THE PRICE OF FREEDOM

PART THIRTEEN:

The sun had gone down, but the twilight hadn't quite faded. A cool wind blew in from the ocean, bringing with it soft rain.   Beneath the large, golfing umbrella, Gervaise Armande remained warm and dry, his collar pulled up against the breeze. He wandered along the promenade for a while then turned away from the sea, heading into one of the hotels that lined the beachfront.

Even this late in the season there were a surprising number of tourists, most of them older couples catching the last few days of Slavakrajinan warmth before returning home to Germany, Scandinavia or the UK to prepare for Christmas. This far East, the winter weather was too cold for there to be any significant numbers of ex-pats buying up homes to escape the frigid, Northern European temperatures. That honour fell mainly to the southern Spanish, French and Italian resorts…

Shaking out his umbrella, he folded it, unbuttoning his coat as he headed into the small café area of the hotel foyer. He headed for an arrangement of sofas around a low central table in the far corner. Sliding the umbrella beneath the table, he peeled his coat off then sat down, setting his folded coat beside him. A waitress appeared and he ordered a café latte.

Selecting a newspaper from the table, he settled back, opening it out. Only then did he acknowledge the elegantly dressed blond sitting on the sofa to his left, apparently engrossed in a fashion magazine.

"Hello, Lili…"

Behind the blond wig and the school-ma'am glasses, Ljiljana Bukavecs smiled, glancing across at him, before returning her attention to the magazine, "Hello, Uncle Gervaise… You're looking well."

"As are you," he told her. "You look more like your mother every time I see you…"

Smiling at him again, she asked, "How are they?"

"They are both well," he assured her. "They ask if you will be home for Christmas."

Nodding, she told him, "I will. In fact the deal should be signed and verified by the end of the week."

Gervaise quirked an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at his lips, "So soon?"

When she had first made a comment about "being home for Christmas" he had warned her that she was being over- enthusiastic, cautioning that simply because her latest target was himself a K&R negotiator, did not necessarily mean that the negotiations would be any less complicated. Her instincts had, however, proven true.

"Then I apologise for my earlier derision," he admitted. "Negotiations have progressed as quickly as you anticipated…"

"They have been eager to close the deal," she told him.

"Indeed," Gervaise replied, nodding. "And the final figure?"

"Almost nine hundred thousand U.S…" she supplied.

Gervaise's eyebrow went up again as he did a quick mental calculation. That was only about five hundred thousand British pounds… "Lower than you expected…"

"We feel it's a fair price," she told him. "Especially with special considerations having to be made with regards to…" She searched for a word for a moment, finally finishing, "…security arrangements…"

Gervaise nodded, correctly reading her implication that Thorne had caused them trouble. "The goods have been damaged…?" he asked.

She smiled, confirming, "The packaging was slightly dented…"

Gervaise considered that for a moment then told her, "I look forward to the outcome of the final negotiations…"

"As do we…" Turning her attention back to the purpose for the meeting, she lifted her coffee cup, telling him, "We need another SUV. Two week hire, from the usual source, billed to NetExcel, picking up tomorrow morning. We'll leave it back in Obligrad."

"I can arrange that," he assured her.

"Thank you," she replied, putting her cup back down.  "How are the building works in Lubikje?"

"The roof is on and the building will be water-tight before the first snows," he told her. "The children are painting a mural along the new school wall. They've sent me pictures and I have copies here for you."

He chuckled then went on, "We could sell it as modern art on the open market and make millions, you know…"

"So full of life and ideas," she commented. "Dushan's been looking forward to seeing what they've done with the place. He hasn't seen it since they started the foundations…"

"I think he will like it," Gervaise told her, then went on, "Which brings me to another point…"

This time it was Ljiljana who raised an eyebrow, "Yes?"

"I was approached," Gervaise began, "by an American gentleman, enquiring about making a donation to our mutual charity interest… I had my contacts do some digging. He's an ex Navy SEAL, related to some rather influential people of Italian descent who make their money… shall we say, outside of the law… "

He fell silent as the waitress appeared with his coffee and cake.

Suspicion knotted in the pit of Ljiljana's stomach. She had learned long ago to listen to that small voice of misgiving: it had saved her from a prison cell on at least three occasions, when traps had been laid for her or her people. It might possibly be coincidence that a Navy SEAL had turned up on her Uncle's doorstep, apparently interested in the trust funds, when it was a Navy SEAL who was negotiating the release of Lieutenant Thorne. She didn't trust coincidence, however…

Thanking the waitress, Gervaise paid her, waiting until she had moved away before continuing, "I have reservations about getting involved with that sort of money. I'm not convinced that it would be beneficial to us, but I thought I should put the proposal before you…"

"This American," Ljiljana asked, lightly, "What is his name?"

Armande frowned, catching the slight note of strain in her voice. "Dino Scarletti," he supplied.

Ljiljana's skin crawled. The police could be watching her even now. She leaned forward to pick up her coffee cup again, calmly looking around the foyer, trying to identify anyone who screamed "policeman". There was no one immediately identifiable: but that meant little.

Softly, calmly, she told her Uncle, "Dino Scarletti is the negotiator trying to secure the deal on our package…"

She watched the surprise on his face wash towards fear.

"He was with a policeman," Gervaise admitted. "An Inspector Miroslav Vilaslavevic… Their story… It was so plausible…"

"Go home," she told him gently. "Finish your coffee and go home. Act as you always would, just in case you have been followed. In fact, act as if you know you are being followed."

"But you…" Armande interrupted.

"They won't recognise me in this outfit and I'll leave before you do." She smiled, turning back to her magazine, "It's not the first time I've evaded the police, Uncle…"

He made a small sound of derision, forcing himself to remain calm as he reached forward to lift his cup, but his hands were shaking slightly as he sipped the coffee.

"You are simply out for a Sunday evening stroll, taking the air…" Ljiljana supplied.

"In the rain?" he shot back over the rim of his latte glass.

"Which is why you stopped for coffee," she provided, smiling into her magazine. "An old man must warm his bones in such weather…"

"This old man," Gervaise shot back in mock offence, "could still give you a run for your money, young lady!"

~*~

"One million, one hundred thousand…"

Dino lifted his fingers from the transmit switch and waited for an answer. One million, one hundred thousand was almost five hundred thousand British pounds, an absolute fortune in Slavakrajinan Dinari… The silence ticked away, stretching towards a full minute.

Dino pushed down the small flicker of excitement that instinct blew into life. Then, on that same instinct, he pressed the transmit switch, telling the man on the other end, "There's a slim possibility, a really slim possibility that they might be able to find another five thousand…"

He lifted his fingers from the switch, looking across at Miro. The silence dragged towards another minute.

"Hello? Did you copy that?" Dino pushed, finally, "We definitely have one million, one hundred thousand in the bank. That's one million, one hundred thousand Australian dollars in the bank and ready to transfer when you give us the word… but… they might be able to get another five thousand…"

Nerves danced in his stomach as the silence continued from the other end. Miro offered him a cigarette and he accepted it gratefully, taking a long draw on it.

"American?"

Dino blew out the smoke, taking a breath before answering, "I'm still here."

"One million two hundred and we have deal. Okay?"

A slow smile spread itself across Dino's face, elation exploding through him. Opposite him, Miro punched the air.

Dino took another breath, calming himself, injecting a note of concern into his voice as he asked, "One million, two hundred thousand Australian dollars will secure Terry Thorne's release, confirm?"

"Yes, American. One million two hundred thousand Australian dollar and we negotiate payment… We contact you again in forty-eight hours, exact. No money and deal is off," the voice warned. "No more haggle. One million, two hundred thousand."

"I understand," Dino confirmed, "One million, two hundred thousand Australian dollars and you will contact me in forty-eight hours…"

He put the radio down and sat for a moment. Then he jumped to his feet, punching the air, hissing "YES!"

Running on the spot, he demanded of the roof, "Who's the man? Who's the man?" before dancing a little Congo around the room, singing, "Ya-da ya-da ya DA! Ya-da ya-da ya DA!"

Opposite him, Miro was laughing, shaking his head. Then he stood up, walking across to pick up the half-empty bottle of malt whisky. Collecting glasses he crossed back to Dino, "We celebrate!"

Dino dropped back into the chair, exhausted by relief, grinning like a Cheshire cat, "Damn right we celebrate! Terry, you Aussie bum, you're coming home!"

There were still things that could potentially go wrong, but Dino trusted these people. Instinct told him that they wouldn't change the goal posts, that the ransom agreement was genuine. In forty-eight hours they would give him the payment details. Three days after that, if it was a simple bank transfer, the money would have cleared: less if it was a Swiss bank…

Which meant that, with any luck, Terry would be on a plane back to London by Thursday evening…

Miro nodded, pouring generous amounts of the whisky, handing a glass to Dino. Sitting back in his chair, Miro held his glass up, toasting, "To having dinner at my house: you, me and Terry!"

"Amen to that, brother!" Dino replied, lifting his glass and draining the liquid. Then he grinned wickedly, adding, "You, me Terry… and that beautiful niece of yours…"

"My beautiful niece," Miro told him, drawing his brows down in mock annoyance, "is only sixteen years old… and… going to a convent!"

Dino quirked an eyebrow, reaching for the whisky bottle, demanding, "Since when?"

Miro grinned at him, "Since now!"

Dino laughed, shaking his head, taking a deep mouthful of the golden liquid, swallowing it and relishing the burn down into his chest. Terry was coming home.

From the other room, through the half-open connecting door, they heard the sound of female voices as Julia Thorne and Miro's wife, Marja, arrived back from their sight-seeing and shopping spree. Dino put his glass down, walking across to pull open the door and step into the other room.

Julia was dumping plastic bags onto the bed. Marja smiled at him, greeting, "Hello, Dino..."

Julia turned, looking at him, her smile fading slightly at his intrusion. She opened her mouth to comment that he could, at least, have knocked, but something stopped her. Something in the way he was holding himself froze the reprimand on her lips.

"What?" she asked, suddenly nervous, "What is it?"

"I don't want you getting too excited," Dino cautioned, "but… We just agreed a number…"

Julia blinked at him. "What?"

"We just agreed on the ransom," Dino told her. "He's coming home…"

Julia's eyes went wide. Her hand flew to her mouth… Then her legs gave way and she sat down heavily on the bed. "Oh…"

Marja gave a small cry before rattling off Slavakrajinan that was too fast for Dino to understand. Miro came through the conjoining door, laughing, going to his wife, countering her enthusiasm with placating hands and equally rapid Slavakrajinan. She hugged him, kissing him on the cheeks then let him go, grabbing Dino and kissing him on the cheeks too.

Laughing, Dino slipped his arm round her, looking at her as she rattled off something else. Miro took her elbow, drawing her through the door, still trying to calm her excitemint.

Dino walked across to the bed, sitting down beside Julia. Her hand still covered her mouth and she was shaking. Softly, Dino asked, "You okay?"

Julia swallowed, turning to look at him, her hand dropping onto her lap. Under the quietly concerned gaze of the calm, blue eyes, she nodded, taking a deep breath, pulling the mantle of General's-daughter around her shoulders, drawing her back a little straighter. A small smile tugging at her lips, she asked, "When?"

"Will he be released?" Dino clarified.

She nodded.

"He should be back in London in time to have dinner next Saturday night…" he told her, adding a few days for just-in-case. "They're going to contact me again in forty-eight hours with the payment arrangements. The payment should be made on Monday morning, most probably by bank transfer. Once the money has cleared, they'll hand him over…"

"You're sure?" Julia pressed. "They're not going to change their minds?"

Dino smiled, admitting, "Nothing is ever certain, Julia, but when you've worked this job as long as Terry and I have, you get to have a feel about these things… These guys are genuine. They've given us a final figure. On Sunday I'll confirm that I have the money and they'll tell me how to pay. Believe me, they want this over with as badly as we do."

He chuckled softly, continuing, "Let's face it, Terry is one major pain in the ass when he wants to be. I'd want shot of him as soon as I could…"

Julia chuckled softly, and then reprimanded gently, "Now, look here! I am the only one allowed to make jokes about getting-shot-of-Terry-bloody-Thorne! I've honed it to a fine art and it's taken me a lot of time and hard work!"

Dino laughed, nodding, telling her, "Fair enough…"

Miro came back into the room, rolling his eyes, telling them, "My beautiful wife says we must go to dinner to celebrate. Always with her, celebration is food!"

"That sounds like an absolutely splendid idea," Julia told him. "But I need to phone Henry…" She trailed off, looking at Dino, "It is alright to tell Henry, isn't it?"

"I think you could be cautiously optimistic with him," Dino confirmed. "And I have some things that I need to finish up too… So," he went on, grinning at Miro, "how about we call room service? Luthan Risk can foot the bill."

~*~

Bracic reached across the table, lifting one of the matches from the rather generous pile in front of Terry, lighting two cigarettes and offering one over to the Lieutenant. Terry's wrists were bound and he had to put the cards down to accept the cigarette. Taking a deep draw on it, he lifted his head, blowing the smoke out into the air above him.

"This," he accused, looking back at Bracic, "is a ploy for you to see my cards and win at least one hand of poker!"

Bracic laughed, shaking his head, "No, no, no… I lose only to lull you into false sense of security… then take you for everything!"

Chuckling, Terry told him, "You're not getting any more of my matches, mate!"

Bracic gave the Lieutenant a knowing grin then turned as someone knocked on the door and pushed it open.

Micah said nothing, simply motioned with his head that he wanted to speak to Bracic. The older man nodded, turning to Terry, telling him, "We finish hand when I come back. No cheating!" he added as he put his cards face down on the table.

Terry gave him an innocent look, "Who? Me?"

Chuckling, Bracic pushed himself to his feet, heading out into the corridor, pulling the door over behind him. Micah handed him a piece of paper, grinning at him.

Bracic read it then looked at Micah, asking, "Does Ljiljana know?"

Micah shook his head, "She's not back from the hotel yet. And she hasn't phoned."

"What did you tell the American?"

"That we would contact him again on Sunday evening to confirm that he had the money."

Bracic nodded, looking back down at the figure on the paper. "What does this equate to?"

"Over twenty-four million dinari," Micah told him. "But the exchange rate is still climbing, so by Monday it could be closer to twenty-five…"

Bracic grinned, "Not bad… Not bad at all. Do we still have beer in the fridge?"

"We do," Micah confirmed. "Are you going to tell Thorne?"

Bracic nodded, "He gave his word he wouldn't try to escape again. If he knows he's going home, he definitely won't try anything."

 "I'll bring you in a couple of bottles, then…" Micah told him.

"And some chocolate."

Micah quirked an eyebrow, "Pushing the boat out a little, aren't you? Should I throw in some piragi too?"

"Excellent idea!" Bracic told him as he turned back towards the door. Then he stopped, looking back at the younger man. "We're all going home," he said softly, "That's reason to celebrate…"

Micah conceded the point with a shrug of his shoulders. "Then I'll see what we have…"

Bracic nodded, turning back to the closed door, pausing for a moment and sighing softly before reaching for the handle.

He gave Thorne a wide smile as he walked in. Closing the door, walking across the room, he told the Australian, "Good news, Lieutenant. You go home soon. We have negotiated final figure…"

Emotion swamped Terry. He swallowed, taking a deep, calming breath, trying not to get his hopes up too far before he knew more details. "You have?"

"We have!" Bracic confirmed, sitting down at the table. "In twenty-four hours we authenticate that your American has the money. Then we give payment instructions…"

Softy, his voice full of genuine sincerity, he continued, "You will see your son before end of week, Lieutenant…"

Terry took another breath, nodding, fighting back the emotion that burned in his throat and at the back of his eyes. He looked down at his wrists, then back up at Bracic. Clearing his throat, swallowing, he said, "Don't take this the wrong way, mate, but I won't be sad to see the back of you…"

Bracic laughed, joking with him, "I will think of this when I sit in cinema and Russell Crowe tell to Goran Visnic… Yes?"

"Sam Neill," Terry reminded him softly with a smile.

Bracic nodded, gathering up all the cards. "Okay," he conceded, starting to shuffle the deck. "To Sam Neill…"

~*~

It took Ljiljana an hour longer to get back to the apartment where they were holding Thorne, than it had taken her to get to the hotel where she had met her Uncle. She made four extra detours, doubling back on herself more than once, before she was finally satisfied that no one was following her. Even then, she didn't drive right to the apartment, but parked and wove her way on foot through the back alleys and wynds of the old quarter before catching a tram to the outskirts.

A hundred scenarios had tried to play their way through her imagination and she had resolutely pushed them down, refusing to allow herself to dwell on the new turn of events until she had laid the facts before the others and allowed them to have their say on the matter.

There was nothing to link Gervaise with them… The only thing Dino Scarletti could have was hearsay and supposition. Gervaise was, after all, her Uncle. That information wasn't readily available, but any decent search by the policeman who had accompanied Dino to Gervaise's home, would have found the connection.

Her knock on the apartment door was answered by a beaming Dushan. Quirking an eyebrow, Ljiljana said nothing until he had closed the door behind her, then she asked simply, "What?"

Still beaming, Dushan supplied simply, "One million, two hundred thousand Australian dollars…"

A slow smile spread itself across Ljiljana's face as Dushan continued, "The American offered a million, one hundred tonight… Micah said a million, two hundred and we have a deal. The American agreed!"

"We contact him again on Sunday," Micah told her from the doorway, "to confirm that he has the money and give him the payment details…"

"This is good," she smiled. "Very good!"

The misgiving of before was tempered by the news. She knew she hadn't been followed and there was little time now for Scarletti or the police to do anything. They were almost, almost, home free…

And now, therefore, was the time to be extra vigilant, not complacent and make mistakes. She needed to let them all know everything that Gervaise had told her.

Still smiling, but pushing her elation down, she turned back to Dushan, telling him, "Go and get Bracic. I have news from Armande…"

ON TO PART 14

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