Aruba Mad Günther

by T L Yeager

  Maddie had come to live with owning Will’s death. She’d never get over Ross and Izzy.

  She hadn’t fired fast enough, and Will died. This time it was a fucking passport.

  A fraction of a second made all the difference for Will. The round tore him open in the instant Maddie fired. If she would have pulled the trigger a few milliseconds sooner, Will would still be around to look after his three boys and wife.

  Paperwork sealed Ross and Izzy’s fate. If she would’ve remembered a passport for Charlotte, she’d be in that resort with them. There wouldn’t have been a fucking video.

  Will’s death rode around with her like a parasite medicine that couldn’t kill. Losing Ross and Izzy would turn it into a tissue-eating monster. Everyone would tell her to be strong for Charlotte—they’d give the only advice there was to offer—but she’d die from the inside out.

  Will was dead before the corpsman hit the roof. Ross and Izzy had 72 hours.

  Maddie straightened and continued the deep breaths. All around her the day was slipping into night. When she closed her eyes, the video was there, repeating in an unending loop. Ross had a look in his eye that told her it was far from over. He was up for a fight.

  Maddie opened her eyes to an orange and purple sky in the west. Nature was perfect, even on its worst days. It didn’t care that the United States hadn’t paid a public ransom in years. It didn’t have an opinion or take sides.

  The US government spent seven million dollars per minute. A twenty-minute shutdown would cover the ransom. So many dollars were wasted, lost in the mountain of money. Here was a tangible use that would see none thrown at it.

  Pay the ransom and then attack the bastards with reckless abandon, that’d be Maddie’s plan. No US citizen would think twice about that strategy, except the ones running the government. Such a titanic shift of policy would only happen if one of their own was on the line. Common citizens didn’t garner that type of exception.

  Standing there, staring at the sky, her gut provided the second certainty of the day. She wanted in on the fight. This time she’d pull the trigger first, before it was too late. Standing aside and waiting on the outcome wasn’t an option. She’d be torn apart, one chunk at a time.

  Voices from behind caught her attention. Maddie turned. Geert and Kavita were standing on the front porch watching her. Geert had his arm around his wife. Both had tears in their eyes.

  “Geert. I’m gonna need your help,” Maddie said, as she climbed the stairs.

  Geert nodded. “Anything at all. You name it.”

  35

  Surfside Resort, Aruba: Ground Floor

  Twelve hundred milligrams of Ibuprofen worked wonders. Ross was worried it might burn a hole in his stomach, but it was worth it. The video session was a good thing. They were bait and needed to be kept alive.

  He and Izzy were walked back to the administrative office after the video session. Anas accompanied them.

  “You will not be going back to your room,” Anas explained as they reached the lobby door. “You’ll be staying in the office. Mattresses will be brought for you.” His demeanor was anything but menacing. In fact, he seemed polite, his tone cordial.

  Anas was leading and he held the door open. “Understand that you will be under guard at all times and any attempt to escape will…” Anas looked down at Isabelle. “Don’t leave the room. For her sake.”

  Ross’s eyes followed the blood smear back out toward to main lobby where a soldier was hunched over a machine gun. It was resting on a tripod on a desk that had been pulled from the concierge area adjacent to reception. If he fired, the first shots would be through the lobby windows, Ross reasoned.

  As he looked on, Ross felt Izzy cringe at the sight. He pulled her face to his stomach to shield her eyes.

  “Stop it! I can’t see where I’m going, Daddy!”

  After they were past it, he let go. At the same time, Ross noticed that the lights had been turned on in the souvenir shop and convenience store. They were glass-fronted spaces set to the side of the main entry within the resort lobby. The first sold t-shirts, trinkets and inner tubes for the lazy river. Separated by a wall lined by shelves on each side, the other offered snacks, medicine, magazines and over-priced alcohol. Ross spotted the three Brits he’d glimpsed on their way out of the office. They’d been moved and were seated along the convenience store checkout counter.

  In the souvenir shop, a man sat alone in a chair in the middle of the room. The two made eye contact, their short gaze broken as Ross turned to round the reception desk into the office.

  “Where is your wife?” Anas asked after the door to the lobby drifted closed. Ross was caught off guard by the question. He had noticed another red stain soaked into the carpet at the entrance to the office.

  “She didn’t make it down,” Ross said. “We have a one-year-old, and she didn’t have a passport.”

  Anas shook his head. “I’ll be in here most of the time. Knock if you need anything.” He motioned to a door along the wall of the office.

  “I could use some ice. For my head,” Ross said. “To help bring down the swelling.”

  “I’ll see what I can do.” Anas left through the door they had entered. On his way out, he paused. “Don’t let the emergency exit get you into trouble. It’s blocked and won’t open. Besides that, there’s an armed soldier on the other side. Just stay put and you’ll be okay.”

  It had taken close to an hour but the ice arrived. Along with it came a case of water and a box with assorted potato chips. Fifteen minutes after that, two mattresses, sheets and pillows were delivered.

  There was a cluster of six cubicles set off to one side, leaving an open area along the wall with the door Anas had pointed out. The door was in the center of the wall. It looked heavy and had a deadbolt above the knob.

  Past the door were marketing pictures of the resort. Ridiculously vibrant families played in the water. Picture-perfect couples smiled in the sun.

  The back wall included an emergency exit and two windowless offices. It was about the worst office you could imagine on an island. Not a single window out to paradise.

  The clock on the wall read 6:49. He’d left his phone in the hotel room when they made their ill-fated run to escape. Without the clock, Ross wouldn’t have had any idea what time it was. It was hard to believe an entire day had passed.

  He made the beds and straightened their space. Izzy was drawing pictures in a cubicle where Ross had set her up. It felt good to have some order after a day of chaos.

  Ross had already searched the offices and cubes for anything of value. He’d come away with two pocket-sized flashlights, a miniature Leatherman multi-tool and an iPad.

  Only six of the eight desks had a computer, and all of them were password protected. If Maddie was there, she probably could have hacked in. Ross looked for the passwords on Post-it notes, but the crew manning the windowless office was good about hiding the codes.

  He’d found the iPad in the boss’s office. Karen Wooten was the ‘Resort Manager,’ according to the plaque squared front and center on her desk. Karen’s iPad was not protected by a password, which was the first good luck of the day for Ross. It was connected to the internet. Score two for the good guys.

  Ross was careful not to use it in the open, for fear they’d take it if they caught him. With the mattresses delivered, it seemed they were settled for the night. There’d been no sign of Anas and the gunshots they’d heard throughout the day, the ones he lied to Izzy about, had all but stopped.

  With the door partially closed, Ross sat in Karen’s chair and wheeled himself up to the desk. He tapped his way into the iPad and launched the browser, hoping for news of any kind. As the bar across the top hesitated, it occurred to him that this had to be a top international story. Terrorists take over Aruban resort. He could see the headlines on CNN and Fox News.

  The bar moved to the right and a webpage appeared. A fraction of a second was all that was required to know that the terroris
ts had taken control of more than just the buildings.

  ‘This webpage is designed for the Surfside Resort guests. You are hostages. Stay in your rooms! Our goal is to hurt as few of you as possible. We are here for money. We are asking your countries to pay ransom. Follow the rules below and you will be safe.’

  The rules were simple.

  ‘1) Stay in your room unless told to do otherwise.’

  ‘2) Anyone attempting to escape, resist, or failing to follow orders, will be shot.’

  ‘3) When we sound the fire alarm, check this webpage. The alarm is an indication that this webpage has been updated with new, pertinent information. Follow any instructions posted here closely.’

  Seven videos were listed vertically under the heading ‘Hostage Videos’. Theirs was in the middle and Ross clicked it first.

  He looked like shit. The knot on his head was the size of half a baseball. It was a purple hump sticking out the side.

  He felt tears wanting to well in his eyes when he watched Izzy on the video—so young and innocent. Izzy never looked up at the camera. Her feet were dangling above the ground. She bounced her legs back and forth, staring down at her sandals. Ross wondered if Maddie had seen the video yet. He could almost feel her rage.

  After it finished, he scrolled the rest of the page and was struck by the lack of information. There was nothing about ransoms. No reasons given for the videos. Nothing being asked at all.

  Ross typed, ‘CNN,’ into the browser and hit enter. The screen cleared and the bar ran left to right but hopes were dashed when the same page reappeared. He typed, ‘Google’ and got the same result.

  “Dammit!” He wanted to slam the iPad down and break it.

  “Daddy! Are you okay?” Izzy asked from the room outside.

  “I’m fine, sweets. Just bumped my knee.”

  “I’m hungry, Daddy,” Izzy whined.

  Ross ignored it, and clicked on another video. The trio from England showed a great deal of fear. They had trouble maintaining contact with the camera which made it hard to understand what they were saying. Someone, probably Anas, had clapped in the background. After the clap, the man in the video had focused and explained how they had been four. One in their group had been killed trying to escape.

  Ross recognized the German man from the souvenir shop. He made it clear he was a member of the Bundesrat of Germany. A government official.

  Ross had enough of the videos. He walked out of Karen Wooten’s office and into the second cube where Izzy sat with a stack of computer paper and markers. Looking over her shoulder, he saw that Izzy had drawn a picture of a house with a rainbow arching over the top. Four people, two tall and two short, stood beside the house. She was working on a car.

  “I’m hungry too, honey. Have another bag of chips for now and I’ll see if I can get us some food.”

  “You never usually let me eat chips,” Izzy replied, looking up.

  “It’s okay for now. Until we can find some salad.” Ross smiled and tickled his daughter under the arm.

  “Gotta eat your salad so you grow big and strong,” Izzy said, in her sing-song Daddy voice.

  “Right, right,” said Ross. “That’s a beautiful picture, sweets.”

  He turned and stared at the door Anas had pointed out. Ross hadn’t heard any noise come from in there since Anas left. Something told him to knock.

  The tumbler in the deadbolt above the knob rolled. The door was pushed open toward Ross. Anas was leaning back in a chair, looking over his shoulder.

  “What can I do?” he asked.

  Ross hesitated, a mix of renewed fear and curiosity catching his tongue. Anas was surrounded by computer screens.

  “Hey… Um… I appreciate the food you’ve brought us, but is it possible to get something besides potato chips?” Ross knew that they needed to stay as fed and hydrated as possible. Food and water were often kept from kidnapping victims. There was no telling if or when their situation would follow suit.

  “Can we get something else to eat, mister?” Izzy hopped up from behind, wrapping herself around Ross’s leg.

  Anas leaned forward. He turned in his chair, anger congealing in his brow. Seeming ready to speak, he held the words as he scanned her.

  The tightness in his eyes faded. “Perhaps,” he said. “How old are you?”

  “Six. And…” Izzy said, drawing it out. “I have to wait like a whole year before I’m seven.”

  Anas smiled. He rocked his head, his expression softening. “I had a sister.” His grin turned sad. Ross noted the past tense as he waited for more.

  “She was seven, like you.” Anas leaned closer, his lowering eyebrows bunching the skin around his eyes. “Her favorite color was purple. What’s yours?”

  “Pink is perfect.” Izzy’s voice was hushed with shyness.

  “Very nice.” Anas puckered and then drew in a breath as he straightened in his chair. His nose and eyes lifted to the ceiling and he cocked his head as if clearing a crick in his neck.

  “You’ve got a lot of computers going in there,” Ross said.

  “Yes. Enough that it gets a bit warm.” Anas pushed the door further open and rolled his chair toward the threshold to keep it from closing.

  “She’s was about your height,” Anas said, again leaning forward and focusing his attention on Izzy. “A similar nose, but darker hair. You are lucky to have family.”

  “Thanks,” Izzy whispered, hugging Ross’s leg tighter.

  Anas sat back in his chair again. He crossed his arms and shifted his gaze to Ross. “Do you understand the gravity of your situation?”

  Ross considered the question before responding. “Not fully.”

  “You are hostages.” Anas’s attempt to bring strength to the words was awkward. “We’ve taken over this entire resort.”

  Ross sensed him searching for recognition in the eyes—some acknowledgment of the authority implied by the statement. He knitted his brow and nodded.

  “Our goal is not to hurt you or the others,” he continued, shaking his head side to side. “Our goal is money.” Anas paused. “And the pulpit,” he said, nodding this time.

  “I understand,” Ross said.

  “It’s important that you follow the rules. While our goal is not to hurt many, those who do not follow the rules must be dealt with.” He broke eye contact. “The penalties are severe.”

  “I promise you. My interest is in protecting my daughter.”

  The mention of her name brought Anas’s attention back down to Izzy. “Yes, of course it is. It’s a mutual interest.” He unlaced his arms, turning the palms down and resting them on his knees. “Here’s what we can do. There’s pre-wrapped sandwiches and fruit. I’ll have some brought to you. And, we’re going to see about finding someone to do some cooking tomorrow.”

  Cooking? Tomorrow? Ross thought. How long was this going to last?

  “I like sandwiches and fruit,” Izzy said. “Thank you.”

  “Such good manners for a mere six years. You are most welcome, Miss Isabelle.” Anas reached out a clenched fist. “We will work together.” Izzy reached out and bumped her fist to his. Anas rolled away his hand opening in an exaggerated explosion, complete with simulated noise. Izzy giggled and Anas let out a bayed laugh.

  “All will be well,” Anas said, recovering.

  “Are you leading the whole thing from in here?” Ross asked.

  Anas turned toward the computer screens. There were three laptops arrayed on the desk. The one on the left appeared to be showing the webpage Ross had read on the iPad. The one in the middle—Anas closed the top, folding it down before Ross could see what was on the screen.

  The laptop on the right had a number of small boxes with pop-up windows overlaid.

  “What’s that?” Ross asked.

  Anas looked to see where he was pointing. “You should go,” he said without moving.

  Ross widened his eyes and put his hands up. “Okay.”

  “But to answer your question…
Those are drones. We have four of them flying at all times.”

  “You mean the toy helicopter things?” Ross asked.

  Anas chuckled. “Yes, but much more sophisticated.”

  “But the picture looks strange. Is that night vision?”

  “It’s infrared,” Anas replied. “See here.” He pointed to the bottom, at one of the boxes on the screen. Ross stepped into the threshold, grasping the door frame as he leaned into the room.

  “These colors are from our men on the roof over there.” He pointed toward the wall to his right, elevating his hand toward the ceiling. “Their bodies give off heat and with an infrared camera we see those wavelengths show as color. I can switch it to regular light.” Anas sat forward and took a mouse in his right hand. He clicked two popup windows closed and then drew down a menu from the top and selected something from the list. The picture changed from a black screen with reddish-orange dots, to a dark video image.

  Ross cocked his head, focusing his gaze as he stepped closer still. He could tell the image was from high above, but he couldn’t tell what he was looking at.

  “That’s pretty cool,” he said. “So you can see if there are people around the resort?”

  “Exactly. And if I see anything, I can take control and fly over to check it out. There’s a reason the US military has invested so heavily in drones. Having an eye in the sky over our operation is a significant advantage.” Ross could sense his excitement. It was almost as if he’d been waiting to show it off.

  “That’s smart.” Ross said, pausing to give the compliment time to resonate.

  “What’s on that one?” Izzy asked from below. She was still attached to Ross’s leg but her grip had slackened. She was pointing to the screen with the webpage where thumbnails of the hostage videos were listed. “Is that Netflix?”

  Anas turned back to look at her. “No, Isabelle. This computer is where everyone in the hotel is directed when they log into the internet. It has instructions which you and your father already have been told.” He looked up at Ross and continued. “You know how at a hotel they can force you to their webpage to get wi-fi access?”