Signature of a Soul

by Riona Kelly

  Michelle tried to gain her footing, but her legs were so numb she nearly fell over and barely managed to sit back in the chair without knocking it about. Shifting her legs to try to get her circulation moving again, she watched as Roberto struggled to get to his knees. Like her, he could scarcely move. Sasha pointed to a bookcase near the stove where several bottles of water and a loaf of bread filled the top shelf. Below, it held several books, and nothing else. Then he gestured to the old icebox, and she looked at it. Once he was sure she’d seen them, he left them, slamming the door and bolting it behind him.

  They were prisoners now, and this was all they had. Bread and water, wrists bound together, and mouths taped. Clearly, he expected them to release themselves now. Standing with more caution than the first time, Michelle took a tentative step, then another toward Roberto. When she got close, she knelt and walked on her knees the rest of the way. He was upright but looked exhausted. She motioned to him by twisting her head and jerking it back, indicating she wanted him to yank the tape from her mouth.

  He looked puzzled at first until she half turned and wiggled her fingers, trying to show pulling. At last, he got it and nodded. She worked her way behind him, then lowered herself onto an elbow to get her head even with his hands. Positioning herself, she leaned forward until his fingers touched her face, and he felt around for the edges of the tape. Once he caught the edge, he pulled at it with two fingers getting a grip underneath it. Then he began to slowly pull it.

  Not one to want to prolong the pain of taking the tape off, Michelle jerked her head sharply, hoping his fingers gripped it well enough they wouldn’t slip before it came off. It tore loose, and she gasped with the pain. It didn’t quite pull loose as part of it hung across her other cheek.

  “It’s not quite off. I’m going to lower my face again. Yank it the rest of the way,” she told Roberto.

  In a couple of minutes more, the tape was gone, and she could get a look at the tape around his wrists. She needed something to work with.

  “Do you have anything in your pockets I can use to cut?” she asked.

  He shrugged, then nodded. Maybe.

  She worked around to his right side and poked a couple of fingers into his pocket, feeling around. Her fingers touched a set of keys, then a piece of folded metal. She gripped the keys and pulled them out, dropping them to the floor where she could see them. Two of them – his house key and his motorcycle key. Maybe she could use one to break through the tape. Then she reached in again, almost giggling at the awkward situation.

  “Don’t get the wrong idea about this, mister,” she said with a touch of humor in her voice. “I’m just getting whatever this metal is out of here. I hope it’s a pocket knife.”

  She pulled it loose, dropped it next to the keys, and turned to look. A set of fingernail clippers.

  “Oh, great. We’re all set if we have a hangnail.” Her voice lacked enthusiasm, then she perked up. “But it might be enough to start a tear in the tape. Duct tape tears easily once you get it started.”

  Determined, she shifted around again and picked the clippers up, struggling to hold and open it at the same time. At least it was the type with a little pointed blade and a bottle opener. It might be enough.

  Roberto shifted his position toward her so his wrists were almost within reach of hers, and they started inching their way toward each other. Michelle sat on her butt now and slid back as close as she could to Roberto. It wasn’t quite enough with his feet still in the way.

  “You need to spread your legs apart more,” she said.

  A foot bumped against her as he complied, then she slid in closer until she felt his body against hers. She reached with her fingers touching his hip.

  “Which way do I move?” she asked.

  He answered her by shifting his body down a little and to the left, then she felt his fingers brush against her hand. “Okay, that’s it. Hold right there.”

  Working blindly, she held onto the clippers and felt with her left fingertips for the gap between his wrists where she could make a cut into the tape.

  “Damn! Almost dropped them,” she muttered as the clippers slipped, and she barely gripped them again. “One more time.” She tried again, sliding the bottle opener blade between them and feeling Roberto tense as a little liquid flow told her had she nicked his hand.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled and concentrated on cutting the tape. With a poke at it, the pointed tip cut into the material, and it began to give. “I think I’ve got it.”

  She began working the blade back and forth, tearing the tape until she could grip it and begin pulling. It came off in strips and took a few more minutes before she’d pulled enough so the rest came off with only a little more effort.

  Once his hands were free, Roberto tore the tape off his face, then turned to free Michelle’s hands. “I’m so sorry, Mica. This is my fault.”

  “No, it’s not. We’re all in it together. And they’re going to try to capture my aunt and Colin as well. We have to figure something out.” Now she’d voiced it, she felt tears welling in her eyes.

  Roberto pulled her into his arms and kissed her eyelids as he whispered, “There has to be a way. He won’t kill us. I’m sure he wants something.”

  She nodded. “Your talent. You’re Marchant’s success story even though it’s under another name.” She laid her head against his chest as he rocked her in his arms.

  Chapter 22

  After lunch, Lindy went up to check on Michelle and Roberto, assuming they would be there or at least have left a message. At the same time, Colin returned to his room to call someone he knew who had contacts at Interpol. She looked for Michelle as she entered but quickly realized no one was in. She looked around for a note or something to tell her where they’d gone.

  Nothing.

  She dialed Michelle’s cell phone, but it went to her voice mail. “Michelle, it’s your aunt. Call me when you get this. Colin and I want to talk to you and Roberto.”

  She picked up her purse and went downstairs to the little coffee and pastry shop in the lobby to see if they were there. She paused at the entrance for a quick look around to see only a few people in the shop. She hesitated, then stopped the waitress and asked in Spanish. “Excuse me. I’m looking for my niece. I wondered if you had seen her in here.” She pulled out her phone and showed her a photo of Michelle.

  The waitress, a girl about her niece’s age, looked at it closely, then nodded her head. “About two hours ago, just before noon. She was here with a young man having coffee. They seemed to be arguing about something. Then they both left. He went out first, and she ran to catch up with him. I think they went toward the front door.”

  Lindy thanked her then went outside to the hotel entrance and found the bellman there, the same man who’d been on duty this morning when she had required a cab. She repeated the question to him and showed him her picture.

  He nodded, “She and the boy took a cab from here. I haven’t seen them come back yet.”

  Thanking him, she went back inside and called Colin’s number, which was busy. She grabbed the next elevator to his floor and knocked on the door to his room. She was beginning to get anxious. If she put herself in Michelle’s place and Roberto showed up, what would they have done? Obviously, coffee first and a discussion. They argued. About what?

  Colin opened the door, a look of surprise on his face. He hadn’t expected her back this soon, and he was still on the phone. He stepped aside for her to come in, then spoke to someone in French for a few more moments before ending the call. He turned to her, the question on his face.

  “The kids are missing,” she said in a rush. “They went down to the coffee shop about two hours ago, when I was at the studio, and you were on your way. They had coffee, argued, then Roberto left in a hurry, and Michelle ran after him. They caught a cab, and I can’t get hold of her. Her phone is going to voice mail.”

  “Where did they go?” he asked. “Did anyone know?”

  “No. Bu
t where do you think they would go? If you were Roberto, where would you go?”

  He connected the dots quickly. “The studio.”

  She swallowed hard as he confirmed her thoughts. “What do we do, Colin? If they just went to check on the painting, they would be back by now. If Roberto made a scene ...”

  “We’re going to the police.” He caught her hand, and they hurried out to get a cab.

  A little less than two hours later, Lindy stood outside the studio, took a deep breath, and opened the door, stepping into the place with confidence. The clerk looked up from her embroidery and raised an eyebrow at her, no outward sign of alarm.

  “Excuse me,” Lindy said in Spanish. “I’m looking for my niece, the young lady who came with me yesterday. Have you seen her today?”

  The woman stared at her with an unreadable expression then said, “I did not expect you to come back here after causing the master such upset this morning.”

  “I know. It was unfortunate, and I meant no harm. I thought we were getting along well. But my niece is missing, and I thought she might have come here. I would not bother you otherwise. Please, did she come here?”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Wait. I was not here all the time. Let me check with the master.”

  As she hurried through the back door, Lindy looked around the room, seeing the empty easels and open spaces where the paintings had hung on the walls. They had moved all the canvases. Walking toward the easel where the stolen painting had been, she noticed a few red spots on the floor. Not paint, she thought, as she knelt to touch it, feeling a bit of moisture in it still although it looked mostly dried out. Blood, maybe. They showed the dark, maroon-looking shade blood took on when it dried. She sniffed at it and noticed a faint odor to it.

  “I think this is blood,” she said in a low voice, then straightened as she heard footsteps from the other side of the door. She braced herself.

  The clerk flung the door open, and a strong-looking man a little taller than she, not big like the one from the morning, stepped through it.

  “Anna says you are looking for your niece. There was a young woman here today with a disruptive young man. It could have been her, yes?” He spoke very good English, and Lindy thought he looked familiar. His expression was serious and concerned, but he didn’t seem dangerous. Dressed in a neatly pressed gray shirt and black slacks, he looked more like a businessman than the bouncer from the morning, but she was cautious.

  “It sounds right, yes. Her friend had arrived in Lisbon this morning. Do you know where they went from here?”

  “The man was upset, and they were arguing when they left here. I am sorry, I have no idea.”

  She might have been inclined to believe him, but something shiny under the table caught her eye as she turned away from him. She had bought Michelle a Damascene gold bird pendant in Toledo at the start of their trip, and if she was not mistaken, it sat in the shadow of the easel, barely visible.

  She wished she could pick it up, but she couldn’t accomplish it without being too conspicuous. She lowered her eyes in disappointment and said, “Thank you for your help. Please tell Señor de Sintra I apologize for the incident this morning. I meant no disrespect.”

  She started to turn toward the door and ran into the arms of a bean pole of a man who grabbed her, pinning her arms to her side as the woman dashed to her table.

  “Let go of me,” Lindy cried out. Jerking hard, she struggled to break free of the man’s grip. She yanked her arms to get in a position to kick his ankles or bring a knee up into his groin. From behind her, she heard a ripping sound, then the first man brought his hands over her twisting head and wrapped a long piece of duct tape over her mouth and half-way around her head. Then he tore another piece and secured it.

  “If you quit struggling, this will go much easier, Miss Morton. I don’t want to have Javier knock you out.”

  Not risking the threat, Lindy dropped her fighting posture and slumped her head. She didn’t like it, but she couldn’t do any more at the moment. If she were unconscious, she wouldn’t learn any more about what had happened to Michelle and Roberto.

  The man holding her, whom she presumed to be Javier, eased his hold on her. The two men pulled her hands to her back and taped them together. She stood rigid as they patted her down, checking her pockets for a cell phone. Her handbag had gone flying off her shoulder when Javier had grabbed her.

  “Better,” the dapper man said. “Now, we will go for a drive in the country. You wanted to see your niece. I will take you to her.”

  Lindy’s heart jumped to her throat. They had Michelle! How they would get out of this mess, she didn’t know, but at least she would find her.

  They led her to a car behind the shop, opened the back door, and told her to get in. Javier got behind the steering wheel, and the other man slipped into the front seat, half-turning to keep an eye on her. Like she could do anything with her hands tied behind her. The only saving grace for her now was the tracking device planted in her shoulder. She hoped Colin and the detectives could follow it.

  As they drove north from Lisbon, Lindy shifted her body a little more onto the seat, which drew the dapper man’s attention for a moment until he saw she was no threat. When he turned away, the angle on his face triggered an image in her mind. She’d seen a photo of him on the associates’ web page at Alain Marchant’s gallery. Dammit, he worked for Alain! Was the gallery owner part of this scheme?

  She leaned her head back against the window edge and gazed out at the sea until the car exited the highway and turned inland. In spite of her situation, she drank in the beauty of the Portuguese countryside with its outcroppings of oak trees, open fields, and small towns where even little houses seemed to have colorful tiled entryways. Like the Spanish, the Portuguese were experts at making ceramic tiles, called azulejos, which were tin-glazed and painted. They displayed them with great pride, but long ago, she’d learned, they also helped with temperature control as well as decoration. On her first trip to Portugal many years earlier, she’d had several cases shipped to her home in New York and applied to the walls of her apartment.

  Then, she realized her captors had not blindfolded her, which worried her. If they allowed her to see where they were going, then did they plan to never release her or the two kids, if they had them both? Were they planning to kill them?

  The road now led toward Coimbra, then they shifted to a smaller road headed into a more rural area, and the progress slowed a little. After about twenty or so kilometers, Javier turned the car again onto a country lane, which took them to an isolated farmhouse with a barn almost the same size as the house. Dapper-man got out and opened the gate onto the property, then closed it after the car had passed. They drove around to the back of the house, where Javier parked the vehicle.

  They had reached their destination, more remote than Lindy had hoped, and she worried if the tracking device would be able to send a signal from the location. Dapper-man opened the back door and waved her out. “We go to the barn,” he said and gave her a little shove toward it.

  With the sun descending rapidly into the west and the shadows growing long, dusk would soon plunge this remote corner into darkness. Not a pleasant prospect.

  Lindy stumbled a bit as they walked across the uneven ground to the barn, and Dapper growled with impatience. With her arms tied behind her back, Lindy found her balance slightly off and tried to keep from tripping while keeping up with the man’s pace. Once they reached the barn, he opened the door, flipped on lights, caught her left arm at the elbow, and pulled her straight toward the right back. He opened a smaller door to a cubicle structure, which turned out to be an elevator. They entered and it dropped them to a lower level.

  Lindy recognized the bomb shelter ahead of her as soon as she stepped out. Dread settled in her stomach, and her knees turned to jelly as Dapper shoved her in the small of her back. He opened the door and pushed her into the room, then slammed it behind her.

  She stumbled in, al
most losing her balance, and pulled up short as she saw Michelle and Roberto at the end of the big, low-ceiled room. From their half-out-of-the-chairs positions, it seemed they had started rising from the table as soon as the door clicked open, but they hadn’t made it further than to their feet before the door had been shut again.

  Now, Michelle ran to Lindy, crying out, “Aunt Lindy, are you all right?”

  Lindy straightened and met her niece’s eyes straight on with an annoyed look. Tape over my mouth, wrists bound, and she asks if I’m all right?!

  “Sorry,” the girl said as she understood, then hurried to get the tape off her mouth. “I didn’t think.”

  As she pulled it loose, Lindy sucked in a breath as the tape pulled her skin and yanked out pieces of her hair even though Michelle tried to remove it off gently. Confining her anger and pain with thoughts of wrapping the woman at the shop in a cocoon of duct tape, Lindy tried not to jerk or yell about the loss of some of her hair.

  Roberto had followed behind Michelle and pulled his nail clippers out his pocket to begin removing the tape from Lindy’s wrists.

  “What happened?” Michelle wadded up the tape and tossed it toward a trash can in the kitchen area.

  “What do you think? I went back to the damn studio looking for you two. It was a trap.”

  As Roberto pulled the tape off, Lindy flexed her wrists and arms, getting movement back to them. “You shouldn’t have gone there. I wanted you to stay at the hotel where you were safe.”

  “It’s my fault,” Roberto said. He put the clippers back in his pocket and put an arm around Michelle’s shoulder. “I wanted to go, but she didn’t want me to go alone. I didn’t listen to her arguments. He had my paintings, and all I could see was the theft. I was angry.” His eyes dropped to the floor as his face reflected the regret he felt.

  Following Michelle and Roberto, Lindy walked over to the table and sat as she gazed around the space. “A bomb shelter and four cots. Looks like they were prepared for us. I assume they will try to get Colin next.”