Security

by Mandy Baggot

  “I can’t answer that.”

  “For God’s sake!”

  “Put it this way, Autumn, if As-Wana wants him badly enough to have you kidnapped, he’s a marked man. If the British government wants him badly enough they’re involving your mother to oil the wheels of the kidnap plot then…”

  “Okay, I get it. He’s screwed no matter what he does. So why am I here? Why am I risking my life? Why are we risking your life when the likelihood is…”

  He could hear the sentiment in her tone. The tears were so close to the surface, and she was starting to sniff. He turned his head to look at her, but he couldn’t see anything, just a vague shadow through the material of the sack covering his head.

  “We’re doing this because we have to try, and because it’s the right thing to do,” he told her.

  “Do you always do the right thing?” she asked.

  “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life.”

  “That wasn’t what I asked.”

  “I always try to do the right thing. But the right thing in my eyes might not be the right thing in the eyes of the world.”

  “You’ve got strong morals. That’s more than most people I’ve surrounded myself with. Juan and Janey, two people closest to me, and they hated me,” Autumn said.

  “We all get misled by people.”

  “You don’t.”

  “Oh, I’ve been misled, believe me.”

  She heard him let out a noise of exasperation, and she turned her head toward him.

  “Who misled you?”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s not important.”

  “Yes, it is. I want to know.”

  “It isn’t the time.”

  “What? It’s exactly the time! What else are we going to do? Rock, paper, scissors is out,” she told him.

  She felt his shoulder tense next to hers, and she assumed he was taking in a deep breath.

  “Nigel Farlow, the guy whose name I told you to use to convince As-Wana I had information, he misled me,” Nathan began.

  “Who is he? Did he work with you? Was he a soldier?”

  “He was supposed to be a friend. Not just a comrade, you know. A friend. He came to my house. I invited him into my home, our home.”

  Autumn sensed the anger and regret in his voice. She didn’t speak for fear of him clamming up again. She wanted to learn something about him. She wanted to know what angered him, what or who had questioned his values.

  “Then I found out. He was about to betray everyone, and I couldn’t let that happen. He tried to play me. He tried to tell me that what he was doing was for the greater good. But he was putting other people in danger, other soldiers, other friends of mine, good people, normal, un-manipulated people. And I didn’t believe him about the ‘greater good’. He’d been turned. Money and greed had turned him, just like it turns everyone who’s weak and spineless,” Nathan spat.

  “What happened?” she dared to ask.

  She heard movement outside the room, talking and footsteps heading toward them. She felt Nathan shift away from her again, and she braced herself, trying to prepare for whatever was to come.

  The bolts slid back and the door squeaked open. She closed her eyes and began to count under her breath. She had to be strong, for her father, for Nathan, for herself. She could do this. Whatever they asked her to do, she could survive it.

  “Up!” Tariq’s voice ordered.

  A pair of hands grabbed her left arm and hauled her from the floor. She winced as the fingers dug into her skin, feeling it bruise.

  “Where are you taking me? What are we doing? Where are we going?” she shouted out for Nathan’s benefit.

  “Shut up! Move!” Tariq demanded.

  She made him drag her up the corridor. She knew what she was going to be asked to do, and she knew the plan was to cooperate, but she didn’t want to make it easy for them.

  “Why are you doing this?” she asked Tariq.

  She had to connect with them on a human level, that’s what Nathan had told her. Despite their beliefs, hurting, maiming, and killing was wrong, and she had to appeal to their moral core. Most people still had one, no matter how deep their involvement with dark practices. Try to sensitize them and connect with their humanity. She wasn’t sure she had ever tried that with anyone she cared about, let alone someone she despised.

  “Shut up!”

  “Is that the only English you know?” Autumn asked. “Because back at the church, you seemed quite fluent.”

  The comment earned her a thump in the back with the gun/machete/broom handle, and she took a breath and let out a cough.

  She was pushed forward then, and another set of arms took hold of her and propelled her downwards. She found the seat of a chair and her hood was pulled from her head. Straight away, the light in the room distorted all her senses. She blinked and blinked again and tried to focus on her new surroundings and the people in them.

  “Miss Raine,” the leader addressed her.

  She looked up at him. He wore the uniform shawl over his head and face, and sunglasses covered his eyes. He looked like an archetypal terrorist. If she wasn’t so terrified by the sight of the guns the other members of the group were holding, it might have been amusing. But she knew how feared As-Wana was by the world. The group was eclipsing the horrors committed by Al Qaeda. Hundreds had died already, and they were persistent. The threat never went away.

  “We will not hurt you, Miss Raine, as long as you do exactly what we say. We are not bad men. We just need to speak with your father.”

  “My father’s dead.”

  Autumn turned away from him, but as she moved her head he grabbed her battered cheek and snapped her head back toward him. She gasped and met his eyes. They were black, like bottomless holes of dark earth, no sign of light or life.

  “Do not dare to think we are foolish!”

  “I don’t…I wouldn’t…I’m sorry,” Autumn whimpered.

  The pain was too much, her resolve was slipping already. Who was she trying to kid that she had this in hand?

  “You will look right into the camera,” the leader said, and thrust a piece of paper at her, “and you will read this.”

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  There was the small edge of the head of a nail, well, he assumed that’s what it was, sticking out just slightly from the baseboard. He needed to get out of the bindings. It would take a while to loosen the rope enough to start working his hands out. He also needed to take care not to make it look tampered with in case they came back for him later.

  He rubbed the rope against the nail and thought about Nigel Farlow. That man had changed everything for him back then. Could the name and some of the knowledge that man had imparted end up saving him now?

  He felt one small twine come free. It was almost as if a jailor had opened the gates.

  Autumn looked at the writing and tried to decipher it. Some words were smudged and crossed out. It looked to be in English, but it was poorly written and almost illegible.

  “If you read it, no harm will come to you,” the leader said.

  She could feel his eyes on her, but she concentrated on the words on the page.

  This wasn’t a plea for her father to come. This was a statement, a list of his “wrong-doings,” which would be paid for with her life. It was supposed to be subliminal, she guessed, but what if it was too subliminal? What if her father didn’t believe them? What if he thought national security was more important than her? It was more important than her, obviously, but that didn’t mean she wanted to be sacrificed for it. And what if he didn’t even see the plea? They weren’t going to be broadcasting it on the BBC World News or NBC, were they? What if her father didn’t watch the Iraq/Afghan/Arab television networks? She didn’t even know exactly where As-Wana originated from!

  “It says, here, you’re going to kill me, but you just told me no harm will come to me. Which is it?” Autumn asked, trying to steady her voice.

  She locked a gaze with t
he leader of the group, but it was hard to know whether he was looking back at her because of the dark sunglasses.

  Across the room, her eyes moved to Tariq. She knew it was him because of the shoes he wore. He was toying with the strap on his machine gun, and she couldn’t stop herself from counting his movements. One…two…three…four…five.

  She let out a cough, and the noise was met with the blunt end of a gun punched into her already bruised cheek. She retched, and her body folded in two on the chair as she hugged her legs to her.

  “Do not anger me! Do not try to be clever!” he screamed, his voice only slightly muffled by the scarf covering his face.

  “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Please, don’t hurt me,” she begged.

  She’d dissolved into tears. The whole situation had built up. The enormity of the precarious position she was in overwhelmed her. She just wanted this over with, no matter what the outcome. She wanted it over.

  “I…I’m here because of the actions of my father, and I will be executed…”

  Tears streamed down her cheeks, and she had to stop to control her breathing. She was giving off the exact image they wanted. She was the consummate hostage.

  She closed her eyes and tried to envision her father’s face. The only photo she had was the one she carried in her purse and they’d taken that from her before they’d put her in the van. It was a picture taken in one of those booths on a day trip to the beach. He’d been wearing a light blue shirt, and he’d spilled ice cream down the front of it. In the photo, he was laughing a mouth open, full-on belly laugh, his eyes crinkling, his cheeks puffy. The ice cream was in his hand, dripping down the front of his shirt, and Autumn was sticking her tongue out at the camera and holding onto his shoulder as she sat on his knee.

  “Tomorrow, midnight, GMT,” the leader added for her.

  Autumn dropped her script to the floor and hung her head.

  He stopped rubbing the rope against the nail when he heard the footsteps moving along the corridor, and shifted back into the position he’d been left in.

  The bolts were drawn back with a dull thud. Footsteps retreated, the door was re-bolted, and there was silence.

  “Autumn?” Nathan called, shuffling his feet to propel himself across the floor.

  There was no response.

  “Autumn,” he repeated.

  He hoped he was moving in the right direction. There was no sound, not even a breath. His heart quickened as panic gripped him. What if he’d been wrong about everything? What if this had nothing to do with Rick, and everything to do with him? What if this was about Nigel Farlow, or about him? They could have just taken Autumn and killed her, outthought everything. Were they that clever?

  His foot touched something, and in the shadow of his hood, he tried to make out a shape, get his bearings.

  “Autumn, for fuck’s sake, speak to me,” he ordered. His voice came out rough, but it was tinged with concern. He didn’t want to fuck this up.

  She let out a groan. It was enough for him to maneuver himself around, find her, and get her into a sitting position.

  Fuck this situation! If he knew they were finished with him for the night, he could cut through the bindings, get their hoods off, and make her more comfortable. But he couldn’t take that risk yet.

  He grabbed a handful of material, and, using all his body weight and the limited movement in his hands, dragged her across the floor toward the wall.

  “Autumn, you’re going to have to help me,” he told her.

  There was no response.

  “Autumn, I don’t need you to turn back into that fashion obsessed, pain in the ass snob right now. Wake up! Help me!”

  He felt her body tense, and with minimal cooperation, he managed to get them both over to the wall. By the time he managed to get her back into a sitting position, they were both out of breath.

  “Did they hurt you?” he asked.

  “My face,” she said.

  Her voice was weak and hoarse. They both badly needed water. Hours had to have passed, although he had no real idea. They’d both been stripped of watches and everything else except the clothes they wore.

  “They hit you?” Nathan clarified.

  He clenched his teeth together and exhaled through his nose. He would find a way to kill them all, every one of them.

  “I’m so cold,” Autumn said.

  Her teeth chattered and her shoulders shook.

  “What did they make you do? Lean into me,” he directed, turning his shoulder sideways so she could move across his chest.

  “They made me read to a camera. Made me recite what an evil man my father was…is. They made me say that I would be…executed…tomorrow, at midnight.”

  Nathan closed his eyes and tried not to give away any of his feelings through his body language. They hadn’t bothered making up a ransom demand. They hadn’t appealed directly to Rick to give himself over in exchange for Autumn. This was as direct as it got. If no one came for Autumn now, she was dead. The group had staked its reputation on it.

  “That’s what I expected. I should have briefed you,” he said to console her.

  “If he doesn’t come, they’ll have to kill me, won’t they?” Autumn asked.

  He closed his eyes again, and this time, didn’t try to hide the inhalation of air as he considered how to respond. She wasn’t stupid. She knew, no matter what he said. But, as long as he had oxygen in his lungs, nothing was going to happen to her.

  “Autumn, I’m not going to let anything happen to you, d’you hear me? I didn’t take this job not to see it through. I understood the remit at the time. Yes, things have changed, but the aim is the same. I’m here for your security. I’m here to protect you.”

  For a second, as he talked, her teeth stopped chattering, her shoulders stopped trembling, and she was soothed by his words and the familiarity of his voice.

  “I wish I could hold you,” she whispered.

  She felt his head touch hers. “Keep that thought,” he replied.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Autumn fell asleep. Her body became heavier, and, using his chest, he lowered her to a lying position across his lap. It was good that she slept. For one, it relieved the boredom of sitting in a locked room where all you could do was think. For another, when all you could do was think about whether your next twenty-four hours would be your last, it was better not to think at all.

  His whole body tensed when he heard footsteps approach. This was what he’d thought would happen. They were coming for him.

  He remained still, not wanting to wake Autumn yet. She was breathing so peacefully, her body in perfect rest.

  The footsteps approached, and he squeezed his eyes shut as the bolts were unlatched.

  “Autumn, you need to wake up. They’re coming back,” he whispered.

  She murmured, and as gently as he could, he shifted her off of him and scampered away from her.

  The door creaked open.

  Her eyes were sore, and her mouth was dry. She was lying on the floor, and it took a few seconds before she realized where she was. There were people in the room. Nathan, where was Nathan?

  She tried to sit up, but she couldn’t move.

  “Get up! Get him up!” the leader of the group yelled.

  “Nathan!” she called, her voice giving away her terror.

  There was no response to her anguished cry, just more scuffling then the slam of the door. She was alone.

  The room engulfed her in silence. She had started to count as soon as he had left the room and was now up to eight-thousand and ninety-five. She couldn’t go on. She couldn’t count indefinitely. What if he didn’t come back? As she processed that thought, her heart lurched. Maybe that was why he wasn’t back. He wasn’t coming back. They had killed him. A sick feeling manifested itself in her gut, rising up into her throat. She swallowed it back down as her eyes spilled hot tears. What would she do if he was gone? He had become everything to her. Everything. In a few days, she had gone fro
m thinking he was a vulgar, rough bastard to believing he was the person she wanted to spend her life with. He was good. He made her good.

  There were shouts coming from outside the door. Autumn held her breath and closed her eyes.

  Was he alive? Was he coming back?

  The door opened and he fell to the floor. Every part of him throbbed with pain. He tried to open his eyes, to get a sense of where he was. One eye opened steadily, the other he could barely blink.

  “Nathan! Are you all right?”

  He heard her call, but her voice sounded like it was in a vacuum. He’d taken several blows to the head with a chair, as well as a beating from all four members of the group in turn. He’d fought back to begin with, as much as you could with both your hands bound, but eventually, he’d run out of energy. He needed to let them have their way, and, at least while they battered him with blunt objects and their fists, they weren’t holding a gun to his head.

  He needed to get the rope from his and Autumn’s hands. They wouldn’t be coming back for them tonight. They had to ensure their video went live and was distributed to the appropriate channels.

  “Nathan,” Autumn called again.

  He crawled on his stomach in the direction he thought the nail in the wall was. It was painfully slow, every inch felt like a mile, but he had to get Autumn untied, get some water into her, make her more comfortable.

  “I’m…okay,” he said. Forming the words took effort, but he continued on, dragging his aching body toward the wall.

  “You’ve been gone such a long time. I was worried. I thought they had… What did they do to you?” she asked.

  “Just…give me a…minute,” he croaked. He felt along the baseboard for the nail. Where the fuck was it? His finger found it at last, and he began furiously rubbing the rope against it.

  “Are you hurt? Nathan, where are you? Please come here.”