Jäger smiled. “That is something you two will have to work out amongst yourselves.”
After a 25-minute ride west on the east-west road and a turn onto another dirt road heading south, “The Red Lion’s Den” came into view atop its rocky hill location and gave off an immediate and unmistakable aura: impregnable.
The foreboding approach reminded Molka of a movie she’d watched in which a captured princess was imprisoned in a similarly imposing fortress.
Except there would be no handsome prince leading an army of knights to come to rescue her.
Rivin’s man drove toward the front gate with Jäger angled in the passenger seat to keep an eye on this prey: the general.
Fuchs sat in the rearmost seat watching Molka.
Back at the airstrip, Molka witnessed Tariq being disarmed and de-monied and noted his demoralized face as he followed in his vehicle behind them.
A 20-meter-long earthen ramp, surfaced with road bricks, climbed from the dirt road to the fortress’s black iron bar gate. And although wide enough to allow three SUVs to enter side-by-side-by-side, the gate appeared as a somewhat tiny opening in the massive reddish colored stone wall.
As they started up the ramp, Molka viewed a flagpole mounted atop the wall directly over the gate, flying a large white flag with a red lion emblem on its center.
Two bearded men waited outside the gate wearing combat uniforms with a digital pattern of greens and browns, red keffiyeh’s, and slinging AK-47s.
The Rivin driver halted the SUV a meter from the gate.
Tariq stopped a meter behind him.
The armed men split up, and each inspected the interior and underneath of the vehicles.
Assured, one spoke into a two-way radio.
A moment later, the gate slid to the left enough to let the vehicles pass through.
Rivin’s man drove across the gravel interior yard and parked outside the central blockhouse’s steel door.
Tariq parked behind him.
Jäger and Fuchs exited.
Jäger helped the general step out.
Fuchs opened the door for Molka to step out.
Jäger opened the blockhouse’s door, and the group stepped into the light gray walled with worn gray tile-floored hallway.
Tariq passed by them, moved straight ahead into the common room, and spoke to several men watching the big screen TV.
Jäger addressed the general and Molka. “Please follow me.” He turned to the right and moved down the hallway with the general with Molka following him and Fuchs following behind them.
Jäger stopped outside the open door to a small room.
Fuchs held Molka in the hallway, and Jäger entered the room with the general. The room appeared to be a first-aid station with shelves holding various medications, boxed bandages and field dressings, and a counter with a sink.
Jäger washed his hands, dried them on paper towels, put on sterilized gloves, and opened a plastic tube holding a DNA swab. “Open your mouth wide, please, general.”
The general grunted. “I will not. I have accepted you are leading me to horrible torture and agonizing death. All I have left now is my dignity, and I intend to keep it until the very end.”
“I can appreciate that, general. But having me put you in a chokehold while Ernst pries your mouth open—in front of this young woman nonetheless—would be much less dignified than opening your mouth wide for a few seconds.”
The general grunted again, opened his mouth wide, and allowed the swabbing. Jäger sealed the swab back in the plastic tube and handed it to Fuchs.
Fuchs departed back down the hallway in the direction from which they came.
Jäger addressed Molka and the general again. “You will now be taken to a holding cell. I apologize that the conditions there are not the best. But I have requested they give you all the comforts possible.” He pointed further down the hallway. “That way, please.”
They moved to the hallway’s end at a large arched opening covered by riveted steel plating with a windowless, handle-less, steel door in the center.
Jäger approached a keypad mounted on the wall to the door’s left and punched in a six-digit code. A metallic clank sounded, and the door cracked open.
Jäger needed two hands to pull the meter-thick door open enough to allow them access. “Come inside, please.”
Molka and the general entered onto the landing of a stone staircase lit by naked bulbs.
“Down the stairs, please,” Jäger said. “And watch your step, please.”
Molka went first, followed by the general, followed by Jäger.
The steps descended through six more landings and ended at a cavernous, musty scented, fluorescent lighted, stone-walled space that probably served as a powder magazine in earlier times.
Three jail cell-sized cages waited at the space’s far end.
A lone prisoner sat on a cot in the right-side cell: Uri.
Along the room’s left side lay another much larger cage.
Inside it, seven pretty young women wearing traditional dresses sat around a small table and gaped at the new arrivals.
A camouflage uniformed and pistol armed guard sat at a small desk in the center. He stood and waited for the group to reach him.
Jäger spoke to the guard in Turkish.
The guard removed a set of keys from the desktop and unlocked and opened the door to the cell holding Uri.
Jäger addressed Molka. “Please join your partner.”
Molka entered the cell, and the guard locked the door behind her.
Molka exchanged glances with an anxious Uri.
He had removed his light blue windbreaker, and his shoes lay under the cot.
Jäger spoke to the guard in Turkish again.
The guard unlocked the center cell and opened the door.
Jäger addressed the general. “Please step inside, general.”
The general did, and the guard then locked the door behind him and returned to his seat at the desk.
Jäger produced a black, folding tactical knife from his pocket, opened it, and addressed Molka. “Put your back to the bars, and I will cut your hands loose.
Molka complied while viewing the surroundings. All three cells contained a single military-type cot, an open toilet, and a wall-mounted sink.
Jäger cut the flex-cuffs from her wrists and moved to do the same for the general.
Jäger spoke to the guard in Turkish once more.
The guard pulled a two-way radio from his pocket and spoke into it.
Jäger addressed the general. “I requested that they bring some water and something to eat.”
The general ignored him, sat on his cot, and took out a cigar.
Jäger looked to Molka. “I also requested another cot for you.” He turned to leave.
Molka moved to the bars and called after Jäger. “I have a question for you, captain.”
Jäger turned back. “Yes?”
“Once you secured the general, you could have let me go or just killed me. Why take the trouble of bringing me to this dungeon?”
Jäger smiled. “The dungeon is what they call this place too. But to answer your question, the master of this fortress requested your presence.”
“Ha. I figured you as a skilled mercenary warrior. Not an errand boy to a criminal.”
Jäger’s smile faded at Molka’s insult. “We prefer to be called private military contractors, but unfortunately for you, you became part of my working agreement with Rivin.”
“You traded me to him?”
“In a manner of speaking. Anything else?”
“Yes. My name is Molka. What’s yours?”
“Reinhold Jäger.”
“I’ll remember that. And maybe one day, I’ll come visit you.”
Jäger smiled again. “If you do, I would love to invite you to the finest restaurant in Munich for a lavish dinner with its dashing and debonair gentleman owner. Me.”
Molka watched Jäger turn and go back upstairs
.
When he vanished from sight, Uri spoke to Molka’s back in Hebrew. “Great! You got yourself and Ibis captured by a damn mercenary! And I suppose he’s going to turn the general back over to the general’s people?”
“Yes,” Molka said.
“Nice going, security specialist!”
Molka spun on him. “Hey, you got yourself captured before me, team leader!”
“Because you left me unguarded!”
“I left you unguarded because you assured me the men in those vehicles had to be Tariq and Zoran the Great’s fighters.”
“Let’s not debate the blame now,” Uri said, waving his hands dismissively. “Because we need to prepare for the rescue team. They’ll probably cut the power when they arrive. So when the lights go out, we should all lay flat on the floor with our hands spread palms down in a non-threatening manner. We don’t want to get hit by friendly fire.”
Molka shook her head. “What rescue team?”
“Obviously, before you were captured, you contacted Azzur about my abduction. He will arrange a rescue mission.” Uri stood and paced the cell. “They’ll probably send your old unit, thee Unit.” He stopped pacing, sat back on the cot, and viewed Molka with a self-assured sneer. “And how embarrassing will it be for you when your old comrades find you here?”
“Uri, I didn’t break task communication security to contact Azzur.”
Uri sprung to his feet. “What! Why?”
“Because I was told by Tariq that Rivin was already negotiating with our country to get you back. But Tariq has flipped on us, so I’m not sure what Rivin has planned.”
“I know Tariq has flipped,” Uri said. “He’s the one who told me last night that the general’s country is going to pay Rivin a large amount for a very high-value Israeli operative.”
Molka’s eyebrows rose. “Oh, really? Does Rivin have a very high-value Israeli operative to sell them, then?”
Uri smirked. “Very funny. But I wouldn’t be joking about this if I were you because you’re probably getting sold to them too. And do you have any idea what his country’s secret police will do to us?”
Molka addressed the general in English. “General, if we are also turned over to your country’s secret police, what will they do to us?”
The general puffed smoke toward the ceiling. “It is best if you do not know until they do it.”
Uri flopped face down on the cot. “Oh my god, that sounds horrible.”
Molka sat on the floor across from him with her back to the bars and reached behind her head and tugged on the base of her ponytail. “That bastard, Tariq. I’m going to put a boot into his pretty man face the first chance I get.”
Uri turned anguished eyes toward Molka. “Save the warrior bravado and just accept the truth.”
“Which is?”
“Certainly, you know we’re both doomed?”
“I only know one thing for certain.” Molka glared toward the staircase. “Nothing is decided until it’s decided.”
CHAPTER 26
An hour into captivity, Molka still sat on the floor.
The general and Uri both dozed on their cots.
Molka checked her watch: 4:07PM. They should have landed back in Cyprus hours ago. How long before Azzur became concerned?
Three more Rivin men entered the dungeon and arrived at the guard’s desk. They all stared at Molka, made comments, and laughed.
It was bad enough she had likely been sold to a target country’s secret police to be tortured to death, but to be harassed like an animal in a cage from a bunch of uncaged animals was proving to be too much.
Molka leaped to her feet, pushed her face through the bars, and screamed her best warrior scream at them.
They stopped smiling and laughing and recoiled.
The general and Uri jerked awake.
Molka continued her menacing scream.
The men screamed back at her in jest.
The seven girls in the cell across the room watched with terrified expressions.
Molka continued her scream.
Rivin and Tariq stepped off the staircase and entered the dungeon.
His men silenced and stood at attention.
Molka stopped screaming.
Rivin fast-walked to his men and yelled in Turkish.
The men offered meek replies.
Rivin yelled at them again.
The three newcomers ran upstairs, and the guard took his seat.
Rivin moved before Molka, with Tariq at his side, and smiled at her.
She found his unibrow more cringe-worthy than his facial scar.
Rivin stared at Molka and spoke.
Tariq translated to Molka. “This is Rivin, ‘The Red Lion,’master of ‘The Red Lion’s Den.’ He welcomes you and apologizes for the rude treatment by his men.”
Molka stared silently.
Rivin spoke again.
Tariq translated to Molka. “Shortly, you will be taken upstairs to more comfortable quarters where his most trusted man, Omar, will see to your needs and make sure no one else bothers you.”
Molka stared silently.
Rivin spoke again.
Tariq translated to Molka. “Rivin says he will come to see you again later tonight.”
Molka stared silently.
Rivin turned and headed back upstairs.
Tariq trailed him.
Three flights into their ascent from the dungeon, Tariq said, “Are you putting her in Jhara’s old room?”
“What do you know of Jhara?” Rivin said.
“Your men told me about her time here.”
“I told my men to keep their mouths shut about that. But you have a way of making men open their mouths, don’t you? It’s a useful talent. That’s why I’m keeping you around. For now. But don’t forget, you step outside these walls, and the old man from Mucize will be waiting to unleash vengeance on you.”
“Thank you for allowing me your protection,” Tariq said. “And I’m glad to be of service. But if you’re putting her in Jhara’s old room, are you also going to treat her like you treated Jhara?”
“I will do with her as I please when I please.”
“Understood,” Tariq said. “I translated to her as you asked. Can we talk about my money now?”
Rivin grinned at Tariq over his shoulder. “What money?”
CHAPTER 27
Fifteen minutes after Rivin’s departure, two more of his men arrived in the dungeon. Both carried AK-47s. The desk guard removed Molka from the cell, and the two new men handcuffed her before escorting her upstairs.
Uri and the general watched without comment.
They had their own depressing fates to ponder.
Molka’s escorts kept their eyes, comments, and hands to themselves as they led her down another hallway lined with closed doors.
They stopped her at the second from the last door at the end, which contained double deadbolts. One man opened it. The other man stepped back and pointed his rifle at Molka, and the first man removed the handcuffs from her and pushed her inside.
The door closed and locked behind her.
Molka put her ear to the door and listened. She couldn’t hear retreating footsteps. She put her shoulder into the door and pushed.
No give.
She stepped back and fired a hard side kick into the door.
No give.
She stepped back again and fired a harder side kick into the door.
No give.
Her probing proved the door to be extra-thick wood secured with two deadbolts deep-set into concrete walls.
She couldn’t force it open.
But even if she could, how could she escape a fortress filled with armed men?
Molka viewed her new cell, which played more like a femininely decorated bedroom.
Pleasant pastel walls complemented by a pleasant pastel rug and pleasant pastel bedding on a queen-size bed topped with many pleasant pastel pillows.
A little barred over glass window bes
ide the bed appeared to be a more recent addition cut into the thick blockhouse wall. Molka moved to it and looked out across the interior yard.
Next, she opened a small door on the room’s opposite side and found a small bathroom, which also featured pleasant pastels.
A well-timed discovery.
Molka washed her hands after making use of the toilet when two hard knocks sounded on the door. She dried her hands on a pastel towel, stepped from the bathroom.
Now what?
The door unlocked and opened to the biggest bald man Molka had ever seen.
Maybe one of the biggest men she had ever seen, period.
His height equaled the towering Fuchs, but he was much thicker. His muscled bulk filled a black warm-up suit. And enormous black sneakers held him upright. His brown complected face placed him at about age 30.
He viewed Molka and spoke in Arabic accented English. “I am Omar. I speak good English.”
“I’m Molka. And yes, you do.”
“I want you to know, although I work in this place, I do not agree with trading human beings for money.”
“Good to know,” Molka said. “And it makes you the rare exception here.”
Omar smiled. “I hope you will be comfortable here in Jhara’s old room.”
“It’s a very comfortable room. Who’s Jhara?”
“Someone who used to live here.” Omar’s face saddened a bit. “A friend.”
Molka dialed up a, ‘let’s be friends too’ smile. “Hopefully, we can be friends too.”
Omar smiled back. “I will go get you something to eat now.”
“Oooo…food!” Molka did little excited hops. “Now I know we’re going to be friends, Omar.”
Omar smiled again and exited, locking the door behind him.
He likes me already.
I can use that to my advantage.
As Azzur said, always look to recruit useful assets.
CHAPTER 28
Jäger stood outside the blockhouse, ignoring Rivin’s men scrambling around the interior yard and held a satphone to his ear.
He clicked off the call. “Damn.”
He dialed another. “Ernst, get back here…No…The border crossing is unavailable…Right.”
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