by Tony Lavely
The hard thing her knee had struck turned out to be the pistol, a Glock 17 this time. One-handed, she gave it to Ben when he reached her.
“You okay?” she asked.
“Couple bruises,” he replied, rubbing his chin, “but nothin’ ta worry ’bout. You?”
“Same old broken rib, maybe two. And a couple bruises. Nothing…” She gasped as breathing moved her rib cage awkwardly. “… nothing much… to worry about.”
“I can see that,” he said, disbelief clear in his expression. “How’s this one?”
“With the awesome power of my shoulder, I dislocated his knee. Won’t kill him, and when the pain begins to become normal, he’ll want retribution.”
“I have just tha cure for that.” He spun and trotted across the room to unplug a lamp before ripping the cord from its base.
When he had hog-tied the man, Beckie said, “And the one you were going after?”
“He wanted ta lead, an you know us southern boys, we jes can’t abide that. He’s tied ta that chair.”
Beckie now saw the foot wiggling. “Okay,” she said, doing her best to ignore the pain. “The other place had the bunk-room, and then the exit. Or entrance.”
Ben checked the Glock, and then handed it to her. “Keep watch while I take a look.”
He disappeared though the door beside her. Damn, I never even noticed it. And there’s the other one. She hefted the gun. Suppressor’s not as long as some Pieter has, but… it really screws up the balance. I’ll keep my Sig. After scrutinizing the two captives, she gingerly sidled to the third door. On this one, the latch gave, but she stopped as soon as she felt the motion. I’ll wait for Ben.
Fear had begun to worry her, but before it got too bad, Ben popped his head through the door. “Like before; a couple more here. They’ll sleep for a bit. Be right there.”
Two minutes later Ben hurried to the door beside her. She handed him the gun and signed, I’ll be low.
He nodded.
She pressed the handle firmly down and crouching, pushed through. Her gasp as her ribs moved was loud enough to cover any noise that Ben made. She hit the floor and twisted to the side, out of his path until she could recover enough to move. She wanted to press her eyes closed to keep from tearing, but feared more not being able to see.
Ben ran a few steps into the hallway, but turned and came back, As he gave her a hand, he said, “More doors down there. Look like what we’re looking for.”
“First…” Beckie groaned with the effort of breathing. “… is this door alarmed any way?” He took a minute, checking for sensors or wires, then shook his head. “Okay. See if the door to the space we left Gillian and Derek… if we can find that and get us back together…”
He nodded and returned to the hallway. This time, he disappeared to the right. Beckie leaned against the stone wall, pushing her desire to panic back where it belonged. But after three minutes, she wondered if she should let it out; she began to inch along the wall.
She’d almost reached the cross-tunnel when footsteps and scuffs warned of someone’s approach. She couldn’t move quickly, so she settled for quietly backing solidly against the stone, knife in hand.
“We’re in the hallway.” Gillian’s radio voice soothed Beckie more than she expected.
“Cool. I can get my heart restarted,” Beckie said. “Everything the same behind you?”
“Yes,” Derek said as he rounded the corner. “We closed that door. How about here?”
Ben’s already updated them so… “All quiet. Ready to go exploring?” She passed them on her way further down. “Ben, station behind me, since you’ve got the gun. Again, I’ll go low… and try not to fall on my face again!”
He clearly wanted to laugh at her, but smothered it instead. As she took the handle of the first door, he took his place at her shoulder.
Empty.
The same for the next two doors. Beckie was about to scream, Where is he?
The next door was halfway along the hall. What’re the odds? she asked herself.
Ben had the correct line of sight as Beckie pushed; he shoved her down and the muzzle of the pistol in. Derek grabbed her to keep her from falling; Gillian was already around and backing up Ben.
“Good work,” Beckie whispered. “What’d I miss?” Since no sounds of fighting flowed from the cell, she peeked into the opening. Two men, again in black shirts and pants, were against the wall. Gillian was securing them while Ben covered her.
The room looked like temporary sleeping quarters for up to three, based on the cots stacked one atop the other. A small table held a couple of used dishes and cups, and a dark bottle. Ben had already relieved them of their guns, another pistol that looked like the Glock Ben was now carrying, and a TEC-9 with an extended magazine. After tapping his arm, she slipped the pistol out of the holster Ben was carrying.
“While you clean up here… and look for a radio or phone or something—I can’t believe these guys have no comm capability—we’ll keep looking.”
Derek lined up behind her shoulder just as Ben had done when she stopped at the next door. This time, she had the view of the two bodies prostrate on the stone floor. The dim light didn’t allow for any detail in the sight, she ran and fell by the closest one. “Kevin. I hope…”
She crawled over Kevin to get to the second man, who was…
“Ian!”
Derek was working on Kevin, who was either unconscious or dead. “Is Ian the same?” Derek asked.
She nodded, choked silent by seeing Ian all too closely mimicking the sight in the morgue in South Africa. She ripped the tattered shirt open to press her ear against his chest. Maybe… Maybe.
Derek’s motion caught her eye; he jumped up and said, “Call Millie. I’m going to look for an exit down ’ere. Tell ’er to give me a couple minutes before she follows the path we took through the church an’ all. Call!”
“I think I hear his heart.”
“Good. Call now!” He raced out the door, turning uphill.
“Millie? Millie?”
The voice in her ear was scratchy and wanted to break up, but she managed to get the gist across as Gillian and Ben entered.
“Derek’s trying to find a way out down here.”
“Right,” Ben said. “He ran by us going up. I’ll head down tha other way; see what might be there. You two stay here; don’ wanta lose them again.”
“Here.” Gillian ripped off the radio and threw it to him. “You’ve still got yours, right?”
Beckie focused on finding a pulse. Since the letter had come months ago, she’d been trying to understand how they could have made Ian appear so… dead, without killing him. Millie’d given her a plausible solution: they’d probably given him a drug which effectively killed him. They’d also had an antidote to revive him after the viewing.
Now she was looking for a sign, any sign, that they hadn’t done this again, that Ian hadn’t been given to her to be taken away again.
Gillian said something. “Sorry, what?”
“Kevin’s got a weak heartbeat. Try here.” She grabbed Beckie’s hand and showed her where to press. “Gently!”
“Oh my God, yay!” She felt the faint but rhythmic pulsation. “I got it!” She drew Ian’s shirt back together and surveyed his body while Gillian did the same for Kevin.
Neither man had fresh injuries, though Beckie recognized scars from the wounds Ian had suffered in the Drakensberg Wilderness.
“Drugged?” she asked. “I don’t see any injuries to account for their condition.”
“Nor do I,” Gillian agreed. “But look. This might be an injection mark.”
“Guess we’ll have to hope Millie has her kit.”
“Oh, she does. Karen brought the 737ER—”
“Oh, the one with the hospital? Great!” Beckie was sure her relief was obvious to the other woman.
“How long have they been gone? Shouldn’t we have heard something?”
“Ooops!” Beckie felt a
round the floor behind Ian’s torso. She waved the radio earpiece. “Dropped it trying to hear his heart.” She put it on. “Check.”
“Finally. Where the hel— Never mind!” It had been some time since Beckie had heard that level of anger in Millie’s voice. “Two guys in black uniforms just came through a door a little way down. They scurried up the hill toward the way out. Oh! There’s Derek. I’ll talk to you soon.”
Beckie wasn’t real sure she wanted to have that conversation. “Millie, we’ve found them but they’re both out, unconscious. No obvious injuries.”
The doctor didn’t answer. Beckie updated Gillian, then called Amy. “Get ready to pick us up. Com’on up to the parking area and hang tight. Lisa, too.”
When Millie arrived, she agreed that they needed to get Ian and Kevin to the plane, “Where I can find out what’s been done to them.”
Beckie forced normalcy on her voice and movements, sure that if Millie noticed her discomfort, she’d take time from working on the men to attend to her. When she can’t do anything, anyway! Time enough when we get to the plane.
While the sun hadn’t yet set, little light penetrated to the southern side of the city through the narrow walkways and arches. Between the dark and the pain, Beckie tripped twice. She did catch herself without making too much of a scene; Millie gave her a sharp look, but returned to assisting as Willie and Derek took Ian and Sam and Ben hefted Kevin. Taking the lead, Karen and Gillian dared anyone to stop them. At least, from where Beckie walked behind Ian, that’s the attitude the two women displayed.
Karen and Gillian had reached the cars when a man popped out of a dark sedan that Beckie instantly saw as official. He walked quickly but not hastily to intercept Derek, who seemed to recognize him. Beckie adjusted her path to meet them, but after a few words the man stopped while Derek and Willie continued with Ian. The man waited for Beckie.
Her ribs were now about ready to take themselves to another place and time, whatever that might mean except that Beckie had had about enough of the pain. Still, she managed to smile half-heartedly when he held his hand out. “Bonjour, monsieur. I hope we can continue in English, as I have now exhausted my store of French.”
The man gave her a winning smile. “Oui, mademoiselle. It will be my honor.”
“Madame, if you please.”
“Of course. My apologies.” She waved it off and began moving in the direction of the cars. Kevin was already in and they were placing Ian. “Monsieur Hamilton contacted a mutual friend in Paris, who asked that I contact you here. In the belief that we might be able to share useful information.”
“Useful to who?”
“I believe, we would both benefit.”
“Hmm. And your name? And the mutual friend in Paris?”
“Of course. I apologize once more. Inspector Pierre Monteaux is our friend. I am Inspector Blaise Pascal.” He smiled as Beckie’s brows shot up. “Unfortunately, I am not related, as evidence my failures with any mathematics beyond l’addition!”
As they reached the cars, Beckie said, “I fondly recall Inspector Monteaux; he was a great help to me and my friends last January.” She gave him a piercing stare. “I hope you will not be required to go to such extremes, Inspector.”
“I also. But for now, if M. Hamilton can be free, we will talk. You may continue, Madame Jamse.”
“Merci beaucoup. Derek, I leave you in good hands. We’ll talk later.”
“Oh, damn. I forgot to mention the Inspector, didn’t I?”
She nodded as she eased herself into the car with Ian.
Two: A Visit to Monaco
Beckie tapped Amy on the arm; the girl handed the car keys to Sam and he navigated—courtesy of the GPS she’d programmed—to the airport where Karen had left the plane. From the front passenger seat, Millie said, “Nothing I can do for either of them til we get there,” Ian had been folded to lie across the back seat; Beckie knelt on the floor behind Millie, by Ian’s head. Amy had about a third of her butt propped on the seat next to Ian’s legs, holding the back of Sam’s seat to keep from falling.
My ribs don’t feel any better. I hope Millie’s got some of those good meds for the pain. She clutched Ian’s hand; it was at least warm this time.
Nothing had changed by the time they arrived at the airport gate; Karen, in the second car, waved her paperwork and they were granted entrance.
Getting the two comatose men into the plane took all the energy the team had left. That’s how Beckie felt about it, anyway, as she fell into a seat aft, near the doorway to the hospital through which Ian and Kevin had been squeezed. She closed her eyes… No! Now I call Else.
She grabbed Amy’s arm and took her to the tarmac. Sam cast a glance at them, then moved a little closer to the plane’s tail. She didn’t answer Amy’s question, just scrolled through her contact list and punched the Call icon.
“Else,” she said when the woman answered, “As requested, I’m calling.”
“Thanks. I needed to tell you that Shen had Patrice fly back here after he dropped Amy and Lisa in Nice. He put Cori in the brig when they landed a little while ago.”
“What! Why’s that? I’m sure you have good reason, but… what?”
“You heard about the attack on the plane yesterday morning?”
“Uh… Yeah?”
“Cori probably helped with it. To be fair,” Else said quickly to stop whatever Beckie’s spluttering would have become, “she would have been killed along with the others if Patrice hadn’t been so good… and I believe she was a dupe.”
“A what?” Beckie focused on the last thing Else said, staring at Amy, who wore a shocked expression, even more speechless.
“She didn’t know. I had Shen put her in the brig rather than shoot her. He agreed.”
Beckie took a deep breath, followed by three or four more. She looked at Amy. Clearly she’d had no clue… she’d been on the plane, too. “Okay. I trust you both, but… Willie’s aware, right?”
“No, I wanted to talk to you, ’cause, you know…”
“Yeah. I invited her in. Please bring Willie up to date. Oh, you can’t. He’s here. Damn. Who else knows?”
“Besides Shen? Only Shakti. She was watching the on-board video to make sure none of the injuries would be serious.”
“Ah. Okay. Ask them not to share until I get back. You, too, obviously. And thanks. Sorry I didn’t get back to you yesterday.”
“Better that you didn’t. More details, you know.”
“Mmm. We’ll talk when I’m back. Later.”
She punched the End Call icon and dropped her phone in her pocket before grabbing Amy’s shirt and pulling her into her face. “No,” she said when the girl flinched, “not going after you. Lisa either. But you heard what I told Else. Keep this under your hat, especially from Lisa. While I can’t believe she’d be party to anything like that—”
“She was on the plane, too!”
“Some of our enemies use women for suicide attacks. No, no…” Amy started to object, strenuously, Beckie could see. “… I don’t think that’s it, for either of them. Don’t do anything to… I don’t know. Lisa’s not Cori no matter what Cori’s done.
“Calm yourself, then we’ll go and see how your mom is doing.”
Together, they breathed deep, then climbed the mobile stairway.
Millie had made no progress, so Beckie found the seat she’d fallen into before, and did so again. Just for a minute, to relax.
Her shoulder was being jostled. The connection between the shoulder and her ribs brought unwanted reminders of no pain-killer meds.
“Stop! Okay, I’m awake. What’s—”
“Sorry,” Lisa said, backing away.
“It’s okay. Not gonna hurt you. What do we need?”
“Doctor Ardan asked me to bring you. She’s got… something.”
Her eyes wide, Beckie maneuvered herself to stand next to Lisa. She took her arm; Beckie shook the hold off. “I’m okay, thanks. Long as we’re
on the ground, anyway.”
She only staggered once on the way to the door; grabbing the frame, she looked in, expecting to find Millie and her two patients and damn little room.
That covered it, except Amy had also crammed herself in, and Lisa squirmed behind to stand at the foot of Kevin’s cot. “She’s here, doctor,” Lisa announced.
“Thanks. I think we’re okay for now; go, relax. I’ll call if I need you.” Lisa slipped out. “Now, Rebecca…” Whoa! What did I do— “… while we need to have a short talk, this is undeniably more important.” She handed Beckie a folded square of stationary.
That looks like the letter we got… She gingerly unfolded it.
“Amy found it in Ian’s back pocket while we were cleaning them up,” Millie said.
Beckie, distracted, found the doctor’s tone a little more pleasant. Especially in comparison with the writing. In the familiar bold copperplate script had been written:
You have found them. However, to free them, you alone must meet with us. After twenty-four hours, it will be too late. We would be as disappointed as you, I assure you. We MUST meet, even sooner if possible.
“Fuck! Where…” A cough intruded on her mixed-with-pain anger. “Ooops. Sorry.”
She handed the note to Millie, who merely glanced at it. As she did, Beckie noticed that the backside of the sheet also had writing. “What’s that on the back?”
Millie flipped the note and said, “Casino Place, Café de Paris Brasseire. The maitre-de will seat you.”
“Hmm. And I was hoping to sit here with Ian tonight.” She sighed, but it brought a gasp.
Millie reacted exactly as Beckie had expected. “What’s the problem? Get over here, now!”
“Nothing you can do anything about. A broken rib or two, where some guy fell on me. But some pain killers would be ever so…”
“I’ll bet they would! Get over here so I can check before drugging you.”
Again, Beckie was standing in bra and work pants while Millie poked—gently!—and Amy smirked. “Just you wait, girl—Ow!” followed an energetic probe.
“Sorry,” Millie said, though Beckie discerned no regret in her voice or attitude. “This will probably color up nicely. While it likely won’t help too much, I’m still going to tape you. Since even I can foresee additional activity on your part…” She grabbed a two inch wide roll of tape and began as high as she could without covering Beckie’s bra.