Finders Keepers

by Kris Lillyman

  An hour after parking it, Aaron returned to the Mini Moke, he was sweating profusely under the glare of the noon day sun and the white beanie hat he was wearing to protect his bald head against the powerful rays was damp with perspiration. He was not at all comfortable in holiday attire and looked decidedly ill at ease in the floral shirt and baggy shorts Lizzie had bought for him. He was much more a shirt and tie sort of person but knew that kind of dress was wholly inappropriate for a ‘tourist’ such as him. As for the footwear, he could not understand how people managed to walk anywhere in flip-flops, let alone drive in them, as his feet were now aching badly and there were large blisters on the balls of his feet. He slipped off his sandals with enormous relief and headed back to the resort driving barefoot - still not an easy thing but far better than attempting it in flip-flops. But Aaron knew he had far greater things to worry about than the state of his feet and before setting off saw that the Jetta was still parked across the street with the driver having just returned.

  All the way back, the Volkswagen Jetta stayed at least two car lengths behind him, staying discreetly out of sight. If Aaron hadn’t have been of an acutely suspicious nature he would never have noticed that he was being tailed at all. But Aaron’s years of working for Peter Bearing had taught him to suspect everything and that there was no such thing as coincidence.

  A short time later, the little orange Moke screeched to a halt back at the resort and Aaron hopped swiftly out.

  Hobbling as quickly as he could along the little winding path on his badly blistered feet, he finally arrived back at Lizzie’s villa with the laptop bag slung casually over one shoulder.

  He let himself in, took the laptop out of the bag, placed it on the table and booted it up. As it sparked into life, Aaron sneaked a look out of the window. The Jetta had just pulled into one of the parking bays which were reserved for guests staying in the adjacent bungalows.

  Quickly, Sumpter snapped open his phone and punched in Lizzie’s number, he had to warn her that they were no longer safe.

  Chapter 34

  Lizzie’s initial enthusiasm soon evaporated after leaving Aaron back at her bungalow and for the last two hours she had been wandering around the resort trying to think of what on earth to say to Jake. However, with still no idea, she finally arrived at his door and full of apprehension, tentatively knocked.

  Jake opened it. “Hey, Yank - I was just thinking about you.”

  “Hi,” she said, watching him walk back inside, expecting her to follow him.

  He turned to see her still on the doorstep. “You coming in?”

  “Yeah, I guess.” She stepped over the threshold but she seemed subdued, far from her normal self.

  “Are you okay, Lizzie? You seem kind of–” He searched for a word, “Nervous.”

  “I’m fine. Well, sort of.”

  “Anything I can help you with?”

  “Er, yeah. I dunno. I mean, maybe. Say, could I get a drink, I’m parched?”

  “Sure,” Jake said, a little perplexed. “Coffee, orange juice, water? Something a little stronger perhaps?”

  “Water’s good, thanks.”

  “No problem. One water coming right up. Make yourself comfortable, I’ll be back in just a second.”

  Lizzie sat down on the plush linen sofa in Jake’s stylish living room as he went to fetch her a bottle of water from the fridge in the kitchen.

  When he got back, he, too, looked a little nervous and said, “Look, now that you’re here, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you–”

  “No, please Jake,” Lizzie jumped in, getting to her feet once more. “If I don’t tell you this now I might never get around to it. So please, me first, okay?”

  “Hey, sure, Lizzie, no problem.” Jake was growing increasingly more concerned. Was she leaving? Was she having second thoughts?

  Was she married?

  “Okay,” she said, “This is probably gonna come out all wrong, so I’m just gonna blurt it all out and explain later, okay?”

  “Sure, Lizzie. Whatever you want.”

  “Right, here goes,” Lizzie took a deep breath, then said, “I know your real name is Jake Sawyer and that you are living here because you stole a case of extremely valuable diamonds–”

  “Whoa! What?” Jake was stunned. “Now hold on–”

  “Please, just let me finish, I promise I’ll explain,” Lizzie continued. “I’ve been following you. I mean we have, me and the man I’m here with. We know you stole the diamonds and–”

  “Lizzie, please,” Jake broke in again, but she put up her hand to silence him, she had to continue or she would never get it out.

  “I know about your family, Jake - about your wife and kids–”

  “That’s enough!” Jake snapped. “That’s enough, okay.”

  Lizzie stopped. Suddenly aware of how callous she had sounded. “No, Jake, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean–”

  “Enough, Lizzie. You’ve said more than enough.”

  Suddenly Lizzie’s phone began to ring, breaking through the tension. She looked at it, saw the call was from Aaron and sent it to voicemail.

  “I’m sorry, Jake,” she said again.

  They were silent for a long moment, then her phone rang again. Again it was Aaron. Quickly she flipped it open and spoke into it, “Hi, yeah, look, it’s not a good time right now, I’m–”

  Aaron, on the other end of the line, interrupted. “No, Elizabeth, you must listen, it’s important. Very important. I’m being followed. I think they’re onto us. You could be in great danger.”

  “In danger? What?” Her mind was still racing from speaking with Jake. “What are you talking about?”

  “Elizabeth,” Aaron replied. “We have been found out. I believe Peter Bearing knows what we are up to. I am being followed, I am certain of it and I think that we both may be in grave danger. Do you understand?”

  “I’m in danger. Yes, I understand,” Lizzie was still reeling from her previous conversation. “I’ll be careful, I will. But look, right now I’ve got to go. I’m right in the middle of something.”

  “Okay,” said Sumpter, “But promise me you’ll be careful.”

  “I will.”

  “Promise me, Elizabeth.”

  “I promise, Ronny. Now please, I must go.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you back at the bungalow.”

  “Fine. See you then.” Lizzie said and snapped the phone shut. She looked at Jake who was still standing there, angry, shocked. Disappointed.

  “Listen, Jake–” she began.

  “No, you listen.” He said. “I don’t know who you are or what your game is here but I’d like you to stop.”

  “It’s not a game, I promise–”

  Now it was Jake’s turn to hold his hand up to silence her. “I’d like it to stop and I’d like you to leave. Now.”

  “But Jake, please.”

  “Now, Lizzie, or whatever your name is. I don’t want to hear any more.”

  “My name is Lizzie, I swear it. But–”

  “Please.” Jake walked to the door and opened it. “Just leave me alone.”

  Lizzie looked at him, imploringly, but it did no good. He would not even look at her. She hesitated for a second, before realising that it was hopeless. “Fine. I’ll leave you,” she said, marching past him. “But there’s more you need to know. Much more.”

  He couldn’t look at her.

  “You also need to know that I love you.” She said softly.

  For a moment, Jake’s blue eyes met the chocolate brown of hers, which were now brimming with tears. Then he looked away and Lizzie left. He closed the door behind her.

  * * *

  Aaron ended the call with Lizzie and shut down his laptop having finished what he had so urgently been doing.

  As he made to stand, he heard
the faintest of noises behind him and knew that he was already too late. As he attempted to turn, a thick arm grabbed him around throat and the point of something very sharp was jabbed into his ribs.

  “Make even the slightest sound and you’re dead,” growled Fabian Król.

  * * *

  Lizzie ran from Jake’s bungalow, tears streaming down her face. What was she thinking? How could he understand? Of course he would think that she had betrayed him. And then, stupidly, she had mentioned his children. How unbelievably insensitive.

  She needed to cool off, find somewhere to think. She couldn’t go back to her bungalow just yet as Aaron would be there waiting for her, eager to find out how things had gone and she just couldn’t bear to tell him just yet. For the moment she just wanted to be alone. All thoughts of Aaron’s warning about her being in danger had left her as she fretted about what had just happened.

  She decided to go to the pool bar, to have a drink or two to calm herself down, then maybe afterwards she would feel like going back and telling Aaron all about it.

  * * *

  After parking the rented Volkswagen Jetta, Król circled around to the back of the small nest of bungalows in which Lizzie’s was situated, knowing that Aaron Sumpter was inside. The bungalows were set out in small hamlets around the complex - all very private and all very exclusive with cleverly designed aspects so that none of them were visible through the windows of another which was perfect for Król. However, there were always people wandering about such as guests and resort staff so he had to be certain that he was not casually observed as he found the back of Lizzie’s property and slipped over the quaint stone wall that surrounded it. Within seconds Król was squeezing himself through the open bathroom window and once in, he stood still on the tiled floor and listened intently. He could hear

  Sumpter speaking loudly in one of the main rooms so stealthily moved forward, eased the bathroom door open and silently crept through the bungalow following the sound of Sumpter’s voice as he spoke on the phone with Lizzie. As Król entered the living area unseen, he immediately spied his target. Aaron had his back to him and was busy closing his laptop as he ended the conversation with Lizzie, snapping his phone shut with a soft click. His back was still turned as Fabian Król approached him. The rest was all too easy.

  * * *

  Aaron was slumped backwards, tied to a bamboo dining chair. His nose was broken and his front teeth had been knocked out. After a severe beating his face had been left bloodied and bruised and at least two of his ribs cracked.

  “Where are diamonds?” Król asked in a heavily accented but conversational tone. “You are not hero, my friend. No one care if you live or die, so why not tell me. Make it easy on yourself?”

  “I’ve told you,” Aaron groaned painfully, “I’ve no idea.”

  “You want me to hurt you some more?” Król said. “Because, let me tell you, you will tell me - either now or later - and later, well, you might not be so...” he hunted for a word and then found it with a smile, “Fortunate.”

  “I can’t tell you because I don’t know,” Aaron gasped. “I’ve told you already.”

  “Very well, my friend. I see you are going to need little more persuasion, a bit more convincing. So sad, but, hey, you leave me no choice.” Król looked anything but sad as he pulled an object from his pocket which Aaron immediately recognised as a butterfly knife, the kind of flashy weapon preferred by gangbangers and mobsters. It was a modern version of the switch blade which had two rotating handles that concealed a very scary blade inside. Król flipped it open and, sure enough, in an instant the murderous looking blade appeared.

  Aaron blinked and instinctively recoiled. He knew now for certain, even if he hadn’t already known it before, that he had seen his last afternoon. He thought of his tiny semi-detached home in

  Hampstead and then of the impossibly blue sky of Nassau. At least it was a nice place to die.

  He shut his eyes and tried to focus on something else as Król selected one of his fingers. Aaron didn’t try to fight him as he knew it would do no good.

  “Last chance,” said Król. But Sumpter couldn’t reply he just shook his head defiantly, his eyes squeezed tightly shut.

  The pain was immense as Król sliced off Aaron’s right pinkie, worse than he could have ever thought possible and he screamed in agony.

  “Now, where are diamonds?” Król asked again.

  Aaron couldn’t reply properly as the pain was too much. He just managed to blurt out the word “No!” In between sobs.

  “A shame. All this could be easily avoided but still...” Król said as he selected the next finger in. This time Sumpter did fight against it as he couldn’t face that sort of pain again but his interrogator was far too strong and easily wrestled his hand free. Then, with an expert technique, sliced off another finger with a blood curdling crunch as the knife cut deftly through the bone.

  Aaron squealed and emitted a dreadful gurgling sound as tears streamed down his face, “Go to hell!” He growled through gritted teeth.

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, Sumpter’s right hand resembled a roughly pruned shrub. All the fingers and the thumb were gone and the ugly stump was covered in blood. A large pool of blood had also spread across the floor as if a full bottle of Chianti had been knocked over and the contents spilled on the cold tiles.

  Król had been trying to make him talk, trying to make him reveal what he knew. But Aaron would not say. He would never say. He would rather die. And suspected that he would do very soon.

  Fabian Król had tortured many men and had developed a sense for how strong somebody’s willpower was. He could tell if someone was going to talk or not and with Aaron Sumpter he knew it was the latter.

  Sumpter was resilient, with a solid strength of mind and an iron resolve. No one could resist that kind of torture unless they were prepared to die and Sumpter clearly was.

  Król knew now, without doubt, that he would get nothing out of him. But there was still the girl and Sawyer. And one of them would definitely give him the answers he needed.

  Król looked at Sumpter, his head lolling to one side, his eyes puffy and swollen, blood dripping from his nose and mouth. “You’ve had enough, my friend, eh?” Król asked in his gruff Polish accent.

  Aaron lifted his head wearily and smiled, his teeth coloured crimson. “Never,” he replied.

  * * *

  Jake sat out on his veranda looking at the wide expanse of ocean that he loved so much. But today his mind was elsewhere.

  He was thinking of Lizzie and all that she had meant to him. He was thinking about what she had said about knowing who he really was and about knowing that he stole the diamonds.

  And he was thinking about her last words to him, when she said that she loved him. She had said that she could explain everything and now that was playing on Jake’s mind. Surely if she meant him harm, then why tell him anything at all?

  Her words had affected him. She loved him, she said. He realised now that he loved her too. But was it too late?

  Whoever she spoke with on the phone told her she was in danger and now that was concerning Jake, too.

  He decided that he had to hear her explanation after all. She had caught him unawares and he had reacted instinctively. But now he wanted to hear what she had to say - and if she truly was in danger then he had to protect her. He got up and rushed from his bungalow, determined to get to Lizzie as soon as possible.

  * * *

  Jake ran to Lizzie’s bungalow as fast as he could, following the network of white rock lined pathways that criss-crossed the resort. When he arrived, he paused to catch his breath, then knocked on the door. It swung open, unlatched.

  “Lizzie?” Jake called, but there was no response. “Lizzie - it’s me, are you here?” Still nothing. Jake stepped inside, into the living room and saw a thoroughly macabre
scene. A laptop computer lay smashed in pieces on the tile floor, a dining chair was over-turned. But what horrified him was the large pool of blood surrounding them and, scattered within it were what looked like chopped-off fingers. Five of them in total. An image of Jake’s murdered family flashed through his mind and he cried out, “Oh God, not again - please not again!”

  Suddenly he was frantic, “Lizzie! Where are you?” He yelled. “I’m here. Just please tell me you’re alright!”

  He was scared for her safety, but now wary also as it occurred to him that whoever harmed her may still be in the bungalow. He noticed a wide dragline of blood that led from the living room and down the hallway - clearly leading the way to whoever lay at the end of it and Jake’s heart sank.

  Then he heard a noise, coming from the bedroom, very faint but definitely something - a groan Jake thought. “Lizzie?”

  Regardless of his own welfare he darted across the living room and headed down the hall following the gruesome dragline which disappeared under the bedroom door. Dreading what he might find, he threw open the door and was immediately appalled by what he saw.

  A middle-aged man lay on the bed with blood pumping from a wound in his neck. He had been stabbed in the throat but judging from the marks on the floor and on the bedclothes it looked as if someone had dragged him there.

  The man had the stumpy fist of his right hand pushed hard down onto the wound trying to staunch the bleeding but it was clearly futile. He was ghostly white and obviously close to death. Jake ran to him, to try and help, but he knew he couldn’t.

  “I’m so sorry,” Jake said to the man, feeling entirely helpless, “I don’t know what to do to help you.” The man suddenly grabbed Jake’s arm with his good hand, his grip surprisingly strong. He glared at Jake intently, willing him to take notice of what he was about to do.

  As Jake watched, the man, released the grip on his arm then reached into the pocket of his blood drenched shorts. With immense effort and willpower, he pulled out a bunch of keys that hung on a yellow, rubber fob that was shaped like a foot, with the words ‘Beach Life’ printed on it. He forced the keys into Jake’s hand and jabbed his finger on them, pointing to them, leaving a bloody fingerprint on the key fob. He was trying to speak but it was just a gurgle.