THE PRICE OF FREEDOM

PART THREE:

Terry drifted awake. His head pounded, his body ached and there was a fetid taste in his mouth. For a brief moment he wondered just who the hell he had been drinking with the night before.

Then he tried to move…

Handcuffs tugged against his wrists.

Memories came flooding back, but before he could sort through them he was hauled up, manhandled a few feet and then forced to his kneel. The movement left him dizzy and fighting to keep his balance, even on his knees.

“Hands behind your head!”

Muscles protesting, Terry obeyed, clasping his hands to stop the cuffs pulling on his wrists.

Ljiljana watched him for a moment. She had seen him swaying slightly and knew that lack of food and water would be combining with the after-effects of the chloroform, which was good… for them, at least, if not for him… but only a fool would underestimate how dangerous this man could be.

She walked over to him, sinking to her knees in front of him. He looked at her and she met his gaze unflinchingly.

“Here,” she offered, holding out a bottle with a straw, placing the straw against his lips. “Drink!”

Terry needed no second bidding. He sucked carefully on the liquid. It was sweet, cold and refreshing. She let him drink almost half the bottle before announcing “Enough for now!” and pulled the bottle and straw away from him.

“Later you may have more,” she went on, rising to her feet, “and perhaps something to eat.”

“Thank you…” Terry told her.

She looked at him, nodding in acknowledgement before turning away. Terry closed his eyes, letting his memories slip back ten years, trying to remember anything he could about this blue-eyed woman…

........................................

… He had tried to gauge the time, but in truth he had no idea how long it had been since he had been thrown back into the cell. He lay where he had fallen, curled into a ball, trying to stay warm, his body aching from the beating he’d been given.

All too soon the door was opening again, flooding the cell with light, and he was being dragged back down the corridor to the same interrogation room as before. He’d half expected MacFadgeon to be there, half expected that he’d be forced to watch the big Geordie taking a beating, but the female Captain was waiting for him alone.

Her attention was focused on the documents in front of her. She didn’t look up as they dragged him in, didn’t look up as she ordered, “Strip him!”

Terry didn’t resist as they cut away his clothing, slicing through his camouflage jacket, his shirt and then his T-shirt. He knew what was coming; memories of his training ringing clear in his mind. They reached for his fatigue trousers, the knife flashing in the light.

“Enough!”

The men backed away from him, leaving him bare-chested, but with his modesty intact.

The Captain continued to read the dossier, almost as if his presence in the room was insignificant. Seconds stretched into minutes. After almost half an hour, she closed the folder, pushing herself to her feet and finally looking at him.

She moved towards him, walking round him, stopping behind him to inspect the ugly, purpling bruising that covered his back across his kidneys. Then she moved round again, stopping to examine the bruising along his ribs and across his belly.

He was holding himself at attention, but she knew that was to cover the fact that he was hurting.

She turned, walking back to the seat, settling herself in the chair and waving at the stool placed on the opposite side of the table. “Sit down…”

He did as he was told, sinking carefully onto the stool. Once again he lowered his eyes and she barked, “Look at me!”

He lifted his head, looking at her and she smiled, cajoling, “Let us try this again, shall we, Lieutenant…?”

He swallowed, but said nothing.

“The question is quite simple,” she told him. “There’s nothing particularly difficult in it… It is only your stupid stubbornness that is causing the difficulty. So, once more… What callsign was allocated to your team?”

Terry concentrated on breathing through the pain, keeping his eyes locked on her blue ones and saying nothing.

“How many men were in your team?”

When he continued to remain silent, she nodded at the soldiers behind him. The blows to his kidneys knocked him off the stool, sending him sprawling on the floor. Unable to break the fall with his hands still bound, he landed heavily, pain flaring. They reached down, dragging him up, settling him on the stool again.

She waited for a moment, watching him trying to breathe through his obvious distress, his face draining of colour, small beads of perspiration appearing on his forehead.

“What was your target?”

The blows fell again when he refused to answer, knocking him to the floor and once again he was dragged up and settled back onto the stool.

“This isn’t getting us anywhere, Lieutenant…” the Captain sighed. “Perhaps we should bring in Sergeant MacFadgeon? I’m sure he would be more willing to answer the questions after seeing you receive another round of…” She trailed off, smiling coldly before finishing, “Softening…”

Terry knew that the big Geordie wouldn’t say anything. But he also recognised that his chances of surviving another beating without sustaining internal injuries were remote. He allowed the emotion to show on his face.

“Shall we try again?” the Captain asked. “What was your target?”

Terry hesitated long enough to make her think he was mulling it over. Then he blurted, “I don’t know…”

She raised an eyebrow, tilting her head and he rushed on before she could interrupt, “I was just an observer…”

The Captain considered this for a long moment, recognising that his accent wasn’t British. “An observer,” she repeated, letting disbelief show in her voice. “With the British Special Forces? I do not think so…”

“I’m not British…” Terry countered. “Can’t you tell that by the accent? I was an observer…”

“But” she argued, “Even as an observer you would have been present at the briefing.”

He shook his head, swallowing, licking his lips, risking a glance at the guards behind him. “I was added in at the last minute. I was told to stick with one of the blokes, but we got separated… I don’t know anything about the mission…”

She digested this for a long moment, making notes on the folder in front of her. “And what Consulate should we inform of your presence here?” she asked, finally.

“I…” he began, then made it look as if he was reconsidering. The decision cost him another blow to his back and he cried out as he arched against it and slid to the floor.

“Australia,” he blurted out. “I’m Australian…”

The guards picked him up again, settling him back on the stool. He gasped for breath, pain washing through him.

“I see…” was her only comment. Then she looked up, ordering, “Release his hands!”

One of the guards stepped in, slicing through the rope with his knife.

“You see, Lieutenant?” she offered. “Cooperation is always rewarded…”

“Now,” she went on, dropping her attention back to the folder, “Allow me to confirm the facts… You are an Australian national, here as an observer on a covert British operation?”

 “That’s right. I’m just an observer…”

“So you are with who?” she pushed. “The Australian army? Air Force? Navy?”

“Army,” he told her. “Australian Defence Force…”

“Bring the Lieutenant a glass of water.”

One of the guards appeared with a Styrofoam cup, handing it to Terry. He sipped it gratefully, feeling the cool liquid ease his thirst.

“And why would the British allow an Australian on their team?” she pushed again, not looking up, still making notes.

He finished the water before answering, just in case it was taken away from him. “Commonwealth…” he told her. “Australia’s part of the British Commonwealth...”

“I see...” she commented. Then she lifted her head, giving him a blistering smile, ordering, “Take Lieutenant Thorne back to his cell while I verify his story!”

“And,” she warned as they lifted him to his feet, “if any of this does not, as you say, check out, you and I will be having a more intimate conversation, Lieutenant Thorne!”

Terry had no idea whether or not she would be able to confirm the story he had fed her, but it had bought them time. It had bought both him and Jim MacFadgeon time… And that was all that mattered…

… Terry snapped out of his reverie, listening intently, wondering if he had actually heard Dino Scarletti’s voice, or if he had imagined it…

 “The Australian Government is standing by their policy of non-negotiation…”

Desperately trying to keep the emotion from showing on his face, Terry closed his eyes. It was Dino! And if Dino was on the case, then there was a fair chance that things would work out exactly as Dino was planning they would…

Damn, but he had never been so glad to hear that bugger’s voice…

“I’m negotiating on behalf of Terry Thorne’s family,” Dino was continuing, his voice soft, calm and unthreatening. “You must understand that they don’t have the sort of resources to pay what you are asking. Three million British pounds is over seven million Australian dollars…”

Bracic rolled his eyes in amusement, grinning at Ljiljana before telling the American, “Then ask British Her Majesty the Queen for what they cannot afford!”

Terry frowned at the comment. They were too in control of this situation for that to have simply been a quip… Were they about to add his army service into the whole negotiation equation?

“You and I both know,” Bracic was going on, answering his question, “that this man is more than simply businessman! Ex-SAS is not simply businessman!”

“Mister Thorne is ex-special forces,” Dino admitted, after a moment, “but that was more than five years ago.”

“Five years or no!” Bracic countered. “SAS is SAS! Three million British pounds!”

“Look,” Dino went on, carefully, “Mister Thorne’s family isn’t going to be able to raise anywhere near three million pounds…”

Bracic grinned at Ljiljana again, waiting for a moment before pressing the transmit button. “Then they should ask British Her Majesty the Queen,” he repeated, before continuing, “Or whole world will know that Mister Terry Thorne is not businessman being held as hostage, but Lieutenant Terry Thorne, arrested as spy, on charges of espionage!”

Terry’s eyes snapped open, his head jerking up, the sudden movement causing a wave of dizziness to wash over him. He fought to keep a grip on reality. They couldn’t be serious, could they?

The woman was looking at him, a small smile tugging at her lips. Terry swore silently, the whole situation transforming around him again. It occurred to him, when there was silence from the other end of the radio, that Luthan Risk might not have briefed Dino about that whole situation…

Then Dino was answering calmly, “I think you had better explain why he has been arrested on espionage charges… ”

Terry relaxed slightly. That was Dino’s way of saying, “I know exactly what you’re referring to, but let’s make sure we’re both clear about it…”

“Twenty-second March, nineteen ninety-one,” Bracic informed him, checking the details printed on a card. “Lieutenant Terry Thorne, British SAS, and Sergeant James MacFadgeon, also British SAS, were detained in the mountains near the Slavakrajinan town of Prasjeka. They were part of an illegal covert operation on behalf of British Government.” He paused, with his finger still on the transmit switch, then went on, “We have proofs, should you require them…”

He lifted his finger of the transmit switch and Terry counted five, long seconds before Dino replied, “Yes… I would like proof of that...”

Bracic pushed himself out of the chair, walking towards Terry, telling Dino, “You will have proof… You will have proof also that Lieutenant Terry Thorne is alive and unharmed… for the moment…”

He held the radio out, close to Terry’s face, his finger still on the transmit switch.  He also held out the printed card. Terry looked up at the soldier as he stopped in front of him. Bracic quirked an eyebrow, indicating, with a wave of the card and a jerk of his head, that Terry should speak.

Terry swallowed, blinking, narrowing his eyes slightly to bring the writing into focus. Then slowly, he read, “I am Terry Thorne, an Australian National. In nineteen ninety-one, as a Lieutenant in Her Majesty’s SAS, I was part of a covert operation near the town of Prasjeka, in the north of Slavakrajina.  I…”

He trailed off, swallowing; refusing to say what was printed on the rest of the card, refusing to draw Jim MacFadgeon’s name into this mess. He looked down at the floor, continuing, “I… and another soldier were taken prisoner. I do not remember who the other man was…”

Ljiljana moved, making a slashing movement with her hand across her throat, indicating that Bracic should cut the transmission. Bracic obeyed, stepping back as Ljiljana lashed out at the Lieutenant, catching him in a back-handed blow across the jaw that snapped his head back and knocked him, sideways, onto the floor.

He landed heavily, grunting in pain.

Then the American’s voice was talking again, asking questions. Bracic turned away, concentrating on what the American was saying. When the American had finished, Bracic hit the transmit button, telling him, “That is all you get for now… You have your proof! Three million British pounds!”

He switched the radio off, ending the negotiation.

Turning, he glanced at Dushan, who rolled his eyes and shrugged. Bracic shot him a cheeky grin then looked down at the Lieutenant.  Ljiljana had hold of his jacket and was hauling him back up onto his knees. Bracic leant down, helping her. The Lieutenant stayed upright on his knees when they let him go, but swayed slightly.

“Stupid,” Dushan commented in his own language, then quirked an eyebrow and amended, “Stupid… but brave…”

Ljiljana made a sound of disgust. Bracic exchanged a look with Dushan that said he agreed. Then he grasped Ljiljana’s arm, gently drawing her away towards the door, telling Dushan, “Watch him while we discuss the first contact.”

Dushan nodded, pushing himself up off the bulkhead, hooking his thumbs into the back of his fatigue trousers, close to where his pistol rested against the small of his back.

Bracic opened the hatch, drawing Ljiljana through and into the corridor. He closed it over behind them and stood, watching her pace as the irritation washed across her face.

Finally she stopped and turned, looking at him. He quirked an eyebrow then grinned at her, accusing, “Admit it! You would have been disappointed if he hadn’t pulled something like that!”

She sighed, making another small sound of disgust, folding her arms and leaning back against the corridor bulkhead. “Okay!” she admitted, grudgingly.

“And you are only annoyed,” Bracic went on, “because you didn’t have him as fully under control as you would have liked.”

Ljiljana scowled at him for a moment then accused, sourly, “You know me too well!”

“We all know each other well, Boss,” he told her, “Which is why we make such a good team…”

He trailed off then grinned at her again, commenting, “Only, I am the one usually doing bad cop in the routine.”

The hatch pulled open and Dushan stuck his head out, calling, “Boss?”

Ljiljana heard the slight edge to his voice and moved, heading back into the cabin. “He just keeled over…” Dushan told her as she moved past him.

Shooting a look at Bracic, Ljiljana approached Thorne carefully, ready for any move he might make. She circled him, warily, before stepping in and dropping to her knees. He was out cold. Checking the pulse in his neck, she ordered, “Undo the cuffs…”

Dushan stepped over the Lieutenant’s legs, leaning down and unlocking the handcuffs. Gently, with Dushan’s help, Ljiljana moved Thorne onto his back. His lip was cut and bleeding, the side of his face already beginning to swell.

Ljiljana swore under her breath, wondering if she had hit him too hard, wondering if she had possibly broken his jaw.

Bracic was right, Thorne’s defiance had pleased her as much as it had angered her, but it had to be punished. They couldn’t let him get the upper hand over them in anything. They had to keep him under a tight reign or they would lose the initiative.

Dushan glanced at Bracic as Ljiljana continued to gaze down at the Lieutenant, lost in thought. Bracic shrugged; content to wait for her to make the next move.

Finally she stood up, running her gaze over the unconscious form and the crumpled suit that he had now been wearing for three days.  “Get him onto the cot. He needs cleaning up! He stinks! We’ll strip him and wash him.”

Looking up, she smiled wickedly at the two other men, “Let’s see our SAS Lieutenant try to be brave when he’s naked…”

...............................................
 

Dino lit a cigarette, taking a long, calming draw on it, blowing the smoke back out and picking up the four photographs before sitting back in the chair. His hands were trembling slightly, something that normally only happened when he relaxed after returning from action, when someone ended up shooting at him, a reaction to the rush of adrenalin and the acknowledgement that he was still alive. It countered the clinical calm he always felt in a fire fight.

It meant that, right now, he was thinking as clearly as he did in a combat situation and that was a good thing, because now he knew for certain that he wouldn’t allow emotion to get in the way of the job he had to do.

He took another long draw on his cigarette, looking down at the photographs, looking into the faces of the blue-eyed woman and her comrades. Miro was on the phone; filling his people in on what had happened and what both he and Dino were now convinced of - Ljiljana’s group were involved, up to their necks, in Terry’s abduction.

From what Miro could tell him, the police had long suspected, but never been able to prove, that Ljiljana’s group had kidnapped three other western businessmen. All three of the men had spoken about a woman who had been part of the group holding them captive, but none of them had ever seen any of the groups’ faces, couldn’t identify them.

All three men had been released after a ransom was negotiated and paid. All three had been treated well…

But none of those men had previously served their country in any of the armed forces. More importantly, none of those men was an ex-SAS Lieutenant who had been part of a botched surveillance mission, that had ended up with him been subjected to interrogation by a Slavakrajinan army Major…

So, Major Bukuvecs, he thought, looking down at her photograph, how exactly would you treat a prisoner of war? Will you respect him as another soldier? Or are you going to give him a hard time?

The woman in the photograph looked back at him, telling him nothing.

Finally, Dino put down the photographs, picked up his laptop and started punching in information as he reviewed everything that had happened during the preceding negotiation and allowed himself to draw conclusions. Not hard and fast conclusions, temporary ones that could be redrawn depending on what subsequent information he could squeeze out of the kidnappers.

For the moment, Terry was at least in some semblance of good health and still switched on enough not to mention this MacFadgeon’s name. Dino would lay bets that Terry’s transmission had been severed because he had strayed from the script and said that he couldn’t remember who the other soldier had been.

The people holding Terry knew that he was ex-SAS, so they would be taking extra precautions, treating him more carefully than they would any other hostage. Which meant that a rescue attempt would probably not present itself. The only way they were going to get Terry back was to pay up, so this was going to have to be a by-the-book hostage negotiation.

Three million pounds was over five million US dollars and well over seven million Australian dollars, so there was lots of room for negotiation, although he had a fair idea that Terry’s freedom wouldn’t be bought cheaply.

Both the British and Slavakrajinan governments were going to flip when they were informed about the group’s threat to accuse Terry of espionage… Well, that was their problem, not his.

But it did throw up something that he needed to find out. Why had the failed SAS mission been swept under the carpet on both sides? Why hadn’t it been an international incident that had exploded across the world news? He needed to know more about what had gone on ten years ago and Iain Havery had damned well better get the information for him!

The phone rang and he reached for it, “Hello?”

“Hello… Is this Mister Scarletti? Mister Dino Scarletti?”

Dino frowned, getting a sudden sinking sensation as he heard the cultured tones in the obviously British voice, “It is…”

“Mister Scarletti, we’ve never met… but I’ve heard Terry speak about you. I’m Julia… Julia Thorne… his wife… ex-wife… Can you please tell me what the bloody hell is going on?”

Silently cursing Ian Havery and Luthan Risk, Dino sighed, leaning back in the chair. “Julia,” he told her softly and calmly, “I think it would be easier if you filled me in on what you’ve been told… and then I can explain the rest… And Julia, the name’s Dino…”

ON TO PART 4

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