“Christ, Braden, Katie could be anywhere. It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack,” said Andrew. “I feel so helpless just standing here.
He turned again to Moon. “Why didn’t you cops give her protection? You knew she had been threatened.”
“Now calm down, sir,” replied Moon. “I offered her a bodyguard, but you know Katie – so fierce and independent – she turned it down. I can’t force it on anyone.”
“I’m sorry,” said Andrew. “It’s just so frustrating thinking that animal has her and we are so helpless.”
Moon touched Chase comfortingly on the arm. “I’ve known Katie a long time, sir. She’s an extremely resourceful and determined young lady. I think she is capable of fending for herself. She’ll find a way of dealing with the situation.”
Young called HR to ask for a list of employees who finished shifts mid-afternoon. As he finished the call, he noticed his voice-mail message light blinking. He entered his code and listened.
It was Megan’s voice. He turned pale as a ghost at the message he heard.
“Oh, my God! No!” he cried. “Please, Megan, don’t!”
Her message was one of desperation.
It sounded like a final goodbye.
Chapter 49
Peshawar, Pakistan 3:25 AM
``HAVE YOU decided to cooperate and talk, Mr. Trevanian?”
Major Patel, from the Pakistani ISI, stood directly at the end of Trevanian’s bed. He stared icily at the journalist. His black, bushy eyebrows rose slightly giving his visage a menacing look.
His colleague Amman stood next to him. He didn’t look any more comforting. Both looked ready to kill if necessary.
“How many times do I have to tell you? I have nothing to say,’ said Trevanian. “I can’t help you. I am a Canadian journalist. Al-Qaida kidnapped me. I interviewed a senior leader. That is all. They were taking me back to Peshawar to file my story when we ran afoul of your checkpoint. You know my name. Call my paper, the Toronto Daily Express, to check if you don’t believe me.”
“Unacceptable answers, Mr. Trevanian. You may be a journalist, perhaps not. But I think you know more than you are telling us. What mission were your friends on in Pakistan?”
“There’s simply no point in talking to you people,” said Trevanian with deep defiance in his voice. “You obviously aren’t prepared to listen to anything I say. I have no further comment until I speak with someone from the consulate.”
“Well, it is most unfortunate that you refuse to cooperate. Perhaps your tongue will get looser when we get you to our interrogation room.” Patel moved closer to the bed and unlocked the handcuffs.
Amman moved to the other side of the bed and both men firmly grasped Trevanian’s arms, lifting him from the bed.
“The doctors say you only have a mild concussion. You must come with us for further interrogation,” said Patel.
“You have no right to do this. I demand to speak to the Canadian consulate,” said Trevanian.
“Shut up you insolent dog,” spat Amman who whipped the back of his hand across Trevanian’s face. “You have no rights in this country!”
“My colleague is correct, Mr. Trevanian,” said Patel. “You are illegally here in Pakistan in the company of known terrorists. We have every right to have you in custody and to further interrogate you. And believe me when I tell you that our methods are very persuasive. You had better start talking or you will have much more to worry about than a simple concussion, my friend.”
Chapter 50
The Wolfman’s Lair 5:35 PM
KATIE CANNON was ravenously hungry. She devoured all the food the Wolfman brought her on the tray.
Despite the nauseating sight of his ‘trophies’, she managed to eat and keep the food down. After she had finished the ham sandwich and the apple, she washed it down with the glass of milk.
She needed to keep her strength up if she was going to get out of here alive.
McDonald had put the box with its hideous souvenirs back in the cupboard over the workbench. Katie wondered if he kept any other horrible trophies from his victims in there.
Would she soon be joining them? She felt a chill up her spine at the thought. Not if I can bloody help it, she thought.
He had taken her mobile phone along with her purse and anything that she might have found useful in her cell. There was nothing to do but wait.
Katie didn’t have long to wait. The door opened slowly and the Wolfman entered the room.
Katie saw him slowly approach her cell. She had a sudden intake of breath as she noticed him carrying a large hunting knife in his right hand. It was a Selway with a 6-inch stainless steel blade.
It was a menacing sight to Katie as McDonald drew nearer.
“Time to party, Katie,” said McDonald, a leering grin on his face.
She heard the key enter the lock and the tumblers turn. Katie braced herself, sitting on the edge of the cot.
“Hi, Ian. If you want to party, you don’t need your friend there,” said Katie. “I won’t struggle. Surely it will be better for you if I cooperate willingly. After all, you’re not an unattractive man.”
Katie had to fight back the rising nausea as she spoke these words. She needed to play along with him so he would let down his guard. Hopefully, an opportunity would present itself.
She must buy herself some time. Time would be her ally.
McDonald paused for a second. He seemed taken aback by Katie’s apparent willing cooperation. She did not appear to be afraid like the others. She seemed almost to welcome his attention.
“Bitch, don’t try to make out you’re my friend. What’s your game? What are you trying to do?”
“It’s no game, Ian. Since I’m your prisoner, I might as well sit back and enjoy it.” She reached out and gently grabbed his left arm. She pulled him toward her invitingly.
He reacted to her caress and let himself be guided toward her. She pushed her face forward and kissed him on the cheek, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.
McDonald lifted up the knife. The blade sliced the buttons slowly on Katie’s blouse. She wriggled loose of the blouse, letting it fall on the cot. She wore a black, filmy bra. She kissed him more passionately and could feel him becoming aroused.
His lips moved feverishly over her face and neck. He gripped her tightly against his body and fumbled for the hook on the back of the bra. He found it and unclipped it. The bra fell away unleashing her breasts, like smooth melons.
McDonald groaned, roughly cupping them with his hands. He kissed them. His grip on the knife started to loosen as his passion grew.
Then Katie made her move.
She brought her knee up sharply, smashing it into his groin. She twisted sideways and grasped the knife from his fingers.
“Take this, you sick bastard!”
She plunged the knife toward his chest.
McDonald instinctively raised his left arm to fend off the blow and the knife slashed across his arm. Blood bubbled to the surface, some of it smearing onto Katie.
The Wolfman’s other arm lashed out, gripping her wrist with the knife. He twisted sharply. Katie felt a searing pain shooting up her arm.
She thought her wrist was broken. The knife fell onto the cot.
The Wolfman raised his bloody left arm and slapped her across the face.
“You fucking whore,” he screamed. “You cut me.”
“I wish I could cut your balls off, you sick fuck,” Katie screamed back defiantly. She had taken her chance and failed. She knew now she was dead.
McDonald grabbed the hunting knife and jammed the blade against her throat. She could feel the cold blade against her skin. She felt a small prick from the cold steel. She felt some drops of blood.
“I should cut your fucking throat now. But it’s too quick for you. I’m not finished with you yet. I am going to make you suffer even more before I’m done with you, Katie Cannon.”
Chapter 51
Daily Express Newsroom 5:50 PM
BRADEN YOUNG`S office was a hive of activity.
Gathered there were Young, Andrew Chase, Detective Peter Moon and CID officer Brian Savage. They conferred over a list of newspaper employees who went off duty about 3 p.m., the time of Katie Cannon’s sudden disappearance.
There were 20 names alphabetically placed on the list. Ian McDonald’s name was twelfth.
“Here’s your list,” Young told Moon. “It also includes home addresses.”
“Right, we’ll start checking these out straight away,” said Moon taking the list. “We’ll start paying all of these people a visit. Hopefully something pays off. You never know. The Wolfman must be one of these 20. I see seven of them are women, so I think we can rule them out right away. We’d be better off concentrating on the 13 men as suspects.”
“Is there anything we can do to assist you, Inspector?” inquired Chase. “I feel so helpless standing here while Katie is in potential danger.”
“No, it’s a police matter, Mr. Chase. Leave it to us we’ll get back to you if we feel we need any more help from the paper.”
Young rose to his feet. “I’ll leave it to you gentlemen. I have to excuse myself. I’m afraid I have a rather urgent personal matter to attend to.”
Braden strode out of his office. Not a man who easily panicked. He felt a sense of panic now after his daughter’s phone message. She sounded desperate and God knows what she might do out of desperation.
But he didn’t know where to start. Where could she be?
His only clue was that slime ball ex of hers. Megan said he was staying at the Westin. That was as good a place to start as anywhere.
He planned to pay a call on Dennis Dean.
And the jerk had better provide some answers.
Chapter 52
ISI Headquarters Peshawar 4:17 AM
TREVOR TREVANIAN sat strapped to a wooden chair in the centre of a stark, barren room.
A single light bulb glared overhead. There were bars on the windows with thick glass. Obviously the room was soundproofed to cover the screams of the souls tormented in this place.
Trevanian wondered how many people had been tortured within these walls. The concrete floor showed bloodstains that had been scrubbed, but traces faintly remained.
To his left was a bucket. To the right sat a small wooden table with various instruments laid out on it. It looked like a crude dentist’s office. There were pliers, sharp scalpels, and a device with a sharp hook at the end.
Trevanian tried not to imagine what their possible use could be. There was also an eight-inch rubber hose nearby.
Patel and Amman stood in front of him.
Both men had their jackets off. They wore dark-colored short-sleeved shirts, better for not showing any bloodstains. They appeared eager to get to work.
Patel leaned toward him.
“Now, Mr. Trevanian. For one last time I will ask you to talk voluntarily about what you and your colleagues were planning in Pakistan. Believe me you will talk eventually. The only question is how long and how much pain you want to endure in the process.”
“I’ve already told you the circumstances of why I am in Pakistan,” said Trevanian. “I am a journalist. I was kidnapped. I interviewed an al-Qaida leader. You can torture me all you want and the story won’t change because it is the truth. Perhaps you should concentrate your efforts on cleaning out the real terrorist groups in the tribal areas that are causing hardship in Afghanistan and your own country.”
Patel lashed out with his hand and delivered a stinging slap to Trevanian’s face.
“Enough of your insolence, dog. I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job properly. I will expect you to tell me the location of the camp your colleagues took you to.”
Patel turned to the table and picked up a set of pliers. “Perhaps I will start with extracting your fingernails. That should loosen your tongue.”
Just as Patel lifted Trevanian’s left hand, the door to the room opened. A uniformed man entered and sharply uttered words in Pashto.
Patel dropped the utensil on the table and quickly left the room.
There were several minutes of silence.
Trevanian was trussed up like a turkey ready for the sacrifice. Amman stood there watching him stoically. Not a word. Not an expression on his stone-like face.
The journalist could only anticipate what horrors lie ahead for him. You’ve really got yourself in a mess this time, Ollie, he thought.
After what seemed like hours to Trevor, but in actuality was about 10 minutes, Patel returned to the room.
There was a sudden change in his attitude.
He instructed Amman to release the straps around Trevanian’s chest. Amman hesitated, surprised at this development. Patel barked his orders again and Amman complied.
“Well, Mr. Trevanian, it appears you have friends in some very high places. I just took a call from Nairo Kumat, the Director of ISI, who received a call from the President of our country demanding your immediate release. They vouch for your story. It appears you are in fact a journalist and were kidnapped by these people.”
“That’s just what I have been trying to tell you all along.” Trevanian felt a sense of immense relief flood through his body. Braden Young had come through for him. He didn’t know how, but he didn’t care. He only wanted out of this place to file his story.
“My apologies for any inconvenience, Mr. Trevanian. You must realize we were only doing our jobs in the security of our nation.”
“Your jobs!” exclaimed Trevanian. “What is that? Is it your job to go around torturing and terrorizing people in the guise of national security? You’re no better than those in al-Qaida. How many innocent people have you caught up in your web in the past?”
“It is understandable that you would be angry, Mr. Trevanian.” Patel spoke in a calm, civilized English manner. “But you must admit your circumstances were rather suspicious.”
“That’s no excuse for your actions to threaten to torture me. Your methods leave a lot to be desired. Believe me, you haven’t heard the last of this, Patel.”
“You are free to leave now. Mr. Trevanian. Can we assist you by driving you anywhere?
“So kind of you to offer,” said Trevanian facetiously. “I need to get somewhere quickly to write and file my story. Where’s the nearest major media outlet? And I need my laptop and voice recorder returned to me.”
“The Associated Press office here in Peshawar can help you out, I am sure. I will have some one drive you there immediately. I will see that your personal belongings are returned to you immediately. Again, my apologies for any inconvenience we have caused.” Patel spoke in a solicitous manner.
He sounded almost civilized. Almost.
But Trevanian was in a hurry. “Right, Major. Apology accepted. Now please get me to the AP office as soon as possible. I’m on an important deadline.”
Chapter 53
Westin Hotel Lobby 6:30 PM
BRADEN YOUNG stormed up to the hotel’s Guest Relations counter.
He identified himself as managing editor of the Daily Express and demanded the room number of Dennis Newman.
The young girl behind the counter was momentarily unnerved by Young’s abrasive and belligerent tone. She soon recovered and resumed the professional demeanor of a hotel clerk.
“Mr. Newman is in Room 1116. Is he expecting you, Mr. Young? I can call up to tell him you’re here.”
“Never mind, my dear,” said Young in a softer tone. His anger temporarily abated. There was no point in taking it out on the clerk. It wasn’t her fault. “I prefer to surprise Dennis. He’s an old journalism colleague. We have a lot of old times to talk over.”
“Certainly, Mr. Young. Take the elevators on the right to the 11th floor. Have a good evening.” The young woman smiled sweetly at him.
Same to you and thanks for your help.” Young headed for the bank of elevators.
Dennis was certainly in for the surprise of his life. The bastard.<
br />
Young exited the elevator and followed the numbered rooms until 1116 stood before him. He rapped loudly on the door.
A few moments passed and the door opened. Dennis stood before him.
The handsome blonde anchorman was wearing his red Jockey shorts. His golden tanned, muscle toned body on majestic display. His sprayed coiffure was neatly in place, with nary a hair astray. He flashed a smile with those ivory white teeth.
“Why Braden, what a nice surprise. Haven’t seen you in years, old chap.” Dennis greeted him warmly like a long lost old friend.
Young roughly pushed him back and marched into the room, inviting himself.
“Don’t give me that ‘old chap’ routine, you son of a bitch. What have you done with Megan?”
“Megan. Oh, she was here a couple of hours ago. Unfortunately she caught me in rather awkward circumstances. It was rather sudden and unexpected, I’m afraid. I was entertaining a new acquaintance and Megan became rather upset and left. I have no idea where she went, old chap.”
“You piece of dog shit. You mean she caught you with your dick out of your pants again after she actually thought you were sorry. I’m afraid you’ve finally sent her over the edge, Dennis. She may have done something terrible to herself. She left me a phone message that has me concerned.”
“Oh come on, Braden. She’s never going to do something to herself over me chasing another piece of tail. You’re a man of the world, Braden. You know how it is. Men will be men.” Dennis’s smarmy confident smile sent Braden over the edge.
“Yes, I know how it is, Dennis. Men will be men and a mongrel will always seek to rut in the alleys. You can’t keep it in your pants, you bastard. Just stay away from me and my daughter.”
He suddenly brought his left fist forward striking Dennis square on the jaw. He felt his knuckles connect and skin scrape as they smashed into Dennis’s face. Dennis fell back, spread eagled on the floor.
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