Deadly Journey (14 page)

‘... and I’m begging you, please, we want
Kurt back. Please don’t harm him.’

Mary broke down crying. The FBI agent to
her left put his arm around her shoulder. Rob pushed his chair back and walked
behind her. The flashing cameras were enough to bring on an epileptic fit for
those susceptible, when belatedly, a warning caption appeared at the bottom of
the screen. Rob held out his palm toward the hubbub, to cover her face. Helping
her to her feet, her head still bowed, Rob escorted her out of the glare of the
cameras and returned to take his seat.

I’d not taken notice of the guy in the centre
before he spoke. I immediately recognized him. We had a run-in on the Perez
drug bust, when he tried to claim credit for himself and the FBI. The politics
between our departments turned ugly and he’d turned it personal after they
passed him over for a promotion. I can’t say I was pleased he was involved in
the interview. From what I heard, Walters’s record of cutting corners had
caused them to block his promotion. Walters blamed me anyway. He cleared his
throat.

‘My name is FBI Special Agent Doug Walters.
I’ll be heading the team investigating the kidnapping. FBI Special Agent
Antonio Garcia, here on my right, will be in charge of our negotiating team
once we receive further instructions from the kidnappers. We’ll be working
closely with Roberto Lopez, here on my left. Roberto is head of the South
American Intelligent Division of the DEA. Please, if you could channel the
questions through me.’

Uproar ensued, with a plethora of questions
amongst the mêlée created by the news people. My head sank into the pillow. It
was hard to take in that Rob had accepted the promotion I had turned down. Then
it made sense. It would give him hands-on authority to help find me and with a
virtual army at his disposal.

Walters pointed to someone in the crowd. ‘Yes,
your question?’

‘We understand that when asked about the
kidnapping, the State Department spokesperson stated that the government would
not open negotiations with terrorists and that releasing the soldier in exchange
for prisoners from Guantanamo in a prisoner of war exchange had no influence on
standard Government policy. With the film of agent Rawlings making the rounds
of social media, it is apparent that he
has
in fact, been kidnapped by a
political wing of the Cobra cartel. Does this mean you won’t be negotiating
with them?’

Walters fired back. ‘Not at all. We
wouldn’t have a negotiator on standby if we were not thinking of negotiating.
The Cobra Freedom Front is not a recognized terrorist organization.’

‘Next question.’ Walters’s eyes danced
around the crowd and he pointed. ‘You with the bow tie.’

‘From our own investigation we understand
that Mr Lopez was working with the agent at the time of his kidnap. Could Mr
Lopez give an account of that night and have they unearthed any clues during
their investigation?’

Rob cleared his throat, stretched out his
arms showing his cufflinks, bent his arm and glanced at his wristwatch. He
rolled his eyes to look at the ceiling. I’d never seen him look so nervous.

‘Mr Lopez?’ Walters held his hand pointing
in Rob’s direction.

Damn if I didn’t think Rob had given me a
sign he was on my kidnappers’ trail, as he pushed his sleeve back into place.
If only I’d have been closer to the screen. It was Rob looking at the watch
that was hopefully a clue.

‘Sorry, I can’t give any further
information regarding these events and our ongoing investigation. Rest assured
that the DEA will be working around the clock together with our FBI colleagues
to ensure the safe return of Kurt. Sorry... Agent Rawlings.’

Bow Tie fired back.

‘The you tube film that’s gone viral. Can
you give us your opinion of the significance of Agent Rawlings smirking at the
end of his plea?’

Walters put his hands over Rob’s
microphone.

‘Gentlemen, please. You have to understand
the nature of the stress in such circumstances and the duress Mr Rawlings must
have been under when making the film. Clearly, in our opinion, it was a nervous
tic... nothing more.’ Walters shuffled his papers and then ran his finger
inside his shirt collar. ‘Sorry, but we have no further time for any more
questions. We’ll be issuing a press release which you can collect as you leave.’

The broadcast returned to the newsroom. I
couldn’t work out if the broadcast was newsworthy because of arguments over
negotiating with terrorists, or intrigue as to me smirking at the end of the
film. I thought I’d have had some sort of breakdown, but the whole thing left
me numb and staring blankly at the screen. Why, I couldn’t put a finger on,
save a sense of relief they’d skilfully dodged the State Department’s policy.
Seeing Mary stressed out and emotional had left a cloud rather than a positive
feeling. Then, thinking about it, she could hardly have given my kidnappers the
barbed side of her tongue. I guess it was the spectacle of seeing my wife
distraught which left me devoid of feeling. Seeing Mary upset left me more
determined than ever to get out of there. There were things I needed to put
right in our marriage when I returned home.

Leandra rose from the floor. ‘She’s
beautiful. The photograph doesn’t do her justice apart from the smile.’

Looking straight through her, the image of
the broadcast replayed in my mind. ‘Yeah... yeah, she is.’ The dream I’d had
edged its way into my thinking. ‘Leandra, you remember Maria giving me that
facemask treatment?’

‘Yes, why?’

‘Is that a normal face pack in Mexico?’

‘No, you usually wash them off.’

‘What do you know about Maria?’

‘Not much. Her husband works for Perez and
she said that she works for a television studio.’

‘What, in the makeup department?’

‘Maria said she hadn’t done it in a long
time. She works in the props department.’

Chapter 25

A Cheat’s Game of Chess

Eleven days in
captivity and today was hopefully my last. The decision made, plans committed
to memory, tomorrow would be the day. Excitement, anticipation, nerves,
butterflies, angst and fear, I doubt any of those words adequately describe the
mix of emotions pounding at my body and brain cells, but jumbled together; it
was all of those and more. I’d done all the push-ups and squats I needed to get
back into shape. Leandra had provided all the schedules and positions of the
guards. All I needed was to walk around the grounds for her to physically point
out the cameras’ blind spots. Then it was simply a question of her delivering
the guard uniform, hidden in clean sheets, and I was good to go. The rest was
in the hands of God. One mistake, or one turn of the wrong card, and I’d be
dead.

One thing I did know, I needed to change
things when I got back home. They say that when you have a near-death
experience, it makes you question where you’re at in life. With some certainty,
I could now testify to that phenomenon. My time in captivity had made me search
the depths of my mind, especially since I’d seen Mary and Rob on television.

Yes, I loved, Mary, but those were words of
sentiment that comes from a long marriage. There had to be more to life than
bed and work. We were like the proverbial passing ships in the night, what with
my unpredictable hours at work and Mary’s tireless charity work. The kids were
growing up with an endless stream of babysitters and I was missing those
special times so important to them. It must have been three years since I’d
seen either of them in a school play, or Christmas nativity. Work came first. I
had deluded myself that as breadwinner, I was putting the family first, but at
what cost? The loss of that spark when we had first married and set up home was
a high price to pay. I desperately wanted that back. Even the photograph of
them on my nightstand had taken on a different significance
–
why?
–
because I wasn’t in it. Hell, I
hadn’t even taken the picture.

In a way, I was annoyed with Rob for taking
that promotion, especially when he and Mary had talked me out of the position
he had accepted. ‘You’ll be a spare part. Like some retiree suddenly finding
time on their hands,’ he had said, and Mary agreed. His motives might have been
right for taking the job, but if there was no other opportunity for regular
hours, I would have to think seriously about a career change. In fact, there
was no thinking about it. I would have to change direction. I wasn’t sure how Mary
would feel about giving up her charity work, but for once, my will would have
to prevail. I thought back to when I was first kidnapped and trying to remember
the last time I told her that I loved her and seen it returned in her eyes.
Truth was, I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t even remember the last time she told
me that she loved me, and meant it. Things hadn’t been right between us for at
least two years. I had just hoped it would pass. It’s not as though I could
have shared my problems with Rob. He was too close to both of us. It’s not that
I didn’t try talking. I tried talking to Mary. She just said we were fine. Rob,
he’d just throw up his hands in despair whenever I approached the subject. ‘For
God’s sake, just get divorced if you’re so unhappy,’ he’d said, the very last
time I ever tried confiding.

The bedroom door handle twitched.

‘What happened to the squeaky wheel?’ I
asked Leandra as she entered.

‘Cooking oil. Worked great.’

We both laughed as she parked the cart next
to me. The guard didn’t even bother to enter.

‘Hmm, smells good,’ I said as she poured a
coffee.

‘Ah, you noticed my perfume?’

I smiled, not wanting to deflate her ego by
telling her I was referring to the coffee.

‘After breakfast, Perez wants you to join
him in the dining room.’ She held her features in a solemn mask.

‘Why?’

Her mask cracked into a smile. ‘Don’t look
so worried. He wants you to play chess with him.’

‘Don’t do that to me. You had me in a
panic.’

‘Sorry, just teasing. Don’t be so serious.’

At times, I thought she was older than her
years, but on other occasions, she could act like the teenager I had first
encountered. It was an endearing trait, but on this occasion, I could have done
with the older version. Still, that aside, she made me smile.

As I tucked into my breakfast, we swapped
anecdotes about our childhood, although her tales from childhood on the farm
were far more interesting. Sometimes I hated my directness, but the subject
brought a question to mind.

‘Talking about farms
–
and sorry to bring this up
–
can you
describe where they took you to have the baby?’

‘Damn you, do I have to?’

I felt bad at having broken the banter. ‘Listen,
if I get out of here, I’m going to help you all I can with the authorities to
get your child back and get you out of here. So anything you can tell me
–
anything, however insignificant.’

Leandra took hold of my hand. ‘You’re a
good man and I trust you not to do anything foolish to put our lives at risk.
But really, I don’t know where they took me.’

I placed my other hand over hers. ‘Think.
Try and describe the buildings?’

Leandra sighed and closed her eyes. ‘I
remember the farmhouse. It was painted white, but that’s about it, I think.
Wait—’ She opened her eyes ‘There was a two-storey building with stable doors
and wooden steps leading to the upper floor. I can picture large oil drums at
the bottom of the stairway. They can’t have used the stables because they had
razor wire rolled out in front of the stable doors.’

I felt a cold chill creep though my bones. ‘You
said you passed Rosa to a small guy. Can you describe him?’

‘I’ll never forget him. Bald head, fat, and
a moustache with a goatee beard.’

Miguel’s ghost seemed to walk through me
again. It had to be Squat. ‘Did you see any gates to the entrance?’

‘Yes, large, ornate wrought-iron gates
fastened to a high wall with a dirt road out front. I think there was a wooden
cabin next to the gates. Yes, that’s right, a wooden cabin.’ She grimaced. ‘Kurt,
you’ve gone white. Your hand, you’re hurting.’ She pulled her hand from my
grasp.

‘Sorry, that’s a great help. I won’t ask
again.’

‘Are you okay?’

‘Yeah, it’s nothing, just a little cramp.
It’s gone now.’

‘Good. I hope it does help. You know
–
I’m going to miss your company when you’ve gone.’ She pouted
like a sulking child.

‘Me too,’ I said and drank the last of the
coffee.

‘Better not keep our Mr Perez waiting. We
can meet up later and go for that walk in the garden,’ she said, and getting up
from the mattress, she pushed the cart out of the room.

With my head pressed into the pillow, I
closed my eyes. After what she had told me, I began to have doubts if the plan
I had made to escape by mini-sub was the right one.

The crop duster’s engine spluttered
overhead.
X-men, Border, Ultra Violet Wings
, I recited in my head,
followed by Leila’s address. Their home couldn’t be more than a mile from the
farm where they had originally held me captive. It was a pity Squat’s hacienda
was outside the jurisdiction of the DEA and the FBI. Relying on the Mexican authorities
to release her child and at the same time, rescuing Leandra, to avoid one
action causing the death of the other, would be fraught with possibilities for
it to go horribly wrong. I shuddered at the thought, rolled off the bed and got
dressed.

Three guards entered the room and one of
them ordered me to stand against the louver doors. Another guard whipped sheet
from the bed. With two of the guards holding the sheet behind me, the other
passed me a newspaper and stood back, pointing a camera. I got the message and
looked at the title. The
Detroit Free Press
, dated yesterday. I held it
in front of my chest and scowled as he clicked a few pictures. Throwing the
sheet on the bed, they hustled me out of the room and down the stairs. One of
them knocked on the dining-room door.

‘Enter.’

When I stepped into the room, Perez took
hold of the camera and removed the memory chip, placing it in an envelope
addressed to D.E.A. Headquarters. I watched impassively, taking it all in and
making a mental note. He placed the envelope into one of two canvas bags,
zipped it, and nodded.

‘Make sure they know to get this through
the usual channels to Detroit and have it posted from there,’ he said. ‘And
remind them, no trail.’

Grabbing the two canvas bags, they left the
room and the remaining bodyguard stood behind Perez with his back against the
wall. When I glanced at the wall clock, I noticed they were on time for the
exchange.

Perez beckoned with the sway of his hand.

‘Please, Kurt, take a seat. I hope they’re
treating you well?’

I sat, placed my arms on the table, and
glanced at my bandaged hand and wrists. Suddenly, an “oh no” moment struck at
the thought the photograph would indicate I might have attempted suicide.

He must have taken my glance at the
bandages as an answer. ‘Unfortunate
–
but it was your
choice. You did well. They tell me you managed to hold out far longer than
most. It’s not a record to hold out that long, but still impressive. You should
be proud. Quite an achievement, don’t you think?’

There was nothing to be proud of. I ignored
his question and fired back with a question of my own. ‘Why the photo?’

‘Ah, yes. Good news. We’ve opened up a
negotiating channel. I must say, I was surprised. I guess you’ve seen your
wife’s plea. Good of them to give us a contact number.’

‘Yes, I saw it.’

‘Impressive. She was very touching. I must
admit, I almost felt like sending you straight back to her and your children.’

‘Then why am I still here?’

His smug expression tuned to a cheesy grin.
‘Chess
–
I can’t let sentiment get in the way of a good
game. I promised you a game of chess and so far I’ve kept my promises to you.’

The “so far” was right. All I had to do was
tough it out for the next twenty-four hours and he could stick his mind games
up his ass.

Perez sat down opposite me and moved the
chessboard between us both. He reached into a box holding the chess pieces.
Withdrawing his clenched fists, Perez presented them to me.

I tapped his left hand. He flipped it over
and opened it to reveal a black pawn. ‘Unlucky. I have the advantage of making
the first move. White always goes first.’

I hardly needed lessons in the rules.
Tipping the box out, the cheating bastard palmed the other black pawn with the
rest.

I wasn’t really thinking strategy as the
game developed, making reckless moves without any thought of winning. For all
his studying the board in silence, the game was heading for a stalemate when my
mind whipped into overdrive. I stroked the stubble on my chin, calculating all
the possibilities. Three more moves and I had him in checkmate. We returned
brief poker stares and I saw him frown. He glanced over my shoulder.

‘What the—?’

I turned in time to see a guard outside the
window twisting a fruit from the branch of a tree.

Perez jumped up from his seat and turned to
his bodyguard. ‘Follow me,’ he said, his cheeks engorged, and he strode briskly
out of the room.

A few minutes later, I heard voices and
turned to see Perez remonstrating and circling the guy who had picked the
fruit. The guard stood to attention, staring straight ahead. Perez made a move,
slipping his hand under his jacket at his back as he rounded on the guard. He
pulled out a handgun. He pointed it at the back of the guard’s head, and there
was a sudden explosion. A mist of brain matter and blood shot out from the
guard’s head like a geyser spouting. I flinched. Then he dropped out of sight.

I turned and stared at the chessboard, my
heart responding to the scene by beating so loud and fast that I almost
fainted. Winning the game didn’t seem to matter anymore, nor did I think it was
an option.

Perez burst through the door, his bodyguard
in his slipstream. He walked over to the table and swiped the chessboard,
scattering the chess pieces to one end of the room.

He paced the length of the room, waving his
handgun. ‘Thieving bastards. No one steals from me
–
no
one.’

Two guards hurried into the room, carrying
canvas bags from the crop duster. When I glanced at the clock, I saw that they
were on time, twenty minutes from the exchange.

I lowered my head.

‘Sir, what’s happened?’

‘Get out of here, all of you. Take the body
outside to the barracks and nail him to a tree. Then I want you to write up a
placard and hang it around his neck, so everyone knows what happens to those
who steal from me.’

I felt a jab on my shoulder and turned.