnitude. Confused by sleep deprivation, mind-warping suggestions, my
life slipping away, and the pictures they showed of my family being stalked had
broken my resolve. The experience left me thinking I was no more than a worm.
In contrast, my reasoning that Leandra was
telling the truth and that she was on my team was proving to be a blessing.
With someone on the inside, I had a reason to be optimistic that I could
escape. All I could hope was that the experience hadn’t left me delusional.
Trying to clear my mind, I turned up the
volume on the news channel. All the talk was about the president wanting to
push legislation through to legalize the undocumented immigrants. I thought it
a coincidence, considering Perez’s original demand. Pity he hadn’t left that
part in the ransom, without the
ex gratia
payment, then they’d at least
think they were influencing matters as part of the negotiations. Truth be told,
the cynic in me reckoned it had more to do with capturing the Hispanic vote and
being able to add more than twelve million voters to the tally once they were
legal.
It was obvious that my situation would
become public eventually, but the image on the television screen hit me like a
runaway train. A mug shot of me appeared on a news bulletin. It wasn’t
flattering, probably a picture taken from my personnel file. I looked like one
of the felons they’d shown earlier; it was hardly the sort of image to evoke
sympathy.
Electronic gizmos sent the picture to the
corner of the screen to reveal the reporter.
‘Following our previous report on the
disappearance of drug enforcement agent Kurt Rawlings, we have confirmation
that a ransom demand has been received at DEA headquarters. The FBI has been
called in to handle the negotiations. We understand that Agent Rawlings’ wife
is to attend a press conference and televised appeal for his safe return tomorrow
afternoon. We have no further information at this time, but we will be covering
and broadcasting the appeal and we will keep you informed when further details
emerge.’
He didn’t even break a sweat as he moved
onto the next subject about some episode of
The Simpsons
. I wasn’t sure
what I was expecting from him, but it all just seemed so damned plastic. It
seemed as if the report on my kidnapping was an afterthought to add to more
interesting entertainment.
Leandra walked into the bedroom. She looked
anxious.
‘Listen, Kurt. I can’t stay now, but I’ll
be back later. Perez is back.’
Hurrying over to the cart, Leandra pushed
it close to the bed and set down a steaming mug. The aroma of the soup set my
stomach churning. I attempted a smile as best I could as a thank you for her
consideration.
‘Wait until it’s cooled.’ She smiled and
fluffed up the pillows. ‘If you can’t manage on your own, I’ll help you when I
get back.’
I wanted to tell her about the news report,
but hearing Perez was in the building left the words stuck in my throat.
Slipping my hand over hers, I gave it a gentle squeeze. She placed her other
hand over mine and returned the gesture before retracting them and
straightening her skirt.
‘Look, I really have to go. I have to help
prepare coffee and snacks in the kitchen. They’re holding a meeting in the
dining room. His top commanders are there. In addition to that, there are four
guys from the U.S. I’ve never seen before. Pedro is setting up a white board,
so it looks like he’s going to be presenting something. By the way, Ana tells
me a picture of you has been shown on Mexican television.’
‘Yeah, in the U.S. too.’
‘Listen, I’ll try to find out what’s
happening and report back.’
I nodded and she left the room. I wished
she could have stayed. Closing my eyes, I thought I would have given anything
to be a fly on the wall during the meeting.
Surreal Dream
The bedside lamp
lit the room as I opened my eyes to a new day. Glancing at the bottom of the
bed, I noticed Leandra was lying there on top of the sheet, clutching a pillow
as a comforter. I felt sorry for her
–
they had run her
ragged the previous evening, fetching and carrying for the meeting Perez held,
but she’d still found the time to see to my taking food and liquids. She’d not
even changed out of her uniform. Besides dishevelled clothing, straggles of
hair had loosened from her bun and draped over her face.
Running my fingers over the television
remote, I pressed the ON button and muted the sound.
Looking at the date on the screen, confusion
scrambled my thought processes as I tried to work out how many days had gone by
since my kidnapping. Going over events, it was hard to believe it had been
seven days. I was sure it had been six, but I had lost a day.
Leandra stirred, lifting her head and
sweeping the strands of hair from over her face. My eyes jolted to the door.
Stony Face barged into the room. A red pinprick of light danced on the sheets
as he brought his automatic rifle to line up with my chest. When I looked down,
the red-laser spot settled on my pyjama top.
‘What the hell’s going in here with you
two?’
Leandra turned to me and her gaze met mine.
Her vision floated down to my chest area and her mouth gaped open. She
scrambled on the bed to face Stony and to shield me, clutching a pillow to her
chest.
She flipped her head and looked in Stony’s
direction, then shouted, ‘What do you think we’re doing? Put the rifle down.
The room’s monitored, you, oaf.’ Leandra launched the pillow at him and he
tossed it to one side with the barrel of his rifle. Leandra slipped off the bed
and stood in front of him, poking a finger into his chest. ‘Haven’t you done
enough? You broke him
–
are you going to mend him?
Someone’s got to nurse him back to health and I don’t see you doing it.’
Stony’s face reddened. He swung the rifle
behind his back, grabbed her pointing finger and pushed her to sit on the
corner of the bed. His other hand rose, as if to strike her.
‘Fight someone your own size, coward,’ I
said, though I was in no fit state to protect her.
He threw me a sneer and let go of her
finger. Then he turned his attention to Leandra and said, ‘Perez and his guests
want breakfast. See to it... now.’
Leandra’s hands were trembling on the bed
cover. She pushed herself to stand and faced him.
‘After you,’ she said, in the manner of an
order, picked up her shoes from the floor, and ushered him with a push out of
the room, closing the door behind her.
I heaved a sigh of relief. Her spunky
attitude had sure put him in his place. Maybe when Stony threw me that sneer,
he’d seen I was in no fit state for a fight, with my wrists and hand bandaged.
Perhaps he’d thought better of making me pay for my intervention. It was hard
to figure him. Underneath his tough exterior, I wondered if he had morals and
my calling him a coward had made him think better of striking her. It was worth
noting his reaction as a possible chink in his armour.
A dream I had had during the night returned
to haunt me. The face mask they had given me before filming the ransom speech
had been nagging at my mind before I fell asleep and must have induced the
nightmare.
Prodded out of the seat of a vehicle, a
team of Perez’s guards stood at either side of me. We stood at the entrance to
a bridge. At the other end of the bridge, I could see Mary, the kids, and some
suited guys. One of the suits looked at us through binoculars and signalled. My
family and the guys in suits started to push shopping carts to the centre of
the bridge. When they reached the middle, they stopped, discarded the carts, and
walked back. Pushed forward, the guards still flanking me, I walked at an
ever-quickening pace. The shopping carts, I noticed, had loose hundred-dollar
bills and tins of beans stacked in the basket. I continued to walk on toward
freedom and my family. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw that the guards were
running, pushing the carts back toward a gigantic head of Perez, his mouth open
to form a tunnel, his tongue draping over his bottom lip and merging with the
road. Once the guards were inside his mouth, it closed and his tongue brushed
his lips as if he had quenched his appetite. I was ten yards from Mary and she
stepped toward me. My essence seemed to float from my body and I looked on as a
spectator.
We both quickened our step, running into
each other’s arms, embraced and kissed. Mary drew back and screamed, clawing at
my face and ripping away layers of skin to reveal Stony’s face.
That’s when I woke up sweating. Surreal as
it was, I couldn’t help but wonder if that’s what the facemask was about and if
they intended exchanging some stooge for the money. It would save them having
to provide me bed and breakfast. The thought I was still alive gave me hope
that my dream was just that, a dream
–
and in reality
the mask had been just a cleansing treatment.
The next hour I spent channel hopping. This
was going to be a tough day, waiting for the news broadcast of Mary’s plea to
my kidnappers. It was a relief when Leandra backed into the room with the
breakfast cart.
‘I’ve made you some oats with milk. That
should go down easy, but first your medication while your breakfast cools,’ she
said. ‘No hot coffee, just fresh juice.’
My throat wasn’t that bad, but all my
joints were still stiff. Swallowing the painkiller didn’t present a problem.
Neither did the heat cream she rubbed into my muscles.
With all the fussing and breakfast out of
the way, it was down to business.
‘Listen, I need you to help me out of bed.
The sooner I can get some mobility back, the better.’
‘You sure?’
‘We can try, but first here’s what I need
you to do. I need the times of the tides in the mornings. Also, I’m going to
need to know where all the cameras are and what they can see.’
‘I can get an idea from the monitor screens
in the camera room when I take the operator his morning coffee.’
‘Good. Don’t write anything down, just tell
me and I’ll memorize everything. What about the guards’ clothing? Can you get
hold of some that will fit me?’
‘We wash all their clothing here, so I can
sneak some to you, I guess.’
‘Great, but don’t get the clothing yet.
Wait until nearer the time.’ The sound of an aircraft engine spluttered
outside. ‘Please, could you pull back the shutters and open the French doors?’
It was 10:00 a.m. ‘Is it the crop duster
coming in to land?’
‘Yeah.’
‘What about the tide?’
She walked out onto the balcony and looked
into the distance. ‘Tide’s in.’
‘Keep an eye out for the guys coming out of
the maze.’
‘Will do.’
‘I’m also going to need to know the exact
number of guards at the villa and the times and places they patrol in the mornings.’
‘When are you thinking of going?’
‘As soon as I’m fit. Are the guards
preparing for the exchange at the entrance?’
‘Yeah, they’re in position.’
‘How many?’
‘Two. Wait, they’re heading for the maze.’
She turned and smiled before gazing back outside. ‘That’s it, they’re making
the exchange.’
‘Are the ones coming out of the maze armed?’
‘Not that I can see.’
Glancing at the clock on the news channel,
I noted the time. Leandra stepped back inside.
‘How long do you think it will take before
you’re fit to leave?’
‘Three, maybe four days. I need to start
exercising now. I also need you to help me brush up on my Spanish, but first we
need to check the times of the guards getting to the aircraft and the time they
return.’
‘Sure, no problem. Incidentally, I
overheard at the meeting that the Cobras have seen the film of your plea on
YouTube.’
‘YouTube?’
‘Yeah, they were laughing. Apparently,
north and south of the border, the authorities are putting the heat on them
already and there’s talk of the Cobra cartel retaliating against Perez.’
‘How would they know?’
‘Informers, I would imagine. Perez has his
own inside the Cobra’s camp.’
The revelation that the authorities were
chasing down the Cobra cartel annoyed me as much as the idea that El Presidente
would be gloating. Still, it gave him a reason to keep me alive as part of his
game plan.
‘What was the meeting about?’
‘Not sure. Every time we entered, they
turned the white board around and stopped talking. I caught a glimpse, though.
I think it was building plans.’
I’d not anticipated them putting the film
on social media. Now everybody and his brother-in-law would see my smirk at the
end. I could only hope the FBI would remove it from public display.
‘They’re back,’ she said.
It had taken them twenty-one minutes to
deliver the drugs and return with more canvas bags, probably carrying money.
‘Come on, help me try and walk.’
I managed to shuffle to the edge of the bed
and drop my legs over the side. Leandra stooped and placed my arm over her
shoulder. My other hand used the cart to lever some of my weight. Finally, I
stood, but I couldn’t stretch to my full height. She ducked from under my arm
and rested my other hand on the cart. Using the cart as a walking frame, I took
one deliberate, painful step at a time, until I could walk no further.
‘Please, get me a chair.’
Leandra dragged over a chair and helped me
sit. The experience had me to believe that it would take a lifetime for me to
be mobile again.
‘Kurt, I have to be going. I need to clear
away the breakfast things for Perez and his guests. Do you want me to help you
get back into bed?’
‘No, I’ll be fine, just pass me the remote,
but leave the cart in case I feel like giving it a try on my own.’
I attempted a smile to hide the grimace
inside that I felt rising at the excruciating pain in my right calf. Leandra
smiled back as she left the room.
Physical condition aside, I could rightly
feel excited at the prospect of someone working with me from the inside to plan
my escape. Equally, it was a big responsibility to ensure none of it could come
back on her after I was gone. Survival at my own expense was fine, but not to
the detriment of someone else... especially if it could cost Leandra and her
child their lives.
Strange, I thought, how time passes so
annoyingly slow when you really need it to pass quickly. However, when the
allotted time arrives, the drudgery of waiting seems to pass into oblivion.
Leandra returned and helped me get back
onto the bed. She sat on the floor at the bottom of the bed with two minutes
remaining until the broadcast. I couldn’t imagine why they would be
broadcasting her plea. In the US, unless it was a woman or a child victim, or
some other quirk, it wouldn’t be newsworthy. People expect federal law
enforcement agents to accept danger. It’s what we’re paid for. The FBI must
have pulled strings for some sort of message they wanted to get across to the
kidnappers.
‘Following our report on the kidnapping of
DEA agent Kurt Rawlings, we’re passing you over to our outside broadcast crew
at El Paso’s FBI headquarters. Mrs Rawlings is to give a statement and plea for
the return of her husband. Afterwards, we’ll be returning to our studio to
discuss how this kidnapping relates to the recent release of terrorist
prisoners, for the exchange of one of our captured soldiers, and a possible
retreat on policy of not negotiating with terrorist factions. Jenny, can you
hear me?’
‘Yes, I can hear you,’ she said, twiddling
with her earpiece. Behind her was a throng of reporters and cameras. A table
was set at stage height in front of the FBI logo. ‘We’re told that she will be
out any moment.’ My stomach began to churn. ‘Yes, here she is now.’
The newswoman moved out of the shot, to the
flashing of cameras taking still pictures. Rob walked behind the table and
stood with his back to the wall. Two men in suits walked in, guiding Mary. She
was looking away from the flashing lights, walking with a stoop, her head
bowed. Mary took her seat in the centre, still with her head bowed. The guys in
suits sat on either side of her and Rob took a seat to her far left. His
expression was as I had expected, sombre. I had to wonder if the FBI had
coached Mary, because I had been expecting her to march in with her head held
high.
My heartbeat raced in my chest. Rob swung a
microphone in his direction.
‘Please, no more photographs out of
respect. Mary is going to make a statement now. She won’t be answering any
questions, but afterwards, we will be staying behind to answer any questions.
Thank you.’
It was good to hear Rob’s voice. I just
hoped the reporters would ask the questions I wanted answered.
Mary didn’t cope well at all with her
speech and my heart went out to her. Her sleepless nights and anguish was there
for all to see.
