Two FBI thrillers: Before Nightfall and Mistake Creek

by Rachel Amphlett

  The woman stared at Cynthia for what seemed an age, opened her mouth to speak, and then seemed to change her mind. ‘I saw nothing.’

  She began to close the door.

  Cynthia put her hand out to stop her. ‘Please – if you didn’t see anything, did you hear anything? Perhaps one of your neighbours saw something?’

  The woman’s lip trembled, and she nodded. She checked over her shoulder towards the room, then turned to Cynthia. ‘I heard screaming,’ she said, then jumped back in surprise as Finn pushed himself away from the wall and joined Cynthia.

  ‘This is my brother,’ said Cynthia hurriedly. ‘Please – we’re both very worried about her.’ Her mind raced. ‘She needs medication – the people that took her might not know.’

  Finn patted her gently on her back. Well done.

  The woman sighed. ‘I heard screaming, but I stayed in my room.’ She gathered her shawl around her shoulders and held it tightly between her fingers. ‘I was scared.’

  ‘I understand.’

  ‘What time was that?’ asked Finn, his voice urgent.

  The woman shrugged. ‘About eight o’clock,’ she said. ‘I had just returned from taking my daughter to school.’

  ‘What else did you hear?’

  ‘Voices, shouting. A gun.’ Her hands shook. ‘That is why I did not look.’

  Cynthia reached out and took the woman’s shaking hand in her own. ‘We understand.’

  ‘The woman was screaming for help. I think she tried to escape – I heard shouting, then another vehicle. It sounded like it skidded before stopping. Then more screaming and shouting.’ She lowered her head and carefully removed her hands from Cynthia’s. ‘And then the vehicles drove away very quickly.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Finn. ‘You’ve been a great help.’

  The woman nodded and began to close the door.

  Cynthia turned to Finn. ‘Now what? Try the neighbour opposite?’

  ‘That’s exactly what we’re going to do – keep going until…’

  ‘Speak to Melike, downstairs.’

  They both turned at the sound of the woman’s voice.

  ‘I’m sorry – what did you say?’ asked Finn.

  ‘Melike – she lives downstairs.’ The woman smiled slightly. ‘She is nosy. Sits in her chair all day, watching the courtyard. Speak to her.’

  With that, she stepped away and closed the door, the sound of bolts being pulled across echoing in the passageway.

  Finn pushed Cynthia in front of him. ‘Come on.’

  ‘What about the neighbour here?’

  ‘We can always come back. Follow the lead first, in case we run out of time.’ Finn checked his watch. ‘It’s going to be sundown soon – people won’t open their doors to strangers around here once it gets dark.’

  They hurried down the stairs and towards the apartment of the woman they’d been told about. Finn drew Cynthia to a stop on the next landing.

  ‘Wait. Get your breath back. Relax, or you’ll scare her.’

  ‘Okay.’

  Cynthia leaned against the wall next to Finn, and patted her face with her scarf.

  He turned to her. ‘You did well back there.’

  ‘Really?’ she smiled. ‘Thanks. Although I nearly freaked out when she started closing that door, and I knew she wasn’t telling us something.’

  ‘Me too. You ready to go again?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Go on then – you know what to do.’

  Cynthia steadied her breathing, then took two steps towards the door and knocked.

  After what seemed an age, the sound of a bolt being drawn back was quickly followed by the door being opened.

  A wizened face peered out, the woman’s features lined and crinkled. Her brown eyes darkened with suspicion.

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘A stranger in need of some help,’ said Cynthia, smiling.

  ‘Heh.’ The woman glared at Finn, then back at Cynthia. ‘You look too rich to need help.’

  ‘Please, your neighbour mentioned that you might have seen my sister taken by some men this morning – after the car accident?’

  ‘What of it?’

  ‘I need to find her. She’s very sick.’

  The old woman pressed her lips together and worked her mouth.

  Finn swore under his breath. He could almost see the wheels turning in the woman’s mind. Easing himself away from the wall, he extracted some money from his pocket.

  ‘How much?’

  The woman’s eyes sparkled. ‘What is she worth to you?’

  Finn sighed, folded the notes and handed them all to the woman. ‘Everything,’ he said.

  The woman grabbed the money before he could change his mind. Then slammed the door shut and bolted it.

  ‘Shit.’ Finn spun on his heel and punched the wall.

  ‘Hook, line and sinker,’ murmured Cynthia.

  ‘Shut up.’

  ‘Maybe we knocked on the wrong door?’

  ‘No. We had the right door. Shit.’

  They both jumped at the sound of the door re-opening. The woman held out a piece of paper to Finn.

  ‘Here. For you.’

  Finn frowned, took the paper and turned it over. The licence plate of a vehicle was scrawled across the page in spidery, uneven handwriting.

  ‘You,’ the woman said, pointing at Finn. ‘Why do you really want to find her?’

  Finn looked at the piece of paper, then back at the woman.

  ‘Because I think I love her.’

  9

  Kate opened her eyes, woken from sleep by a noise outside the door.

  She frowned and peered up at the window. The sky had darkened, the last of the sun’s rays casting shadows across the window sill.

  A faint metallic sound preceded the bolts being drawn back and the door opened, the teenaged boy balancing a tray in one hand while he carefully manoeuvred through the opening.

  He pushed the door closed with his foot and approached Kate’s mattress with the food.

  She smiled at him. ‘Hello.’

  She flinched at the sight of a purplish bruise covering the boy’s cheek. Moving across the room, she sat on the mattress, her hands resting on her knees as he lowered the tray, arranged bowls of food and a fresh bottle of water on the floor, and then gathered up the used plates.

  ‘My name’s Kate,’ she said, pointing at her chest.

  The boy glanced towards her, then away, a shy smile brushing his lips.

  ‘Kate.’ She repeated, and then pointed at him. ‘What’s your name?’

  The boy checked over his shoulder towards the door, then back towards her.

  ‘Halim,’ he murmured.

  ‘Hello, Halim,’ Kate smiled. She pointed to the bowls of food on the floor. ‘Would you like some fruit?’

  The boy frowned.

  Kate leaned forward, picked off a sprig of grapes and held them out to the boy. ‘Here.’

  He rubbed his hands on his jeans, peered over his shoulder again at the door, then nodded and took the grapes.

  ‘Teşekkürler.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ Kate smiled and picked some grapes for herself, then sat against the wall.

  Small steps, Kate. Nice and slow.

  The sound of a door slamming shut below her room shook the walls, and Halim jumped to his feet, guilt flashing across his face. He bent down, picked up the tray and hurried from the room, his cheeks plumped out by the last grapes he’d put in his mouth.

  As the bolts slipped back into place, Kate pulled a bowl containing a vegetable stew towards her and began forking it into her mouth, remembering Finn’s advice to keep her strength up.

  ‘No sense in escaping if you run out of steam in the first mile,’ he’d said.

  Finishing the food, she pushed the bowls out of the way, then stood and tested her weight on her ankle. She bent down and peeled back the hem of her trousers then wrinkled her nose at the bruising which covered her skin.

  ‘De
finitely less painful, though,’ she murmured and patted the cloth back into place.

  She rubbed her wrist where the metal clasp now encircled her skin.

  The noise of the chain already burned into her consciousness, and she knew that if she survived the ordeal, she’d wake to that noise in her nightmares for a long time.

  She gathered up the slack on the chain and began to walk around the room, letting her mind wander. During the training, Finn and his boss had told their audience to try to keep their minds active if captured and held hostage in order to prevent themselves from spiralling into depression.

  She thought about her captors – so far she’d met three of them. She was sure the younger man with the gun, Yusuf, had been the one to drag her from the car. The bruise on his cheek looked like she’d managed to hit him when he’d pushed her into the people carrier. He seemed on edge, violent, and someone who she’d have to be careful around, if she was going to survive her ordeal.

  Then there was the older man. She tried to guess his age and put him in his early sixties. He seemed to report to Yusuf, but still held some sort of authority in the pecking order, demonstrated by the way the younger man had sought his counsel before moving Kate to another room.

  Or maybe he owned the building she was held in?

  Then there was Halim. How on earth had a young teenager been caught up in this? Was he related to one of the kidnappers?

  She cursed under her breath, wishing she still had her watch. Somewhere between the car and her prison, it had been lost – or taken.

  Her mind snapped back to the hostage survival course. Something Finn had said about marking time. What was it?

  She frowned, her palm against her forehead and her eyes closed while she tried to recall the classroom sessions.

  Day marks.

  She walked over to the window. The sill was at least a hand width above her head. Placing her palms on it, she heaved herself up and peered out through the painted glass. She brought up her free hand to scratch away a section of it, and then stopped. A freshly cleaned pane of glass would be a giveaway if any of her captors looked up at her room from the street below.

  She traced her finger across the dust on the window sill, following the track of the sun’s shadow.

  Then her heart lurched. That was it.

  Scratch a surface where the sun’s rays fall, Finn had said. Each time you’re fed, make another mark. That way you’ll have a rough way to tell the time of day.

  Kate smiled, surprised at how much she remembered and how much she missed Finn’s voice, even if he had usually been scolding her.

  She checked over her shoulder. With any luck, the window sill was high enough that her captors wouldn’t notice the marks she planned to make. Each time Halim brought her food, she would mark the window sill along the sun’s shadow, creating a crude clock.

  She eased back from the window and returned to the mattress. Exercise, a way to tell the time, food and water.

  Progress.

  ***

  The electrician bent over the workbench and carefully soldered the wire into place.

  The other men in the room watched him in silence. Most smoked cigarettes to ease their nerves, the air around them pungent and grey. A murmured comment was waved away irritably, the speaker chastised.

  The electrician put the soldering iron down onto the workbench, straightened and stretched his neck and shoulder muscles. He turned to Yusuf, who was towering over him.

  ‘That is as much as I can do,’ he said.

  Yusuf stepped closer, scratched his neat beard and frowned. ‘Will it do anything now?’

  The electrician shrugged. ‘It will emit a small blast – maybe an area of a few metres, but nothing compared to the damage it would cause with the right parts.’

  ‘We’re working on that, Mehmet.’

  The electrician nodded.

  ‘And it is safe here?’ the bearded man nodded towards the workbench.

  ‘As long as no-one touches it, yes. I won’t arm it until you tell me to.’

  Yusuf nodded and turned to face the other men in the room. ‘Alright, you heard him – stay away from the workbench – unless you want to be scraped off the walls.’

  A nervous laugh permeated the room, the men’s demeanour respectful as they watched the electrician tidy his tools away.

  Yusuf walked across the floor of the garage towards an office which had been built into the back corner. It now served as a workspace for the small group of men, while the levels above offered basic living quarters. He pushed the office door open, and extracted a packet of cigarettes from the top pocket of his shirt. He jumped as he realised he wasn’t alone.

  ‘It goes well?’

  The voice came from a man who lounged in one of the chairs, his hands moving over the electronics detritus and paperwork which lay strewn across the table.

  Yusuf recovered from his shock and ignored his shaking hand as he lit his cigarette. ‘It does, Mr Kaan, yes. We are ready. As soon as we have the parts from Mr Hart, we will be in a position to proceed.’

  Kaan nodded. ‘Good.’ He stood and stretched. ‘And the woman?’

  ‘Shaken. We had to move her to the front room for now – she was making too much noise in the room we had prepared for her.’

  ‘Is that wise?’

  ‘I think she’s claustrophobic. She understands that if she makes any noise, she’ll be back where she was before. I think she will not be a problem – she seems calmer now that there is a small window.’

  ‘Keep an eye on her, Yusuf. Don’t get soft.’ Kaan pointed to the bruise on the other man’s cheek. ‘She’s already bested you once.’

  Yusuf scowled. ‘Have you spoken to Hart?’

  Kaan smiled. ‘Not yet. Let him sweat a bit. I need him to know that I’m serious about this.’ A frown creased his forehead. ‘He will learn very quickly that I am not the sort of person who takes kindly to people reneging on their promises.’

  Yusuf remained silent and watched Kaan pace the room.

  ‘Your men – they are reliable?’

  ‘Yes, and keen to start.’

  Kaan smiled. ‘That is good to hear.’ He walked to the door and held it open. ‘I will make the call to Hart. Tell your men that they will soon be martyrs for our great cause.’

  Yusuf bowed his head, waited until Kaan left the warehouse through the back door, and then breathed out slowly. He closed his eyes, took a shaking drag on his cigarette, then turned and walked out to where the rest of the men were waiting expectantly.

  ***

  Finn and Cynthia returned to Hart’s offices in silence, each lost in thought.

  Finn’s mind raced. Where the hell had that admission about his feelings for Kate come from? And blurting it out to a complete stranger at that?

  He rubbed his ear lobe and tried to concentrate on his driving, especially after Cynthia hissed through her teeth after one particular near miss at a busy intersection.

  He drove a convoluted route back to the building which housed the offices. Once satisfied that they were not being followed, he steered the vehicle into the car park underneath.

  He climbed out and waited for Cynthia to join him before locking the car and turning towards the elevators.

  ‘Well,’ said Cynthia. ‘I didn’t see that coming.’

  Finn remained silent and touched the slip of paper in his pocket.

  ‘Does she know?’

  ‘I doubt it. The last time I saw her was six months ago.’

  ‘Mmm. And that didn’t exactly go well…’

  ‘I almost called her, you know, a few months back.’

  Cynthia turned to him in surprise. ‘You did?’

  He nodded. ‘She phoned – a few weeks after the course. Left a couple of messages with Steve.’

  ‘For you?’

  ‘Yeah. Said she wanted some advice before leaving England.’

  ‘You think that was true? Or was she offering you an olive branch?’

 
; Finn stopped and allowed Cynthia into the elevator car ahead of him. He remained lost in thought as the elevator ascended.

  What would he have told Kate if he’d seen her since the hostage training? Would he have warned her off, told her about his past?

  Was it just the circumstances of their lives being thrown together again that made him feel this way?

  ‘Finn?’

  He blinked. Cynthia stood outside the elevator door waiting for him, a quizzical expression on her face.

  ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said brusquely, pushing past her and striding along the corridor. ‘I’m fine.’

  ‘What have you got?’ asked Steve as Finn and Cynthia walked into the command post.

  Finn held up the slip of paper. ‘We got lucky.’ He handed over the licence plate number. ‘Do you know anyone who can dig around for that on the quiet?’

  ‘I know a guy who might be able to help.’

  ‘Go for it.’

  ‘I thought we weren’t getting the police involved,’ said Cynthia.

  ‘We aren’t,’ said Finn. ‘We don’t know who we’re dealing with yet.’ He tipped his head towards Steve, who leaned against Ian’s desk, mobile phone held to his ear. ‘Steve has contacts in different security services – they might be able to help us. If the vehicle’s been used in criminal activity before, it might be flagged in one of their systems.’

  After half an hour, Steve put the phone into his back pocket. ‘It’s in their hands now. There’s nothing more I can do,’ he said.

  The waiting drove Finn insane. He alternated between watching the clock on the wall and the silent phone, while he sat in a chair and tapped his foot on the carpet of Ian’s office until Cynthia and Steve told him to stop, both at their wits’ end with his impatience.

  He wondered what he’d do when they found Kate – and what he’d do to the man who had taken her. Would she be thinking of him? Would she know he was doing all he could to find her?

  They jumped as the ringing of the mobile phone interrupted their thoughts.

  Steve put it to his ear and listened to what the caller had to say. He mumbled a response, then put the phone down, looked at Finn, and shook his head.