Blood Ransom

by Lisa Harris

  She stormed from the room, slamming the kitchen door closed behind her.

  Chad drummed his fingers against his legs. “I guess that didn’t go so well.”

  “She’s scared,” Natalie said. “And I think there’s more. When I brought up Patrick, she had to defend him. Like she already knew he might be involved in something.” Natalie knew Rachel had a generous heart and a deep love for her people, but that didn’t mean she was immune from avoiding the truth. “I’ll try to talk to her.”

  Natalie opened the door into the small kitchen, praying she could convince Rachel to help them. Her friend stood in front of the sink, her hands resting on the edge of the counter. She looked up as Natalie entered, then pulled a bag of cornmeal from the small cupboard.

  “I’m sure you all are hungry. I don’t keep a lot of food in the house, but I can make some goza and sauce. Patrick recently bought me a gas stove. It’s a lot quicker than cooking over charcoal.”

  “We didn’t mean to upset you. Maybe we shouldn’t have come.”

  “No.” Rachel grabbed a large pot from the cupboard. “It’s okay. I’ve always told you that you were welcome here, and I meant it. It’s just that…”

  “That what, Rachel?”

  Without answering Rachel turned on the tap, filled the pot with water, and set it on the stove to boil.

  “You saw the faces of those people, Rachel,” Natalie began. “Many of them died on that mountain. And if we don’t find out the truth, more will die, including Joseph’s father. I don’t want that to happen, and I know you don’t either.”

  “Stop!” Rachel began chopping another onion, narrowing her eyes as the strong smell made her eyes water. “Patrick never spoke to me about the Ghost Soldiers or a slave trade.”

  “We just want answers, and I believe the place to start is with the demographic reports. But in the meantime they’ve put out a reward on us.”

  “I can’t believe Patrick’s involved in something like this, but those photos…Has Patrick seen the photos?”

  Natalie nodded.

  “Then he knows the truth, and he’s still trying to cover it up.” Rachel spoke like it was a fact rather than a question.

  “What else do you know?”

  Rachel shrugged. “I’ve heard the stories about the Ghost Soldiers. Everyone has. People disappearing into the night and being worked as slaves in the mines. Anyone who tries to escape or is too weak to work is brutally murdered in front of their family. I never wanted to believe it. Patrick always assured me that they weren’t anything more than rumors spread by the opposition to discredit the president—”

  There was a bang on the front door. Natalie jumped. Surely the police hadn’t found them. They’d been careful they weren’t followed and had even left the car a mile down the road. There was no way anyone could know they were here. Unless…

  “I’m sorry.” Rachel pressed her hand against her mouth.

  “Please say you didn’t call the authorities.”

  Tears welled in Rachel’s eyes. “I promised Patrick I’d let them know if you showed up. When you called me to get directions, I thought…I believed Patrick.”

  “And you called the police.”

  “I’ll get rid of them. I promise.”

  Natalie froze, still not sure if she should trust her. But what choice did she have?

  “Quickly.” Rachel swept into the living room ahead of Natalie and motioned at the door at the end of the hall. “Hide in my room for now. I don’t have anywhere safe to hide you if they search the house, but I’ll try and convince them you left.”

  Natalie grabbed the photos from the coffee table and followed Chad and Joseph down the short hallway and into Rachel’s bedroom. She slid onto the floor behind the double bed. Rachel was either putting her own life at risk, or setting a trap that would land them all in prison.

  THIRTY-TWO

  WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 1:31 P.M. EST

  NORTH BETHESDA, MARYLAND

  Gabby took a sip of water and eyed the lunch Sabrina had picked up for her on the way home. She’d tried to eat, but the now cold French fries and ham sandwich sitting on the edge of her computer desk turned her stomach. She flipped her cell phone over and over between her fingers. On the drive home from the airport, she’d reviewed everyone on the list she’d interviewed. But unless someone stepped forward and claimed responsibility for the threat she’d received on her phone, narrowing down whom she’d angered enough to seek revenge wasn’t going to be easy.

  She quickly scanned her social networks, Twitter, Facebook, and her blog comments, but decided to forgo any updates for the moment. No need announcing to the world where she was. Not until she knew how seriously she should take the phone threat.

  Instead she scrolled through her e-mails, erasing the junk mail, marking the upcoming singles’ party at church on her calendar, and setting a reminder for next week’s dentist appointment. She stopped at a message from Natalie Sinclair.

  Thought you might be interested in this. I went to a village that one of my translators claimed was attacked by a group of Ghost Soldiers. I’m attaching several photos he took. Call me when you get home and we can talk.

  —Natalie Sinclair

  Gabby clicked on the attached photos. Her empty stomach roiled at the graphic images and the terror on the victims’ faces. No matter how many times she saw evidence of abuse, it always struck her afresh. She clicked through the photos again. Natalie had mentioned she was aware of the dangerous working conditions of some of the mine workers and then had brought up the Ghost Soldiers.

  What if there’s more involved than just the exploitation of workers…

  Gabby rubbed her temple. What had Natalie meant? Was there a connection between her research and the Ghost Soldiers? Patrick Seko’s explanation had made sense, but what if the missing villagers had nothing to do with nomadic practices and were instead victims of violent mercenaries? Like the photos suggested.

  Picking up her cell phone, she punched in the fifteen digits of Natalie’s number. The phone rang a half dozen times, then switched to voice mail. She clicked open the next e-mail while waiting to leave a message.

  Her heart froze.

  “Drop the story. It’s not worth your life.”

  Gabby clicked the phone shut and reread the message. No subject line. No sender information. Tracing the author would be impossible due to remailers who stripped e-mail messages of all electronic ties. She pressed her hands against the desk and tried to breathe, wondering what exactly it was that she’d stumbled on to.

  THIRTY-THREE

  WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 7:44 P.M.

  RACHEL BOTELA’S APARTMENT, BOGAMA

  Chad’s heart beat in his throat as he crouched in the corner of Rachel’s bedroom. He’d seen the photos and heard Joseph’s account of what happened in the village. He knew what these men were capable of doing.

  An arrow of guilt shot through him. If they were found, they could all be charged with treason, including Rachel. His father had once had a friend who’d been arrested on political charges. The man had vanished without a trace.

  Voices rose in the other room. Footsteps shuffled. Chad held his breath and started praying. Someone shouted. A sick feeling rose in Chad’s gut. If Rachel was playing for the other side…

  Natalie sat beside him staring at the floor. He wanted to pull her into his arms and tell her that everything was going to be all right, except he couldn’t promise that. He couldn’t promise anything. Instead he took her hand and squeezed it gently. She glanced up at him, some of the determination back in her eyes.

  Joseph sat on the other side of her, a young boy who’d seen far more in his fifteen years than anyone should see in a lifetime. Even if they did manage to make it out of here alive, the emotional scars were going to take time to heal.

  A minute later a door slammed. He heard a bolt slide into place…light footsteps down the hallway…The bedroom door creaked open.

  Rachel stood in the doo
rway. “They’re gone.”

  Beside him, Natalie trembled. He pulled her tight against his shoulder, careful not to touch her wound. “Thank you, Rachel.”

  Rachel sat down on the edge of the bed and rested her face in her hands. “He’ll kill me if he finds out what I’ve just done.”

  “He won’t find out. For all they know, you told him the truth.” Chad helped Natalie to her feet. “Which means we’ve got to get out of here now.”

  “Wait a minute.” Rachel looked up at him. “I don’t think it’s safe for you to leave.”

  Natalie coughed. “It’s certainly not safe here.”

  Rachel started back down the hall in front of them. In the living room she drew the curtains closed. “They’ll be out there watching my apartment. If they see you leave, they’ll arrest you.”

  “She’s probably right, Chad.” Natalie perched on the couch, her face still pale from their close encounter. “We probably should stay, at least for a little while.”

  Rachel closed the second set of curtains. “They’ll give up waiting before morning, but by then we’ll have another thing to worry about. Patrick’s due to fly in tomorrow.”

  “So what do we do now?” Natalie asked.

  Rachel smiled for the first time all night. “How does dinner and a hot shower sound?”

  “What about tomorrow?” Joseph asked.

  “I don’t know.” Chad sat down beside Natalie. “I guess Jesus put it best: all we can do is let tomorrow worry about itself. I’d say we’ve already had enough trouble for one day.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 7:43 A.M.

  RACHEL BOTELA’S APARTMENT, BOGAMA

  Natalie pulled the cotton sundress Rachel had loaned her over her head, careful not to scrape the hem of the sleeve across the gash on her shoulder. The coffee-colored skirt was a couple of inches too short, but at least it was clean and in far better condition than the wrinkled outfit she’d worn the past two days.

  She glanced into the small mirror above the sink and pressed her fingertips against her cheekbones. There were shadows under her eyes. Despite the decent bed she’d slept in, she still felt exhausted. The humid air, buzz of mosquitoes, and occasional gunshots hadn’t helped. Neither had the troubled dreams that had kept her tossing and turning half the night. She’d woken up in a cold sweat a dozen times, thinking they’d been found, each time someone banged on a door down the hallway or shouted from outside. She was getting tired of the bouts of panic, fear, and darkness surrounding her.

  God, I simply don’t have any energy left.

  Pulling her brush from her backpack, she tried to ignore the sting of pain that shot through her arm. Bringing any semblance of order to her hair was an impossibility. Instead she gritted her teeth and managed to stick it up in a ponytail.

  Stepping out of the tiny bathroom into the living room, she pasted on a smile. “Good morning.”

  Joseph nodded his greeting, then took his turn in the bathroom.

  She glanced at Chad, who sat on the couch, and wished she looked half as perky. Even in his wrinkled T-shirt and shorts he looked more awake than she did.

  “How do you feel this morning?” he asked.

  She stifled a yawn. “Besides needing another eight hours of sleep, I suppose I’m okay.”

  He chuckled. “Then I’m guessing you slept about as well as I did.”

  She sat down beside him and handed him the first-aid kit. “Do you mind?”

  “Of course not.” He started removing the old bandage. One side of the adhesive stuck as he pulled on it.

  “Ouch!” She glanced at the reddened wound. “It’s not getting infected, is it?”

  “No, but I need you to hold still.”

  She wiggled as he ripped the bandage off the rest of the way.

  “Natalie.”

  “Sorry, but it hurts.”

  Chad shook his head. “You know, you’re not a very good patient.”

  She stuck out her lip, pretending to pout. “And you have terrible bedside manners.”

  “I wouldn’t go there if I were you.” He unscrewed the lid to the antibiotic cream. “You’re lucky I’m on call this morning. I haven’t had my coffee yet.”

  Natalie forced herself to sit still. “Have you talked to the embassy yet?”

  “Changing the subject?”

  She shot him a wry grin. “Yes.”

  He chuckled as he dabbed on the ointment before putting the clean bandage in place. “Rachel let me use her phone. Someone can meet with us at nine.”

  “It’s about time.” Natalie glanced at the window. Rachel had kept the curtains closed as an extra precaution, but Natalie knew none of them would relax until they got to the embassy. “Rachel said she’ll meet us there with the relevant files from her office later this morning, but do you think it’s safe for us to leave?”

  Chad’s smile faded. “No, but it’s not safe to stay here, either.”

  Natalie shoved the ointment and extra bandages into the bag. “I’ve been thinking about something. We need to split up.”

  “Not a chance. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  She blinked at his refusal. The two of them on the streets together would be a bigger target than a pair of elephants walking down Main Street. “We’d be crazy to go out there together.”

  He grabbed his tennis shoes off the floor. “Maybe it is crazy, but I didn’t come this far with you to leave you to fend for yourself now.”

  She yanked her phone from the cord where she’d plugged it into Rachel’s charger the night before, thankful she’d at least have a way to communicate. Chad would have to buy a charger that fit his phone off the street. “I’ve been fending for myself for the past eighteen months—”

  “You’re not going alone, Natalie.”

  “You know, there is more to this than you playing the hero.” Forty-eight hours of stress, frustration, and anger seeped into her words, but she didn’t care anymore.

  Chad frowned.

  “I know this is none of my business, but she’s right, Chad.” Rachel shook her head. “They’re looking for two Americans. Your chances of getting to the embassy are far greater if you go separately.”

  “Forget it.” Chad slid on his shoes as if the conversation were over.

  It wasn’t.

  Natalie glanced at where the sleeve of her dress grazed the bottom of the bandage, and her resolve strengthened. “Stop thinking with your heart, Chad.”

  She strode into the kitchen, shaking. He hadn’t deserved her harsh words, but neither did she want her opinions dismissed like a bad idea. No way out of here was without risk, but surely he could see the foolishness in them leaving together.

  “You know, Natalie, I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life.”

  Natalie glanced up at Rachel, glad it was her and not Chad who’d slipped into the room behind her. “Like I just did?”

  “Right now it looks as if Patrick might be one of my biggest mistakes, but Chad’s different. You need to hold on to him.”

  Natalie’s gaze dropped to the beige-colored tile. “He’s not mine to hold on to.”

  “Not yet, maybe, but if you let pride get in the way, I can promise you’ll end up regretting it.”

  Natalie bit her lip. There were simply too many variables in an equation that had become impossible to solve. “Have you ever felt like you were drowning in some hopeless situation and there was nowhere to come up for air?”

  “Yeah, I have.” Rachel twisted her engagement ring.

  “I’m sorry.” In all that had transpired, she’d ignored Rachel’s heartache. And the heavy risk she’d taken in hiding them. “I’ve been completely insensitive.”

  Rachel grabbed a rag and started wiping down the counter. “No. It’s okay. If I’m honest, there have been plenty of signs I shouldn’t have ignored, but it was always easier just to look the other way.”

  Natalie reached for the slight ray of hope that still lingered. “T
here’s still a chance Patrick isn’t involved in all of this.”

  “Part of me would like to believe that, because despite everything I can’t help but love him.” Rachel leaned against the counter and caught Natalie’s gaze. “Patrick offered me the life I’d always dreamed about. I love the way people treat me when I’m with him. I like the apartment, the presents, and the trips he’s taken me on…”

  “So what are you going to do?”

  Rachel squeezed out the excess water into the sink and shrugged. “If Patrick is involved, I don’t think I have a choice but to play along for now. Then after the election—after all this mess is over—I’ll have to find a legitimate reason to break things off.”

  Natalie hated the fact that they’d both been presumably wrong about Patrick. “I am sorry.”

  “Better now than later, I suppose.” Rachel looked up at Natalie. “I know he loves me in his own way, but maybe he simply isn’t capable of loving the way I’ve always dreamed of.”

  “Then you deserve more.”

  “Maybe.” Rachel laid the rag across the dish rack and leaned against the counter. “Somehow I thought I could keep my faith and have Patrick, too, but the past twelve hours have shown me just how far I’ve gone the wrong way. Makes me wish my mom was still alive to tell me what to do.”

  Natalie caught the deep heartache in her friend’s voice. “About Patrick?”

  “About Patrick…and the fact that the Ghost Soldiers aren’t just some crazy myth. If Patrick’s involved, I don’t know how I’ll ever be able to forgive him. Or how God will forgive me for all the compromises I’ve already made.”

  “All you have to do is ask, Rachel. God loves you, and He wants you back.”

  “I know.” Rachel wiped her cheek, then nodded in the direction of the living room. “Go talk to him.”

  Sensing Rachel needed a few moments alone, Natalie gave her a hug, then headed back into the living room. Forgiveness might not be easy, but the first thing she had to do was ask Chad for his. He was sitting on the couch, going through the photos again.