The Few (The Abductions of Langley Garret Book 2) (17 page)

'How are the ghosts going?' she asked, without looking up at me.

I looked at her and waited until she looked up from her plate. 'How do I know that all this is real, and not some kind of perverted fantasy?'

She put her cutlery down neatly on her plate. 'A perverted fantasy is not a bad analogy, except that you know people do really die, get killed and disappear.'

'I understand that all too well. But what I just can't comprehend is the concept of The Few and The Sons being two secret world-dominating groups, who while controlling everything together, are at war with each other. It doesn't make sense, and is well, just too far fetched to be true. I could come to grips with two mafia groups perhaps, but not this ridiculous idea of some whacko oligarchy, or two I suppose, ruling the world and at the same time, merrily killing each other off.'

'You've met some of the members of the Grand Council, and I'm sure you recognised who they were.'

'Yes, some politicians and businessmen.'

'Not light weights.'

'No, but their like belong to all sorts of crazy clubs. Lake Como is just another one probably. Just add food, wine and women, and have a quiet word in their ear. Influencing politicians is a very old game.'

'You could say that, and maybe there's more than an element of truth in it.'

'So I'm the spiritual head of an expensive and exclusive Club Med then?'

She smiled. 'There could be worse jobs.'

'Just tell me this. What would happen if I decided that all of this was a sham, and calmly walked out the door?'

'I can only explain it to you like this. You know a little of The Sons and The Few, but that's enough information and knowledge to make you valuable. As with anything of value, there are those who want to keep it and those who want to take it away. All I can say is that yes, you can walk out the door right now, but sooner or later, and probably sooner, someone will react. And there's one more thing I don't think you've understood yet.'

'I waited for her to continue.

'You're new at this, and weak, and until you prove that wrong, and show that you're strong and tough enough to be the Strategos, there's as much danger for you from within as there is from walking out the door.'

'That's comforting. If I walk out the door I'm dead, and if I stay I'm dead. It doesn't leave me much of a choice, does it? Dead on all fronts.'

'You really have to stop thinking you can walk away. Just accept it now. Stop fighting it and trying to think that there's a way out. There isn't. You're right though, you don't have much, well, any choice in the matter. Now that you're the Strategos, you have to prove that you are worthy. Sorry, but that's the hard truth of it.'
'You make it sound as if I have to kill a few poor souls with my bare hands and to tear out and eat their still beating hearts to earn respect, and save my own skin. Rather turns a fantasy into a nightmare.'

'I didn't make the rules. I've only learned to live with them, and stay alive.'

'But is it a life?'

'Like I said, I stay alive,' she said, with sadness in her eyes that told me that her being alive didn't quite equate to really having a life.

'So that's all this is about? Staying alive?'

Ellen looked down at the cold remnants of food on her plate for a few moments then stood up suddenly. 'I'll clear this away and make some coffee. Do you want one?'

'I'll help you,' I said, and started putting the plastic containers back into their plastic bags. We walked off to the kitchen, and while I rinsed the plates and cutlery, Ellen started making the coffee. She turned towards the refrigerator just as I turned from the sink, and we found ourselves face to face. The moment seemed to freeze, as we looked at each other, close enough to her for me to feel her breath on my face. Her eyes began to glisten with impending tears. I wasn't surprised when she threw her arms around my neck and buried her tears on my shoulder.

'I'm so sorry,' she said, choking on her tears. I put my arms around her. There was little else I could do.

When she lifted her head, she looked up into my eyes. I think we both knew but couldn't help ourselves, as our lips met. And as we tasted each other, we knew we had signed our death warrants with a single kiss.

We'd recovered ourselves by the time Marcus arrived at eleven, and I was relieved to discover that he would be replacing Ellen and spending the night with me, camped on the sofa. It hardly mattered though, as Ellen and I both knew that the damage had well and truly been done.

*****

I'd made my decision within a week of returning to Lake Como. The ramifications of it would be something I would have to live with; if in fact I lived to do so. It would however prove to me if I was living in a fantasy or not. Within a few days of informing Marcus of what I wanted to have arranged, he confirmed that the plans were starting to be put into place. About a week later he confirmed the date of our departure, which was one month away. I asked him yet again and he assured me that no one other than the two of us at Lake Como knew about the plan.

Damnation

When it wasn't raining, I usually walked around the meandering paths of the garden in the late afternoon. Although certainly not an escape, it helped in clearing my mind a little, and getting some fresh air, and solitude. Perhaps it was noted as being a daily habit of mine, and why I was never disturbed. It wasn't raining, so I took my regular walk just after five, pleased that Ellen and I had returned to work together without any lingering affects from the one silly moment in Neuchâtel, and although it was impossible to hide an occasional knowing meeting of our eyes, it hadn't intruded on what we did each day.

After wandering for nearly half and hour, I turned left into a long path lined with budding hibiscus, and was surprised to see Giovanna ahead of me, standing as if she had been waiting for me.

'Hello.'

'Your face is lined with fear Soter,' she said, when I stopped in front of her.

'More than usual?' I said, in a tone that was an attempt at levity.

'You know that I've seen it all before, so don't try to hide your distress from me. The time is close.'

'The time?'

'You will not remain the Strategos simply by lying with Thalia and being briefed each day by Clytemnestra. Neither of them will keep you alive.'

'You make it all sound very dire Giovanna.'

'Kratos was in your position once, a long time ago. I know what you must do, and so do you. And now that you've understood that and decided on the action you will take, you're unsure it will be sufficient to save your life. Doubt and fear go together.'

'Any other advice?'

'No, other than to be wise, and be sure.'

'How do I know if I am either?'

'You don't, at least not yet. I'll leave you to your walk,' she said, and started to turn to walk away. I didn't answer her, but she turned her head to me after she had taken a few paces. 'Be even more careful about matters of the heart, Soter. They have no safe place in your life now.'

I looked at her and then away at the hibiscus for a few seconds. When I looked back, she had disappeared.

*****

Whatever fears I had held during the few weeks before, they paled to nothing in comparison to the dread that was riddling my entire body as Marcus and I boarded the helicopter for the last short leg of our journey. There was nothing to say, as the roar of the engines, and the large orange headphones we were both wearing made it impossible to be heard. All I could do was feel my whole body trembling uncontrollably as the roar increased and I felt the helicopter lifting from the ground.

Within ten minutes, the beast appeared on the horizon and with each passing second, it formed more clearly in front of my eyes. As the helicopter banked and made its approach, I could see the concrete walls, razor wire and the three quickly constructed cement block buildings, which housed all of my horrors. I looked down at my deformed left hand and then up at the desert that cradled and secreted this evil abomination from civilisation. No sooner had we landed, Marcus pulled off his headphones and looked at me to do the same, before we jumped down from the helicopter and jogged, half crouched, away from it. It rose and roared away as soon as we made it to the front gate. Within a few short minutes, I was standing face to face with the horror from my past.

'It's indeed a very strange world we live in. Welcome back,' the Oxford accent of The Barber said, without an offer to shake hands.

'Yes, it is. Now, is everything ready?' I asked, avoiding any chance of anything remotely approaching conversation, or having to have eye contact with him any longer than absolutely necessary.

'Yes. The woman first?'

'It doesn't matter.'

'This way then,' he said, and I followed behind him, with Marcus by my side. It was only a short walk down a filthy grey concrete corridor – its walls smeared with pain – until I saw the door, and my horrific memories came flooding back. He opened the door and indicated that we could enter. The steel table, with the handcuff welded to one corner, instantly bringing bile rising in a tide to my throat. I swallowed hard, but my stomach was now adding its intention to launch a load of vomit. I swallowed harder, concentrating on the two dented, grey metal chairs that apart from the one light above, were the only furnishings in the small, vile concrete chamber. The disgusting stench of stale body odour and suffering filled the voids of the dank space.

'I'll fetch her,' he said, from the door. Marcus nodded, while I waited for my guts to give me the fortitude I was desperately about to need. I sat down slowly, feeling my legs tremble like jelly as I lowered myself onto the chair, opposite the obscenity of the welded handcuff. Marcus moved to one corner, standing behind me on my right. Clearing my mind only a little, I managed to recall the details from the file I had read a hundred times. Farizah bint ash-Sheikh, forty-three years old, eldest sister of Sa'ud bin ash-Sheikh. Passionate collector of Paris fashion, luxury jewellery and fluent in Arabic, French and English. Educated in Switzerland and the US. Spends many months of the year on shopping vacations in Paris, Milan and New York. My mind was ready to recall more, but sickening, terrified screams from the corridor, and then the door opening ended the necessity.

'Noooooooo!' she screeched, as she was bundled through the door by two men in black balaclavas. They grabbed an arm each and stood her in front of me, naked, her long black hair knotted and matted, with bruises covering her body, and welts and dried scabs dotting her face. 'Noooo, noooo, please, nooo more!' she cried again, before sobbing; her thin body shivering in abject terror.

'Sit her down,' I said, in a petrified whisper.

As the two men sat her down forcibly, and clasped her right wrist into the handcuff, I smelled the odour of sweat, stale urine and faeces that oozed from her skin. I looked at the pitiful sight in front of me and waited – her head bent, still sobbing – and waited not so much for her to look up at me, as for my own courage to arrive. I caught a signal in the corner of my eye from Marcus telling the two men to leave. I waited again, until they had left and closed the door. I stared at her, recalling the agonies and humiliation I had suffered, exactly where she now sat. Her pain and suffering running through me, yet I knew I had to disconnect her suffering from mine. I swallowed hard.

'Look at me,' I said. She didn't look up. 'I said, look at me.'

Her sobbing slowed, and I gave her time, until finally she looked up at my face. Her dark eyes then darted from my face to Marcus and to the walls, in terror, as her whole body shook uncontrollably.

'Good. My name is Soter. I want you to say my name,' I said calmly.

'She looked at me; fear and tears dripping from her face. 'Sot……,' she trailed off.

'Again.'

After a long hesitation, 'Sot….'

'Listen to me very carefully Farizah. I want you to say my name so I can hear it, and so you will remember it, and then, with luck, you might leave here alive. Soter. Soter. Repeat.'

'Soter,' she said in a whisper, looking down at the table.

'Louder,' I ordered. She whispered it again, looking down. I leant bodily across the table and grabbed her by the back of her head, pulling painfully on a handful of hair, forcing her head back, and leaning further forward until my face was only inches from hers. She winced in pain. 'Again. Louder you fucking bitch!' I spat in her face.

'Soter!' she screamed.

'Again!'

'Soter! Soter!'

'Soter. S, o, t, e, r. Spell it,' I said. My face now even closer to hers, and I could smell her fear.

Confusion started to add to her panic, but she understood. 's….o….t….'

'Louder.'

'S….O…T….E….R.'

'Again!'

'S….O…T….E….R…..S….O…T….E….R.'

'Well done,' I said as I released my hold on her head and sat back. 'I don't want you to ever forget my name Farizah. That's why I had you brought here, so that when you tell your brother about your few days here, you will be certain to mention my name.

She looked at me in fear and confusion. 'What is my name Farizah?'

'Soter,' she whispered, with her head lowered. My right hand launched and struck her face hard and she winced in pain, nearly losing her balance. She grabbed at the table with her free hand to save her self from falling. 'Not loud enough Farizah. How many times do you want to be fucked and kicked by these animals?'