THE PRICE OF FREEDOM

PART ELEVEN:

Dino picked up the phone, “Hello?”

“Mr Scarletti, this is Paulo at the reception desk. One of the other hotel guests has just asked for your room number… The lady has only just checked in… I thought, under the circumstances, that you should be informed…”

Dino frowned, wondering if Luthan Risk had sent a courier without telling him. “Another hotel guest?”

“Yes, Sir,” the young man supplied, checking the hotel register, “Mrs. Julia Thorne.”

Julia Thorne?

Damn the woman! What the hell was she thinking? “What room is she in?” Dino asked.

“I put her just across the hall from you, Sir… Room 512.”

“Paulo,” Dino told him, “you are a star! You’ve got her passport, right?” It was standard practice in Slavakrajina. Passports were held in a safe behind the reception desk: even his.

“Yes, Mr. Scarletti…”

“Is there any way you can seal it in an envelope with just the room number on it?” That would stop any casual inspection.

“Yes, Mr. Scarletti. We can do that.”

“Don’t suppose there’s any way you can keep her name off the register?” Dino tried.

“I’m sorry, Sir, it is already on the computer… but I will ask the manager…”

“Anything you can do will be much appreciated,” Dino told him.
 
“Leave it with me, Mr. Scarletti,” the receptionist assured him. “I will do what I can.”

“Thanks, Paulo…”

Dino put down the phone, cursing softly. He headed for the door, checking the spy hole, seeing room 512 directly across the corridor. Almost on cue, a woman stopped outside, putting down her case, glancing at his door before turning away.

For some reason he had expected someone in a twin set with pearls, not the jeans and light, cotton jacket she was wearing.

Dino turned the handle, opening the door as quietly as he could. “Julia…?”

She gasped, startled, turning, her hand flying to her throat.

Dino stepped out into the corridor, checking both ways to make sure that no one had been watching her, before catching hold of her arm with one hand, picking up her case in the other. He was drawing her towards his room before she recovered her surprise.

Anger flared. “Now, wait just a minute!” she tried, attempting to pull away from his grasp.

He tightened his hold, dragged her into the room.

“Stop it!” she ordered, trying to twist away. “You’re hurting me!”

“Hurting you?” The door shut behind them and, dropping her case onto the floor, he let her go, demanding, “What the hell are you doing here?”

Fear washed through Julia. From the American accent and the military bearing, she assumed that this was Dino Scarletti, but it was only an assumption and, standing in front of the door, he was blocking her escape.

Dino saw the alarm flit briefly across her face before the contrite, self-assured mask slipped back into place. She was scared. Good! She ought to be!

Julia tried to take control of the situation, crossing her arms, demanding, “And who the hell are you?”

“I’m the man who’s trying to save your ex-husband’s life!” Dino told her. “And you are out of your mind coming here!”

This was definitely not the reception that Julia had expected. Shaking her head, reaching for her case, she retorted, “I don’t have to bloody answer to you!”

Eyes dangerously cold, his voice dripping ice, Dino told her softly, “Yes! Yes, you do.”

He took a step toward her and she backed up a little, wise enough not to protest again in the face of his quietly smouldering anger.

Butterflies erupted in her stomach, her thoughts running wild. She had no idea what Terry had told this man about her. Jim MacFadgeon had said that they knew each other well. For all she knew, Dino could quite happily want to kill evil-ex-wife on Terry’s behalf…

She swallowed, hiding behind indignant self-righteousness as he demanded of her again, “What the hell are you doing here?”

He took another step towards her, and this time she stood her ground, telling him matter-of-factly, “Jim MacFadgeon told me you were the best. I wanted to see for myself.”

“Well, you’ve seen!” he shot back. “And now you can get your upper-class-British-butt back on the plane you flew in on, and get the hell out of here!”

“And what are you going to do if I don’t?” she demanded, drawing herself to her full height. “Confine me to my room? Ground me for a week? Give me a good spanking?”

“Oh, Lady,” Dino growled, “Don’t tempt me!”

“Hah!” she snorted indignantly. Then, on impulse, she turned on her heel and strode across the room.

Dino went after her but before he could reach her she had plonked herself down on the sofa and was crossing her legs, dropping her handbag neatly on the table. She flashed him a cold smile, “A coffee would be wonderful!”

Dino blinked, tempted for one insane moment to drag her off the sofa and carry her, kicking and screaming if necessary, to the airport. He looked at her, fuming sullenly as he wondered how loudly she could scream.

Half-recollected, whisky-soaked tales of Terry’s explosive fights with her, filtered slowly into his memory. Stubborn, pigheaded, obstinate and persistent were all words Terry had used about her… along with some less complimentary ones.

“I’m not going to get rid of you without dragging you bodily to the airport and strapping you into the seat of the damned plane, am I?” he demanded softly.

She quirked an irreverent eyebrow, telling him, “To quote my ex-husband… Not… fucking… likely!”

Still seething but not wanting to cause any more of a scene, Dino turned away, asking ungraciously, “What do you take in your coffee?” Maybe he could have Miro arrest her and deport her ass…

Giving his back a charming smile, she asked, “You mean apart from the arsenic? Just cream. I’m sweet enough as it is...”

Dino bit down on the acid reply that was forming on his tongue. Instead, he concentrated on getting coffee for her.

She reached for her handbag, rummaging inside, pulling out a packet of cigarettes. “Do you mind if I smoke?”

Like I could stop you, he thought, ungraciously. Grudgingly, he told her, “There’s an ashtray on the table.”

He poured the coffee, putting the creamer in and turned back to her. She was taking a long draw on her cigarette… and her hand was shaking.

Walking to the table he put the cup down, “Coffee, creamer, no arsenic…”

She looked at him, flashing him a smile. “Thank you, Dino…”

Shaking his head, refusing to get any more exasperated with her, he sat opposite her. He was a hostage negotiator, and if he could persuade terrorists and revolutionaries to give up their hostages, then he could persuade Julia Thorne to go back to London!

Softly and politely, he asked, “What were you thinking about, Julia, coming here like this? You could be in serious danger. Why didn’t you at least tell me what you were planning? Do the British Embassy know that you’re here?”

She took another draw on her cigarette, blowing the smoke out. She had no real idea why she had come to Slavakrajina. It had been a purely spontaneous decision and there was no point in lying to him.

“It was impulse,” she admitted, refusing to look at him. “When Jim MacFadgeon left… Well… I… I just started thinking and I found myself on the phone booking my tickets here… There were only two flights, but Gatwick was closer than Heathrow, so I flew AeroKrajin… I’ve never flown anything but BA or Virgin… I was pleasantly surprised by Krajin. You can never be too sure… Do I need to tell the Embassy? Is that important?”

She trailed off, realising that she was rambling…

Dino watched her, radically reassessing his first impressions of Julia Thorne. She was tough, no-nonsense lady and as stubborn as the notion Terry had given him from everything the Aussie soldier had said about her, an impression that had been reinforced by their telephone conversations over the previous few days - but she was totally out of her depth right now. She was floundering but doing a damned good job of holding herself together.

Relenting, quashing a sigh, he told her, “Look, Julia, I think we got off on the wrong footing. I’m sorry. I was just knocked a little off balance by you coming here…”

Julia stubbed out her cigarette, muttering, “Disgusting habit…” Then she lifted the cup, taking a drink of the coffee before looking at him.

“I’m sorry too, Dino,” she admitted. “It never crossed my mind to let you know I was coming. Everything happened in such a rush. After Jim left…”

Sighing, she dropped her eyes. This man was probably closer to Terry than she had ever been. He was directly involved with Terry’s continued safety. He was implying that she was in danger here… Was it possible that she had put Terry in more danger by coming?

Suddenly she found herself needing to try to explain. She took another mouthful of coffee before asking, “You know that Terry went missing in action when he was still with the Regiment? For three days? When Henry was a baby?”

Dino groaned silently. “I know…”

Julia dropped her eyes again, gazing into her coffee cup. “I’d forgotten…” she said softly. “Ten years is a long time and the fights and the divorce overshadowed everything. But I remember now. I remember the fear, the helplessness, the not knowing… There was nothing I could do then except wait…”

She looked up at Dino, continuing, “I refuse to let Henry feel like that. If he knows that I’m here doing what I can, keeping in touch with him every day and letting him know what’s happening, then he won’t feel as lost and as useless as I did back then…”

“And you won’t feel useless either,” Dino pointed out gently.

Julia smiled, nodding, admitting, “It was never my strong suit…”

The smile faded and she went on, “And this is the same country that he went missing in, isn’t it? And Jim MacFadgeon was the sergeant who went missing with him…”

Dino pursed his lips, looking at his hands for a long moment. He’d been wondering when she was going to put two and two together. He knew that Jim MacFadgeon wouldn’t have said anything to her, but maybe asking him to go and see her had been a bad idea…

He lifted his head, looking at her, “Julia, I’m sorry…”

She knew the drill. “You can’t tell me anything, right?”

“I can’t tell you anything,” he confirmed.

But he had. He had just told her everything without saying anything at all. She nodded, looking back down into her coffee. “Am I really making things more difficult by being here, Dino? Am I putting him in danger?”

“Possibly,” Dino told her, “but I don’t know for sure… Look,” he went on, checking his watch, “It’s late. Why don’t you take a shower while I make some phone calls?”

She sighed gratefully, admitting, “That sounds like a bloody wonderful idea…”

“Are you hungry?” he asked. “They do good room service here…”

Again she nodded, smiling, “A sandwich or something would be welcome… I… I didn’t have time for dinner…”

He smiled back, “Then that’s what we’ll do. You go shower, I’ll order room service and make some arrangements…” 

~*~

Bracic watched the expressions change on the Lieutenant’s face. He was obviously dreaming and Bracic had a feeling that it wasn’t a pleasant dream. Reaching out, he shook the Lieutenant’s shoulder gently, calling, “Lieutenant… Lieutenant Thorne… You must wake up!”

Terry started awake with a small gasp, bringing his hands up to defend himself, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

“We move now…” Bracic told him. “Get up. I have clothes for you. The night is cool.”

Terry moved grudgingly, swinging his legs slowly out of the bed, rising to his feet.

Behind Bracic, sporting a spectacular black-eye, Dushan stood just inside the door, the business end of his Makarov casually trained on Terry. For a brief moment, as Bracic tossed a bundle of clothing onto the bed, Terry found himself tempted to apologise to Dushan for the bruising on his face, but instinct warned him off the idea. Reminding them of his botched escape attempt was not a good idea.

Before he could look away, though, Dushan met his gaze. Not wanting to simply look away and give Dushan any reason to mistrust him, Terry gave him a slow nod of acknowledgement and, after a moment’s hesitation, the younger man nodded back.

Satisfied that he hadn’t caused any suspicion, Terry turned his attention back to Bracic.

Dushan watched as, careful not to place himself between the Makarov and the Lieutenant, Bracic moved to stand in front of Terry. The Australian soldier had apparently given his word that he wouldn’t try anything else and Bracic said that he believed him, which was good enough for Dushan, but they would be stupid not to take precautions. It might give the impression of weakness on their part and give the Lieutenant ideas about going back on his word.

Bracic knelt down, pulling the knife from his belt, slicing through the ties that secured the Lieutenant’s ankles. Then he rose to his feet, stepping away, indicating the bundle of clothes with a wave of his hand, “Fatigue pants, underwear, T-shirt, sweater… You dress. Once you are in SUV you get socks, not before…”

Terry nodded. He had no intention of running again. He had been tortured and was being held against his will, but his abortive escape attempt the other day had made one thing very clear: all that mattered was getting back to London, alive and in one piece, to see his son. It would be folly to risk serious injury in another half-assed escape effort when, on the whole, he was being treated well.

It gratified the soldier in him, though, to see that they hadn’t taken his word at face value and were still treating him as a threat.

Turning, he picked up the underwear, slipping them on, Reaching for the fatigues, he couldn’t resist asking, “Where are we going?”

Bracic laughed softly, shaking his head, telling Terry, “Maybe to Hollywood…” Another idea struck him and he grinned, glancing at Dushan then back at Terry. “Maybe in few years, you sit in London and we sit in Prasjeka watching movie of Australian soldier kidnapped by East European rebels…”

Terry fastened his jeans, grinning back at Bracic. In the present situation, the idea was absurd, yet utterly feasible…

“You sell story,” Bracic was going on, “Become rich man! Make big movie with…” He trailed off, thinking for a moment before continuing, “Russell Crowe and… Goran Visnic and…”

He turned, waving a hand at Dushan, “Ewan Macgregor… and… Gina Davies…”

Terry pulled the sweater over his head, chuckling, telling Bracic, “You’re off your head, mate…”

“Hmmm,” Bracic agreed then went on, “Perhaps not Gina Davies…”

“Milla Jovovich…” Dushan supplied.

Bracic snapped his fingers, turning, “Yes! Better! Milla Jovovic!”

Still grinning, he stepped back towards Terry, pulling another two plastic ties from his pocket. He lifted Terry’s hand, pushing the sleeve of the sweater up his arm a little and securing a tie around his wrist. Unbidden, Terry was already holding his other arm out and Bracic repeated the action, pushing the sweater up his arm, this time looping the tie through the one on Terry’s other wrist before fastening it, securing the Lieutenant’s wrists together.

“You must wear blindfold again,” Bracic told him, “but we put blindfold on downstairs, okay?”

“Okay,” Terry replied.

Dushan backed out into the corridor. Bracic nodded towards the door, indicating that Terry should walk ahead of him.

Terry did as he was bid, commenting, “Sam Neil, not Russell Crowe… Think I’d like Sam Neil to play me…”

Bracic chuckled, nodding and following him out of the room and along the corridor towards the stairs.

The front door was open and Terry could already feel the coolness of the evening breeze blowing into the house. Slowly, he padded down the stairs, halting before the open door. He could hear the engine of the SUV running in the darkness outside.

Ljiljana appeared from the kitchen.

Terry did a double-take. The usual fatigues and T-shirt had been replaced by a smart, black, short-skirted suit. She wore no blouse under the jacket, which buttoned just below her breasts, giving an elusive hint of cleavage. The high-heeled shoes made her even taller, tapering her legs elegantly. Her hair was pinned up and with the glasses she now sported, she looked for all the world like the no-nonsense, totally organised Personal Assistants that he flirted with every time he went to the Luthan Risk offices in London.

Totally unaware of Terry’s reaction, her attention on something Bracic was saying to her, she drew a scarf from her pocket, moving behind Terry and fastening it around his eyes. He caught a whiff of the same scent that he had before: vanilla and something else he couldn’t place.

Was this the perfume that Ljiljana wore when she wasn’t being a soldier?

Terry pushed the thought away, dragging his concentration back from elegant Ljiljana to being bare-foot and blind-fold.

Someone took his arm and Ljiljana told him, “The car is at the door, short walk, okay?”

“Okay,” Terry acknowledged.

“Try anything stupid and we break your legs!” she reminded, “Understand?”

“I understand,” he confirmed.

Ljiljana nodded to Dushan, who slung his Makarov over his shoulder and guided Terry out to the SUV. He sat Terry down on the lip of the vehicle’s rear storage area, handing him a pair of socks. As Terry put them on, Dushan pulled a roll of packing tape from his pocket. Kneeling, he taped Terry’s ankles together then stood up, wrapping the tape around Terry’s wrists, over the plastic ties. Then, he wrapped the tape around Terry’s torso, securing his arms, loosely, to his body. Finally, he tore a piece of tape off, smoothing it over Terry’s mouth, gagging him.

“Move back,” Dushan ordered, “Lie down against seat…”

Terry did as he was told, shuffling backwards until his back touched the rear seat. Then he lay down on his side, drawing his knees up to fit into the space, frowning slightly at the discomfort from his ribs. Dushan covered him with a blanket then hesitated for a moment.

The drive to the new safe house would take almost four hours…

Peeling off his jacket, Dushan checked the pockets then folded and rolled it, putting it under the Lieutenant’s head. Then he arranged the blanket over Terry, covering him completely. 

Inside, Bracic was exchanging his fatigues and boots for his own, smart, business suit and fake designer shoes.

Tightening his tie, giving Ljiljana a grin, Bracic asked, “Will I do?”

Ljiljana handed him a set of fake designer spectacles, telling him, “Very handsome… Your mother would be very proud.”

Dushan appeared at the door, telling them, “He’s in…”

Ljiljana nodded, telling him, “Watch him. We’ll bring the stuff out…”

They were taking the Lieutenant back to Prasjeka. Dushan had said that the police were stopping and searching any likely cars leaving Prasjeka, but very few going into the city. On the off-chance that they were stopped, their story was going to be that they were business partners in the process of moving their business from the more southern city of Obligrad to Prasjeka.

To this end they had various sized, cardboard, storage boxes to cover the Lieutenant with and hide him from view. The boxes contained papers and files. With any luck, if they were stopped, either the police or the soldiers would open the boxes, see that they contained files and decide that unloading them all was going to be too much trouble. Anything more than a passing inspection would reveal the presence of the Lieutenant, but the risk of discovery was inherent in any plans they made.

Dushan would follow behind them in another car with the weapons in a concealed compartment in the floor. Micah was still in Prasjeka, readying the safe house for their arrival. If the unthinkable happened, and the Lieutenant was discovered, only Ljiljana and Bracic would be arrested, giving Micah and Dushan time to disappear into the mountains. Alternatively, if the weapons were discovered, Dushan wouldn’t automatically be linked to the Lieutenant’s kidnap and Ljiljana and Bracic could make other arrangements.

Bracic and Ljiljana carried the various storage boxes out to the SUV and Dushan arranged them around and on top of the Lieutenant, making it look as if the back was simply filled with files. Finally satisfied, Ljiljana closed the back door of the SUV and turned to Dushan, reminding him, “Don’t drive too fast!”

He rolled his eyes at her, “I know! I know! And stay at least two cars behind when we get to the city suburbs, even if they’re not stopping people. And wait until we’re in the city before I call Micah… You worry too much, Boss!”

“No!” she corrected, “I pay attention to detail…”

“Which is why you’re not looking at the inside of a prison cell right now,” Bracic added.

“Okay, okay,” Dushan defended, holding his hands up in surrender.

Ljiljana grinned, “And don’t forget to stow the rifle.”

Dushan dropped his shoulders in mock resignation, sighing, intoning, “Yes, Boss…” before turning and trudging back to the jeep.

Shaking her head, Ljiljana moved round, climbing into the driver’s seat as Bracic opened the passenger door. He turned, looking back at the jeep, waiting for Dushan’s signal that the rifle was hidden with the other weapons.

“He’s ready,” Bracic told Ljiljana, finally, getting into the SUV.

Ljiljana switched the engine on, putting the SUV into drive, “Let’s go, then…”

ON TO PART 12

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