THE PRICE OF FREEDOM

PART FIVE:

The sea was running high, tossing the ship around, even this close to the coast. They were corkscrewing through the water, running at an angle to the swell; rolling over to the right as the ship rode up the wave, then rolling back to the left as it pitched down the wave. Then the ship ploughed into the next wave and the corkscrew started all over again.

Dushan and Bracic had fled up to the deck, much to Luca’s delight; their stomach’s rebelling at the incessant movement. Ljiljana hadn’t been affected as badly. She, at least, had been able to stay below with the Australian Lieutenant.

Pulling his hat down over his brow and then covering his lower face with a scarf tied at the back of his head, Luca banged on the hatch before opening it and going in. He grinned. The Lieutenant was sitting on the edge of the cot, his feet on the floor, his wrists cuffed in front of him.  Ljiljana was sitting on the bed beside him, holding a basin on his lap as he struggled valiantly not to be sick. He was the most curious shade of green Luca had ever seen.

Chuckling softly, Luca winked at Ljiljana, asking, “We have potatoes and bread for today… Good stuff to line the stomach. Can I bring you some?”

She shook her head, pulling a face, telling him, “I’m okay as long as I don’t think of food…”

He laughed, nodding, telling her, “The wind will start to die down within the next few hours. We should have calmer seas by the morning. I will bring you breakfast.”

She smiled at him, “That would be good. We’ll all need something by then…”

He nodded again, “Okay…” Then he offered, “I am off for the next few hours. I will stay with him if you want to get some air?”

Ljiljana shook her head, “Thank you, but no. You have risked enough for us already…”

Terry tried to listen to the conversation, but his knowledge of the language wasn’t the best and he found it hard to follow exactly what they were saying. He caught the words for breakfast and bread, thought that the bloke had said the wind would ease over the next few hours.

He hoped that was right… He had never been the best sailor below decks. As long as he was on deck and had a horizon to follow, he was fine: it was like being on a roller coaster ride, but this tumbling, pitching and rolling without a reference point was vicious.

His body finally gave up the fight to keep his stomach from emptying itself and he threw up what little was in his belly.

Beneath the kerchief, Luca pulled a face, chuckling, “Perhaps you are right…” He stepped back out into the corridor, pulling the hatch over, telling Ljiljana, “I will bring breakfast when the sea dies down…”

Ljiljana grimaced, swallowing down her own nausea at the stench from the basin. By the time the Lieutenant’s stomach began to co-operate, she’d managed to get her nausea back under control, but the Lieutenant’s skin was clammy and he was shivering. She waited until she was sure that the heaves had subsided then put the basin on the floor, telling him, “Lie down. I will leave basin here…”

She stood up, watching him sink back down onto the mattress. His face had lost the green tinge, but he was still pale; his skin sparkling with tiny spots of perspiration. She helped him swing his legs up then, chuckling softly, she reached over, pulling the blanket across and covering him with it. “Sleep,” she told him, “When you wake, the worst will be over…”

He looked up at her. For a long moment she found herself caught in the green gaze, the colour accentuated by the dark, smudged circles beneath his eyes and the bruising against the paleness of his skin. Her breath caught for a moment in her throat…

And then reality reasserted itself.

Laughing softly, she straightened up, chiding herself silently for her imprudent lapse of concentration. A slow smile pulling at her lips, she told him, “You have many women falling at your feet, I think, Lieutenant…”

Even feeling as wretched as he did, Terry was alert enough to have sensed the momentary slip in her focus. He wasn’t foolish enough to think that he could seduce her into letting him go, but now that he’d seen the chip in her armour, he sure as hell wasn’t going pass up a chance of taking advantage of it. He gave her his best endearingly-bashful, if exhausted, smile, telling her, “Not that many…”

She laughed again, shaking her head, telling him, “Sleep… You will feel better when you wake…”

Terry didn’t push his luck. Instead he did as he was told, closing his eyes and pretending to rest… but his mind was racing, and the queasiness still washed over him, leaving him unable to sleep as the ship rolled and pitched beneath him.
.......................................................

Mac was standing at the window, watching the thunderstorm that flashed its way across the city, sending rain cascading in rivers down the streets. The lightening crackled static across the radio frequency, brightening the room even with the lights lit. The thunder followed almost immediately, rumbling loudly, echoing off the hills.

The static crackled again then a voice announced, “Hello, American!”

Dino counted to three, glancing at Mac then hitting the record button on the tape recorder before replying, “I’m here. My name’s Dino…”

“Okay then, Dino,” the voice replied. “Do you have the money?”

This was a different voice. This wasn’t the same man that he had spoken to the night before. Dino keyed the switch, telling him, “We have money, but you have to understand, both the Australian and British Governments are standing by their policy of non-negotiation. I’m negotiating on behalf of Terry Thorne’s family and there’s no way that they can raise the amount of money that you’re asking… Now, we can,” he stressed the word, “pay you a substantial ransom, but no where near the seven million Australian dollars you are asking…”

He deliberately used the Australian currency because it was a bigger number…

“What are you offering?”

Dino took a breath then told the man, “At the moment we have two hundred and fifty thousand Australian dollars…”

He lifted his finger from the transmit button and waited.

As expected the reply was derisive, “You are making big joke, American! You think we are not serious! Thorne pays for your complacency! We break his legs! You have until tomorrow, then we send video to newspapers!”

Dino took a deep breath then keyed the transmit button, “Look, that’s all the money we’ve been able too raise so far… We’re trying to raise more. I will have more for you by tomorrow…”

There was only silence in reply.

He keyed the button again,  “Hello?  Did you copy that?  We’ll have more for you by tomorrow…”

Again, there was silence. Dino tried for a few more minutes then finally put the radio down, switching off the recording equipment. Jim MacFadgeon quirked an eyebrow at him.

Dino gave the big Geordie a reassuring smile, telling him, “They won’t carry out either of those threats, not for another few days at least.”

Mac nodded, obviously not convinced.  “Is it always like this?” he asked.

Dino nodded, “Pretty much. Threats and counter-threats, going for the horror aspect. Do this or he’ll suffer… The first few days are the hardest because you’re never quite sure. They’ll want the hostage to look as bad as possible for a photograph or film footage.  They usually send that within the first few days as “proof of life” so that the people back at home know the hostage is still alive…”

He leaned back in the chair, going on, “These guys are different though, if it is Bukavecs and her people, that is. They operate slightly differently. They’ve never harmed their hostages… yet. The previous history Terry has with them might change things, though.”

Mac nodded, deep in thought. After a moment, he told Dino, “If I was to lay money on it, I’d say he’ll be okay with them. The more I remember of our little holiday with them, the more I reckon they’ll be civil. Bukavecs and Malnar went by the book when they entertained us. They hammered Tel to get me to talk, but they didn’t go overboard. They didn’t beat him unconscious…”

“But they only had you there for three days…” Dino pointed out.

Mac pondered for a moment then admitted, “There is that…”

“For what it’s worth,” Dino confessed, “I agree with you. I think that as long as we play by the rules, Terry will be okay.”

“Fingers crossed,” Mac commented.

Dino grinned at him, “Fingers crossed…”
.................................................

Terry drifted awake, feeling more human. Someone was snoring gently in the bunk above him. He lay for a few moments, appreciating the gentle rolling movement of the ship. The stomach-churning corkscrew motion had stopped, so the storm must have passed, the winds having died down to a bearable level and leaving them in calmer waters.

Finally, he dragged his eyes open. Pale, dawn light filtered in through the small porthole.

The hatch opened and Bracic came in carrying a tray. He had a towel slung across his shoulder and his hair was still wet from a shower. He was wearing only fatigue trousers, his feet bare.

He put the tray down on the table, turning, grinning at Terry when he saw the Australian was awake. “I have water,” he offered, “Or coffee? Or both?”

“Both,” Terry told him, struggling upright, starting to swing his legs off the bed to sit up, only to find that his ankles were shackled together again with two plastic ties.

Bracic shrugged, telling him, “Insurance on you not running away, Lieutenant…”

He walked over, handing Terry a bottle of water, putting the coffee mug on the floor and pulling a knife from his pocket. He cut the ties, helping Terry to sit up, and then put the coffee mug on the cot beside him. “We have something to eat soon. Then a shower, yes?”

Terry smiled, nodding, “That sounds good…”

Bracic chuckled, walking back to the table and sitting down, “What a night! Up, down, round… Not good for the stomach!”

Terry chuckled wryly, opening the bottle of water, agreeing, “Up and up, keeping nothing down…”

“Today will be better,” Bracic assured him. “No big waves or wind forecast. Smooth sailing.”

Nodding in acknowledgement, Terry took a long draw on the water, feeling it wash away the vile taste in his mouth and ease the dryness of his throat. He drank half the bottle then screwed the top back on, lifting the coffee mug. The coffee smelled wonderful. He took a sip of the hot liquid. It was thick and black and only faintly bitter.

The hatch opened again and Ljiljana came in. She sniffed the air, grinning at Bracic as she closed the hatch behind her. Voice full of longing as she commented, “Coffee…”

“One for each,” Bracic told her, then continued in his own language, “I think we should let Dushan sleep. He’s totally washed out after last night.”

Ljiljana glanced across at the top bunk of the cot, taking in Dushan’s sleeping form curled into the blankets. She glanced down at Terry, nodding at him, turning back, and telling Bracic, “Agreed… I don’t think our guest is in any fit state to give us much trouble.”

“I told him we would have breakfast then I would take him for a shower.”

Ljiljana sank into a seat opposite Bracic, wrapping her hand round the handle of one of the tin mugs, sipping the coffee before answering, “That will be fine…”

She turned, looking at the Lieutenant, asking in English, “How are you feeling?”

“Better than last night,” he admitted.

She grinned, “Roller coaster, but not as much fun.”

“Definitely not as much fun,” he agreed with a groan.

“Your American negotiator has been in touch with our people,” she told him suddenly. “He plays with us, but that is what we expected. We play for a few days then get serious…”

Terry nodded, curious to find out what Dino’s starting offer had been, but not daring to ask.

“So,” she went on, “tell me, what were SAS doing in Slavakrajina when last we met…?”

She watched him tilt his head and quirk an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at his lips as he told her, “You know I can’t answer that.”

She shrugged, telling him simply, “Perhaps not…”

“Is that why I’m here?” he asked softly, “So we can resume where we left off?”

Bracic glanced across at Ljiljana. She regarded Thorne for a long moment then shook her head, telling him, “We are not those people now. Now you are here only for money.”

Terry frowned, knowing he could be pushing his luck but taking the chance, pressing quietly, “But that first day… You said that you weren’t sure it was me, you said we had unfinished business. That implies that you deliberately came after me.”

Ljiljana nodded, admitting, “We were already planning to take a hostage. When we heard about an Australian businessman called Terry Thorne, I thought it might be you, and I have thought about the Australian Lieutenant Thorne many times over the years. We decided to wait for you…”

Terry swallowed, the implications of her last comment making him uneasy. “Wait for me?”

“Until you were finished negotiations,” Bracic supplied. “Until the man you bartered for was freed…”

Terry looked between him and the woman, getting a sudden sinking feeling in his stomach. Instinct had told him that they had deliberately targeted him, but until now he had believed it to have been an opportunistic snatch, that he had been recognised in the foyer of the hotel and taken. Now, finally, he began to realise that they had laid careful plans and possibly watched him for days before making their move… “How…” he asked. “How long were you watching me?”

“From the day you arrived here,” Ljiljana told him.

Terry swore, dumbfounded that he hadn’t once sensed that he was being watched...

Bracic laughed then, almost as if reading his mind, supplied, “You were not under daily surveillance, Lieutenant.  We made plans to take you then simply waited for negotiations to be concluded. We knew you would be going nowhere until your man was freed…”

Terry nodded. That made sense…

“How did you find out about me?” he asked. He knew that they would never reveal their sources, but it was worth a try.

A slow smile spread itself across Bracic’s face and he chuckled softly, shaking his head. Terry shrugged, offering, “Can’t blame a bloke for trying...”

Ljiljana spoke to Bracic in her own language and he nodded, standing up, telling Terry, “Come. You shower before breakfast…”

Terry obeyed, moving slowly to his feet and following the man out into the corridor.
.........................................................

Terry lay on the cot, hands behind his head, lost in thought. He had showered, shaved, brushed his teeth, eaten breakfast and he was feeling far more human. The nausea of the chloroform and the heavy seas had passed. His shoulder still ached if he moved his arm too quickly, but the nagging pain was gone. He hadn’t looked as frightening in the mirror either. His face was still bruised, but the swelling had gone down.

He didn’t realise Ljiljana was talking to him until she leant down and shook him gently. He looked at her, startled at his own lack of inattention, sitting up and swinging his legs off the cot in one, quick motion. She stepped back, motioning with her hand that he should stand up.

He obeyed, asking softly, “Working for my breakfast?”

She quirked an eyebrow, countering, “Would you rather stay bound and gagged?”

He gave her a small smile, admitting, “No…”

She matched his smile, stabbing a thumb towards the bulkhead, ordering, “Move, Lieutenant!”

He walked across and she stopped him before he reached it, ordering, “Hands against the wall.”

He leant forward, putting his hands on the metal bulkhead, taking his weight on his arms. Gently, she nudged his feet apart a little more then walked away, leaving him braced against the bulkhead.

Dushan returned with Bracic, looking less green than he had earlier. Ljiljana smiled at him, ruffling his hair as he sat down at the table next to her. “Feeling better?” she asked.

He nodded, glancing at her, the miserable look on his face pulling a quiet giggle from her. “Oh, you poor thing,” she commiserated.

“I’ll be fine,” he told her shakily, milking the sympathy vote for all it was worth.

Bracic laughed, shaking his head. Ljiljana grinned, looking up at him. He motioned with a nod of his head, indicating that he wanted to speak to her outside. She pushed herself to her feet.

“Will you be okay alone with the Lieutenant?” she asked Dushan, her voice full of mock concern.

Dushan petted his lip slightly, looking up at her with big, sad eyes, nodding slowly. She laughed, swatting him across the head, accusing, “Idiot!”

Chuckling, Bracic headed back out of the hatch, waiting for Ljiljana, closing it behind him before telling her, “Micah has made contact with the American negotiator. It’s going as we expected.”

Ljiljana nodded, relief stealing through her, “Did he say what their starting figure was?”

Bracic grinned at her. “Two hundred and fifty thousand Australian dollars…” he told her. “That’s just over one hundred thousand British pounds..”

“Oh,” Ljiljana smiled, “That’s a good starting place…”

“Micah thought you would be pleased…” Bracic agreed. “But… the American still insists that he’s working only for Thorne’s family…”

Ljiljana nodded thoughtfully, “Well, we knew that the British government would do their best to stay out of it… but I don’t believe that Luthan Risk would have washed their hands of their own man…”

“The British could have applied pressure,” Bracic suggested, “Persuaded Luthan Risk to abandon Thorne…”

“Perhaps,” Ljiljana considered. “It’s unlikely… Unless…” she went on, another possibility occurring to her, “It’s possible they have used…” She trailed off, trying to remember the phrase. “What do they call it? Old boys’ network?”

“You scratch our backs, we scratch yours?”

“Politicians come and go, but the men behind the scenes do not always change…” She made a small sound of disgust, “Power and greed.” That’s what had destroyed her country…

“We still have the Lieutenant’s confession to tape?” Bracic reminded her.

Ljiljana shook her head, telling him, “Not now. Not yet… He will not involve the Sergeant without persuasion and he’s still off balance from the chloroform and the storm. He’ll start testing us soon enough and that’s when we’ll use the tape, to throw him off balance again…”

“So, for now, we wait. See how the negotiations go,” Bracic considered.

She nodded, shooting him a quick smile, “And see how far the Lieutenant pushes us…” The smile faded and she went on, “He offered a good price to free his hostage. This American negotiator, I think he too will offer a decent amount.”

“It has been a long time since Thorne was SAS,” Dushan ventured. “Perhaps he won’t push us any further…”

Ljiljana looked at him. “Don’t make that mistake,” she warned. “We are building a relationship with him. He is beginning to trust us, but he will remember too much of his training to fall into the Stockholm Syndrome trap. He will run the first chance he gets! Maybe not now, not while we are at sea, but once we dock, he’ll look for a chance and he’ll take it.”

“Or perhaps he knows it will be better to sit it out and wait,” Dushan pushed gently. “He is a hostage negotiator, Boss. He knows what’s going to keep a hostage safe, what’s going to keep him safe.”

He paused then went on, “He’s not a soldier any more…”

“And neither are we!” she shot back at him, taking a step forward, her anger flaring. “None of us are what we once were! He’s a hostage and we are terrorists!”

Dushan stood his ground, “That’s not what…”

“Not what?” she countered. “Not what you said? Not what you meant? Why not? It’s the truth!”

“Ljili…”

“No! He will run the first chance he gets! And the first chance they get, our wonderful government will throw us in jail! And throw away the keys!”

“Are you finished?” Bracic asked softly.

The calm placidity in his voice caught her off guard and she stopped short, opening her mouth to go on then closing it again, throwing her hands up in disgust and turning away.

Bracic stepped forward, resting a gentle hand on her shoulder and she didn’t protest when he turned her back to face him. “You think too much, Boss,” he told her. “And when you insist on thinking when you’ve had very little sleep, that is always a bad combination.”

She glowered at him and he countered the look with a smile, asking her, “Where is the fire and passion of the woman who first suggested we do this? Huh?”

When she refused to answer he sighed, telling her, “Thorne was, I think, a bad choice for us. There is too much history there. You are losing yourself in what was and forgetting all about what is. Your perspective is skewed.

“If we are terrorists,” he went on, “then so be it, but this isn’t about who is right and who is wrong. This is about rebuilding school houses in villages; putting books in those schools; putting roofs back on houses; putting sheep back in fields! And if we do end up being thrown in jail by the government, then the trusts we have set up will still go on, the money will still be used to help the people that were abandoned by that government… We will have made a difference.”

Ljiljana nodded, lifting her head to look at him. “I know…” she told him, “I’m sorry… I…”

“You haven’t been home in many months,” he told her. “None of us have… We are nostalgic and home sick and that is a bad combination. But now that we have identified the problem we can counteract it.” He grinned, “Pull ourselves together…”

Ljiljana nodded, admitting, “You’re right. About everything. The world seemed so much brighter the last time our path crossed Thorne’s…”

Not that she would change any decision she had made since then. Given a chance to live her life over she would still make the same choices for exactly the same reasons. The world she had known had fragmented, shattering and falling almost as quickly as the Berlin Wall. She had done what she could to keep those she loved alive when everything had been reduced to a simple matter of survival.

She allowed her memories to flow back, to the event that had finally convinced her that any hope of her country rising out of the insanity it had spiraled down into was lost. She and Bracic had held Dushan back as the flames had engulfed his family’s farmhouse, the bodies of his parents and little sister lying on the ground in front of it. Then they had simply held him as he screamed out his grief and collapsed physically and emotionally.

She had left Bracic to look after him, making her way carefully down to what was left of the nearby village. It was a charred, blackened ghost by the time she reached it, devoid of any signs of life.  She’d searched through the remains until the sun had slid behind the mountains, and then she’d made her way back to the Vojtulek family farm.

They found the mass grave two days later, deep in the woods only a few miles from the village.

Numb with rage and disbelief, she had driven back to the capital, intent on assassinating the newly “elected” Premier. Fate, in the form of a radio news item, had changed her intention. A Slavakrajinan doctor working for Médecins Sans Frontières had been one of a number of aid workers abducted by a group of freedom fighters in Africa. Local police had reported that a ransom demand had arrived within hours of their abduction.

Ljiljana had stopped the car, gripping the steering wheel, mind reeling…

Was it possible…?

Could they…?

No, it would never work…

Or could it…?

She had turned the car round and driven back to the village where Bracic and the others had been heading. Four months later they had abducted their first hostage; a Dutch businessman.

And now they were here … On a ship with their latest hostage; an ex Special Services soldier who had been in the country to secure the release of another man. Hostage negotiator taken hostage…

Ljiljana shook her head, looking back at Bracic, telling him, “Forget the rapport we’re building with Thorne… Check the video recorder and make sure it’s working. Once Thorne’s exhausted himself in there, we push him for the confession… and we keep pushing.”

Bracic quirked an eyebrow at her sudden change of mind and she gave him a wicked smile, telling him, “Woman’s prerogative to change her mind. Besides, I’m in charge. And that’s an order.”

ON TO PART 6

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