Everything depends on who they are and why they’ve taken me—whether it’s for money or for political advantage. If it’s the former, then I’m worth more alive. If the later, I might make more of a point dead. Observe. I eye up my captors, trying to memorise their features. Cataloguing that someone has money, this isn’t a run of the mill craft. That doesn’t comfort me. If I’ve been kidnapped by someone already rich, why would he, she, or they want more wealth?
If someone likes me, it’s harder for them to kill me. Whether I find it easy or not, I’ll be co-operative and cordial even if I can’t bring myself to be friendly. Make sure they see me as a person and not a piece of meat to be sold or disposed of. Whatever happens, I’ll keep my dignity. I won’t grovel or beg. I’m a princess after all, even if most of the time I try to forget the position I was born into.
I’m going to be rescued. Kadar won’t give up. I’ve got to remain positive. Whatever happens, I’ll keep the thought of rescue firmly in my head.
All the men are now on the helicopter, and the rotors start turning slowly. I wait for take-off, but before we get underway one man comes and sits opposite, and another appears by my side.
“You’ll be more comfortable this way, Princess.”
Before I can ask what he means, my arm’s grasped firmly, and a hypodermic needle appears in the second man’s hands. Oh shit.
Seeing my body tensing, the first leans forwards and stops me moving. I feel a prick in my arm, cold creeping through my body…
I wake lying on thin mattress on a cold stone floor. The room’s dark, and there’s a sound from outside it takes me a moment to recognise. Wind howling and heavy rain blowing against the window.
I shiver and wrap my arms around myself. The temperature and weather tell me I’m not in Kansas anymore. Not in Amahad or the neighbouring countries. As to where I exactly am, well, I could be anywhere in the northern hemisphere.
Tears prick at the back of my eyes. Angrily, I wipe them away. I won’t give in. I won’t give up. Rescue will already be on its way. As I raise my wrist, in the darkness there’s a brief glimmer of something glowing.
Thank fuck! They didn’t take my watch. And it’s an iWatch with 4G. I must be crazy, but can I? I haven’t tested it before. It’s worth giving it a try. I tell Siri to call a contact. To my surprise and delight, it works and connects.
“Kadar? It’s me. No, let me talk, I have to be quick. I’m using my watch and I’m low on battery. Can you trace me?”
“Aiza? What the fuck? Where are you?” It sounds like I’m the last person he expected to hear from.
I keep my voice low. “I’ve no bloody idea, Kadar. That’s why I’m calling you. Get a trace on my signal, fast.”
“I’ll get Cara on it. Are you alright?” I’ve never heard my brother sound so concerned before.
“I was drugged, but so far unharmed. Kadar… Hearing your voice… But I need to give you as much time as possible, my watch could go off at any minute. I’m in a cold, wet place, that’s all I can tell you.”
A sigh as if he doesn’t want to break the connection, then, “I understand. Stay strong. We’re coming for you.”
My voice breaks as I speak words I’ve never uttered before. “Kadar… I love you. Nijad and Jasim, too.”
In an equally unsteady tone he replies, “Love you too, little sister. We’ll see you soon.”
I end the call wishing I could have listened to his voice for longer. Wishing that I’d had more information to give him. Glancing at the face of my watch I see the battery indicator is already well into the red zone. Reluctantly I take it off, immediately feeling naked removing the one fashion item I’m seldom without. Looking around for a hiding place, I lodge it between the mattress and the wall. I don’t want anyone to find it and destroy it before Kadar presumably gets Cara to work her magic. Sometimes it’s a bonus to have a hacker in the family.
I’m scared, though try to force down negative feelings, just concentrating on the fact I must survive whatever the unknown is bringing to me. I stand and stretch, rolling my head, trying to get the stiffness out of my sore muscles while wondering again where I am and what my kidnappers want. My head is throbbing, presumably from the drug they gave me to make me sleep. And also from a healthy dose of stress.
I examine my prison. It’s bare. The window is high on the wall, suggesting I’m in a basement of some sort. There’s a light bulb glowing dimly, illuminating my sorry surroundings. Apart from the mattress there’s nothing else here. My bladder is full to bursting. Unless I want to relieve myself in a corner I’ll have to suffer until, hopefully, someone comes and lets me out of here.
I yawn, but I’ve slept enough. Too much. Had I woken before I might have some indication of where I’ve been brought to.
I’m getting colder by the second, clothes worn for the harsh heat of Amahad no protection against the climate here. The fact no one’s looked out for my comfort concerns me, suggesting my health and well-being isn’t a priority. Or is this an attempt to weaken me? It won’t work. I’m determined to stay strong.
Giving into fear isn’t going to help. I pace the room, trying to find something, anything to give me a clue as to what this place is, or something I can use as a weapon. Disappointingly, though the bricks look ancient, none are loose enough for me to pull them out.
It’s not too long before there’s a noise at the door, the sound of a key turning. Facing towards it, I watch as it opens. There are two men outside. One nods as he inspects me. “You’re awake. Good. Come with me.”
Geez. No manners. Not even a please. Focusing on his abruptness instead of the butterflies swirling in my stomach enables me to walk out with my head held high.
I follow the man who’d spoken up a narrow stone staircase, emerging into a brightly lit area at the top. It’s no help to realise I’d been right, and my prison had been a basement. Eyeing my surroundings, I want to learn as much as possible in case I’m given a chance of escape. It looks like a small stately home, or a mansion of some sort. I’m now in a large entrance hall and being led to a door off to the side. The man opens it and waves me through, then steps in himself and takes up position in front of the door, effectively trapping me inside.
There’s a blazing fire in the fireplace, logs spitting and cracking, the sight dissipating the chill even before the warmth hits my skin. Two wingback chairs are placed either side, and one is occupied by a man I’ve never seen before in my life. Not that I’d expected my captor to be someone I’d previously met, however there was always the possibility. Someone familiar would have provided a clue or suggested a reason for my abduction.
As I examine him, he’s looking at me, a satisfied smile playing at his lips. It’s not a comforting sight. Trying to stay strong, I manage to suppress a shudder.
What am I supposed to do now? I haven’t a clue how one should greet their abductor. My kidnapping training omitted that.
After what seems like a lengthy pause, he stands. “Princess Aiza Kassis.” He comes closer, then walks around me, and my skin begins to crawl.
“You know who I am. How about you introduce yourself?” I’m proud my voice sounds steady.
“My name isn’t important,” he replies as he returns to my front. He stands too close, and his eyes once again sweep across my body, a critical expression as he reaches out his hand and waves to my clothes. “You don’t look much like an Arab princess. It’s easy to rectify that.”
“What do you want from me?”
“All in good time. All in good time.” He takes a step back. “First, you should shower and change into attire that hasn’t been slept in.”
He makes it sound like I had been taking a nap, not drugged for hours. A bathroom, though, sounds good. I still need to pee badly.
“Frank here will show you where to go.” He nods at the man standing behind me. “When you’ve cleaned up, we’ll talk.”
Don’t annoy your captor. Another kidnapping lesson comes back to me. So, I dip my h
ead in agreement. I do feel dirty, and a shower will hopefully get rid of this lingering headache, as well as go some way to warming me up.
Taking my arm with one hand, Frank opens the door with the other. This time he leads me up a grand carpeted staircase and indicates a room at the top. Stepping inside, I find it’s a well-appointed bathroom, but when shutting the door behind me, find it has no lock. That makes me uneasy. However, unless I want to wet myself I have to ignore that someone could walk in when they like. Feeling vulnerable and exposed, I sit on the toilet, where I sigh with relief as I can at last empty my bladder. Then after I’ve flushed, look at the window. Escape? They’ve anticipated that. The window’s been nailed shut.
There’s a radiator underneath it, and as is common in old houses, it’s doing little to take the chill off the room. A draught is getting in from somewhere, and I’m still freezing cold. A hot shower would warm me… But there’s a man waiting outside who could come in any minute. I debate for a moment. If I don’t do as I’ve been instructed, will I be making things worse for myself?
“Best get in that shower, lady. Or my instructions are to put you in it myself.”
The voice coming from the other side of the door and the threat has me moving. I shower quickly, even in the circumstances enjoying the welcome warmth I can feel seeping into my bones. When I get out and have a towel wrapped around me, the voice speaks again. “I hope you’re decent. I’m coming in.”
Wait? What? Before I can protest the door flies open. Frank scoops up my old clothes and puts a pile of new ones on the chair to the side. While he’s in here I keep rock still, holding that towel as tight as I can. He doesn’t even glance at me, just completes his task and goes.
“You’ve got five minutes.” The warning comes from the other side of the wood again.
I rub myself dry, then look at the garments which had been left for me. The black should have given it away immediately, though it’s not until I pick it up and shake it out that I see it’s a fucking abaya that will completely cover me from head to toe. There’s black underwear too, certainly not that which a modest woman would normally wear—a lacy black bra with cut-outs for nipples and pants barely worthy of the name with a convenient slit in the gusset. The juxtaposition between robe and undergarments so confusing, I can’t understand it. But immediately am afraid. What have they got planned?
“Two minutes.”
I hadn’t realised how long I’d been staring. Having no option, I slide into the pants and put on the bra, feeling very exposed. For want of something to hide me, I put the hideous abaya over the top. Even in Amahad very few people, except maybe an old woman, cover up in such things. There’s a hijab too, that wraps around my face.
With only my eyes now showing, I’m just in time as the door opens.
“These too.”
These are hooker shoes. Black with diamante, and at least five-inch heels. What the hell am I being dressed like this for? My mind comes up with an answer. I push the thought back down, replacing it with a far more optimistic one as I remember the call I’d made. Kadar’s going to find me before anything happens.
Tottering precariously, I hang onto the handrail as we descend the stairs and return to the room to find my abductor sitting once again in his wingback chair.
“Thank you, Frank. I take it she gave you no problem?”
“No, sir. She behaved.”
“Good. That’s very good. And wise of you, dear. I wouldn’t have wanted to have to mark such perfection.”
“Who are you?” I ask again, goosebumps of fear rising on my skin. “And why am I here?”
“My name isn’t important.” He waves his hand dismissively. “Although you deserve to know what I am.” He pauses as though for effect before continuing. “You see, I’m a broker.”
Chapter 10
Hunter
Eight hours since Aiza’s been taken. Eight fucking hours and we’ve still no idea where she’s gone or who has her. There’s been no contact, no request for a ransom. We remain convinced it’s the terrorist, though so far there’s been nothing to confirm our suspicions.
“Ben, surely any kidnapper would have been in touch by now.” While I wouldn’t wish being held for money on any woman, it’s the best fate I can imagine for Aiza now. She wouldn’t be harmed and should be well looked after.
“Hunter, calm down. Fuck, man. I’ve never heard you this emotional about a case. I get it that you feel responsible, but you need to focus and think with your head. Think rationally.”
As Ben’s voice admonishes me down the phone line I realise he doesn’t have the faintest clue just how much I’m invested in her safe return. Somehow that girl has captured my heart, and I need her back to show her what she’s come to mean to me. Is it a case of absence makes the heart fonder? That she’s now beyond my reach serving to amplify what previously were embryonic feelings? I’m more resolute than ever that she’ll be mine, and that never will anything harm her again. If we find her in time. Realising I’m gripping the phone so hard I’m in danger of crushing it, I force myself to relax and do as Ben suggested and, with determination, bring my brain into play.
“Look, Hunter, sometimes kidnappers like to give the relatives time to worry so when they do make their demand they’re more likely to agree to it. She could just be being kept on ice for now. We still can’t rule out that option. Not just yet.”
I draw in breath. “The longer there’s no contact the more likely…” I can’t even say it.
“What’s up with you, Hunter?” My boss isn’t stupid, as shown by the tone of his voice. “Are you…?”
“Yes,” I interrupt him and admit. “I like her, okay?”
Ben snorts, then apologises. “Okay. That was unexpected.” There’s a pause while he absorbs the new information. “Look, you need to put any feelings you have for her aside. You’ve got to think logically and use your fucking head. Act like the professional I know you are. Jon, I, Ryan, and Seth are ready as soon as we come up with a location. We’re staying in London for now, though we’ve already got a plane fuelled and on standby.”
Ben and Jon are ex special services, both having had training in hostage extraction when they were in the SAS—in fact, they became instructors themselves. They’re the experts who’ll be advising how to get her back once we know where she is and who has her. I’m relieved to hear they’re planning to come in person.
“I’ll keep you updated, Ben.”
“Do that, Hunter. While I know Cara will be monitoring everything, Nafisa’s doing what she can too. We’ll find her, Hunter. Fucking hell, man. I don’t know how you’ll take it from there. The first thing to do is to get her back. Just focus on that, okay?”
“Thanks, Ben.” He’s right. Any thoughts of making her my woman need to be put to the back of my mind. I can’t do anything until we extract her from whatever situation she’s in.
I end the call while walking out of the empty office I’d used for privacy and return to the conference room, finding it in uproar.
“What’s going on?”
The nearest person to ask is Rami. He’s actually got a smile on his face. “Aiza’s made contact,” he tells me excitedly.
What? My first thought is one of relief. She’s safe. “How, where…”
“Hunter!” Kadar calls my name so loudly the buzz of other conversations ceases. “Come take a seat and we’ll update you on the situation.”
Almost knocking over the chair in my hurry, I sit down. In the interval between standing and having my ass on the seat, I realise had anyone truly known where she was we’d already be moving. My relief rapidly fades, transforming into anxiety again. My arm where it had been clipped by a bullet throbs, I make myself ignore it.
Kadar nods when he sees everyone’s settled. “Right. It appears Aiza’s got one of those iWatches that has its own sim card. As you know, her phone was discarded, presumably they didn’t realise the significance of her watch. She’s just called me.” He breaks off. �
��Ah, Cara. Thank you for joining us.”
“Kadar. Aiza’s been in touch, I hear?” She sees me and gives me a quick smile, but just as fast turns her attention back to her brother-in-law.
“Yes.” He waits another second so she can join us at the table. Almost in one motion she sits and opens her laptop, her hands hovering over the keys as her face flicks towards Kadar.
“What’s the number she rang from?”
In answer, Kadar slides his phone down the table. Cara glances at the screen and starts typing.
“Time’s of the essence. Her phone is low on battery so she couldn’t talk long. All she could tell me was that she wasn’t in Amahad anymore, and where she was, it was cold and raining.” Kadar’s brow is furrowed, and his hands play with his beard.
“Could be fucking anywhere,” Jasim observes.
The emir clears his throat. It doesn’t work, as when he speaks next he sounds husky. “She told me she loved me, and you Jasim, and Nijad.”
“Fuck,” both brothers exclaim, as they exchange worried glances.
It makes me sit up. I’ve seen Aiza around her family enough times to know such platitudes are never exchanged. The fact she’s now told them suggests she thinks she might never see them again. My muscles tense, and if I didn’t concentrate on taking air into my lungs, I’d stop breathing.
“Okay.” Cara starts talking. “The good news is the iWatch version she’s got has GPS, so I should be able to pinpoint her position.” She’s tapping again, then looks up. “I’ve found her, and I’ll send you the coordinates.” Tilting her head to one side, she looks confused. “She’s in the UK. Scotland to be precise.”
Well, that would account for it being cold and wet. I start to rise, then realise Kadar’s still seated.
“Hunter. Sit down.” He glares at me, then looks to his sister-in-law. “Cara. Send those coordinates to Ben Carter. He and his team are the closest. Jasim, Nijad. We’ll all go...”
Hard Choices (Blood Brothers #6) Page 9