“Where am I?” She braved.
The man didn’t answer or even look at her. Alex could hardly breathe, but she held firm even though her body was trembling with fear. She clenched her fists together to hide her shaking hands.
“Hey. I’m speaking to you! Where am I, and where is Sam? I demand that you tell me.”
The man who had already walked toward the staircase stopped and turned to face her. His black eyes stared at her intently without answering before ascending the stairs; sending a shiver down her spine. The door locked behind him and she was left alone again.
She stared down at the bowl of noodles and then glanced at her watch. It was 5.30am. They were keeping her alive and making sure she was nourished. Why? What did they want from her? She wasn’t hungry, but she didn’t know what lay ahead. The thought that it might be poisoned or drugged crossed her mind again. Nothing had happened after the water she drank earlier. The food should be adequate too, so she decided to eat, all the while looking back at the loose screw in the wall. She needed to be smart about this. Should she successfully free herself from the pipe, she’d still have the chain cuffed to her hand and the door at the top of the stairs locked. Any kidnapper with half a brain cell would have at least one man guarding the exit. She scoured the room for some sort of weapon that could work. There was nothing she could see. It was hardly surprising they would leave anything that might pose as a weapon.
She slumped back onto the bed. Then she’d wait. Sooner or later they would be back to make their demands known.
Her thoughts were barely a memory when she heard the key in the lock at the top of the stairs. Her eyes remained fixed on the steps which this time, presented two pairs of legs coming down. They were both dressed identically; black pants, shirts, and masks. Her body went rigid as the two men approached her and unlocked the cuff around her wrist. The one with the black eyes paused and stared at her red chafed skin before looking directly at her. She bit the inside of her bottom lip careful not to show any fear. The men flanked her on both sides and grabbed her by her arms before shoving her toward the stairs. Neither spoke. Eager to get out of there she climbed the metal steps and opened the door at the top of the stairs. A third masked man stopped her dead in her tracks. The door had opened up to a corridor. To her right was a kitchen and at the end of the passage to her left, several more doors; possibly bedrooms. She paused to silently question if Sam was likely to be in any of those rooms. They pushed her toward the kitchen that was small and poorly decorated with the most ghastly bright green walls. Days worth of dirty dishes lay in the sink, and the four-seated round dining table in the center of the room displayed ivory colored domino-like game pieces of a traditional Asian pastime. Evidence that the three men were living upstairs confirmed that there would have been no way on earth she would have been able to escape. She was more likely to have been killed trying.
They pushed her past the table and out the other end of the kitchen into an equally dated lounge. The television in the corner was tuned to a program showing two bloodied men fighting in a ring circled by several spectators cheering them on. The commentary was in Mandarin. She was still in Cambodia. The man with the black eyes pointed to one of the kitchen chairs he had placed in the middle of the lounge for her to sit. The second one tied both her hands behind her back while the third guard covered her eyes with a blindfold.
She didn’t fight them off even though every fiber of her terrified body wanted to. Instinctively she knew this was in preparation for a meeting with the man in charge. She needed to know what they did with Sam and what they demanded of her.
With her eyes blinded she listened intently and heard the creaking of a door to her right followed by several footsteps shuffling on the wooden floor around her. She had been aware of the three guards so knew, at the very least, they were in the room, however, she had no idea how many other people had joined them. Several moments later, a voice cut through the silence.
“Well, well, well. Miss Hunt. The famous Alexandra Hunt.”
Alex tensed at the calm male voice that spoke with a mocking tone across from her.
“What do you want?” she said with a voice that sounded grittier than usual trying her level best to hide the fear.
“Tst Tst Tst…That’s hardly a polite way to welcome your business partner,” the stranger continued.
“You’re sorely mistaken, Mister. I don’t do business with people I don’t trust or know,” Alex bit back. There was something about this man's voice that was very recognizable. She just couldn’t quite place the similarity.
“Well, my dear. I don’t think you will have many choices in the matter. You see. I have something you want, and you have something I want.”
The man kept quiet. Alex could only think of Sam. Her parents in all likelihood would be safely back home. She chose not to take his bait and suppressed the instinct to answer. In some way she was grateful he could not see her eyes behind the blindfold. Equally, she wished she could see his so she could read his next move. Her stomach turned with fear that this man and his thugs might have hurt Sam, but she dared not show it.
“Oh come on, Miss Hunt. Your silence is hardly going to sway me from getting what I want. Trust me. This is one bluff you don’t want to call.”
Alex felt her throat tighten. She knew she didn’t have it in her to gamble with Sam’s life or wellbeing.
“What do you want?” she answered with the slightest quiver in her voice.
“The location of the Urn of course. Tell me where to find it, and I’ll let you go.”
“Where’s Sam?”
“Dr. Quinn is — well, let’s just say he’s hanging on for you to give me what I want.”
Alex couldn’t move or speak. Her heart pounded in her chest. Stiffened with the knowledge that the kidnapper was indeed holding Sam captive, she contemplated her next move. Finding the Golden Urn, which they now knew was the authentic relic, was crucial. Its rightful place was back in the Royal family. Having it land up in the hands of criminals only meant trouble. She was torn between the fate of returning a 2500-year-old lost relic and saving the life of her dearest friend and colleague.
Her mind was racing with scenarios. Perhaps they wouldn’t kill Sam. She didn’t trust this kidnapping bastard as far as she could throw him. He could be calling her bluff. It wasn’t impossible to believe that Sam could have easily escaped or — she paused her thoughts for a brief moment — he could already be dead.
She took a deep breath and concluded that she would stand her ground and play it out as confidently as she possibly could.
“The Golden Urn is a sacred relic that belongs to the Royal family of Cambodia. You have no right to claim and abuse it to serve your malicious, selfish intentions. Besides, I don’t have it.”
She decided to hold back her plea for Sam’s life to circumvent showing any vulnerability or weakness that could be exploited for his gain.
The man let out an arrogant laugh. “I am no man — ahem — or woman’s fool, Miss Hunt. You have been given an ancient scroll, which was reserved for secret communications between kings only. You cracked its code, and now you know where to find the original Golden Urn.”
Alex caught her breath in her throat. He knew! This man knew about the scroll and that she and Sam managed to translate its contents. How was this possible? As if a cloud lifted from her blinded eyes, in that instant, she knew. These guys were unmistakably the same people who had been following them around Cambodia and all the way to Vietnam. She frantically searched her memory for a clue as to who this man might be. His voice was definitely familiar, but his accent wasn’t. He wasn’t Asian or British, yet he spoke fluent and perfect English. He was calm and over-confident. The faint smell of a cigar hung in the air. It was likely his. She detected the slightest whiff of cologne, but that could have been any of the guard’s scents.
“I honestly don’t feel it necessary to subject you to torture, Miss Hunt. Your colleague, on the other hand, I have no u
se for. So the choice is really yours. One way or another, my methods WILL get you to co-operate. I am a businessman, Miss Hunt, and I usually get my way. Prolonging it will just lead to innocent people getting hurt. It can all be prevented. Save your dearest Sam and us a lot of unnecessary time wasting and blood spill and give me the scroll.”
He did have Sam. Her bluff failed hopelessly, and if she didn’t comply with his demands, Sam would be tortured and killed. Saving the precious Golden Urn wasn’t anywhere as important as preserving Sam’s life. She could live without the Urn’s discovery, but she couldn’t live without Sam. She knew this now and impulsively wriggled her wrists in a futile attempt to loosen the tightly bound ropes.
As if to ensure she exerted sufficient authority to withstand this man’s emotional blackmail, she straightened in the chair and replied,
“I don’t have the scroll. We weren’t allowed to take it.”
She heard a shuffling from the couch opposite her where she guessed the kidnapper sat. Her answer apparently caught him by surprise. He was under the impression that she had the actual scroll. She should seize this opportunity and prey on his vulnerability, so she added.
“In fact, there are two scrolls. The second one burnt in the fire when the Khmer Rouge attacked the Royal Temple. So you see, Mr. Whoever you are, there is no possible way the Golden Urn can be found. It is lost forever.”
The room fell eerily silent. To the point where Alex wasn’t even sure if there was anyone left in the lounge with her. Perhaps the shuffling wasn’t his discomfort with her revelation but him leaving the room. She sat silently waiting it out. The knowledge that there was a second scroll needed to find the Golden Urn might have derailed the kidnapper’s plans entirely. It could be her and Sam’s saving grace. A flicker of enthusiasm bubbled within and pushed her fears aside. Could it be that his plan had backfired and he was now forced to let them go? He would have no further use for them. Likewise, he could just as quickly kill them both.
She was aware of someone breathing behind her. The cigar smell still hung in the air; thicker than before. She knew her kidnapper must still be there. She had a distinct feeling that he was watching her every move. Like a poker player surveying his opponent or a lion ready to charge. Either way, it was his move now.
The idea of being eyeballed by a criminal made her very uncomfortable; primarily because she couldn’t see him from underneath the blindfold. She dared not show her fear. If she could maintain her confidence, he would know she was telling the truth and that could mean the difference between life and death.
Chapter Thirteen
As if the bastard read her mind, Alex heard the door he had entered the room with squeak open. Was he leaving? She didn’t detect it being shut behind him. She turned her head sideways to push her ear closer toward the entrance but got caught by surprise when one of the guards who had been behind her untied her hands. She was lifted to her feet, and the thought of escaping briefly crossed her mind. With her hands freed, she could elbow him off and make a run for the door. Her great escape was nothing more than a pipe dream when the guard pulled both her hands in front of her and tied them together. She swore under her breath for not grabbing the opportunity. Seconds later the blindfold was ripped off her face. Bright sunlight beamed through the open door forcing her to briefly shut and shield her eyes with her bound fists. There were two guards in front of her at the door and two behind her. Her stomach turned upside down. She would have stood no chance fighting off four armed guards in ninja suits.
Pushed from behind the thugs ushered her toward the open door.
“Where are you taking me?” she panicked.
They didn’t answer. Instead, the men pushed her down the narrow garden path to the black minibus that stood parked on the curb in front of the house. Once inside and with the doors closed, she noticed that all the windows had been painted with a thin layer of black paint. Though the van wasn’t completely dark inside, she couldn’t see out at all. She had hoped she’d be able to detect her location. She turned toward the front window of the vehicle, but a black screen had also blocked this off. Disheartened she stayed seated on the floor facing the black screen. Two of the guards sat on either side of her; one of them holding the rope her hands were tied to. It was entirely possible that they were going to let her go and drop her off somewhere in a ditch by the river. But what if they had no intentions on it at all?
She closed her eyes and counted the seconds the van faced forward and how many times it changed gears. She listened for street and background noises, how often the vehicle turned left and how long before it turned right. In a desperate attempt, she memorized every move to the best of her ability. It was roughly ten minutes and several turns later when she heard more commuters and traffic than before followed by the disorderly shouting of a group of merchants. A strong fishy smell filled her nostrils. It rang familiar to her; very familiar in fact. It was the fish market in the center of the town. Excitement bubbled up from within. Her pulse quickened as she realized exactly where she was. Her senses were on high alert. She might not have been able to make use of her sight from inside this bus but she sure as hell could use her other faculties to track her location.
Her wristwatch indicated fifteen minutes of driving through the town and Alex had followed the route intensely to where the vehicle eventually came to a halt. They had parked in the middle of a deserted warehouse facility that appeared to be part of an abandoned factory plant of some sort. The area was deathly quiet apart from a fierce barking dog that was chained to the security fence. Just outside the enclosed space, a faded sign read Khyadamri Inc. in big Black letters. The name didn’t ring a bell with Alex at all, so she drew her attention toward the luxury black sedan that was stationed next to a warehouse behind them. The car didn’t have any number plates or markings of any kind.
The hard tug of the rope around her wrists propelled her toward the storage facility behind the sedan. Her eyes concentrated hard on the tinted windows in the hope of seeing who was inside, but apart from another ninja costumed driver, she saw nothing else. Alex stumbled into a walk as the kidnappers dragged her past the parked car and through the warehouse door. Nothing she had ever experienced prepared her for what she caught sight of next. In the center of the dark warehouse, a bright spotlight illuminated the body of a man hanging from a suspended rope. His hands were tied to the cord above his head, and his limp body had been stripped of his shirt and shoes. The man wasn’t moving. Alex couldn’t quite see his face with his head bent down, but a horrid feeling gripped at the pit of her stomach. Her legs stopped moving as she stood staring across the dark storeroom. NO! It couldn’t be.
The guards pushed her toward the dangling body and shoved her down on a chair directly in front of the man. Positioned lower, she could clearly see his face. The stabbing pain in her heart as she realized it was Sam, knocked her breath away.
“Sam?” she let out the faintest of cries.
Sam didn’t move. Deep emotions of fear ripped through her quivering body.
“SAM!” she shouted loudly. “It’s me, Alex!”
Sam lifted his head ever so slightly. Alex stared at his face. It was so badly beaten his eyes were practically swollen shut. Blood covered his mouth and had trickled down his neck onto his chest. Across his abdomen and ribs lay deep purple bruises. It was a ghastly sight Alex knew she would never forget.
“Sam. Can you hear me?” She spoke gently, but before he could answer, she swung around to the guards who still stood firmly behind her.
“Let him down you bastards! Let him down!”
She banged her bound fists against the masked ninja’s chest and kicked him in his shin. Within seconds the other guard’s strong arms picked her up and shoved her back into the chair and tied her down.
“You won’t get away with it you bastards! Let us go!” she screamed.
Sam let out a faint groan. “Alex.”
Hearing Sam’s voice instantly stopped her from fighting.
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“Sam? Are you ok?” She asked.
He was barely alive. Sam groaned softly again in an attempt to speak.
“Don’t worry Sam. I’m going to get us out of here. Hang tight,” cringing as she realized the inappropriate double intent of her words. “Crap! Sorry! You know what I mean,” she stumbled through her apology as she frantically looked from side to side for a way out. The spotlight behind her blinded her from seeing anything other than Sam’s tortured body in front of her.
“Come out, you bastard!” She shouted toward the door. “I know you’re in here.”
She tried shuffling the chair around, but it was too heavy for her to lift without the use of her hands. She shouted again.
“Hey! Asshole. I know you’re in here. Your fancy car is parked outside. I demand you let Sam go!”
Loud contemptuous applause pierced through the darkness behind her.
“This is quite the performance, Miss Hunt,” the kidnapper said. “In fact, I could watch you squirm all day.”
Alex turned her head toward him.
“Yeah well, I’d think twice about that if I were you. Show your face, you coward,” she dared while trying to not let her shaking knees give away the terror that tortured her body inside.
The kidnapper laughed out loud. “You are hilarious, Miss Hunt; acting all tough with me. I don’t think you quite understand the situation before you. Look at him. How long do you think your boyfriend will last, huh?”
Alex looked back at Sam who was barely conscious. His arms were pale as all the blood from his veins had been drained. His wrists exposed lines of raw flesh beneath the ropes in an obvious effort to fight his way out of the tightly bound string. He most certainly was too weak to fight anyone off, much less escape, but if there were one thing Alex knew, it was that Sam Quinn was far more resilient than his put together happy-go-lucky demeanor displayed. As if Sam read her thoughts, he pinned his swollen eyes directly to hers and gave her a faint smile. He still had fight left in him, and he knew Alex would fight to protect the relic until the very end.
The Alex Hunt Series Page 30
