THE SPANISH REVENGE (Craig Page series) (27 page)

58

MARBELLA

Musa glanced up from his desk and the battle plan he had been reviewing in a notebook when Omar led Elizabeth, arms tied behind her back, into his study. They were followed by the three men who had abducted her from the Paris street. She had bruises on her body, but she looked defiant.

Salim, one of the three men, had bloody towels over his face.

“What happened to you?” Musa asked.

One of the others spoke up. “She beat him.”

Musa was astounded. “You let a girl do this to you?”

Salim didn’t respond.

“What’s your excuse?”

When Salim still didn’t say anything, Musa picked up his gun and shot the man. “Get him out of my sight,” he barked to the two others who had been in the van.

Elizabeth was still standing erect. Not cowering. He admired her courage.

When the others were gone and it was just Musa, Omar, and Elizabeth, he said to her, “I can’t let you publish your article about the parchment. You realize that?”

“Yes,” she said in a bold voice.

“What makes you think it was a hoax?”

“It’s inconsistent with everything I’ve read about Isabella’s life.”

“Specifically what?”

“Isabella’s hatred for Muslims. She was vicious and unrepentant to her last breath. The parchment is totally out of character.”

“You consider yourself such an expert on medieval history with your Harvard degree.”

“I’ve learned a little. Enough to recognize that killing Lila wasn’t a very creative act on your part. You knew about Florinda. It may have led to a popular uprising then. It won’t now. People saw through it.”

He ignored her taunt. He still wanted to determine whether her conclusion about the hoax was based on her knowledge of Isabella or whether she had found a defect planted in the parchment by Etienne. If Musa could see her draft article, he’d know. “Did she have a laptop with her?” he asked Omar.

“It was in her bag. She used it to strike Salim in the face. After they tied her down, he destroyed the computer.”

Musa groaned. “Ah … What an imbecile.”

He turned to Omar. “Blindfold her and take her downstairs. Put her in the other cell.”

Musa returned to his battle plan, but he couldn’t concentrate. He was anxiously awaiting General Zhou. The meeting with Alvarez was critical to their operation.

An hour later, Zhou arrived. As usual, the man’s face showed nothing. Musa slammed the door to the study. “How did it go?”

“Alvarez agreed to do what we want. Spanish troops are already being deployed from the south to the north.”

“Excellent.”

They began reviewing the final plans for tomorrow morning’s invasion.

“My goal,” Musa said, “is to retake the Alahambra, the majestic palace that signified the rule of Islam in Spain. Once again that will be the ruling center of Muslims in Europe. With the Spanish troops out of the area, thanks to Alvarez, we’ll be able to move fast across the countryside, cutting a path from our landing point to the Alhambra in Granada. Meantime, like Saladin during the Third Crusade, I’ll be rallying Muslims throughout Europe to join in my struggle. The parchment will be of enormous help in gaining support. A glorious day awaits us,” he said with enthusiasm. “A day where …”

Musa was interrupted by Omar entering the office, a horrified expression on his face. “What happened.”

“I’ve heard from three of the four men deployed in Rome. They reached their destinations with rockets intact and ready to fire tomorrow morning.”

“And the fourth?”

“Rachid should have phoned in with a coded message. He hasn’t. I don’t want to call his cell phone for fear the call will be traced.”

Musa shot to his feet. “Rachid is an idiot and incompetent. I don’t know why you selected him for such an important job.”

Omar’s eye was twitching. “I thought I could depend on him. It was an error of judgment. I’m sorry.”

“’Sorry’ doesn’t cut it. We have to assume Craig Page and Giuseppe have seized Rachid and he’s spilled his guts.” Musa was shouting. “This could jeopardize our whole Vatican operation. How could you have been so stupid?”

“They all had guns. They were supposed to kill themselves rather than be taken alive.”

“He doesn’t have the courage.”

“Would you like me to resign as your deputy?:”

Musa grabbed the gun on his desk. “I don’t tolerate failure.” He aimed at Omar.

Before he could fire, General Zhou said, “Hold on a minute. I think you’re overreacting.” He turned to Omar. “Did Rachid know the locations of the other three who will be firing missiles in Rome?”

“No. I was careful to give them only their own addresses. When they were together, they were all wearing masks.”

“Suppose Page learned one of the locations, would this lead him to the others?”

“Absolutely not. The four are each on a different radial line from the Vatican. And at varying distances. If you look at a map of Rome, the four would seem like random selections. All they have in common is they are within twenty kilometers of the Vatican.”

“Along with thousands of other locations.”

Omar nodded.

“This means that Page and Giuseppe have twenty four hours to find three needles in a haystack. They can’t possibly locate them, particularly because your people are now in place and won’t be leaving their locations.”

“That’s right.”

Shifting the gun from hand to hand, Musa was glaring at General Zhou. “Why are you defending Omar?”

“He’s valuable to the overall operation. If his mistake won’t jeopardize our plans, I don’t want to lose him.”

“You think I’m becoming too emotional. Too erratic. A commander who’s losing control on the eve of battle.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Humph.” Musa gripped the Beretta tightly and glared at Omar.

Suddenly, he put down the gun. “Perhaps I did overreact. Omar, you’ve worked hard and been loyal. We’re so close. I just don’t want it to slip away now.”

“I understand,” Omar said, relief in his voice.

Musa turned back to the open notebook on his desk with the plans for the invasion.

“We’ll talk about the landing point,” Musa said. “I want our troops to come in just to the east of Gibraltar. That will cut down on the time we’ll be on the water.”

“I think that’s a mistake,” General Zhou said. “It will be better to make land further to the east. To the east of Malaga. With the element of surprise and the cover of darkness, being at sea is not risky. The advantage is that it will reduce enormously the distance our troops have to cover on land to get to the Alhambra. Those will be tough kilometers, each one bitterly contested. It has another advantage. They’ll be expecting us to come in close to Gibraltar. This will fool them.”

Musa thought about what General Zhou said. He was right, of course. “We’ll do it that way.”

Musa leafed through the rest of the notebook. Then he said, “We’re ready. I’m going back to Morocco today. I want to lead my troops in the invasion. At the front of the lead boat. Omar, you’ll come with me.”

“I’ll remain here in Marabella,” General Zhou said. “I want to be close by in case I can help with the battle.”

“Good. I’ll call if I need anything.”

Omar asked, “What should we do with two prisoners downstairs?”

Musa was tired. He’d forgotten about Elizabeth and Professor Etienne. Now he focused.

Musa had to decide what to do about the two of them.

“We’ll go downstairs and I’ll kill the Professor,” Musa said, pronouncing an immutable death sentence. He picked up his gun.

“And Elizabeth?” Omar asked

“We should use that hellcat for sport.”

“What do you mean?”

“After I kill the Professor, we’ll strip off all her clothes. Yours too.
We’ll lock the two of you in her cell for a fight to the death. You’ll have fun. Right?”

He knew Omar was afraid to disagree with him.

“Yes. Fun,” Omar said glumly.

“You don’t sound like you mean it. Afraid she’ll get the better of you?”

“That’ll never happen.”

Musa noticed General Zhou frowning. “What’s bothering you? Against fun?”

“It’s OK with me.”

Musa turned back to Omar. “General Zhou and I will be watching from the outside through the glass in the bars. We’ll see whether you’re man enough to subdue her, then rape and strangle her as you did with Lila. But if she kills you, then I shoot her. Either way she dies.”

Now fully alert, Elizabeth sat on the bed in the cell like room trying to assess her situation. They hadn’t killed her in Paris. They hadn’t gouged out her eyes. Not yet. At least they’d taken off the ropes from her wrists and ankles. The blindfold was gone.

Her whole body hurt like hell. She was certain she had several broken ribs. She hoped no internal injuries. Her shoulder ached. She didn’t have a mirror, but she was sure her neck was severely bruised, because breathing was difficult. She recalled Musa shooting Salim. I’m better off than the guy I hit with my bag, she thought. For now, anyhow. Maybe not for long.

Elizabeth had only a vague recollection of how she had gotten here. She had been bundled into a small plane and put into a large box. After the flight, someone placed a blindfold over her eyes and led her to another car. In the backseat he tied her wrists and ankles. She heard someone say, “It’s half an hour drive to Marbella.” It was useless knowing where she was. She had no way of reaching Craig or anyone else for help.

She recalled her bizarre encounter with Musa upstairs after
they took off the blindfold. He was a madman, killing her bleeding attacker, capable of anything.

She didn’t know whether Professor Etienne was still alive. In the event he was, she was glad she protected him. Not telling Musa how she discovered the hoax.

Thinking about her next encounter with Musa sent shivers up and down her spine. A rat ran across the floor. That terrified her even more. In Brooklyn as teenagers, her brothers used to hunt rats. When they did, she ran and hid.

The room had a bathroom on one side. A while ago, a man had deposited a tray of food inside the door and gone away. He wasn’t wearing a facemask. He didn’t care that she saw him. That confirmed Musa was planning to kill her. Her death was the only way Musa could ensure that she didn’t publish the article.

No one will ever find me, she decided. She blamed herself for being stupid. For being so intent on her story that she’d gone to the Professor’s house without anticipating the risk. If only she’d told Craig about the strange meeting that had been arranged. He would have sent bodyguards with her. Well, it was too late for that.

She heard knocking on the wall. She moved closer, making sure she wasn’t imagining it. More knocks. She knocked back. Then put her ear against the wall. A muffled voice called out. “I’m Professor Etienne. Who are you?”

He had to be in the cell adjacent to hers.

“Elizabeth Crowder.”

“Please forgive me for getting you here. I had no choice.”

“I know that.”

“Did you notice the curl on the letter “T” in the parchment?”

“Yes. How did it get there?”

“I put it on. I realized Musa would kill me regardless of what happened. I had no chance of saving my life. So I tried to signal that the parchment was a fraud. To get back at him that way. Did you let others know?”

“I didn’t have time, but scholars will find out. Just as I did.”

“That’s good.”

“Don’t give up hope.” She recalled being tied to the stake in Musa’s base while he and the other horseman held their spears. “Never lose hope. Salvation is always possible.”

She heard loud voices coming down the stairs toward her cell and the Professor’s.

The men with the loud voices, Musa and two others, went into Professor Etienne’s room.

She heard the professor scream. “No. No. Don’t kill me. I did everything you asked … No … No … Please.”

“You’re no longer of use to me. Only a threat.”

“But I won’t tell anyone. I swear.”

“Get off your knees. Stand up straight. Die like a man.”

Then the unmistakable sound of a gun firing. Once. Twice. Three times. Elizabeth was trembling.

She heard Musa say, “He’s dead. Now we’ll have fun with Elizabeth. Then kill her.”

She couldn’t summon the hope she had urged Etienne to embrace. She was resigned to her death. Willing to face it with courage.

With alarm, General Zhou watched Omar strip off his clothes. Was Omar planning to enjoy this sadistic game of Musa’s or was he too terrified of Musa to object? More bizarre behavior on Musa’s part. This could have serious repercussions.

General Zhou had failed to block Elizabeth’s abduction, which led to Page seizing Androshka. For sure, he had to stop this crazy sport. He couldn’t let Musa kill Elizabeth. Not while Page had Androshka. Elizabeth was his only bargaining chip to get Androshka back. But he couldn’t tell Musa that. Musa would laugh at him and tell him he was a fool. One woman was no different than another.

Besides, Musa was a hothead, as he had shown with the man he killed upstairs and by almost killing Omar. General Zhou had
to be careful, or Musa would turn the gun on him. Tell him, “I no longer need you.” Unquestionably, Musa was becoming unglued as the attack drew closer.

While they were leaving Professor Etienne’s cell, the smell of gunfire in the air, General Zhou clutched Musa’s arm. “Let’s talk for a minute. Just the two of us.”

Musa looked at naked Omar and said, “Wait here. Stroke your prick. Get it ready.”

General Zhou led Musa down the corridor to a deserted room. He had to approach this carefully. “I’ve been involved in a lot of military operations over the years,” he said.

“And?” Musa sounded impatient. “Omar’s waiting. I want to start the game.”

“Everything rarely proceeds exactly as planned.”

“I know that. I’m no fool.”

“As Sun Tzu declared in
The Art of War,
over two thousand years ago, it pays to keep every option open. Every resource at your disposal.”

“What the hell does that mean? Do all you Chinese talk in riddles?”

General Zhou swallowed hard. “Having Elizabeth alive and under our control gives us leverage over Craig Page if we need it at a critical point. We gain nothing by killing her.”