Shades of Trust

by Cristiane Serruya

  Scott ran to the meeting room, throwing the door open to find Alistair on his knees, crying and sobbing with his face burrowed in his hands, the white backpack thrown to the side.

  Scott blinked nervously and saw he was holding something in his hands. It looked like a piece of black silk. Then he realized it was not silk.

  What was overflowing from Alistair’s hands was Sophia’s long raven hair matted with blood and thin layers of skin.

  Scotland, Northern Highlands, Inchnadamph

  Altreck Caisteal

  8:30 p.m.

  “I have a full dossier on you. You deserve to be punished.”

  What? Sophia frantically looked around but couldn’t locate the voice in the darkness. Alberto? “Who is in here? Show yourself.”

  “I selected the ugliest and biggest ones just for you, you husband-murderer. Enjoy room 101.” He closed the door softly behind him and a key turned in the lock loudly as a strange sound filled her ears.

  Then she saw. The wings, flying toward her.

  “Nooo! Come back! Don’t leave me here.” She tried to run to the door, but she was frozen, only her eyes moved, accompanying the frantic movements of the moths’ wings as they closed in. “Help me, someone, help me!”

  Breathe in, breathe out. You are a grown woman, not a child anymore, Sophia. You can walk out of here at any moment. It is ridiculous to be afraid of these disgusting, enormous, flying creatures. They’re just flying insects. They can do me no harm.

  She loathed moths as she didn’t loathe any other thing in the world since she had been trapped in a hole with hundreds of them as a child.

  One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, my God, ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen, he is really crazy, fourteen, fifteen, sixteen, wait, have I already counted that?

  She started panting and her heartbeat altered. She could take no more. Her throat constricted and she couldn’t breathe. They will flap their wings on my face, tangle in my hair. Black, grey, brown. They are ugly, enormous, filling the room with their hairy fluttery wings, always flapping, flapping in my direction.

  One of the moths landed on her head and she shrieked. She tried to shoo it away, flailing with her tied hands; it got stuck on them.

  With a piercing cry, Sophia woke up.

  There was no moth on her. It was the tip of a coverlet brushing her cut and bruised head.

  After she complained she would die of cold, Uó ordered one of the women to take comforters to her. They were dirty and they stunk. Sophia made a makeshift bed with one and covered herself as best she could with another. She had tried to stay awake, in fear of hypothermia, but shock and pregnancy hormones had gotten the best of her and she drifted off to an oppressed slumber.

  Her bald head was itching and stinging badly from the wounds the knife had made and she brought her arms and legs against her chest, anguished, willing herself not to cry and stay calm. It’s only a bit of skin and hair. They will grow again.

  Uó and his men had no schedule, or patterns of behavior she could use to identify an opportunity to escape.

  She had tried everything to open the doors, but both of them were locked at all times.

  Except for the woman who had brought her blankets and took her to the windowless bathroom on the upper level, the gang had no weaknesses. They were hardened men and women who had spent most of their lives learning criminal ways inside over-populated Brazilian prisons and slums.

  Trying to escape was not an option.

  Sophia couldn’t see anything in the darkened dungeon and she didn’t have any idea where she was or what she was going to do. She sat on the blanket, quietly, but not resigned.

  Please, let it not affect the baby. As time passed by, she lay down, and tears started to slowly fall again. Alistair Connor is coming. I know he is.

  The only thing she knew was that she had to stay alive.

  Chapter 4

  Somewhere over England

  In Alistair MacCraig’s G650

  8:45 p.m.

  Tavish Uilleam watched his brother worriedly as Alistair stared absently at his image in the mirror. “Better?”

  Torn away from his dark thoughts, Alistair threw his brother a sour look as an answer. As if I could be. Until I find Sophia, nothing will be right, nothing will be better.

  Tavish was really worried about his brother’s sanity. Not even when Nathalie had been buried had he seen Alistair react like that.

  On hearing Alistair’s bellows, Tavish had run back to the room and found Scott and the young officer petrified, watching a kneeling and crying Alistair.

  When he tried to take Sophia’s hair from his brother’s hands, Alistair convulsed and the sound that came from his mouth scared Tavish.

  It was as if Alistair were an animal dying in agony.

  Isabel had suggested they called an ambulance, but Tavish knew Alistair would never forgive him if he were left behind, drugged, while Sophia’s life was in danger.

  With many calming words and soothing touches on his brother’s shaking back, Tavish had managed to bring Alistair back from whatever hellish place he had gone.

  When Alistair unclenched his hands and raised his head, with many locks of Sophia’s hair glued to his tear-streaked face, there was a crazed look in his eyes. He wiped his face with his sleeve and stood up to his full height, ramrod straight, uttering: ‘We have to save her. Let’s go.’

  And even though Alistair had looked like a crazed man, his words held such a powerful command, everyone followed him.

  “Alistair Co—”

  “I’ll be all right,” Alistair said drily. He finished toweling his hair and got dressed as Tavish left the stateroom. He eyed his reflection in the mirror. I’ll save you, Sophia. I will.

  Alistair exited the room and sat on the sofa between Ethan and Tavish. Right now he just wanted to be home with his wife, held tight into his arms, safe and sound. He wanted to breathe in her sweet smell and drift off to a peaceful sleep.

  He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, trying to rest a bit and give Isabel some space to work with the small team she had brought with her. Ethan’s plane had flown the rest of her group. The National Crime Agency team was already there.

  I need news. I need Sophia.

  As if on cue, victorious shouts sounded and a smile appeared on Isabel’s tired face. “The man who delivered the backpack is under arrest. You were right, Mr. Ashford, they are at Altreck. We have access to all the cameras outside and inside the castle. NCA is already studying the ground. Our IT team figured out the password and have gained access to their plans. The hacker is known worldwide as Ghost.”

  GHOST! No one noticed when Ethan blanched under his tanned skin. Jesus. Oh, Sophia. I’m so sorry.

  “Sophia?” Alistair asked. Oh, please, say everything is okay.

  “Not yet. There is one camera that shows nothing. By elimination, it has to be the one in the dungeon and they must be keeping her there,” Isabel said confidently. “We are closer than ever. We have set a plan. Would you care to hear?”

  ‘The closer you get, the further away she will be.’ Alistair wanted to shout the second warning at her, but just followed Tavish and Ethan to the front of the cabin, where her team was huddled around a table.

  Airgead Caisteal, On the private airstrip

  9:30 p.m.

  Fuck, Ashford. Couldn’t your family choose a less secluded place? Alistair put on his overcoat and got off his plane. It’s fucking cold. If Sophia is in your dungeon, it’s probably below zero. A deep frown marred Alistair’s face as he ran along with Tavish, Ethan, Isabel, and the rest of the team to the helicopter.

  Since they couldn’t use the helipad at Altreck Caisteal without losing the element of surprise, the first part of Isabel’s team had discarded the idea of flying in.

  Ethan’s G650 landed on a private airstrip nearby Inchnadamph, and they headed to the castle by land, but it would take them at least one hour to arrive.

  When Isabel informed
Alistair about this, he squinted at Tavish for a few seconds. “Land on Airgead. I have a chopper there. Tavish Uilleam knows how to land any chopper, anywhere, under any condition.”

  Isabel looked Tavish up and down. “Lead the way then, Lieutenant-Colonel.”

  Tavish had wanted to say no, but he couldn’t. This was about his brother, about his family. In spite of everything he had been through in Afghanistan, and his promise to himself to not get involved in any military or violent act anymore, he said yes. After that, the whole plan changed.

  Tavish inhaled deeply as he harnessed himself and looked up at the dark clouded sky, still a bit flabbergasted at Alistair’s idea. “Alistair—”

  Alistair put a hand on his brother’s shoulder, feeling calmer as he was getting near Sophia. “This is war. Sophia elected you as one of her generals. Now she needs your help.” I need your help.

  “You trust me.”

  “With my life,” answered Alistair. With her life.

  Altreck Caisteal

  Somewhere over the golf course

  10:00 p.m.

  Tavish had barely said a word during the whole flight over bays, lochs, mountains, and the vast expanses of untouched land. He’d had only ten minutes to study the terrain.

  Too much was at stake; a mistake was not a possibility for him.

  Under a somber and heavy gray sky, they had covered in less than fifteen minutes what would have taken more than three hours by car.

  “Hold on, everyone. This is going to get bumpy,” Tavish ordered brusquely on the microphone as he located the very wide circle of police cars.

  Please, God, let Sophia be okay. Alistair looked at his brother’s taut face as the ground approached.

  “You did worse in Afghanistan, Lieutenant-Colonel,” Isabel replied soothingly. “We are doing fine so far.”

  Fine? Mad landing is what I would call it. Ethan didn’t know anything about helicopters, but he was glad for the time they saved. I just hope we’re not too late.

  Alistair turned to Tavish, Ethan, Isabel, and the other detectives and officers. “Godspeed. Bring my wife back safe and sound.” I wish I could go with you.

  He had guaranteed Tavish’s participation in the rescue after he reminded them that his brother was a former RAF doctor with combat experience and that he would carry medical supplies.

  Ethan watched as some of the police officers moved to the golf carts and others to police cruisers. He looked back to his castle and saw the lights on. The wind carried loud, foreign music with a staccato beat. The criminals are partying and Sophia is suffering. This is all my fault. He turned to Alistair with an outstretched hand, “MacCraig. I’ll do my best.”

  I know. “Ashford, no matter what happens, I can’t thank you enough.”

  Such a beautiful lie I am, pretending to be a hero when I’m the primary reason this is happening. The hypocrisy of it all just made him more angry at himself. Ethan shook Alistair’s hand and walked firmly to his golf cart, exhaling forcefully with self-hate.

  Sophia had taught him he could make a difference, that he had to love himself first, that he was a worthy man.

  But all he had done was put a greedy hacker after her who could ruin everything.

  Ethan could see his breath in the air and it seemed to him as if a ghost was coming out of his soul. A ghost. It figures.

  He wondered how many ghosts he would vomit before this ended.

  10:15 p.m.

  They arrived at Altreck beach without any problems. The party was still at full swing inside the castle.

  The police crusaders and other golf carts continued on slowly. They were planning on climbing up the castle’s walls and breaking in to arrest the gang while Isabel and her team rescued Sophia.

  Their thermal goggles easily located the entrance of the underground passage with its arched threshold and iron door.

  Ethan selected an old large key and opened it.

  Isabel looked at him a bit unsure as she realized what he had meant by the dangerous underground passages. “We are going under…this enormous loch?”

  “We are,” he answered without looking back and pushed the door open.

  “It doesn’t flood?” An officer looked back at the departing golf carts as if he wanted to go with them.

  “Sometimes.” Determined, Ethan entered the tunnel.

  10:30 p.m.

  The eeriness of the tunnels was sharpened by the echoes of their booted feet. Green mold crept beside huge webs where spiders made their home and water dripped in small puddles along the way.

  “We are nearing the junction that leads to the abyss where hundreds of thousands of bats live. Be very quiet or they’ll come swarming at us,” Ethan warned in a whisper.

  Ethan was so angry, guilty, and frightened that his emotions cracked inside him like small flashes of lightning.

  Given time to think, the regrets in his mind were many and great, but being responsible for putting Sophia in a life-threatening position was the worst.

  The group moved as slowly and noiselessly as possible; everything was going as planned, but Ethan’s tension grew as they approached the last section.

  10:45 p.m.

  Sophia opened her extremely dry eyes. She thought she had heard a loud clang, followed by a creepy sound, but she dismissed it as another nightmare.

  She was feverish, her heart was beating very fast and she was out of her mind with thirst, hunger, and pain. She swallowed thick saliva, but it did nothing to alleviate her thirst.

  She had barely drunk a drop of water or eaten anything since lunch on Saturday and despite the low temperature, the burning fever had accelerated her dehydration.

  Her head pounded viciously and grief swamped her as distorted images of Gabriela and Alistair filled her mind.

  A year ago, she would surely have said, in a hard voice, that she had brought these acts of violence upon herself and that they were thoroughly deserved. Now, she knew better. And she had chosen not to be a victim anymore. She had to look for a way out.

  When she tried to stand up, the nausea that had been away for hours came back with a vengeance. Sophia gritted her teeth, aware that she had to keep her fluids inside her body. I must protect the baby. I need water and food. I need to stay calm. I need to get out of here.

  Her tied hands protected her belly and she promised herself that somehow she would survive this nightmare.

  10:50 p.m.

  A message blinked on Uó’s screen and his smile grew. With a rolled up fifty-pound note, he snorted another line of cocaine. He stood up and raised his arm upward, firing the compact submachine gun at the painted ceiling.

  The whole group stopped what they were doing and looked at him.

  “The money is arriving in ten minutes. Let the fucking party begin.”

  The gang raised their handguns and submachine guns and shouted curses and cheers.

  10:55 p.m.

  Alistair’s heart stopped for a moment when he heard the rapidly firing shots from multiple guns. “Christ, what kind of weapons do they have?”

  “Don’t worry, they are outnumbered,” the National Crime Agency senior officer informed him. “Our men already have their sights on them. Border Policing Command is just waiting for our signal to arrest their small boats. There is a big luxury yacht waiting for them outside our territorial waters. British navy is already tracking it. They are just around twenty men. We are more than two hundred. We have it all covered. The success of this operation will send a clear message to organized crime.”

  At what cost? Alistair rashly blew out a sigh and rolled his shoulders, struggling to unwind his taut nerves. “Sophia?”

  “The camera in the dungeon is still black,” was the stern reply after a brief pause.

  “So, you doona really know how many they are,” Alistair stated.

  There was a longer silence and the senior officer answered very somberly, “We’ve considered this scenario too.”

  The acid taste of his fear grew stron
ger as Alistair looked at the ancient castle. He closed his eyes, furious at his own inadequacies. After this is over, and Christ, with Sophia in my arms, no one will ever endanger my family again.

  “Don’t worry, Mr. MacCraig,” the Senior NCA officer said, “we’ve arrived right on time.”

  But a prickling feeling on the back of his neck told Alistair they had not.

  Chapter 5

  11:00 p.m.

  The muffled sounds of running boots made Sophia’s breathing speed up. She couldn’t make out where the sound was coming from.

  It seemed to come from everywhere and it was getting louder and louder.

  Something is off. Sophia’s instincts told her she had to leave immediately.

  Slowly, in a supreme effort of will, using her back as a support, with her wrists and ankles tied, Sophia moved slowly, yet as quickly as she could toward what she thought was the direction of the iron door.

  11:05 p.m.

  Ethan saw Sophia as soon as he unlocked the last iron door and entered the dungeon. Flattened against the wall, she was heading unsteadily away from them.

  “Sophia!” He ran and picked her up in his arms.

  Isabel and her officers spread around the dungeon, offering protection.

  “Ethan!” Sophia couldn’t believe it. “Oh, God. What are you doing here?”

  He whirled on his heels to flee the room, not losing time to explain.

  But the lights went up.

  This unexpected development made him halt and hesitate, unsure.

  Two of Uó’s men opened the dungeon door, obviously expecting no trouble. Their grip on their guns was slack and casual and their machine guns hung from the straps across their bodies.

  “What the fuck!” the shortest one spit through clenched teeth, enraged.

  The other one didn’t waste time cursing.

  Sophia shrieked as she saw the tallest man aim his .45 gun at Ethan and fire at his back.

  Ethan felt a stinging hot burning sensation, followed by the warm trickle of blood down his right leg, which faltered once. His body jerked a few more times as the unmistakable, loud blasts of gunshots bounced repeatedly off the rocks.