by Karen Woods
He looked around the room. There were several people in the room: Maggie’s stepfather and brother, a nurse, and the man who identified himself as Santiago.
“Easy, Senor,” a white uniformed nurse said quietly in Spanish as she reached for an emesis basin. “Nausea is expected. Head wounds can have many side effects. It is not something that you should fight.”
Hunt looked over at the nurse. “Get out,” he ordered in Spanish.
“But Senor,” the nurse replied quietly, soothingly, in Spanish, “You are not well. Someone must look out for you.”
Hunt looked fiercely at the young woman. “Leave,” he ordered in Spanish.
“I can not do that, Senor. It is my job to care for you,” the young woman replied.
“John, please get rid of her. I won’t talk with her here,” Hunt said wearily. “The fewer ears, the less that can leak to the press, and the less danger that Maggie will be in from loose lips.”
“Senor,” the nurse said in English, “You have nothing to fear from me. I can keep a confidence.”
“Just get out of the room. I’ll ring if I need you,” Hunt replied sharply.
“It is not good for you to get so upset, Senor,” the nurse responded.
“Honey, you haven’t begun to see upset,” he warned, fixing the woman with a quelling glare. “I guarantee you that you would not like to see me upset. Now, remove yourself from the room. Or, by God, I’ll remove you, myself.”
“Okay, fill me in,” Hunt demanded after the woman had left.
“You fill us in,” John requested.
“What do you want to know?” Hunt replied quietly.
“Tell us exactly what happened,” the man called Santiago said.
So Hunt recounted the evening in detail to them. “Was Carlos, the driver, found?”
“Dead. His body was stuffed in the trunk of your car,” John replied.
“Any of the bodyguards, mine or Maggie’s, still alive?”
Michael sighed. “No.”
“Any word on Maggie?”
“Nothing good,” John replied painfully.
“Senor de Santiago,” Hunt said in rapid Spanish, after he finished his account of the kidnapping, “There were at least six men involved. They were all armed heavily. The vehicle that took us was an old Ford panel van of a dark color. I didn’t get the number from the license plate. Umm . . . .” Hunt drew a deep breath as another wave of nausea spread over him.
“What were the demands of the kidnappers?” Hunt asked as he regained a shaky control of himself.
John cleared his throat. “Look, Hunt, you should know that Maggie’s kidnappers claim that they are Basque separatists. This is allegedly a political kidnapping. Can you shed any light on this?”
“Please, Colonel O’Shay,” Senor de Santiago stated firmly, “This is a matter for Spanish authorities.”
“This is my sister who is missing. I am not going to sit around without doing something,” John stated firmly. “The men who took her have already shown a willingness and an ability to kill. Naturally, I am concerned.”
“I would not like to have to have you declared persona non gratia, Colonel,” Santiago replied in rapid, slight accented, English. “It would grieve me greatly to have to have you expelled from the country.”
“None of us, Senor de Santiago,” Michael said diplomatically, “Would enjoy that. If this was your stepdaughter, sister, or fiancee, how would you feel?”
Ramon de Santiago smiled slightly as he nodded. “Like killing the men who would dare lay hands on the woman. Killing them very slowly.”
John nodded tightly.
“How long have I been here?” Hunt demanded.
John smiled tightly at his sister’s fiancee. “This is Friday afternoon. You’ve been out for quite a while. We’ve been worried about you.”
“Umm, humm.” Hunt replied, holding his head stiffly. “I can see that. Worried enough to come to Spain,” he answered dryly. “You got here awfully quickly, Michael.”
“Concorde from New York to London. A chartered flight from London to Madrid,” Michael said strongly.
“What is being done to find Maggie?” Hunt demanded.
“There are all points bulletins out. And every border crossing has her description. The terrorists released the story to the newspapers, claiming that this was a strike for Basque independence. Maggie’s picture is all over the media, both in Spain and worldwide,” John said.
“That’s not all of it,” Hunt said strongly. “What are you keeping from me?”
“No, Senor, it is not all,” Ramon de Santiago stated disdainfully. “The Basque separatists organizations are loudly denying all knowledge and responsibility for the kidnapping. They are claiming that this is a plot to discredit them in the eyes of the world.”
Hunt uttered a long string of epithets that alternately condemned and questioned the parentage of the abductors. Then he looked around the room, meeting every eye. “I don’t think that the kidnappers are Basque. I don’t even think that they are Spanish. They all spoke Spanish, or at least those who spoke to us spoke Spanish, but it was the Mexican dialect, not Castillian. Maggie had complained of being followed. I couldn’t discount the complaints, since I was with her when she found a bug in her telephone in Zurich. I know that Maggie’s been followed since she arrived in Europe. I’ve spotted the surveillance from time to time, myself. I’ve had a team of people following her, as well, for her own protection. One group of those men was the ones who were killed last night on the road. My security team had identified three of the men who were following her as dishonorably discharged US military personnel. I am not so sure that it all wasn’t involved with this.”
“Senor,” Ramon de Santiago asked in rapid Spanish, “Could this all be a hoax?”
“I don’t know what it is, but I know that it isn’t a hoax. Margaret would not put either herself or me in this position,” Hunt replied in equally rapid Spanish. “All I know for certain is that they have my fiancee and they have stated that the next time that I see her she may be dead. I intend to find them and stop them before they can harm her. I want those men.”
“You may already be too late to prevent her being harmed,” Santiago warned in Spanish. “It is already many hours since she was taken. You have to face the fact that she may well be dead. If not dead, she may well wish that she were.”
Hunt swallowed hard. He hated the thought of Maggie in the clutches of those men. And yet, he knew that if they gave her an opportunity to get away that she would take it. He had to trust her, and hope that the men were foolish enough to give her an opportunity to get away from them.
“Maggie’s a strong woman,” Hunt said in English. “If there is any way possible, she’ll come out of this alive. And if there isn’t a way, she’ll take as many of them with her as she can. It’s up to us to give her kidnappers as much incentive to release her as we can, or to find them and take care of them. Now, someone get me my pants, and a doctor to sign me out of here. I’ve got things to do.”
“Thomas,” John said firmly, “You just stay in that bed. There is nothing that you can do which is more important than getting well yourself. Magpie is going to need you when this is all over. She’ll never forgive me if I let any further harm come to you.”
“And I’ll never forgive myself if I don’t do everything that I can to get her back from those men,” Hunt said strongly. “I feel like this is all my fault. If Maggie and I hadn’t been arguing, I would have noticed that the driver wasn’t Carlos, and we never would have gotten into the car.”
“Don’t be too harsh on yourself, Senor,” Ramon de Santiago advised. “The driver did have a gun. I have no doubt that he was prepared to use it to force you into the car.”
“One man with a gun at short range, I could have taken care of,” Hunt said in Spanish. “And if I couldn’t have, Maggie certainly could have. It was the four men with Uzis and AK-47s that stopped me from taking her out of the van.”
&n
bsp; John smiled at Hunt. “Senor de Santiago does not believe you, old friend,” he said in English.
“At the moment, I don’t particularly care what he believes,” Hunt replied, also in English. “Are you going to get me my pants, or not?”
“Not,” Michael said.
“Fine. I’ll do it myself,” Hunt said firmly as he swung his legs out of bed.
Michael laughed. “Well, I’ll be keelhauled! Daisy did it this time. She found herself a man as mule headed as she is.”
“She’d run over a man less strong willed than she,” John replied just before Hunt rose from the bed.
Hunt, wobbling slightly, took the few steps over to the closet and opened the door only to find it empty.
“All right, where are my clothes?” Hunt asked sharply.
“I believe that the police have impounded them for evidence, Senor,” Santiago replied.
Hunt returned, on shaking legs, to sit on the bed. He picked up the telephone. Swiftly, he punched in the numbers. He spoke in rapid Spanish, “This is Senor Thomas. I am registered in room 243.” Hunt looked at Senor de Santiago. “Which hospital is this?”
When Ramon de Santiago told him, Hunt continued, giving the desk clerk at his hotel the name of the hospital. “Have someone,” he ordered, “Go into my room and get a suit, shirt, underclothes, socks, and a pair of shoes. I need those garments delivered to the hospital today, as quickly as possible.”
The clerk, having heard more unreasonable requests from foreigners, agreed to have the clothes brought over shortly.
Hunt sank back into the bed after having hung up the telephone. “I’m going to rest for a little while longer, then I will be leaving the hospital in order to search for Maggie,” he said wearily.
John smiled at him slightly. “I suppose that I would feel the same way, if this was Emily at question.”
Hunt looked at Maggie’s half-brother. “Thank you. Are there any leads, at all?”
“No, Senor,” Senor de Santiago replied.
“Are you telling me the truth?” Hunt demanded.
Ramon de Santiago stiffened. “I am not in the habit of telling lies,” he replied hotly.
Hunt sighed. “My apologies, Senor. I am overwrought.”
“That, Senor, is only to be expected under the circumstances,” the Spaniard said compassionately.
Hunt picked up the telephone. He dialed the number for his London office. “Aggie?”
“Hunt, are you all right? The news is all over here,” Aggie said.
“Catch the next plane to Madrid. I need your logistical skills here, Agnes.”
“I’ve already booked the flight. I’ll be there before evening.”
“Thanks, Aggie. See you in a few hours. Call the Eurobuilding and book the suite next to mine for yourself.”
“Ahead of you. I booked several suites. If we are mounting a rescue, you are going to need the space.”
Hunt smiled. “Good thinking, Aggie.”
“I’ve already called several good men. They will be arriving within the hour.”
“Aggie, remind me to give you a raise.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
It took some fast talking, but Hunt convinced the physician to release him from the hospital. He had been prepared to sign himself out against doctor’s orders, so the release came as an unexpected surprise.
Hunt, John, and Michael rode through town in the back of Michael’s large, rented, limousine. Two of Michael’s private security force members rode in front. Four security men rode in the car just prior to this one. And four security men rode in the car immediately behind Michael’s limousine.
Hunt knew only too well the strings Michael had to pull to be able to bring armed men onto Spanish soil. There was no doubt that Michael himself and, at least, the two men in the front seat were heavily armed.
Michael had taken a suite at the huge Eurobuilding hotel where Hunt had a room. They went into the lobby of the plush hotel from the Padre Damien entrance. A medium-sized box had been left for Michael at the reception desk.
One of Michael’s security men had looked over the box before he had gently opened it.
Hunt gasped as he looked inside. There was a long braid of Maggie’s auburn hair, raggedly cut as though with a knife. The hair was tied off with Maggie’s pearl necklaces and adorned with her pearl ear studs. The narrow end of the braid was shoved through Hunt’s grandmother’s diamond ring.
Hunt felt ill. Then he became very angry.
There was no message within the box. There didn’t have to be one. It was clear that they wanted to prove that they had Maggie.
Hunt checked for other messages at the desk. As did John O’Shay.
There were several envelopes for Hunt, one of which was addressed to him in Maggie’s hand. There was also a brown paper and string wrapped parcel for John.
Hunt looked at Michael and John, both of them looked at the braid, then back at him.
“My suite, now,” Michael stated peremptorily.
One of Michael’s security men whispered something in Michael’s ear. Michael nodded positively. “Do it.”
Two more members of Michael’s staff, men whom Hunt recognized as Fred and Vinnie, were in the suite.
Hunt gently opened the envelope that was in Maggie’s handwriting. He held it by one corner with handkerchief covered fingers. He removed the letter with the tweezers that came from his pocketknife. Then he carefully spread it out on the coffee table using the tweezers. He read her words,
“The Basque Liberation Front wishes the world to know that Western support for continuing Spanish suppression of their people will be met with further actions against Westerners.
They demand that the US government firmly rebuke the Spanish government for this unconscionable state of the suppression of the Basque people.
The demands have been made in more detail in the packet of instructions left on the person of my fiancee, American businessman Hunt Thomas. If the conditions are not met within one week of my capture, the freedom fighters state that I will be executed in retribution for my government’s acquiescence to the suppression of the Basque people.
They state that it is their intention to make Spain run with Western blood: the blood of citizens of the countries whose governments do not decry Spanish suppression of the Basque people.
I have been taken as an example. They tell me that my kidnapping was to send a message that no Americans are safe in Spain. They say that if they can take me, then they can take anyone. No American can feel safe in Spain any longer.
Signed, Friday 20 March,
Margaret Mary O’Shay: daughter of Gen. John Jacob O’Shay, Jr.; sister to Colonel John Jacob O’Shay III., US Army; stepdaughter to U.S. Senator Michael Edward McLaughlin, Admiral US Navy (retired).”
Hunt found himself growing angry. This note was obviously dictated to Maggie. The handwriting showed stress. It wasn’t Maggie’s normally neat hand, although it was recognizable as her handwriting.
Michael and John both read the letter as well without touching it.
Hunt looked at them. “Well, do we turn it over to the police?”
Michael nodded. “I don’t think that we have any choice. The paper is common enough. There is nothing special about the ink. Maybe they can get finger prints off of it.”
Hunt shook his head negatively and slightly, but only slightly because of the pain. “We all know that isn’t likely.”
John spoke quietly. “Do we want to know what is in my parcel?”
“We had better,” Michael said quietly.
Michael and John working as a team without directly touching the package, slit the twine which bound it, and allowed the paper to drop away. Inside was Maggie’s cloak and dress, with the dress wadded up inside the cloak.
Hunt looked at the garments. The dress had the side seams split, like with a knife. He forced himself to look at the garments.
“I’m going to kill them. I’m going to hunt them down
and kill them,” Hunt said flatly, coldly. “And if they have harmed her, I will kill them very slowly.”
Chapter 10
Maggie shivered as she sat on an old twin-sized mattress that rested on the cold, rough, stone floor in the corner of the dank, windowless, room. She suspected that it was still Friday. She knew that they weren’t too far from where she had been taken. It had been less than a two hour drive from the point where they had struck Hunt and had thrown him from the van. Less than two hours, but with many turns, and a variety of both sounds and speeds. Her sense of direction and speed were good. She suspected that they were somewhere in the vicinity of Avila.
She had spent the rest of the night, after they had arrived, sitting here with her hands bound behind her, in the dark. She had slept fitfully, awakening stiff.
Maggie had debated about fighting them when they had cut her hands free of the tape early this morning. Then she had dismissed that thought. She had no idea of how many of them that they were. And she knew that there were at least four of them who were armed with automatic weapons. The fight would have been a slaughter, her slaughter. That wasn’t her idea of a good way to start a morning.
After the letter which they had dictated had been firmly in their hands, they had ordered her to take down her hair and to braid it. The leader, still wearing a ski mask, then had taken a hunting knife and had cut unevenly through her braid at the base of her neck. Very lightly, he had scratched the back of her neck with the edge of the blade, while threatening her with death if she resisted them in any way.
The man had taken her jewelry from her.
He had brought her a coarse woolen blanket and had ordered her out of her clothes.
Two armed men, as well as their leader, had stood there waiting for her to remove her garments. She had turned her back to them, taken off her dress, without removing the cloak, wrapped the blanket around her sarong fashion, then had given them the dress. Then they had demanded her hosiery, cloak, and shoes, as well.
The men simply had taken her clothes, stockings, shoes, and purse, and had left her alone. She hadn’t seen anyone since they had left her.