by Linda Ladd
Far away, out in the bay, he heard somebody shout. Novak’s guards took note and turned to look out toward the cry. But the yell died away, and nothing else happened. They got back to business. One of them, the taller man, shoved Isabella so hard in the back that she stumbled hard into Novak’s chest. He caught her before she fell and held her steady on her feet, but he kept his eyes latched on the two armed men.
“You okay?” he whispered to her.
Isabella did not look okay, not anymore. She looked worse than she had when they’d tied up at the pier less than an hour ago. She was at the end of her rope, and it seemed to be slipping out of her hands. Not good. He needed her to be alert and cognizant and brave enough to do what he said, and do it immediately, without any hesitation.
So they stumbled through the night, pushed at gunpoint deep into the jungle, veering onto a narrow dirt path that led straight out into the darkness—the nonvisual kind of darkness, the kind only encountered in the hush of a natural habitat. Quiet. Only the continuous buzzing of insects. As long as he didn’t hear the low growl of a jaguar up in the trees, Novak was good with everything else they might encounter. He’d been in jungle terrain before. So they walked on. The rushing surge of the sea gradually grew faint and distant. They were marched along single file, zigzagging between giant acacias and every kind of palm, the trees covered with vines, the guards, front and back, both swinging high-powered flashlights from side to side. Every fifteen yards or so, there would be an oil-burning torch. They walked for a long time, maybe thirty or forty minutes. The lead guard preceded Isabella, with Novak right behind her and the second guard bringing up the rear. The guy in front was the tall one who pushed Isabella. He was lean and quick, moved like a college football player. Novak assumed he was nervous, because now and then the cone of light from his flashlight quivered when he tried to hold it steady. The other guy was bulky and squat and breathing hard from the physical activity. He would be the first to go when Novak got the chance.
Novak glanced up at the sky, looking for stars. Couldn’t see any. In the dim reflected glow from the flashlights and torches, he could see that the vines and heavily branched trees grew together above them, their foliage creating a closed, impenetrable canopy. Somebody had picked the right place to conceal their illegal operations. From the air, the cove would appear as any other inhabited cove with a dock. Police helicopters and search planes would be practically useless to zero in on what went on under the cover of the jungle. Flitting bugs and a myriad of biting insects swarmed up from the bushes and badgered them, and Novak swatted them away from his ears and mouth. It was miserable going.
To Novak’s relief, Isabella was holding up fairly well, at least so far. But the farther they walked, the more she began to falter. The pace was swift, too much so for her. Novak had on running sneakers, but she was wearing the thin boat shoes designed for decks, not stubborn jungle vines and roots. She struggled along, tripping and stumbling, until Novak stepped up and held her elbow with his bound hands. He pretty much kept her up on her feet after that. The guards didn’t object, but the one bringing up the rear was alert to every move Novak made, the barrel of his rifle aimed at Novak’s center spine.
Novak wasn’t stupid enough to make a move at that point, not with his hands bound and two armed guards, front and back and halfway vigilant. He knew when he could and should strike. Besides, he wanted to know where they were headed. Maybe they were taking them to some kind of settlement where they could find a car or jeep. Maybe even into a town or village with a road that offered a way to escape. That would be the best scenario he could hope for. That’s what he needed. Finally, after a long, hot trek, attacked by biting flies and gnats, they stumbled into a clearing surrounded by densely tangled jungle. Incongruously, a big white house sat right in the middle, one of Caribbean design, with a wide, airy breezeway dissecting the middle, and two levels of open verandas. Quite a step up from the makeshift huts on the beach. Bright lights shone from nearly every window, throwing elongated rectangles out onto the porches and the dirt ground below.
Three other men lounged around on the lower veranda. Two of them were sitting on the front steps. The other was standing by the front door, leaning back against the wall. All three had Springf ield semiautomatic rifles slung over their shoulders. All three guys were smoking—pungent cigarettes and a Cuban cigar. Hot and sweaty and weary, Novak and the girl were pushed up the steps, through the door, and into a wide central hallway. The guards outside made crude remarks about Isabella’s sweet young body. The air inside was much cooler, maybe even air-conditioned. That meant generators and that somebody powerful liked to be comfortable.
Four big fanback tan wicker chairs sat along the walls facing each other, two on each side. The place looked bright and clean, the walls painted the color of pumpkins. The floor was covered with oversize terra-cotta tiles. This pristine palace in the jungle had cost somebody some big bucks. Piracy appeared to be a lucrative endeavor in the Caribbean Sea.
Three more guards stood inside, the trained kind, one on either side of the front door and another man beside a closed door in the middle of the hall, all wearing green and brown jungle camo. Personal bodyguards for the Big Boss, whoever the hell he turned out to be. Novak had a feeling he was about to find out. They were forced ahead, down the hall, where one guy knocked softly on a closed louvered door. A voice inside called out, and the guard opened the door and stood back to allow Novak and Isabella to enter the lion’s den.
They stepped inside and stopped. It was a giant room. Four sets of French doors opened to the muted, raucous insect sounds still going on out in the dark. Big white fans were rotating in each corner. Large moths and other insects batted themselves against the screens, trying to get inside where it was cool. Novak studied the person sitting behind a big white wicker-and-glass desk at the far end of the room. He’d been expecting a man, the ranking alpha male of the pack, a big intimidating guy and supreme leader of men. But it wasn’t a man. It was a woman, small and calm and utterly beautiful.
She sat behind that elegant desk, erect, her back held straight. An eighteen-inch Dell laptop sat in front of her. The top was open, the glow of the screen reflecting on her face. A multifunction printer sat to one side of the laptop. There was a satellite phone on the other side of the desk. Novak would keep that in mind. The woman appeared to be around thirty, but early thirties. Certainly no older than that. Asian descent, most definitely. She had some of the blackest, straightest hair Novak had ever seen, even darker than his wife’s had been, and hers had looked like midnight on the bayou. This woman’s hair was longer, unbound and reaching to her waist. Blunt-cut bangs over her eyes, long enough to cover her eyebrows. He noticed right off the sweet, shiny little chrome Sig Sauer positioned beside the printer and close to her right hand. A bejeweled dagger lay beside the gun, winking with rubies and emeralds. No scabbard. The blade gleamed in the spotlight that shone down from high above her head, and was honed to the sharpness of a razor. Her eyes were slightly slanted, which was exaggerated by thick black eyeliner and a ton of mascara and eye shadow. She looked exotic and seductive as hell. Oh yeah, this woman was something to behold.
Novak felt something move inside him. Maybe it was the dangerous kind of attraction he’d felt a couple of other times in his life. Maybe it was just wariness, and the knowledge that she could pick up that gun and shoot him in the face. Maybe it was a shiver of the unknown. He wasn’t sure. He did believe with a fair amount of confidence that this woman would and could slice and dice a man to strips if he stared at her too long or said the wrong thing. She looked completely lethal, that’s how she looked. He had a feeling most men would roll over and do whatever she wanted, at once and without argument. He also had a gut feeling that she was the devil incarnate. Not good. Just like the sexual appeal, he could almost feel the essence of cruelty wafting off her in unsettling warm and pulsating waves, like a blur of heat rising off an Iraqi desert highway.
“Please sit dow
n,” the woman invited them.
She spoke in English, low and breathy and enticing. She had a faint accent that was too muted for Novak to put his finger on. But he thought it might be pure Mandarin, so he felt certain that she was Chinese. She looked more Chinese than anything else. She lifted one small hand and gestured at the two high-backed peacock chairs sitting directly in front of her desk. The chair cushions were made of crimson brocade embroidered with golden dragons fighting each other. Her hands looked soft and small, and she had extremely long fingernails painted scarlet. The woman was inordinately beautiful. Her stately posture added to her regal appearance despite her slight build. She was probably not more than five one or two. Imperious-looking, though, with the expression of the favored wife of an emperor. But a modern emperor, one in charge of a well-organized pirate band that ransomed human beings for cash.
Novak and Isabella sat down as instructed and awaited the woman’s pleasure, which would probably not be something they would particularly enjoy. Novak knew that much already. This was not the development Novak had hoped for. From past unpleasant encounters, he knew full well that some of the meanest, cruelest snakes alive were hidden under soft, touchable hair and smooth, flawless skin, and breathlessly beautiful faces. Fair ladies, maybe, but never fair in any other way. And this woman looked like she would fit that bill better than most. She would smile like an angel and be the most treacherous and heartless and deadly bitch alive. Count on it. Novak watched her and hid his wariness about what was coming next.
Silence descended, with only the sounds of insects beating on the screens. She stared silently at the screen of her laptop and typed with fast, nimble fingers. No pecking with index fingers for her. Then she glanced up, and black, intelligent eyes laser-latched onto Novak’s face. “Your name, please, sir.”
Polite, oh, so polite. Her eyes returned to the keyboard as she waited, but her tone brooked no resistance. Novak wasn’t ready to resist yet. So he told her. “Will Novak. And you are?”
She glanced up and stared silently at him. Surprisingly, she deigned to answer him. “My name is Li Liu.”
“Nice to meet you, Li.” Pretty generic Chinese name. Probably false. Women with her talents had lots of aliases.
“You are American, are you not?” she asked, holding his gaze.
“Through and through. Red, white, and blue. God bless America.”
Novak made his assessment. Okay, this woman came off as highly educated, probably schooled somewhere in America, as well as in Beijing, perhaps—maybe even by the Chinese military. His guess was that she was well versed in several languages. She would be a worthy adversary. But right now? She held all the cards.
“Your passport, please?”
“Your goons took it when they stole my boat. Ask them where it is.” That was a lie. His passport and all his other valuables were hidden in a special waterproof compartment in the hull of his boat, and well below the waterline.
Her eyes found him again and held him in a steady gaze. “My goons, as you say, are very well trained soldiers, Mr. Novak.” She emphasized the word goons, all very sarcastic. Maybe she knew English better than he had thought. But she was wrong; most of her men were goons. Untrained, uneducated, unprincipled. Her bodyguards were better, but not much. But he received her message loud and clear. You will obey. Or you will die. He’d heard that message before, in other jungles, in other hemispheres. But she didn’t know that, didn’t know a thing about him, and that was a good thing. “So, Mr. Novak, if you are sitting there planning an escape with your little girlfriend here, you will end up dead and so will she. It won’t be a pleasant demise, I can assure you. You can trust my word. I do not give second chances to anyone.”
Yep, she was fluent in English, all right. “Now I’m really upset.”
Again, a long, silent eye lock. Then she picked up the gun, put her finger on the trigger, and aimed it straight at Isabella’s face. She held the weapon correctly and very steady and maintained a calm, unconcerned expression. “Will you be more upset if I make an example of your little girl sitting there? Just to attain your attention?”
Novak watched her trigger finger. His eyes jerked in surprise when she suddenly pulled the trigger. The chamber clicked. Empty. Novak breathed easier, but she had gotten his attention, all right. Isabella started crying.
Li Liu smiled and looked quite lovely doing so. She opened a drawer and took out a loaded magazine. Seventeen deadly Parabellum slugs. She shoved it into the Sig and racked a bullet. Locked and loaded. “Next time I will shoot her in the face. I will not hesitate. Do you understand me now, Mr. Novak? Are you convinced that I mean business here?”
“She didn’t do anything. Why threaten her? She’s just a kid.”
The woman put her finger on the trigger. Now she pointed it at Novak’s chest. “Because I sense you are somewhat of a gentleman perhaps, the kind who likes to protect frightened young girls. True? Are you not that? You have no doubt sworn to protect her virtue. Am I correct, Mr. Novak?”
“You got a problem with protective men? Or just men in general?”
“I like to kill men and women equally well, Mr. Novak.” She smiled and placed the Sig back down on the desk but kept it close enough to shoot anybody who made a sudden move. The two guards stood a good distance behind them, on either side of the hall door, watching and waiting, obviously thinking their mistress could handle herself if Novak should be stupid. “Shall we continue with our interview, Mr. Novak? Or would you like to waste my time for a while longer?”
“By all means, continue. I’m pretty much a captive audience here. What would you like to know?”
“That you are, Mr. Novak. You are my captive, most definitely. I would advise you to remember that before you do something else incredibly stupid and experience some uncomfortable treatment from my men. They are very good at teaching recalcitrant hostages lessons in good manners. But I am fairly certain that you would behave yourself much better if I took my dagger and slashed up your lady’s pretty face.”
Novak said nothing else. She was right about that. And her accent was Mandarin, for sure. With a tinge of the American Northwest. Schooled in Seattle, maybe. In any case, she was a hell of a long way from home.
Li Liu typed for a while and then looked up at him again. “Well, well, Mr. Novak, you have quite a résumé. You are not the ne’er-do-well that you purport. Google is quite helpful to us, you see. You are older now than in this photograph. Your hair is longer now and you are not quite as clean-shaven as before. Blond hair. Blue eyes. Oh my, you stand six feet six inches tall and weigh two hundred and forty pounds. Very impressive.” She gauged his body, looking him up and down, and then she smiled. “That appears about right. You spent time in the American military, I see. The army, and also in law enforcement in New York City. My, my, look at the commendations for bravery. Seems you were in the U.S. military, a Navy SEAL by the time you left for civilian life, I see, and just look at all that classified, redacted information in your file. Perhaps you have many military secrets you could share with us.” She smiled at him. “Furthermore, you are no longer in the service, and you reside in the southern state of Louisiana. We have our ways, Mr. Novak. It appears that you are not quite the bum that you say you are.”
Novak stared back. Some of his history was available on the Internet, which happened to piss him off, but the military had classified most of it. He said nothing.
“Do you have a bank account, Mr. Novak? Perhaps good pensions from all that honorable work you’ve done?”
He watched her, but he’d already thought out his story. “Hell, I wish I did. Got kicked off the NYPD for drinking on the job and then drank away my military retirement savings. That sailboat out there? That’s all I’ve got to my name. And you already took that, so I guess I’m dead broke.”
“You will never see that boat again.”
Yeah, well, that’s what she thought. “Then I guess I’ve got nothing worth stealing. Just the clothes on my back, if
you want those. Everything else I own is on the Sweet Sarah.”
She eyed his body again. “Tempting, I must say. But do keep your clothes on.” They stared at each other some more. “Do you have family members who might love you a little bit? Who might think that you’re swell and would be keen on keeping you alive?”
Novak found her wording amusing. Swell? Keen? How did she learn her English? Watching Olivia Newton-John and John Travolta in Grease? “They all would think I’m keen, I suspect. If they weren’t all dead and buried.”
“Oh dear. My condolences. If I believed a word you have said to me. You are not a convincing liar, Mr. Novak.”
“I’m better than you know.”
The woman appeared to be patient. So far, she had been indulgent, but that fact might be the only good thing going down at the moment. He knew acting afraid of her wasn’t a good move. It remained to be seen how far he could push her. She sighed audibly and caught his gaze again. “We do have ways of finding out everything about you, Mr. Novak. We are very good at such things. We have contacts in governments all around the world. I have been trained long and well. You can continue to play your childish word games with me, if you wish, but that will only get you or your young lady much pain and, yes, broken bones, if I deem it necessary. You may think me patient, but that will only last until I become bored with your annoying tough-guy attitude and have you shot down and thrown into the jungle to rot.” She paused, observed him some more. “Nobody knows where you are, that I can believe. I also believe that we have a good chance of obtaining ransom for you. Because I think you are lying to me. Other than your name, I believe every single word that you’ve said so far is false. If you stop your deceit and tell me what I wish to know, things will go much easier for you and this girl that you seem to want to protect.”