THE PRICE OF FREEDOM

PART SIX:

Terry Thorne groaned softly, the discomfort that had kept him hovering in half-wakefulness finally drawing him fully out of sleep. He moved position, trying to ease the soreness, trying to stay asleep… but something else nagged at him, something that instinct told him was important, only he couldn’t quite place it.

The clang of metal against metal gave him the only clue he needed for everything to fall into place. The boat was no longer rolling on the open sea.

He listened, trying to hear anything else that would confirm that they had docked, trying to catch any snippet of conversation that might give him some idea of what country they had docked in.

Opening his eyes, he turned his head to look at the port hole… The reflections in the glass against a black sky told him that it was still night.

The youngest of his captors, the one they called Dushan, was sitting at the table. There was a newspaper or magazine open in front of him. He was leaning over it, head propped on his hand, but Terry knew the younger man was watching him from beneath the dark brows.

“Where are we?” Terry tried.

Dushan lifted his head, looking directly at him, shrugging his shoulders and rattling something off in Slavakrajinan. The only word Terry understood was “harbour”.

Terry opened his mouth to try again, but the hatch opened and both the woman and Bracic stepped into the berth. Terry still had no idea what the woman’s name was. When Bracic and Dushan called her anything it was “Boss.”

Bracic walked over to him, crouching beside him, telling him, “We move now, Lieutenant… Your hands will stay bound; your eyes will be covered. You will do exactly as we say.”

Voice softening, he went on, “It is not in your best interest to try anything stupid. A ship is a dangerous place to be hero…”

Terry nodded, confirming, “I understand.”

“Good,” Bracic told him, rising to his feet, “Get up!”

Terry did as he was ordered, swinging his legs off the edge of the cot and sitting up slowly, wincing as pain stabbed down through his shoulder into his fingers.

They had worked him over four times during, what he reckoned was, the last two days; each time they had tried to film another confession about the failed SAS mission ten years before; each time he had refused to give the name of the other soldier who had been captured with him. They’d worked mostly on his injured shoulder, exploiting the weakness, the pattern always the same – knocking him to the floor, press-ups for punishment. Then a beating when his body failed him.

It was never severe, always just enough, but it was wearing his body down, sapping his strength and Terry knew that at some point soon he would let MacFadgeon’s name slip out.

The whole premise behind resisting interrogation was not about keeping your mouth shut indefinitely; it was about buying time…

This situation wasn’t much different. He was still trying to buy time: time for his family to come to terms with his kidnap before they saw him on some damned video tape; time for Dino to warn the Brits and the Aussies that things were potentially going to blow up diplomatically; maybe even buy enough time for Dino to close the negotiations and secure his release before he had to give them MacFadgeon’s name, although that possibility was fading…

He stood up, straightening slowly, careful of the bruising across his ribs and stomach.

The soft click of a safety catch being thumbed off pulled his attention back across to the table. Dushan wasn’t pointing the Makarov at him, but the implied threat was there. The woman walked over, a knife flashing in the overhead light. Terry flinched, but she only caught his wrist, slicing through one of the plastic ties that secured his wrists behind his back.

Dushan lobbed a fatigue jacket at Bracic, who caught it then held it out for Terry, helping him to slide it over his arms and shoulders. As Bracic buttoned it for him, the woman was already wrapping another tie around his free wrist, slotting it through the other tie, binding his wrists together, but this time in front of him.

Terry clenched his jaw, wincing but making no sound when his shoulder protested as she tugged on the bindings to make sure his wrists were secure. Then Bracic was taking his good arm, leading him forward a few steps before stopping to let the woman fasten the black scarf round Terry’s eyes.

It smelled of perfume… a delicate, vanilla scent…

Absurdly, Terry found his memories slipping back to the first time he had every taken his ex-wife to dinner… It was the sort of perfume that Julia would wear…

He pushed the thoughts away before they could get a hold, unable to deal with them right now, concentrating simply on not falling over as the grip on his arm lead him forward again.

“Step over,” Bracic told him.

Terry shuffled one foot forward until his bare toes found the lip of the hatch. He stepped over it, into the corridor, and Bracic turned him, leading him out towards the cargo deck. Behind him, Terry heard Dushan and the woman following them.

Luca was waiting at the hatch. He held his hand up in warning. Bracic halted Terry, letting Ljiljana walk past them to Luca.

“The Captain’s just going ashore,” Luca told her, his attention still outside on the deck. “Some problem with the harbour master. The boys will give us a shout when the coast is clear. Your ride knows the situation,” he went on. “She’s lying off our starboard stern. It’s only a RIB…”

He looked round at her, grinning, telling her, “That’s a rigid inflatable… Or a big, fast dinghy to you army types… but she’ll take you safely down the coast…”

“Everything’s set otherwise?” Ljiljana asked.

“Everything’s set,” Luca told her, “We have three lads and a strong rope to lower your friend over the side.” He grinned at her, “I could carry you down to the boat…” he offered.

Ljiljana chuckled softly, patting his arm, telling him, “At any other time I might have taken you up on that, but you’ll have your hands full carrying Bracic…”

“That ugly mug,” Luca told her, “can carry himself down!”

“You’re only sore because I was always Grandmother’s favourite,” Bracic shot back in mock pique.

“Now you know why I ran away to sea!” Luca told him, a soft laugh rumbling in his chest.

The flippant camaraderie of the situation was, to Terry, suddenly surreally and ridiculously amusing. He was barefoot, bound and blindfolded, aching from the beatings he had been given over the past few days by these people who were now standing, laughing and joking like old friends who had simply run into one another on a street corner. A soft giggle of manic laughter bubbled up from his chest.

Ljiljana turned. Instinct, born of experience, warned her that the sudden mirth was a precursor to the Lieutenant breaking down both emotionally and physically. Bracic glanced at Ljiljana in alarm, tightening his grip on the Lieutenant’s arm, also recognising the warning signs.

Terry giggled again, rational thought finally beginning to fail him, his tightly-controlled composure teetering perilously close to unraveling.

Swearing silently, Ljiljana moved. She had no idea what had caused the reaction, but they couldn’t afford for him to lose it, not now.

She drove a fist into his stomach. Then she shoved him back against the bulkhead, ripping the blindfold from his head. Pinning him against the cold metal with her body-weight, forcing his head up with an arm pressed into his throat, she snapped, “Look at me! Lieutenant! Look at me!”

The pain and the hissed order cut through the threatening hysteria. Gasping for breath, he obeyed the command, looking into the blue eyes. She returned his gaze levelly, watching him swallow, watching his self-control reasserting itself.

A whistle from outside drew Luca’s attention away from the scene. He opened the hatch fully, telling them, “We’re ready. Follow me.”

Ljiljana stepped back a little from the Lieutenant. She could see that he was back in control, but she still asked, “Okay?”

Terry nodded, confirming, “Okay…”

“You must wear blindfold,” she told him, “to protect those who help us.”

Terry nodded again, taking a breath, telling her, “I understand.”

She stepped back in, putting the blindfold back over his eyes before nodding to Bracic and turning to follow Luca out onto the deck.

The warm breeze tugged at Terry’s hair as Bracic guided him outside and along the deck of the cargo coaster. The air smelled of salt water and diesel fuel. He heard the sound of an outboard motor moving slowly closer and then he was being pulled gently to a halt. A rope was tied round him, beneath his arms.

Bracic watched as Luca himself tied the knots in the rope that would lower the Lieutenant the few feet down the side of the coaster and into the RIB. Ljiljana was already climbing down, Dushan following her. Once the two of them were safely aboard the RIB, Bracic warned the Lieutenant, “You must climb down. The rope is to stop you if you fall, okay?”

Terry nodded his understanding, “Okay…”

“I will steady you. Now, back up to the edge.”

Terry did as he was told, shuffling slowly backwards to the small lip at the edge of the deck. Bracic took hold of his arms, telling him, “Step down onto the rung. It is right below you…”

Terry lowered one foot tentatively down onto the metal rung. Then, slowly, balanced by Bracic’s grip on his arms, he moved down the ladder until his arms touched the edge of the deck. Someone took a hold of the back of his jacket as Bracic asked, “You can steady yourself now, yes?”

Terry nodded, “Yes…”

“Good!” Bracic said, letting go of his arms. Luca still had a grip on the back of the Lieutenant’s jacket. “We will let go of your jacket when you have a grip on the side of the ship…”

Terry drew his hands in to the lip of the deck, stepping down another rung before searching for the top rung with his hands. Finding it, he began a slow descent down the ladder.

Luca let him go, both he and Bracic watching the Lieutenant’s progress, the two other sailors holding the rope tightly, just in case the Lieutenant slipped.

Terry gripped the rung, his shoulder and arms protesting as he moved further down the rung-ladder on the side of the coaster. Finally, he got to the point where he couldn’t go any further down without letting go of the rung.

“Tell him to let go,” Luca told Bracic. “It will be easier to lower him the next few feet…”

Bracic called down the instructions as Luca turned, taking hold of the rope and helping the other two sailors take the Lieutenant’s weight.

Pain flared through Terry’s ribs as the rope tightened around his chest. He cried out, clenching his jaw, afraid for a moment that he was going to pass out. He gripped the rung, putting a foot back up to try to take his weight off the rope, not having the breath to warn them that he was in trouble.

Closer to the Lieutenant than Bracic and the other men, Dushan heard the cry of pain and was already scaling back up the side of the ship as the Lieutenant lost his footing.

The rung ripped out of Terry’s grasp and he was unable to stop himself rolling sideways, his shoulder impacting gently with the side of the ship.  He fought to breathe through the pain and the constriction round his chest, unable to do anything to help himself in the darkness of the blindfold with his hands tied.

He was vaguely aware of someone catching his arm and steadying him against the cold steel of the coaster. He concentrated on breathing, on simply getting one breath after another into his lungs. Then the tightness of the rope was gone and he was being lowered onto the bottom of the RIB.

Kneeling by his side, part of Ljiljana was concerned about the Lieutenant’s injuries, but the other part of her, the more practical part of her, was checking to make sure he wasn’t putting in an act; lulling them into a false belief of weakness so that he could attempt to escape. She shone a torch onto him, seeing the tiny beads of perspiration on his too-pale face, hearing the laboured breathing...

This, she decided, was no act…

Again, she found herself thinking like two different people: one concerned about the lack of pain relieving medication that they had; the other, more clinical, noting that he wasn’t in any fit state to give them any sort of trouble during the transfer from boat to car.

Gently, she removed the blindfold. He opened his eyes, looking up at her. She switched off the torch, plunging the RIB back into almost-darkness.

From the deck above, Luca watched his cousin climb down the side of the ship and into the RIB. He waved, once, as the RIB’s engine was started and the boat turned and pulled slowly away from the side of the coaster, sliding into the darkness of the harbour beyond.
............................................

Dino put down the radio transceiver, standing up and stretching, more than happy with the way that the negotiations were going. It was only four days, granted, but things were running as Dino would have expected them to run. So far there was nothing untoward. The usual, expected, threats were being made by Terry’s captors and the money Dino was offering them was slowly increasing…

Jim MacFadgeon handed him a glass of bourbon as he sat back down. Dino took it, grinning, telling him, “Thanks…”

“Welcome,” MacFadgeon replied.

Dino reached out, picking up the Polaroid photograph of Terry that they had received that morning. It had been taken not long after his abduction, judging from the dusting if stubble that was visible on his chin. He was still dressed in the suit he had been wearing when he had been abducted. He looked a little rumpled, but not badly treated, which figured with the picture Dino had slowly built up of the people who had kidnapped him.

In the previous few days he had managed to do a little more digging and between everything that Luthan Risk, Miro and he had been able to find out, he believed that he was beginning to understand Ljiljana Bukuvecs and her group.

Bukavecs had been born and raised in an army family, Malnar in a small fishing town further down the coast and Vojtulek was from a village in the mountains.

Bukavecs’ family had “officially” disowned her. Malnar’s family still lived in the fishing town, but half the population had “disappeared” during the ethnic riots of the civil war.

Vojtulek’s village had been raised to the ground. Miro had found him photographs of the devastation. They had been used in a war crimes trial the previous year. The only building that had been left standing was the schoolhouse, the rest of the buildings, even the tiny church, had been set ablaze and left to burn. Miro had told him that they had found the bodies of some of the villagers inside the smouldering remains of their homes.

“Not an auspicious time for my country,” Miro had said, sadly, as he, Dino and Mac had looked over the photographs.

“Were Bukavecs and her people involved in this?” Dino had clarified.

Miro had shaken his head, “No… No… She was still with the Army. It was this madness that prompted the military coup. When the coup failed, this sort of idiocy went on for a further few months… until everyone came around the tables to talk.”

He had rummaged through some papers for a moment, read over some details, then told the other two men, “The Vojtulek farm was five miles from the village. It survived the initial attack. The Vojtulek’s took in some of the villagers… The information must have got out and the farm itself was attacked not long after the failed coup. Almost everyone at the farm was killed. That included Dushan Vojtulek’s parents, grandfather and little sister…”

Almost afraid to know the answer, Dino had asked, “How old?”

“The little sister? Only twelve…”

Mac had muttered something under his breath, shaking his head.

“Like I said,” Miro had commented, “not an auspicious time for my country. However,” he had gone on, “those who did survive told us later that Dushan Vojtulek had come back to bury his family. They were understandably reticent to tell us much, but one little boy did say that Dushan’s lady commander and two other men had returned with him. I believe that was Bukavecs, Malnar and one other…”

Dino had set the researchers at Luthan Risk to work. They had uncovered various trust funds that had been set up within the past four years, all of which were helping to rebuild the villages, both in the mountains and along the coast, which had fallen foul of the ethnic-purging madness of the civil war, no matter what the predominant religion or ethnic majority.

Right across the board, schools had been rebuilt, books had been bought, roofs had been put back on houses, barns had been rebuilt – all of which took money: money that originated from the mysterious trust funds. Further digging had uncovered that the contractors were never engaged by people within the village, but by a third party.

The work was never paid for up-front, but a retainer was given. If the building came in on time or ahead of schedule, the companies got a small, but comfortable, bonus. If they ran-over the allocated time then only the originally-contracted fee was paid when the work was finished.

Dino had no proof of it, but his gut instinct told him that if Bukavecs and her people weren’t involved with those trusts funds, then they were involved in something similar. The money that they raised from the kidnappings was going to the people that the army had tried to protect in the failed coup… Most of the money, at any rate. They had to equip themselves somehow.

The only niggling worry, right at the back of his mind, was the threat that they had made that first night they had made contact…

…the 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…

If they did decide, for whatever reason, to pull that one out of the bag, then that would open a whole new can of worms, no matter how vehemently the Brits, the Aussies or the Slavakrajinan governments denied all knowledge of it.

Setting the Polaroid down, Dino sighed, running his hand across his face and standing up, letting his gaze run over the array of photographs strewn across the table.

Jim MacFadgeon watched the red-head as he stood up, sipping the whisky, attention on the photographs on the table, one hand on his hip in a gesture that Mac had come to know over the last few days. The negotiations may be going as planned, but something was bugging the American…

“Penny for them?” Jim asked quietly.

“Hmmm?” Dino asked, drawing his gaze away from the table.

“Something’s going on in that Irish-Italian mind of yours…”

“Hmmm,” Dino admitted, turning his attention back to the table. “Ever had the feeling you’re missing something…?”

Mac chuckled, “All the time…”  He paused for a moment then went on, “Want to share? Bounce ideas?”

For a long moment, Dino didn’t answer, and then he turned, looking at Mac. “No…” he said slowly, “No… I think I’m going to let this one simmer for a while longer first…”

Mac nodded, “Fair enough. You know where I am…”

“And I’ll come find you,” Dino told him with a smile.
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Ljiljana sat in silence, listening to the sound of the outboard motor and the slap of the waves against the bottom of the boat, as they sped along the coast to the inlet where a car waited to take them to the city. Every fourth or fifth wave sent spray across the boat, into her face and for a brief moment she allowed herself to relish the feel of it, to relish the freedom of it…

Then she pulled herself together, turning her full attention back to the situation. They were clear of the harbour, but the danger was far from over. The RIB pilot had told them that it would take around forty minutes to get from the harbour to the small beach where an SUV was waiting to take them to the city. All it would take was one curious Coast Guard vessel to take an interest n them and the whole thing would be over. There was no way they would be able to hide the illicit nature of the journey…

Finally, ahead of them as they rounded the dark bulk of the headland, a lighthouse flashed warning of concealed rocks on a little island about three hundred yards off-shore. The RIB pilot throttled back, turning the boat slightly and heading in towards a stretch of beach that showed up lighter against the darker, rocky shore. He pulled a torch from his pocket, flashing a message towards the shore.

A set of headlamps flashed back in answer and, slowing further, the pilot made his way in towards the beach. Scanning the darkness, ready to react to anything untoward, Bracic slipped the safety off of the rifle. He glanced down at the Lieutenant, lying, unmoving in the bottom of the RIB.

Finally, with a scrape of sand along the bottom if the boat, the pilot beached the RIB onto the shore. A solitary figure moved toward them in the glow of the vehicles headlamps. He caught the rope that the RIB pilot threw out to him, leaning back, holding the boat against the shore.

Ljiljana stood up, jumping across the short stretch of water onto the sand, moving to greet the man. Micah Abramovich looked at her, telling her simply, “You’re late, Boss!”

“The Captain decided to leave when we wanted to. We had to wait,” she explained. “Is everything ready?”

“Ready and waiting…” he confirmed.

Bracic knelt beside the Lieutenant, telling him, “Now we change vehicle again. Get up.”

The thought of having to move filled Terry with dread. The journey in the bottom of the RIB had been interminable, each thump of the waves against the bottom of the boat sending pain through him… If he could buy just a little more time before he had to move…

“Just…” he tried. “Just need a minute…”

“No minutes!” Bracic told him, his voice calm but brooking no argument. “Move, now.”

He grabbed the front of the Lieutenant’s jacket, hauling on it. Terry hissed with pain as he tried to move, but managed to sit up with Bracic’s help. He offered no resistance, but neither did he try to help, as Bracic and Dushan lifted him to his feet. Slipping an arm underneath each of his shoulders, the two men helped him out of the RIB, through the water and up the beach towards the waiting vehicle.

It was an SUV. Dushan opened one of the back doors as Bracic told Terry, “Get in. On the floor…”

Terry moved carefully, climbing into the back of the vehicle, lying down on the floor between the front and back seats. Dushan opened the back door on the other side, stepping up and sliding onto the seat, careful of the Lieutenant’s head. Bracic handed him a blanket and together they draped it over Terry, hiding him from casual view.

Ljiljana and Micah helped the RIB pilot launch the boat from the beach. They waited until the outboard motor had started and the RIB was moving back out towards the sea, then they turned, jogging across the sand towards the waiting SUV.

ON TO PART 7

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