THE PRICE OF FREEDOM

PART FOUR:

Terry drifted awake to a nagging ache in his head and jaw, that intensified quickly into a crushing throb, pounding through him with every heartbeat. He groaned softly, frowning against the pain.

Gentle hands placed something cold against the side of his face and he dragged his eyes open, vaguely registering that only one eye actually opened. The light stabbed into the back of his head and he groaned again, squeezing his eye shut.

“Stay still!” a voice told him. “The ice will help…”

He didn’t argue, letting his body relax a little as the coolness against his face intensified; taking the edge off the pounding pain. Beginning to think more clearly, Terry tried to make out what he could of his surroundings.

His wrists were still restrained and his ankles were now bound; he was lying on something soft, possibly a mattress, a blanket of rough material lay on top of him, scratching against his skin slightly as he breathed… which, he realised with a sinking feeling, meant he was naked beneath it…

“Are you in much discomfort?” Bracic asked.

He watched the Lieutenant frown, as if trying to formulate an answer. Bracic changed the question, making it easier to answer, “Your head hurts?”

Terry swallowed on a dry mouth, wincing at the pain that stabbed through his jaw, before rasping, “Yes…”

“Your face?”

“…yes…”

“Anywhere else?”

Terry swallowed again, admitting, “Shoulder…”

“Left or right?”

“Left…”

The side, Bracic considered, that he had landed on when Ljiljana had punished his defiance that morning. “Once you have eaten, if pain is still bad, we will give you something…”

“Thank you…” Terry told him.

Bracic ignored the comment, telling him, “Now you sit up. I will help…” Carefully, he helped the Lieutenant to sit up, placing pillows behind him, helping him shuffle up the bed to rest his back against the bulkhead.

Terry sank back against the pillows, his eyes still closed against the light. He felt someone sit down on the bunk beside him; then a straw was being pressed to his lips. “Drink,” the woman ordered.

Terry obeyed, keeping his eyes closed. It was the same sweet, refreshing fluid they had given him earlier. It hurt to suck the liquid up the straw, but he endured the pain, the soldier’s instinct kicking in and reminding him that it had been at least three days since he last had anything decent to drink or to eat.

He heard the sound of a metal door opening and closing, then the wonderful aroma of butter and potatoes reached him. Keeping his eyes closed, he forced himself to concentrate on drinking, just drinking…

It took all his self-control not to moan in dismay when the straw was pulled away, but then the smell of the potatoes intensified and the woman’s voice was cajoling, “Eat, Lieutenant…”

He dragged open his good eye, looking at her, opening his mouth carefully to eat the spoonful of mashed potato she was holding out for him. The taste exploded on his tongue and his belly spasmed in hunger. He stifled the groan of enjoyment and swallowed the mouthful, taking another, then another. The potato was warm, rich, creamy and filling.

Emotions threatened to overwhelm him and he pushed them down, drawing on his army training, reminding himself that, despite the smile on her lips, she wasn’t showing him kindness, not really. This was a ploy to soften him up, to make him easier to handle.

“Take food as and when it’s offered…” the SAS instructor’s voice echoed in his memories. “Don’t be heroic and refuse it, because that will just make you a dead soldier!”

Ljiljana let him eat almost all of the plateful of potato before bending down, picking up an open bottle from the floor and offering it to him. He took it, holding it in both his hands, lifting it to his lips and drinking the pure, clear water. With the swelling to his face, he had difficulty drinking from the bottle, some of the water spilling down his chest.

Ljiljana asked Bracic for the straw from the other bottle, handed the plate over to him in exchange for the straw, turning back to stop the Lieutenant drinking, putting the straw into the bottle for him.

“Better,” she told him.

He nodded his thanks, sucking the water up through the straw.

She watched him, stopping him before he drained the entire bottle of water. Holding it, but not taking it from him, she removed the straw before screwing the top back onto the bottle, telling him, “Not too much…”

Then she stood up, walking away, leaving the bottle with him.

Terry watched her for a moment before closing his eyes, letting his head sink back against the bulkhead. The throbbing in his head was abating, although his jaw was still tender and his shoulder ached.

He flinched as something cold touched his cheek again. Bracic laughed softly, dropping the ice pack into his lap as he looked up. “Only ice, soldier,” Bracic told him. “You have very nice black eye!”

Terry placed the bottle on his lap, lifting the icepack and placing it against his face. Bracic sat down on the edge of the bunk, pulling out a packet of cigarettes, offering one to Terry.

Terry shook his head, “No… Thank you…” He couldn’t smoke and hold the ice against his face with his hands retrained, and right now he needed the ice more than a cigarette.

Bracic nodded, lighting one for himself, blowing the smoke up to the roof and turning his attention back to the Lieutenant. “Pain in head, better, yes? “

“Much better,” Terry admitted.

Bracic grinned, nodding, “Good…” Then he grew serious, telling Terry, “You should have read from card… but,” he admitted, “in your place, I would have done same thing...”

“Enough!” Ljiljana warned, turning to look at them.

Bracic looked over at her, acknowledging, “Yes, Boss!” But he glanced back at Terry before he stood up, shooting him a grin and winking at him.

He’s not being friendly, Terry reminded himself. He’s trying to make you trust him… He’s trying to make you feel safe, give you a false sense of security…

The man said something in his own language that Terry didn’t quite catch, and headed out of the cabin. The other man pushed himself to his feet, heading out after the first.

Terry closed his eyes, letting his head sink back against the bulkhead, moving the ice pack slightly and slowly allowing himself to relax as his body reacted to the food and water, the thumping pain in his head gradually disappearing.

Within minutes exhaustion had overtaken him again and he was asleep, the ice pack falling onto the blanket as his hands sank onto his chest.

Ljiljana heard the slight noise and looked over. The soft, steady, rise and fall of his chest told her that the Lieutenant was asleep. Standing up, she walked across to the bunk, eyeing him warily for a moment then retrieving the icepack and putting it back into the small freezer compartment of the refrigerator before it melted over the blankets.

Leaning up against the bunk, she watched him sleep for a long moment. Finally she sighed, shaking her head. Moving to the head of the bunk, she gently shook him to wake him.

His eyes snapped open as he started awake, gasping, bringing his hands up to defend himself.

“Easy…” she reassured softly. Then ordered, gently, “Move down… You will have bad neck otherwise…”

He obeyed, but she saw the quick flash of confusion that washed across his face. Part of her told her that that was good, that while he was bewildered he was less of a threat, less likely to try to make a break for freedom…

But another part of her responded to the confusion, wanting to comfort him, to assure him that he wouldn’t be harmed…

She stepped back, taking a deep breath, succeeding in pulling the cloak of “army Major” around her….

Almost succeeding…

She wasn’t a Major, not any more. The people she had once given allegiance to, the people she had once served, now hunted her. That this man had once been a worthy adversary no longer meant anything… She was a terrorist and he was now an innocent civilian.

Anger flared, as it always did when she let herself dwell on the course of events that had plunged her country into such turmoil and ultimately led her to where she was now... selling a man’s life.

She turned away, no longer able to meet the Lieutenant’s gaze, knowing that even if she was given the chance to live her life over again she would make exactly the same decisions again for exactly the same reasons. She accepted the choices she had made, but sometimes, just sometimes, she didn’t like herself very much…

Terry watched her walk away from him, having seen the turmoil that washed briefly across her face. He pushed down the small stab of fear, forcing himself not to worry about whether or not that turmoil boded well for him. It was out with his control. Worrying about it was only going to use up mental and emotional energy that right now, when he scarcely had the ability to stand up unaided, he couldn’t afford to waste.

He closed his eyes, turning his mind to more positive things. They had made contact with Dino, they had provided proof of life, an initial sum had been demanded, everything was going as he would have expected it too. If something went wrong he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

Sleep drifting in from the verges of his consciousness, he was vaguely aware of the door opening again, of the two men returning. As warm darkness wrapped itself around him, he found himself wondering about a chloroform-fuzzed memory. Had the blue-eyed woman really held and reassured him as he had thrown up, or had just imagined it?

Dushan glanced at the cot as he closed the door, seeing that the Australian Lieutenant was asleep. Which was good…

The Lieutenant was the fourth western businessman they had abducted and ransomed. The fourth since the coup had failed and he had joined Ljiljana and the others to try to help their people the only way they could.

This was the first time, however, that they'd had to be so careful over a hostage.

Ljiljana had made sure that everyone knew the score before they had begun planning the abduction. The man was possibly ex-SAS, British army elite, Special Forces and therefore dangerous.  He wouldn’t be easily manipulated; he would seize every chance he could to escape from his captivity and he would kill them if he needed to.

Dushan and Micah had both questioned the choice. If the man was so dangerous then why take him?

Bracic had grinned, “If this man is who we believe him to be, it won’t be the first time he has been an unwilling guest in our country…”

He had gone on to explain about the capture of Thorne and the other British soldier, about their interrogation and the second SAS mission that had targeted the base and freed them. From that moment Terry Thorne’s fate had been sealed.

Dushan had still been a little troubled by the previous history that both Ljiljana and Bracic had with this man. He had voiced his concerns and both Bracic and Ljiljana had quieted them, assuring him that he could speak up at any point and they would listen to him.

He had nodded, accepting that. Like Bracic, this group was the only family he had now and he trusted their judgement.

As it had worked out, the Lieutenant’s abduction had been a lot less complicated than any of the other three kidnappings.

Bracic had simply moved in behind Thorne in the hotel foyer while Dushan had covered him from the entrance. The muzzle of a Makarov pressed into the small of Thorne’s back, a warning that there were sniper rifles trained on the two blondes that he had been chatting with in the bar only moments before, and Thorne had coolly walked out of the hotel with Bracic, outwardly calm and collected.

There had been no screaming and kicking, no pleading for his life…

“Luca says we sail in three hours,” Bracic told Ljiljana, breaking Dushan’s train of thought. “The Captain is on board, so we need to keep ourselves hidden, at least until we hit the open sea…”

Ljiljana nodded, standing up, “In that case, I’m going to get some sleep. Dushan, you stand first watch.” She walked across the cabin, swinging up onto the top bunk and fluffing the pillows. “Wake me when we sail…”
....................................................

Dino waved goodbye to Miro and turned, heading into the hotel. Jacket slung over one shoulder he headed for the reception desk, smiling at the brunette behind it, asking, “Any messages?”

She shook her head, “No, Mr. Scarletti, but…” She turned, indicating the hotel bar, “There is a gentleman waiting to see you. He wouldn’t leave his name…”

Dino turned, looking over, seeing a tall, broad man stand up and walk towards him. He wore a plain, dark-blue suit, but Dino couldn’t fail to recognise the military bearing as the man moved toward him.

“Is that him?” he clarified with the girl.

She nodded, “Yes, it is…”

Warily, Dino walked across the foyer towards him. “I believe you’re waiting to see me?” he asked.

The man nodded, “Too bloody right!” He held out his hand, “The name’s James MacFadgeon. One of the lads back home let me know that Terry Thorne had managed to get himself into trouble and that you were the man trying to put it right…”

Dino grinned, surprised – and yet at the same time not at all surprised – that this man had flown all the way from the UK because one of his old running mates was in trouble. The loyalty forged between soldiers, especially in the Special Forces, was a strong and compelling thing. Dino reached out, shaking the man’s hand enthusiastically, “Well, James MacFadgeon, I am more than glad to see you… but you’ve taken one hell of a chance coming here…”

MacFadgeon grinned, “They tried to tell me that back home too, but I was never one to take a telling. Besides, something tells me that Aussie bum needs all the help he can get. ”

He grew serious, dropping his voice, telling Dino, “Heard there was some stuff you might need to know and I didn’t want to discuss it over the phone…”

Dino nodded, supplying, “Well, here’s what we’ll do. You grab your bags and we can talk about it upstairs… Have you eaten?”

MacFadgeon shook his head, “Not yet. Need to find somewhere to kip as well…”

“Then we’ll get that sorted too…”
Ten minutes later, room service had been ordered and Jim was sitting looking at the photographs, a cup of coffee and a glass of scotch sitting on the table in front of him.

 “That’s her all right,” he told Dino. “It’s been a while, but I recognise her. Him too,” he went on, indicating Bracic. “Not sure about Terry, but this bugger interrogated me on the first day. She was brought in on the second day…”

“Ljiljana Bukavecs… The man is Bracic Malnar…” Dino supplied, handing him a bottle of water before sinking into the chair opposite him, asking, “What happened?”

Jim shrugged, as if indicating that he couldn’t give him all the information, explaining, “We got rumbled… Dogs… I got grazed by a bullet here,” he said, indicating his upper arm, “Terry and I got taken. They separated us right from the get-go. I didn’t see Terry the first day, but this one here,” he went on, pointing to Bracic’s photograph, “questioned me. By the book, nothing I didn’t expect. Then I got dumped back in the cell.”

He opened the bottle of water, pouring a little into the whisky as he continued his debrief, telling Dino about the woman being there the next day with Terry already in the room, the feed one-starve one routine, about refusing to answer her questions, about the beating that Terry had taken before they had cut him down and dragged them both back to their cells.

Both Bracic and Ljiljana had interrogated him again later that day and the next day; when he and Terry had been interrogated together again.

On the third evening, another SAS team had infiltrated the base and taken them both out…

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

…He wasn’t sure what had woken him, but he was instantly alert to trouble. He crawled to the cell door, listening intently through the silence, trying to figure out what was going on.

From the far side of the door he heard a muffled cry.

There was silence again for a few seconds then he heard the rasp of the bolt sliding back on the door. He stayed where he was, closing his eyes against the light that flooded into the darkened cell as the door opened.

“Mac?”

He opened his eyes, looking up into the business end of an automatic rifle being aimed at him by a man dressed entirely in black, his eyes shining white in a camouflaged face.

“Mac?” the voice asked again, more urgently.

MacFadgeon grinned, announcing, “Present if not correct…”

“Then get your bloody arse moving!” the soldier informed him. “We’ve not got all bloody day!”

He scrambled to his feet, telling the soldier, “Thorne’s in the next cell to your right.”

“Roger,” the soldier responded, already moving.

Another black-garbed soldier stepped in, pulling a pack off of his back as he ran a practiced eye over MacFadgeon, “Need a hand?”

“Bullet grazed my arm, but I’ll be fine,” Mac assured him, “But Thorne took a real beating,” he went on, seeing the Lieutenant stumble out into the corridor from the next cell.

The soldier handed him a jacket, “You’ll need this. Bloody baltic out tonight.”

Mac shrugged it on with the soldier’s help as the first soldier turned, grabbing him by his good arm and hustling him down the corridor, telling his unseen colleagues, “Packages secured! Packages secured!”

The soldier stopped at a door, glancing at Mac, telling him, “Stay with me. If the party blows up,” he went on, stabbing a hand to show Mac which way to go, “keep heading West! Reception committee’s waiting for you. Copied?”

“Copied,” Mac assured him.

They waited a moment longer then the soldier responded to an unheard comment and took off out of the door into the flood-lit darkness, MacFadgeon close on his heels. Behind him, Mac could hear the heavy footfalls of Thorne and the other soldier as they followed them at a run.

Mac’s back crawled, pain thumping through his arm as they ran. At any moment he expected to hear the shout of an alarm, or hear the zing and thudding impact of bullets around him.

Then, behind him, there was a huge explosion that caught Mac off guard and almost knocked him off his feet. He stumbled, but his guide grabbed him, stopping him from going down completely, keeping him upright, forcing him on.

Mac ran, ignoring the pain in his arm, concentrating on putting one foot in front of the other. Behind him, he knew that lack of food, lack of water and the pain from the beatings had to be taking a toll on Thorne, slowing him down. He tried to glance round, but the soldier’s grip tightened on his arm and the hissed, “Keep your eyes where you’re bloody going, Mac!” kept him moving.

Then they were scrambling down an embankment, the deep thwump-thwump-thwump of a helicopter growing slowly louder and echoing back from unseen hills. Gasping for breath, searching the starlit sky, Mac waited for the order to move. The silhouette of their transport out of the area blocked out the stars, the noise deafening as it rushed in over their heads and hovered briefly before sinking to the ground.

The soldier grabbed him again, drawing him down to the dark bulk of the helicopter, pushing his head down as they closed on it. Mac didn’t stop running until strong hands grabbed his jacket, pulling him into the chopper.

Thorne landed on the floor beside him, the two other soldiers jumping in as the helicopter took off vertically, pirouetting before heading west. Mac glanced across at Terry, in time to see the Lieutenant’s eyes roll back in his head as he collapsed against the soldier behind him. Icy tendrils of fear wrapped round Mac’s stomach, but he stayed still, letting his colleagues do their jobs as Thorne was eased down onto the floor and a medic ripped his jacket open. Even in the dim lighting of the helicopter cabin, the bruising stood out dark and ugly on Thorne’s torso.

Another medic appeared at Mac’s side, “Are you wounded?”

“Bullet graze on my arm but I’ll live…”

“Let’s get it seen to then…”

As the medic started checking him over a stretcher was passed over Mac’s head. They put it on the floor next to Thorne, gently lifting him onto it. The other medic sliced open the sleeve of Thorne’s jacket, the soldier securing him to the stretcher.

Satisfied that Mac was fine apart from the bullet wound, and having put a clean dressing on it, the medic tending to Mac gave him a thumbs-up then pressed a rations bar into MacFadgeon’s hand, followed by a water bottle.

On the stretcher beside him, Thorne was still unconscious, an IV line in his arm, a soldier holding the bag above him. The medic glanced at Mac, shooting him a grin, assuring him, “He’ll be fine …”

Mac nodded, relaxing, taking a long draw on the water bottle before opening the rations bar…

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

…Dino sat forward, bringing Mac back to the present as he asked, “Tell me more about the interrogation…”

“What, in particular?” Mac tried to clarify.

“I need to know what they’re like, try to get inside their heads,” Dino told him. “An ex-soldier being held by ex-army militants could be in deep trouble…”

“So this lot have definitely got him?”

“There’s no definitive proof,” Dino admitted, “but everything points that way. Bukuvecs and her group have been wanted on terrorist charges since the military coup failed…”

Mac sat back, thinking about it for a while, before telling him, “There was no funny business, if you catch my meaning. Nothing that happened was unexpected. In fact, it could have been straight out of our own training manuals. They did what they could to wear us down. They were brutal, but there was no sadistic stuff, no humiliation.”

He thought for another moment then went on, “They were definitely harder on Terry than they were on me. He took more of a beating, but I got the impression that might have been because he was more senior to me. Or possibly because I was wounded, although not badly…

“On the other hand,” he added, “War changes people and this place has made the headlines a lot over the last few years for all the wrong reasons…”

“That,” Dino admitted, “is what concerns me.”
........................................

Terry was dreaming…

He was late for his son’s rugby match. He could hear the crowd calling and cheering. He was running down the lane towards the rugby field, but no matter how fast he ran the lane just went on and on... like he was running, but not actually moving… He could hear Henry calling him…

Gasping, Terry started awake, blinking in confusion, momentarily baffled by his surroundings. Then the memories of the last few days swept in. He pushed down the small stab of fear, reminding himself that anyone who wasn’t scared in a situation like this was an idiot, reminding himself that he needed to think clearly.

He lay, looking up at the base of the bunk above him, memories of his son lingering with him. Would someone tell Henry that his Dad was in trouble? Or would Julia decide to protect their son until she couldn’t hide it from him any longer?

He could picture Henry’s reaction. The small nod, the lips drawn into a tight line, eyes wide as he tried to be brave, toe scuffing at the floor…

He had missed so much of Henry’s life lately…

No, not just lately. He had missed so much of Henry’s life since the lad had been sent off to that damned boarding school.

He hadn’t wanted Henry to go away to school. He had wanted Henry to stay at home and go to the local schools… Wallace family tradition had dictated differently, however, and he was only an uncouth Aussie who had married into the Wallace family.

No, that wasn’t fair… Jules had never thought that. In fact, she had taken great pains to ensure that Henry knew he was half Aussie/half Brit and was proud of both sides of his heritage… except when it came to the damned boarding school. Then two hundred years of British tradition had won out, despite his protests.

“He’s only seven years old for god’s sake! And you want to send him away?”

“It never did me any harm! Or Daddy! Or Granddaddy!!”

Terry closed his eyes, swallowing down the emotion that threatened to surface, pushing away the anger and the hurt. Looking back on it now, that had probably been the beginning of the end for him and Julia. That and his decision to leave the army.

He could see now, in retrospect, that Jules had simply been afraid of the unknown; and of losing him. All she had known were men who had made the army their life; career soldiers. She was also pragmatic enough to know how many ex-special services men had difficulty adjusting to civvie life; how many of them ended up losing themselves in the bottom of a bottle or simply ending it all.

Twenty-twenty hindsight was a wonderful thing, though. At the time, in his defensiveness, all he had seen was accusations, lack of faith and lack of trust…

In the end he had been glad that Henry was away at school. He hadn’t had to witness the blazing rows between his Mum and Dad.

The poor little bugger had been so bemused when the end came. They had told him together, at least. He had looked from one to the other, then promised that he would do better at school, that he would be good; as if the divorce was all his fault.

The tears in his and Jules’ eyes had ripped at Terry, but it had been too late. The damage had been done and there was no going back.

Then Luthan Risk had offered him a position, based in London. It had seemed ideal at the time. He’d figured that, based in London, he would still be able to play a big part in Henry’s life…

Only it hadn’t worked out like that…

The hatch opening pulled Terry out of his reverie, back to the present. The smell of warm bread hit him and his stomach growled in protest.

Bracic put the tray of food down on the small table, handing a plate to Dushan before walking across to the cot and handing up another plate to Ljiljana. He grinned at Terry, asking, “You are hungry? I have brought food.”

Terry nodded, “I’m hungry.”

Bracic nodded, pulling the blanket off him and slicing through the plastic ties securing his ankles before ordering, “Eat at table...”

Terry obeyed, refusing to be embarrassed at his nakedness, knowing that he needed to eat. Swinging his legs off of the bunk, he stood up. The movement left him dizzy. He took a step back trying to keep his balance. Bracic caught him, steadying him, helping him walk the short distance to the table and sit down.

Mouth watering, Terry looked down at the slices of cheese and meat, and the two thick slabs of bread on the plate.

Bracic stepped back, nodding to Dushan as he thumbed off the safety on his handgun. Terry heard the familiar click and froze, fear stabbing through him. Dushan put his plate down, digging in his pocket, reaching over the table to unlock the cuffs round Terry’s wrists.

“Eat,” he told Terry. Then he lifted his plate and stepped away again, pulling the chair back a little from the table and sitting down.

Terry heard Bracic putting the safety back on and relaxed. He rubbed his wrists then lifted slices of meat and cheese, folding them into one of the slabs of bread and biting down. The bread was sweet, the meat spicy and Terry had never, ever tasted anything so wonderful.

He ate slowly and carefully, washing the food down with a bottle of water that Dushan gave him. There was too much, though, and Terry left half of the second slice of bread along with some of the cheese.

They let him sit for a few minutes then Bracic asked, “Better?”

Terry looked up at him, nodding, agreeing, “Much better…”

“Good… Now,” Bracic went on, the tone of his voice growing more serious, “we cannot have you lying in bed all day. You must work, okay?”

Terry looked at him, not quite understanding what he meant, but Bracic was already motioning that he should stand up. Terry did as he was told, rising carefully to his feet, steadying himself against the table, wary of another attack of dizziness. His head stayed clear this time.

Ljiljana slid down from the top bunk, not looking at him as she turned and headed out of the hatch into the corridor.

Bracic stepped back towards the bunk, motioning that the Lieutenant should follow.

Again, Terry obeyed. Bracic nodded at him, ordering, “Feet apart, hands out against the beds…”

Finally, Terry understood. Perversely relieved, he assumed the position. It was a classic interrogation pose that stressed and weakened the arms, shoulders and legs. Physical endurance… That he could deal with.

He knew it wouldn’t be long before his injured shoulder started protesting, but he settled down, determined to give them a damned good run for their money.
............................................

Dino put the phone receiver down carefully, resisting the urge to give into his frustration and slam it into place. Politics were starting to make an already problematic job more difficult.

He glanced across at MacFadgeon, sprawled and dozing in one of the chairs. Ian Havery was taking the credit for putting Mac in touch with him, but Dino hadn’t enlightened Havery that Mac had done more than simply get in touch and had, in fact, turned up on the doorstep to help.

Dino hadn’t bothered to tell Havery that he was in contact with Julia Thorne either. Right now, as far as he was concerned, the whole situation stank. Terry had been working here with next to no back-up. Now that things had gone wrong he was being hung out to dry and Havery, sitting all comfy back in his London office, didn’t really give a damn.

Which meant that Luthan Risk didn’t give a damn.

Actually, Dino thought sourly, that wasn’t exactly true… they did give a damn… but only about the amount of money it was going to cost them to get Terry Thorne back – in direct contrast to the ex-soldier dozing in a chair on the other side of the room.

Jim MacFadgeon had decided to stick around for a few days and, in truth, Dino was happy of the big, quiet Geordie’s company. With Jim around, the job didn’t feel as lonely.

Rubbing his face with his hands, Dino sank onto the bed, reviewing everything that Havery had just told him. The Englishman had assured Dino that Luthan Risk would pay whatever it took to get Terry Thorne back, but then he had warned him to tread carefully.

The Brits were in diplomatic negotiations with both the Australians and the Slavakrajinans about the whole incident, but the British Army was reticent about releasing any details of the botched mission that had resulted in both Terry and Jim MacFadgeon being caught, especially since the Slavakrajinan government was officially denying any knowledge of the incident. Havery hadn’t said so in as many words, but he had strongly hinted that, in the face of that denial, the British government would follow suit and refute that any such mission had taken place.

All of which left Terry hanging in the wind if Bukavecs and her people did decide to go public and announce that he was being held on espionage charges. Although, deep in his gut, Dino had a feeling that they wouldn’t go ahead with what they had threatened. He’d lay bets that the threat had been a scare tactic, for both him and Terry. Terry had been there, after all, he had spoken to him…

Someone knocked on the door. Dino got up, walking over, checking the spy hole before opening the door to Miro.  He had another basket in his hands and Dino grinned at him, asking,  “Piragi?”

Miro laughed, walking past him, “From my beautiful wife…”

MacFadgeon peeled his eyes open, pushing himself to his feet as the Inspector walked in.

“Miro,” Dino introduced, “this is Jim… My colleague…” he evaded, acting on instinct and deciding, at least for the moment, to keep quiet about both who, exactly, Jim MacFadgeon was and about the information the big Geordie had been able to give him… Miroslav was a good man, but he was a policeman and getting his hands on Bukavecs and her people was as high a priority to him as getting Terry Thorne back alive.

Getting Terry back alive and unharmed was Dino’s only priority.

“Jim,” he went on, “this is Inspector Miroslav Vilaslavevic. He’s been assigned to the police investigation about Terry’s disappearance. He worked with Terry too…”

The two men shook hands then Miro put the basket down, inviting, “Sit! Eat! Put some coffee on, Dino, and I will tell you what news I have!”

Dino turned towards the coffee maker, as Miro went on, “My Sergeant, he talks to his army friends. So far, they find nothing; no records, no proof of Terry or the other soldier being here… Which is very possible. With all the upheaval that has happened over the past few years, many records for many things have been lost …”

Jim MacFadgeon had picked up on Dino’s evasive introduction and figured that the American didn’t want any details of the botched SAS operation shared with the policeman. Dino was the man running the show, so Mac stayed quiet, reaching into the basket for one of the wonderful smelling pastries the Inspector had brought with him.

“However,” Miro went on, sitting down, “he did find out that there was explosion at an army base to the north of Prasjeka around the same time as the SAS operation would have occurred. The fuel compound blew up but there were no injuries… A friend of a friend was there. My Sergeant tries to find out more…”

“The lack of records,” Dino offered, “might be why your government is denying the incident ever took place…”

Miro looked at him, quirking an eyebrow, “That is the official stand point?”

Dino nodded, “That’s the official stand point… as of five minutes ago. My boss back in London just phoned to confirm it. And if that’s the case, the British government aren’t going to admit to it either.”
.....................................................

Far sooner than Terry would have liked, he was in trouble. His legs were holding out, but his shoulder burned painfully under the strain, the muscles in his arms beginning to tremble with the effort of holding his weight. A spasm of cramp shot across his shoulder and down his left arm and, despite his resolve, he gasped, trying to change position to alleviate the pain.

Ljiljana exchanged a look with Bracic then nodded.

The dark-headed man stood up, walking over, resting a hand lightly on the Lieutenant’s uninjured shoulder, telling him, “Enough…”

Terry stepped forward, easing the weight off of his arms, wincing, but refusing to make any sound of discomfort as he let his arms drop to his side.

Behind him, at the table, Ljiljana had lifted a kit bag and was rummaging inside it, pulling out a rolled up pair of black fatigues. She stood up, walking over, holding them out to the Lieutenant, “Here…”

He looked at her, then down at the bundle, reaching out carefully to take it.

“They will take you to clean up…” she told him.

He nodded, “Thank you.”

She looked at him. The swelling on his face was going down, although the bruising was blackening around his cheek and eye. “Do not,” she warned, “try anything stupid…”

He looked at her, saying nothing. Then Dushan had taken his arm and was leading him towards the hatch. Bracic grinned, winking at her, picking up a towel from the rail beside the sink before following Dushan and the Lieutenant out into the corridor.

Terry went quietly, knowing that he didn’t have the energy to try to make a run for it. Besides, he knew he was on a ship of some sort and from the movement of the deck beneath his feet, he knew they weren’t tied up in port. Chances were that they were miles from land and he had nowhere to run too. Things would be different when they finally reached their destination, but until then he was content to stay obedient and quiet…

Dushan led him through another hatch into a small room. There was a toilet cubicle on one side and a shower and sink on the other. Bracic stepped in behind them, draping the towel round the Lieutenant’s shoulders.

“He will stay,” Bracic told him. “I will wait outside…”

He turned, stepping back into the corridor. Dushan let Terry go, closing and locking the hatch behind him. Terry put down the bundle on the rim of the sink, turning to make use of the toilet first. Dushan wouldn’t let him close the door fully, but did step back against the wall, leaving him in some sort of privacy.

Bodily functions attended to, Terry flushed, stepping out of the stall towards the sink to rinse his hands.

“There is soap,” Dushan told him, “wrapped in the pants…”

Terry glanced at him then picked up the black cloth bundle, carefully unrolling it, letting the items that were rolled inside fall in to the sink. There wasn’t just soap, there was a toothbrush, toothpaste and a razor.

Dushan watched as Terry picked up the soap and headed into the shower. Leaning back against the bulkhead, Dushan lit a cigarette as Terry turned on the water.

Terry stood beneath the hot stream of water, reveling in the feel of it as it flowed over his skin. He ran his hands over his face, looking forward to getting rid of the three-day stubble. Or was it four days…? He wasn’t sure…

He sighed and began to wash himself, wincing as his shoulder protested when he lifted his hands to soap his hair.

ON TO PART 5

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