The Winemaker

by Charmaine Pauls

  She watched his eyes widen in pain and shock. His mouth distorted, and a terrible sound escaped his lips. She pulled back and kicked again to be on the safe side.

  Zako’s big hands went instinctively to his crotch, cupping the injured area as his legs buckled and he went down onto his knees with a loud thud. Zenna was already scrambling backwards on her elbows and feet, putting distance between them as fast as she could until she was just outside of his reach. She turned on her knees, scrambled to her feet, and started sprinting in the opposite direction.

  Her body was weak and her legs and arms stiff. To her dismay, she stumbled twice and fell once before she got up again on unsteady legs. There wasn’t a second to spare to glance over her shoulder. The terrifying swearing aimed at her coming from behind told her Zako was still on his knees.

  In front of her, she saw a maze of poorly lit streets. She was somewhere in a city, a city she didn’t know, but she pushed forward, as fast as her feet could carry her. She was faintly aware of something hot and warm trickling down her knees, but she didn’t care as long as she could get away.

  She sprinted down the quiet road. Just before taking the first crossroad, she glanced, for the first time, over her shoulder. She was just in time to see a still swearing Zako making his way forward on wobbly legs, a pistol in his hand.

  She had an advance on him. She could lose him in the maze of streets. She cut into another side street, checking first to ensure it wasn’t a dead end. Her boots made a hell of a lot of noise on the tar road. Stopping around the next corner, she paused for only a few seconds to pull the boots off. She dumped them into the garbage bin on the corner. Then she continued to run, her limbs looser now, her body slowly regaining more control over her stiffness. The cold night air burned in her lungs as she prayed Zako wouldn’t find her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Pedro and Ana walked briskly up to Etán where he waited for them in the hotel lobby and embraced their son. When they stepped aside, Luca slapped his brother on the back.

  “This way,” Etán said, showing them through the lobby.

  Once they were seated in a private lounge Max had kindly arranged, Etán told them everything he had learned since the moment Zenna had disappeared. He gave his father the piece of paper on which Max had scribbled the registration number of the van only a few minutes ago.

  “I can’t believe this happened.” He appealed to his parents. “How could they have known? We were careful. We even booked her in under a false name.”

  Luca took a newspaper clipping from the inside pocket of his leather jacket and held it out to Etán.

  Taking the piece of paper, Etán looked at it, puzzled. There was a color photo of Zenna in the New Employment section of one of the largest daily newspapers. It had been taken when she was unaware of it. He remembered the moment well. The photographer had photographed the cellar and the wine for the new leaflet and had taken it while Zenna and he were standing on the side discussing the upcoming launch.

  He had been specific in not selecting it for any publicity reasons whatsoever. The part where he had been standing, had been cropped out to show only Zenna’s face. It showed her with her hair around her shoulders, that mass of auburn highlighted with almond streaks. She was turned to the camera at a slight angle, looking at something in the distance.

  Etán’s heart clenched while he looked at the photo. “What the hell?” He looked at Luca.

  “Emmie,” Luca said simply. “It’s not her fault. It’s standard procedure. We always send photos of our new employees to the newspapers. Part of our publicity protocol.”

  Pedro looked up when he noticed his younger son referring to ‘our’ and ‘we’. It seemed the ordeal was somehow making Luca lay claim to his part-ownership of his heritage.

  “Shit,” Etán slipped the clipping into the file he clutched, pushed it onto the coffee table in front of him, and put his head in his hands. “I should have been more careful.”

  Pedro leaned forward. “Are you tracing the owner of the van?”

  Etán looked up. He looked so lost even Luca flinched. “It would have been quicker if we could have used the local police network, but the head of the security team in charge of our operation is doing what he can. I was kind of hoping that you could speed things up, Dad.” He looked at his watch. “I have short of an hour before the launch opening.”

  Pedro nodded. He pulled his mobile phone from his jacket pocket. “The best and fastest chance we now have is at satellite tracking. Can you give me the estimate time of when you suspect Santiago left the underground parking?”

  Ana got up to pour them all much needed coffee from a hot plate. “Can you do that, Pedro?”

  He looked at his wife warily. “I can. I know someone who owes me a favor. Looks like today is the day I collect.” Pedro walked to a corner of the room, speaking mutely and earnestly into the receiver of his phone.

  Ana handed the coffee around and then put a hand on Etán’s arm. “You know it would have happened sooner rather than later, son.” Her voice was gentle. “It’s not your fault.”

  Etán looked at his mother in incomprehension. “How can you even say it’s not my fault? It happened on my shift, didn’t it?”

  She tilted her head sadly. “It’s time to let go, Etán. Now is as good a time as ever.”

  “Mom, please.” He turned away from her. “Let’s just do what we can to get her back. We can talk about psychology later.”

  Pedro shut his phone and approached Ana to take the cup she offered him. “He’ll call me back in a few minutes.”

  Etán’s face lit up. “That fast?”

  “Yes.” Pedro sipped his coffee. “When this is over, I intend to know what the plan of action is to avoid this kind of thing in the future.”

  “The only way to stop this is for Zenna to learn how to control her abilities,” Ana said. “I know how to help her, but she has to want to be helped. She cannot be forced.”

  Pedro looked at his wife for a long moment. “I am sure after this she is not going put up a lot of resistance. You better help her fast.”

  Etán was aware of Luca’s silent observation. He looked as if he was in deep thought, but Etán suspected he was trying to pick up on whatever emotions he could to try and bring more truth to light. “Do you feel anything, Luca?”

  Luca shook his head, frowning. “Too many people. Too many emotions crisscrossing across time and space. I can’t refine one thing or another of significant interest.”

  Etán got up. “Mom, are you ready?”

  “Yes.” She put down her cup. “Take me to where it happened.”

  “Maybe I can help.” Luca got to his feet, too. “Let’s go.”

  Pedro’s mobile rang. The two brothers turned in unison to stare at their father as he took the call. He nodded several times, then instructed someone to send him the details via text message to the secure mobile number, thanked the caller, and ended the call.

  Etán felt like exploding from suppressed tension. He balled and flexed his fists. He couldn’t bring himself to ask the question.

  “What’s the verdict?” Luca said.

  “It was possible to track them via satellite,” Pedro answered. “All it took was programming the time and the place, and from there my contact could go back into the recorded records. The van was parked at a service station on the outskirts of the southern town center. Two men left, carrying a woman. From the description, I have no doubt the woman is Zenna and one of the men is Santiago. The second man got out of the driver’s seat. I should have an identification on him within minutes.”

  A text message alert beeped through the room. Pedro looked at the screen. “We’ve got the location.”

  Etán jumped forward, looking at the coordinates sent to his father’s phone. “We’ve got to get there now. Can your contact keep a live surveillance running?”

  Pedro shook his head. “I’m afraid not. First of all, the system works on a slight time delay, and, secondly, if i
t runs for that long, uninterrupted, someone will notice what we’re up to. What I’m doing is not legal.”

  Etán nodded. “I understand the risks you’re taking. I’m getting some men together, and we’ll go.”

  “No.” Ana’s voice was gentle, yet commanding, “You don’t know anything about weapons or fighting. You’ll put your life in danger, too. Let the security men go.”

  Etán was already on his way to the door. “Right now, I can’t trust anyone. We don’t know how deep the deception is running in the security company. My guess is if they managed to keep such a close eye on all daily papers worldwide, whoever it is who took Zenna, is a hell of a powerful organization or individual.”

  Luca caught up with his brother. “Etán, Mom is right. I’ll go. You have to make a speech.”

  Etán felt himself shaking inside. “There is nothing you can say that will keep me here.” He looked at his father. “Dad, you open the event. You’re good at public speaking. You’ll know what to say. You know the wine. I have to get to her.”

  Pedro was quiet for a few seconds. “Who will you take with you? Do you trust Franc?”

  “I do. I’ll take Franc and Luca. I can ask Franc to put together a team of five men he explicitly trusts. There were only two men spotted on the satellite transmission.”

  Ana shook her head. “Yes, but you heard your father. The transmission is delayed. There could be more. We don’t know what is going on back there.”

  Etán was insistent. He had made up his mind. “We’ll be careful. We’ll check it out, first. In the meantime, I’ll get someone to show you to where it happened, Mom.” His voice held a plea. “Pick up something that can help.”

  He kissed his parents swiftly before he motioned to Luca. “Ready?”

  “As I’ll ever be.” Luca hugged his mother, nodded at his father, and followed Etán who had already activated the secure mobile line and dialed Franc.

  * * * *

  Zenna huddled in a dark alley a few blocks from the service station. Despite the fact she was hot from running, she shivered in the cold night. She realized she was leaving a small trail of blood that could compromise her position. She had stopped for only a few seconds to catch her breath and to wipe the blood from her knees. Her attacker would be catching up with her quickly, and by now he had probably called for reinforcements. She realized the seriousness of the situation. She had been kidnapped, she had witnessed a murder, she had seen their faces, and knew their names. Getting caught again wasn’t an option.

  She looked up and down the alley. There were two apartment buildings on the opposite side of the street. Several windows were lighted. On her side, the building was dark. It was probably a business block.

  She contemplated her choices. With no phone, no money, and no knowledge of exactly where she was, her situation wasn’t exactly desirable. Soon, they would have more of their people searching the area. Her best chance wasn’t running. It was getting to a phone.

  She licked her dry lips and felt the spasm of a wave of nausea. The force of it doubled her over. Damn! Bollocks. She didn’t need this right now.

  Glancing at the windows in front of her, she weighed her options again. She could knock on a door and ask for help. Chilean people were known to be kind, weren’t they? She bit her lip. There was also a good chance they would call the police. She didn’t know who to trust.

  When she came to Chile, she knew whoever sought her would know she had left England. She honestly hadn’t believed the men who were after her would chase her all the way to South America. She had let down her guard and become too relaxed.

  Suddenly, she heard footsteps in the distance. They were heavy. Zako. Another glance at the first apartment building told her the front door wasn’t secured by an electronic pin system or key. It stood wide open, and the glass panel was cracked. The building was falling apart. It didn’t take a genius to deduce she hadn’t ended up in the best part of town.

  Looking back to ensure the alley was still clear, she ran for the entrance, ignored the lift with the old fashioned iron curtain, and took the narrow stairs instead. Zenna was aware of the trail her bleeding feet left on the marble floor. Refusing to let the fear from that knowledge weaken her, she scurried down the first corridor of wooden doors. Noises came from several.

  She put her ear to the first door from under which a light was visible. She heard children crying. Probably not the wisest to scare a family with small children. They might panic and call the police. The second door was dark and quiet. At the third door, she hovered again. She heard a television blaring. She had to take her chances.

  She took a deep breath and banged on the door. It took a few seconds before a female voice responded.

  “Who is it?”

  Another wave of nausea shook Zenna. “Please!” She battled to speak. “I need your help. I’m hurt.”

  Zenna heard the voice on the other side of the door calling, “Antonio!”

  A male voice repeated the question two seconds later.

  “Please,” Zenna begged, “please, help me. Quickly.”

  There was a pause. Just as her heart began to sink, and she started to make her way to the apartment next door, the door opened on a crack. A young couple peered around it suspiciously. When they saw her, the girl, a tall, slim bottle blonde with wavy hair, opened the door.

  Zenna sighed with relief. “Please,” she repeated, “can I come in?”

  The young couple looked at each other. The man appeared uncertain, but the girl stepped out into the hallway. “You have someone on your ass?”

  Zenna looked around nervously. “Yes.”

  The girl stood aside and nodded for her to enter. She locked the door behind them. “What happened to you?”

  “Listen,” Zenna said, “I’m not going to bother you with my problems. I just need a phone. I need to call someone to come and get me.”

  The man spoke for the first time, addressing the blonde. “We should call the cops.”

  Zenna moved forward. “No cops. Sorry, I can’t explain. Do you have a phone?”

  The man narrowed his eyes. “Are you running from the cops?”

  Zenna looked at him, unblinking. “I’m running from a mad man, but I can’t trust anyone, not even the cops.” When she saw the look on his face, she continued quickly. “Don’t worry, I haven’t done anything illegal. I’m not a criminal.”

  The girl seemed to have made up her mind. “Get your phone,” she said to the man. He regarded her as if he wanted to argue, but she shot him a look, and he walked across the room, entering the only other door in the flat.

  The girl turned to Zenna. “You better sit down.” She walked to a small kitchenette at the far end of the lounge.

  Zenna motioned to her bleeding knees. “I’d better not.” She looked around nervously, her eyes resting on the lounge window.

  The girl came back with a glass of water and handed it to Zenna. “I’ve been manhandled by the police before.” Her voice was filled with disdain. “Whoever is coming to fetch you better make it quick.”

  “Thank you.” Zenna drank with big gulps. “I don’t want you to get into trouble. I left a trail...” She looked at her injured feet.

  The girl took the empty glass. When the man came back with a mobile phone, she gave it to Zenna.

  “Thank you,” Zenna said again.

  She watched the girl take a mop from a broom cupboard as she dialed Etán’s number. As she waited for Etán to take the call, she heard the girl telling the man to go outside and mop up the hallway. She heard him curse, but he took the mop and left, anyway.

  * * * *

  Franc drove the rented Mercedes, breaking every possible speed limit. A man called Godoy sat next to him, comparing coordinates on a GPS with a map opened across his lap. Etán watched them tightly from the backseat.

  Godoy turned. “Another five minutes before we reach the service station.”

  Franc picked up a mobile phone from a phone holster between the
two front seats and threw it to Godoy. “Check how far our back-up is.”

  Etán sensed Luca’s preoccupation. “Anything?”

  Luca nodded. “We must be close. There are very strong feelings here.” Sweat pearled on his forehead.

  Etán knew it took every shred of Luca’s control to filter through the emotions in the graphical surrounding, trying to sift through them one by one, without letting it touch his person.

  “Malice,” Luca said. “Pure, undiluted evil, Etán. And fear.”

  “Shit.” Etán turned to Godoy. “Are your men in place?”

  “Yes. They’re waiting for us,” he answered even as Franc brought the car to a too quick stop, jerking them all forward.

  The four men jumped out. They were met by five of Franc’s men. The leader, Vidal, shook hands with Franc and then with Etán. Vidal carried an automatic rifle. He stood at ease, legs apart. He seemed to be comfortable with the heavy weapon that he held across his thighs.

  “We’ve searched the premises.” He nodded toward a broken down storeroom door. “There’s blood in there. There’s evidence someone was shot. Other than that, it’s clear.”

  Etán’s blood froze in his veins. His heart started hammering in his ears as they moved toward the door.

  Franc laid a hand on Etán’s arm. “Wait,” he instructed, pulling his Glock. “All clear?” he directed at Vidal.

  Vidal nodded. “Secure.”

  Franc entered the storeroom with Etán, Luca, and Vidal on his heel. “Any witnesses?” he directed at Vidal.

  “No. Service station closes at seven. No one here. Door wasn’t forced open. The kidnappers had a key. It was locked when we got here.”

  Franc nodded toward the broken door. “Our guys?”

  “Our damage,” Vidal confirmed.

  Etán looked at the pool of blood on the floor. He stood motionless.