Jake leaned in, “What do you want me to do with the keys?” he said. “I can’t hear you. Please, try again.”
Jake put his ear to the man’s mouth and clearly heard the name “Elizabeth.”
Jake looked at him, “Where’s Elizabeth? Where is she? Is Lizzie safe?” But it was too late. Aaron Sumpter was already dead.
* * *
Lizzie was halfway back to the bungalow when the man found her.
“Miss Barnes?” He asked in thickly accented English
“Yes?” She said.
“I’m with the management. I’m afraid there’s been an accident.”
“An accident?” Lizzie said, looking the man up and down. He certainly did not look like he was with the management - T-shirt, cargo shorts and tattoos. And he was clearly not Caribbean, Russian maybe, or Czech. Possibly Polish.
“Yes, your friend. Mister Sumpter. I’m afraid he’s had a nasty fall.”
“Oh, God. Aaron. Where is he - is he okay?”
“He’s fine. He’s at our medical centre. If you would just follow me, I’ll take you to him.”
“Of course, thanks,” said Lizzie, immediately concerned. All reservations about the man’s appearance dismissed from her mind.
The man led the way along the narrow path that was prettily lined with painted white rocks. They passed a signpost; Pool, Gymnasium, Medical Centre, Car Park, it read, with arrows going off in all different directions, the one to the pool pointing in the direction from where Lizzie had just come.
However, rather than take the pathway that led to the Medical Centre, the man took the one that led to the car park.
“We’re going to the car park?” Lizzie asked.
“That’s correct,” he said.
“But I thought you said Aaron was at the Medical Centre?”
“That’s right, we’re going by car to the Medical Centre.”
“But the Medical Centre is back that way,” Lizzie said. It was at that moment that she noticed the red speckles on the man’s sleeve and the large blood stain on his shorts. Aaron’s warning suddenly rang out in her head, “I think that we both may be in grave danger,” he had said.
Lizzie immediately realised what was happening and turned to run but it was too late, Fabian Król grabbed her and pulled her back. She tried to scream but he clamped a large hand over her mouth and held it shut.
Król then picked Lizzie up, she kicked and punched but he held her tightly and her efforts had little impact.
Quickly, so as not to be seen in the bright sunshine of the Bahamian afternoon, Król ran with her to the small car park, just a short distance away, where the Jetta was parked.
As he put her down to open the car, Król’s hand briefly slipped from Lizzie’s mouth and she let out a loud scream. In return, Król slapped her hard and she fell limply over his shoulder, allowing him to bundle her unceremoniously into the boot of the Jetta.
Chapter 35
Jake was in shock. The man’s death had been so bloody, so appalling, like something out of a slasher movie. Jake, himself, was plastered in blood. His hands, his shirt, his cheek and ear where he had listened to the man’s final word, ‘Elizabeth.’
But where was Elizabeth? Where was Lizzie?
Jake wandered into the living room and studied the shattered laptop. Obviously it had been destroyed for a reason.
The front door of Lizzie’s bungalow was still open and Jake thought he heard someone scream outside.
He strode to the door and scanned the area, for a second not seeing anything of concern, but then he looked over at the car park and was horrified to see a man bundling Lizzie into the boot of a Volkswagen Jetta. She looked lifeless.
“Hey!” Jake shouted. But the man did not hear him and slid quickly into the driving seat. “Hey, stop!” Jake yelled again, But the Volkswagen was already reversing out of the parking space.
Jake started running towards the car park but by the time he got there he was too far behind to stop the Volkswagen was driving out. Indeed, the Jetta was already on the exit road and heading swiftly towards the resort’s gates. What is more, it would be on the highway and gone in a matter of moments.
Still clutching the keys that Aaron Sumpter had thrust into his hand, it occurred to Jake that there maybe a car key amongst them and he was right.
It was a rental car key with a hand-written label stating the vehicle’s model and registration.
Jake scanned the car park and immediately saw the little ‘Mini Moke’ the key belonged to and running quickly over to it he jumped in.
He sped out of the car park, in pursuit of the Volkswagen, the tyres screeching as he raced down the exit road, much faster than the 10mph permitted. Sparks flew as he launched the bright orange Moke over the speed bumps and out to the exit gates of the resort compound.
By now the Jetta had a good lead on Jake, but he pulled out onto the highway and pressed the accelerator pedal to the floor. He would not let Lizzie get away.
* * *
It was only at that moment, as he sped along the highway in pursuit of the Jetta, that Jake had pause for thought.
What was he going to do when he caught up with it? Was he going to run it off the road? Force it in to a ditch? Surely that would only put Lizzie’s life in further jeopardy - if, indeed, she was still alive. Perhaps, also, the man who had taken her was armed. He could shoot her. He could shoot Jake, ending his rescue bid before it had begun and leaving Lizzie still in great danger.
Jake eased off the accelerator, dropping back to a safe distance but keeping the Jetta easily within sight. He would follow it, see where it led him, then when it stopped, Jake could formulate a plan on just how to rescue Lizzie.
* * *
They headed out of Nassau, along the beach road, passed the powdery white sand of Cable Beach, passed all the grand resorts and hotels that lined the beautifully tranquil bay and then, as the afternoon sun began making its slow decent toward the clear aquamarine ocean, they turned inland.
Jake followed still several cars behind as the road took them into the interior of New Providence. They drove through several small villages, the houses little more than corrugated shacks, the people who lived in them trying to eke out a living by whatever means they could. Jake couldn’t help but compare his previous life in England with what these people had. All his debts and worries back then suddenly paling into insignificance as he realised that his life, in contrast, had been one of riches and luxury.
The guilt swept over him again like a wave. Had he not acted so selfishly back then, had he stayed, tried to work things out, his family would not have been murdered. Had he not stolen the diamonds then the man back at the resort would still be alive too and Lizzie would not be in danger. Jake refused to believe she might already be dead and focussed instead on getting her back safely. No matter what it took.
After several more miles, the Jetta turned off again. This time onto a dirt road that weaved through heavy woodland.
Cautiously, Jake pulled onto the road. There were no other cars now between his and the Jetta and if he did not keep a sensible distance then he would be easily seen. He let the Jetta round a corner up ahead before slowly proceeding. However, when he, himself, turned that corner, the Volkswagen was gone.
The road ahead was dead straight yet there was no sign of the other car. Jake pressed his foot down on the accelerator, his heart pounding harder, as the Mini Moke sped up, bouncing along the rough dirt road.
Where were they?
He very nearly missed the turn, which angled off sharply to the right and was concealed by dense foliage. Jake saw it out the corner of his eye and braked hard, the car skidding on the loose surface.
The Jetta was maybe two hundred yards up this narrow track, slowing to a halt in front of a run down farm house and Jake had to quickly reverse to avoid being seen.
Knowing now that the Jetta had reached its destination, Jake parked the Moke in some loose scrub and returned to the narrow track on foot. Keeping low and using the abundant foliage to conceal himself, he eyed the farm house warily. Lizzie’s abductor had already carried her inside.
* * *
Lizzie had awoken in the dark confines of the Jetta’s trunk. It was hot, humid and claustrophobic. She screamed again and again to be released but her captor had Iron Maiden blaring out of the speakers and was purposely ignoring her pleas.
When, at last, Król opened the trunk, Lizzie was ready for a fight. But Król was strong and trained in hand to hand combat and quickly he overpowered her. He slapped her hard across the face and Lizzie’s world went black once more.
Presenting no more of a problem to him than a child’s rag doll, Król carried Lizzie into the dilapidated farm house and tied her to a chair using the rope and chair he had left there, for that purpose, the night before.
* * *
For the second time in the last hour, Lizzie awoke in a daze, her head now throbbing badly. She found herself in a sort of disused shack, with stripped wood slatted walls and bare wooden floorboards. It had obviously been used as a house at sometime because there were still remnants of broken furniture strewn around the place and ragged curtains hanging shabbily at the two dust filled windows. There was also an old stone fireplace to the left of her with some rusted pots and pans stacked haphazardly beside it.
Her captor, Król, stood in front of her, smiling.
“Hello, girlie,” he said in heavily accented English. “You be good now, yes? You stop struggling otherwise I have to hurt you. Understand?”
“Who are you, what do you want from me?” Lizzie said groggily.
“Who I am is not important. Who I work for and what they want is.”
“Who do you work for?” She asked, already knowing it was Bearing.
“Someone who wants what you have got. Or at least what your boyfriend has got.” Król said. “What he took from them.”
“I don’t know what you mean.” Lizzie said defiantly.
Król grinned, his voice calm, friendly even. “I knew you say that. I expect it. It’s what your partner say.”
“Partner?” Lizzie said. “What partner?”
“Come now, girlie. I’m not a fool. The bald man in your bungalow in Nassau. Him. He was your partner. I see you with him. But he not your partner anymore I think.” Król grinned again, wickedly.
Lizzie went cold. “You mean Ronny? What have you done to him?”
“Me?” Król feigned innocence and shrugged his shoulders, “I just ask him a few questions that is all. But he decide he do not want to tell me so I have to kill him. It is what I do. It is my job. If people do not tell me what I need to know, then is that my fault?”
Lizzie could not believe what she was hearing. This monster had killed Aaron and he didn’t even show the slightest bit of remorse. Her lip began to quiver and the tears began to fall down her face. Ronny was dead. But her resolve strengthened. “I won’t tell you anything, you bastard. Kill me if you want, but I won’t tell. I won’t.
Król sighed. “Of course, you say that now. I like it actually. You show strength, that’s good. But you will tell me. This I promise. The only question is how long it will take. Personally, it makes no difference to me. Like I say, it is my job, I get paid either way. But you, I think, will not want too much pain. You are a beautiful woman. Very beautiful - I would like it better if you stay that way. But, if that is not possible, then, like I say, it makes no difference to me.”
Lizzie remained silent, horrified by what she was hearing, scared beyond anything she had felt before. Certain that she would die whether she told the man what he wanted to know or not.
Król spoke again, his voice calm, conciliatory, “I make a deal with you. You tell me where to find the diamonds, I promise I make it quick. You not feel a thing. No pain. I guarantee it.”
“But I don’t know about any diamonds. I told you–”
“Do not lie to me!” Król suddenly roared violently. “I know you know, now where are they?”
“Please,” Lizzie was shocked by the man’s sudden change of temper, “I don’t know. I really don’t. I promise.”
“Fine,” Król said. “You want the hard way? Then we do it the hard way.”
* * *
By now, Jake had sneaked all the way up the narrow track and had silently approached the farm house. As he lightly stepped up onto the ramshackle stoop, fearing discovery with every carefully placed foot, he heard Lizzie’s captor shouting in an East European accent.
Jake peered in through the dust stained window, barely able to see through the thick layer of caked on dirt.
His heart quickened as he spied Lizzie, alive, but tied to a chair. The man standing in front of her was big, muscular and menacing with closely cropped hair and a beard. He looked tough and formidable.
He was also brandishing a knife. The same knife, Jake guessed, that had killed the man back at Lizzie’s bungalow.
This was not going to be easy. Not by a long way, but Jake had the element of surprise on his side. He also suspected that he was about to find out if his boxing and karate lessons had paid off.
The door was just to Jake’s left and he prayed that it was not locked. Very gently he placed his fingers on the handle and took a couple of deep breaths, trying to calm his racing heart beat. Then, all of a sudden, he saw himself turn the handle and throw open the door.
* * *
Król pulled out the butterfly knife and flicked it open in a fancy, yet very practiced way, like a professional gun slinger at a wild west show impressing the crowd with his deadly skills.
Lizzie saw the shiny blade spin round mesmerisingly and as it finally came to a halt, pointing directly at her, she saw that it was still stained with Aaron Sumpter’s dried-on blood and gasped with fright as she glimpsed her own fate.
“This will hurt you, girlie,” he said. “But feel free to scream all you want. No one will hear you. I choose place specially. It is only one for miles. So go ahead. I don’t mind.”
Lizzie whimpered involuntarily as Król picked up her hand and selected her little finger. “This one first, I think. Unless, of course, you tell me where the diamonds are.” He said.
“I don’t know,” cried Lizzie, “I don’t - I swear, please–”
At that moment, the door flung open and Jake burst into the room.
If Lizzie had doubted it before, she knew now, with absolute certainty, that she loved him. But her initial elation was quickly replaced by horror as Król turned to face him.
“Jake, no!” she yelled, “He’s got a knife.” But it was too late, Król had a murderous grin on his face and Jake had entered willingly into his lair.
“Leave her alone!” Jake snarled.
“Ah, Mister Sawyer,” Król said, barely registering his surprise. “You follow me, yes? Very clever.”
“Yeah, I followed you, alright. Now do as I said, leave her alone.”
“And why would I do that? You were to be my next guest. You save me trip. Now I have both of you. All I need to know now is where the diamonds are and my job is done.”
“The diamonds? Why, who are you working for?”
“Alas, that is not for me to say,” Król replied. “But it is I who have been asked to find them. Now, if you would just tell me, it will save much trouble for you later.”
“I’ll tell you who he’s working for, Jake,” Lizzie said. “Peter Bearing and Arthur Khan - the ones who are responsible for killing your–”
Król turned and slapped her across the jaw with the back of his hand to silence her and in that instant, Jake charged.
With his attention distracted momentarily, Król turned a fraction too late to raise the knife and prevent Jake from bowli
ng into him.
The pair of them flew backwards, knocking Lizzie’s chair aside as they went. The chair smashed as it went down and suddenly Lizzie was free.
Jake landed on top of Król, the force of the impact causing him to release his grip on the knife and it skidded across the floor towards the old fireplace. However, Król recovered quickly as he grabbed Jake by the ears and head butted him. Jake rocked backwards, dazed by the blow, which allowed Król to push him aside and regain his feet.
Jake scampered away out of reach and got to his feet just in time to block a kick from Król that was aimed at his head. He blocked another and countered with one of his own but it missed its mark and set him off balance, giving Król the opportunity to smash a hard right hook into the side of Jake’s face.
Again he was stunned, but shook it off. He raised his fists and faced up to Król, whose smile was wide, already sensing victory and clearly enjoying the fight.
Jake sent in a jab, missing again, but then he threw a hard left into Król’s gut and a crunching right uppercut which caught the Pole squarely under the chin, visibly rocking him. Król’s smile was now gone.
“Go on, Jake. Hit the son of a bitch!” Lizzie encouraged from the sidelines as she threw off the ropes that had bound her.
“So, Mister Sawyer,” Król said, “You fighter now, yes? You boxer, you martial artist? You think you Bruce Lee?”
“No.” Jake said, with cold steel in his eyes. “But I am pissed off.”
With that he launched an attack on Król, using all the tricks and techniques he had learned over the last couple of years, plus a few that he had not - and he did genuinely hurt Król, landing several punishing blows to both the body and head.
But Król was hardened in hand to hand combat, a highly trained soldier and even though Jake’s attack was ferocious, he was no real match for Król and soon the difference began to show.
Finders Keepers Page 20