It Never Rains in Colombia

by W. H. Benjamin

  Andre was silent, his large bulk looming over Alex. From the corner of Alex's eye, he could see another man close by, browsing the sunglasses then stopping when he heard Alex's words. Andre's lips curled in menace and he seemed like a dog with bared teeth, about to bite.

  Alex began to move away, “Fine, the deal’s off.”

  Andre grabbed him by the elbow, “It's not that easy.” He nodded subtly to the man near the sunglasses and pulled Alex toward the door. Behind him, he could see a man talking on his phone. They moved out of earshot and another smartly dressed behemoth tourist joined them.

  Andre released Alex's arm. The other man straightened his own white shirt collar. They headed out of the departure lounge casually and walked into the short-stay car park.

  Sophia jumped off the train as soon as it stopped. Suitcase in hand, she ran to the westbound platform and waited anxiously for the next train back to Heathrow. Two minutes, she thought, he could be there by now. Frustration seeped through her veins, she ran through the airport. People stared as she flew past, dodging cheerful tourists, a long line of schoolchildren, and many other bewildered onlookers. At the departure gate, she checked her pockets for the ticket, knowing it was gone. The man just waited patiently for her to produce it.

  “I've lost my ticket, but my plane.” The female staff member seemed unconvinced. “Look, I know this sounds strange, but my friend is in danger. If you could just let me through…”

  “What do you mean?” the man asked, clutching his radio.

  “There's a man with a gun in there.”

  The car park was a desolate wasteland of grey concrete and dusty cars. Alex slowed down, following Andre. The man behind him shoved him forward. Finally they reached a navy blue Securicor van with the words G4S painted on the side. Andre pulled open the back doors and stood aside as Alex got in. There was Victor, his smooth face, newly shaved; looking as fresh as the day he was born. “Welcome back!” he said charmingly as Alex climbed in and Andre shut the double doors behind him. “Where's my money?” he asked casually, as if it were a trifle.

  “That's the question of the day, isn't it?” Alex remarked.

  Victor seemed calm, impassive, but Alex saw his nostrils flare up quickly in anger.

  “Where's the girl?”

  “She's safe,” Victor said.

  “How do I know that?”

  “Details, details,” Victor said. “Show him,” he nodded at Andre. Andre pulled out a phone and pressed call. Alex heard the phone ringing. Andre said a few words, then turned the screen toward Alex. He saw the video feed of a girl with curly brown hair, gagged, blinking at the camera groggily. A hand was holding her head back by the hair of her ponytail. Her clothes were covered in blood. “She's in bad shape,” Alejandro said.

  “She's alive,” Victor retorted, “that's good enough. That's the best shape you can hope for.”

  “Where is she?” Alejandro asked, “take me to her.”

  “As soon as you give me what's rightfully mine,” Victor shouted angrily.

  “I'm not stupid,” Alejandro said. “Give me the location. I have your money right here,” he gestured to the hand luggage that Andre had grabbed from him before entering the van. Andre opened it. Alex turned the bracelet over in his hand, keeping it out of sight—his lucky charm. Whatever happened, he would hold onto it.

  The laptop was on. Victor looked up from it, “What's the password?”

  “Maria,” Alex said instinctively. Andre typed it in. “Let me,” Alex said.

  Victor nodded at Andre. Andre handed the laptop to him. He clicked the history button and the bank’s website popped up. Once the secure access page was up, he passed the laptop to Victor. “Where's the girl?” He said, “I'll transfer the money back to you once you tell me where she is.” Andre and Victor exchanged a glance. Victor smirked, “Why not? Lot 482, Chambers Business Park, Thurrock.” Victor spoke into the phone, “Donny, show Alejandro I'm a man of my word.” He turned the phone toward Alex. The picture shook a bit as it was carried outside and directed at the sign above the property, 482 Chambers Business Park. Alex entered the account login details. It didn't work.

  “Is this a joke?” Victor barked.

  Andre knocked Alex to the floor.

  Alejandro was running out of ideas fast. He spat out blood, then crawled to a sitting position as Andre kicked him. He said, “You tried to kill me once before. This time, I've taken precautions.” Alex directed them to a set of lockers in King’s Cross Station, where he said Sophia was waiting with the account login. He said she would remain in hiding until she saw Alex, that way Victor would never find her.

  Victor smirked at the mention of Sophia and Alex felt his skin crawl.

  The van moved off, unsettling him from his seat. Victor left him in the back with the two men from the sunglasses shop and a bruised eye. He knew that once they got to the station and Victor saw Sophia wasn't there he was finished.

  Chapter 15 – V Is For?

  Before Sophia could finish her sentence, a woman came up behind her and pulled her arm, saying, “Come on, love. Not here.” Sophia and the woman struggled briefly, silently. The woman, who was tall and blonde with hazel eyes, eventually dragged Sophia away, whispering something to her. “Interpol,” was the word that calmed Sophia down before she could scream for help. The airport security staff looked on in confusion. A man stepped forward as the woman whispered in Sophia's ear and led her away.

  “It's nothing,” he said, nodding to the security staff, flashing them a badge.

  “Okay, just stay calm,” the woman said.

  The van came to an abrupt stop. At the back of the van, Andre and his associate looked at each other, trading suspicious glances. Andre rapped on the back wall of the van, signalling to get the driver's attention.

  Silence.

  “Go and check.”

  Andre climbed out to have a look. He shut the doors behind him and after a few seconds, the van doors flew wide open. Armed police crowded the only exit, shouting, “Put your hands up. Step out of the vehicle.”

  Alex's body stiffened in fear. He crept back out into daylight as a long stream of cars passed in the other lane. The van was parked at the yellow parking barriers. The front bumper had been barricaded in by a police armed response vehicle. Alex kept his hands in the air. The police pushed his face against the cold metal as he was searched for a weapon. Alex was relieved; the fear melted away, leaving behind an edge of apprehension. Victor was nowhere to be seen.

  Sophia rushed out of the airport doors with the policewoman trailing behind her, watching dolefully as Alex was shoved into the police car.

  There was a scuffle a few feet away behind the large blue G5 van. Alex heard something clatter to the ground as he was hauled into the police car. Someone screamed. Alex jumped out of his seat still handcuffed, tackling the police officer with only the brute force of his shoulders. He used his gathered strength and momentum to knock the man backwards, before he could close the door. The officer grunted in pain, reeling away as Alex barrelled past him, handcuffed, only to see one of Victor's men being forcibly restrained by four policemen. He watched as the man's face was rammed against the concrete with a knee in his back. A lone body lay on the ground, face down, a few feet away from the struggling man. The driver of the van went into reverse, causing it to lurch violently backwards, almost knocking Alex down. Alex jumped aside and ran, sprinting, toward the passenger side door that still hung open, his hair soaked by the rain as the van prepared to ram the barrier at speed. In that moment, as the engine revved and the wheels spun furiously, Alex threw himself head-first into the passenger seat. Victor's eyes widened in horror. Alex head-butted Victor, their foreheads connecting with a painful thud. The van shot forwards, crashing into a metal parking pole. They were both thrown forwards into the windscreen as the truck careened into the steel barriers, then jolted to a stop. Smoke escaped, billowing around the steel pole that was now embedded deep within the front of the van. Smoke ro
se in choking, blinding clouds of black and grey, like ash clouds from an erupting volcano.

  Victor was slumped over the dashboard. Blood dripped from a large gash in his head. Alex, still dizzy from the crash, struggled to shimmy out of the vehicle and found his leg trapped by the metal jaws of the van, which had been compressed by the impact. Metal encased his thigh and he groaned in pain. A fire sparked in the engine and he saw the low, roaring, flames flickering to life behind the cracked windshield and watched them dance in front of his eyes dizzily.

  Alex felt himself being dragged from the wreckage. He heard an unearthly roar of pain as something sliced into the flesh of his thigh. Hands gripped his torso. The flames licked the crystal blue sky. Alex searched the surroundings desperately for her face in bewilderment as he was pulled away, being lifted and supported by two police officers. He dragged his injured leg as he went. Turning back to the van, he saw black smoke pouring from the engine and wafting upwards. The van exploded into a ball of sinister flames that engulfed the whole vehicle. Alex staggered back from the shock of the loud bang feeling, the push of hot air on his bare arms as the heat rushed forward and outwards. Alex was lowered into the backseat of the police car. He rested his hand against the seat and then it sped off. People were running to and fro. A policeman stood with his back to the flames directing vehicles away from the exit. Alex watched through the rear window and saw the large armed response vehicles reversing away from the flames. A woman with dark brown hair was among the crowd being hustled back from the burning wreckage, and just then, as the gust of wind blew her hair across her eyes, he thought he saw Sophia being hustled into a van behind. Alejandro craned his neck to see her. The car sped farther away from the scene, taking a corner violently, and she disappeared. His head thudded back onto the headrest in frustration.

  “We have a visual,” the helicopter pilot reported over the radio as the police car raced through the streets, speeding past a red traffic light just as it changed from amber to red. Inspector Young stepped on the gas, barrelling past oncoming traffic from the right. He swore. Sweat beaded his brow; his eyebrows knit in concentration as he pushed down harder on the accelerator.

  “I can't let this happen. Not again,” Alex muttered more to himself than to the detective. His whole body was rigid with tension, his mind filled with fear, apprehension for what was to come. What would happen to Harlow? “We have to help her,” he said.

  “I'm going as fast as I can,” Young said resolutely. He pushed down harder on the pedal. Alejandro silently willed the vehicle to go faster, hoping that time would turn back somehow so that he could fix things. The engine groaned under the strain of acceleration. The airport was far behind them, but his thoughts kept returning there, recalling the horrors that he had seen.

  They turned a corner. The car slowed down as they approached another turning. Alex saw the black van float past in his peripheral vision. His heart sped up in recognition, excitement, and fear. “There,” he shouted. “There, it's them.” They came to a neck-breaking halt in the middle of the road a few feet from the next corner. Detective Young edged the car back, reversing slowly enough to make the turn. Alex pressed down the Walkie Talkie, “Alpha one, we've located the vehicle.”

  Up ahead, he could see the daunting black van moving swiftly down the street. As they began to follow it, the distant, shadowy figure disappeared. They sped down the road and almost passed it, parked innocently on a side road as if nothing had happened. They were still in the van when the other police units closed in. The van occupied an unassuming position on a road leading up to a large, abandoned-looking warehouse. Police cars surrounded the warehouse. Detective Young commanded Alex to stay in the vehicle. Assault rifles were trained on the driver as he was led out of the van. The back doors opened slowly with a ring of armed police all around. Alex moved forward, disobeying orders. Harlow was inert on the floor of the van—just another thing amongst the dirty, oil-stained rags, the toolbox, and a spare tyre. Alex leapt into the back of the van, leaning close to her face to see if she was still breathing. He felt her pulse, then picked her up out of the debris and filth, carrying her out of the van, leaving behind the stench of diesel. They had left her to bleed to death. The thought made him sick.

  Harlow was airlifted to the hospital. The doctors rushed her gurney down the aisles. Sophia ran toward them. A policeman pulled her back.

  Chapter 16 - Things I Should Have Said

  The hospital room was silent except for the slow beep of her heart. Harlow lay prostrate with a tube in her mouth. The bloodied clothes were gone, replaced by a simple blue hospital gown with sleeves that covered her shoulders and were visible above the bed covers. Harlow's stepfather snored softly in the chair next to Christian's. Christian watched her quietly holding her hand in his, the fingers, lifeless, cold.

  “How’s she doing?” Annette, Harlow's mother, asked, coming into the room with Alice.

  “Same,” Christian replied, releasing Harlow's hand gently, hoping it would go unnoticed. Thirteen-year-old Alice's eyes were puffy and red, as if she had been trying to rub sand out of them all day. He got up for Annette and she waved him back down, perching on the end of the bed.

  “No, it's okay. You sit. You must be exhausted.”

  He shrugged demurely, getting up anyway, “No, I'm fine, really,” he insisted, and she moved over to take his seat.

  “Maybe you should go home and get some sleep,” Annette suggested.

  “Uhh, it's okay. I'm not tired.”

  Annette looked at him seriously, “You don't look fine. You look exhausted. Harlow's stable now; it's only a matter of time before she wakes up. I'm sure she'll want to thank you,” Annette explained. “Look,” she continued.

  “Okay,” Christian said with a reluctant smile. “Can I come back tomorrow?”

  Annette nodded wearily, “Come anytime. You're always welcome,” she brushed the hair from Harlow's forehead absent-mindedly. She didn't notice when Christian left the room.

  Christian found himself pacing in the lobby, back and forth tirelessly. Eventually he dozed off in one of the hard plastic chairs. When he woke up, he saw Alice standing at the vending machine opposite him. “You didn't get very far,” she commented, coming over to him.

  Night had turned to day.

  “What time is it?” Christian asked embarrassed.

  “7 a.m. You've only been asleep for three hours,” Alice replied, noticing his surprise at the sunlight that filtered in through the windows.

  “Any change?” Christian asked, hopefully getting up and stretching out like a cat after a long nap.

  For the rest of the day, Christian watched Harlow sleeping, unaware of the world around her—a sleeping beauty. The beep, beep, beep of the machine continued steadily. He resolved to tell her, if she ever—when she woke up. It was a quiet afternoon. From noon to 1 p.m., visitors came in and out. Christian sat with Alice talking about school, trying to distract Alice from the fear he saw in her eyes every time she looked over at her sister's weak, motionless form. Alice uttered a few words, then sat in glum silence, crying, waiting. Around 5 p.m., Christian began to feel the effects of staying up for twenty-two hours. A strange heaviness pressed down on his brain until he fell asleep in the chair. He was woken up by a nurse telling him that visiting hours were over. He looked back at Harlow, unchanged by the passing of day into night, her eyes still closed.

  “Are you family?” the nurse asked.

  “Ummm,” he swallowed.

  Alice came in, “He's my brother.”

  Christian was relieved when the nurse left.

  Christian looked over at Alice with newly found admiration, “Thank you. I didn't know what to say.”

  “No problem,” Alice said lightly, sitting down in the chair next to him. “She needs her friends around her now,” Alice said thoughtfully. Christian nodded.

  “If it weren't for you—” Alice broke off abruptly as if she were about to cry. She ran a hand through her hair, then rubbed
her eyes wearily before saying, “who knows what could have happened?” She looked at Harlow for a long while, as if she would disappear at any moment. “When I was little, I always thought she was such an adventurer. I would see her jumping over fences, climbing big trees, and follow her around. She always told me off at first, then we'd go on little expeditions. Every week she had some new hobby: today roller skating, tomorrow skateboarding, trampolining, then gymnastics.”

  Annette came in, sitting down on the bed. Hearing Alice's last few words, she smiled and said, “I was always afraid to let you go. When I heard the words roller-skating, I thought broken teeth, but Harlow always brought you back looking bright and cheerful with wonderfully wild stories, like the time you took her bike for a ride and crashed it into Mr. Palmer's wall. It crumbled to pieces underneath you but she brought you back with a smile on your face. You didn't even cry. You were only seven.”

  “She takes good care of me,” Alice admitted sadly.

  Annette continued as though she hadn't heard, “She's always been careful about the risks she takes and who she makes friends with, you know. She's a good judge of character.” Annette got up, rearranging the blankets over Harlow's still form.

  Christian shifted uneasily, feeling as though he had outstayed his welcome. If she knew everything about me, he thought, would we still be friends? Annette settled into the seat next to him, leaning back. She closed her eyes wearily.

  Harlow woke up two days later and was confronted by an unfamiliar face. He was handsome, with unkempt wavy black hair, a beauty spot above his lip, and piercing brown eyes that were gentle and unguarded. She looked around her, moving her head minutely. The movement caused a return of the searing pain in her side.

  “Hello,” the stranger said in a thick accent that seemed so familiar. She squinted her eyes at him, smiling involuntarily. Her mouth was dry. It was half a smile and half a frown filled with the uncertainty and unease she felt.