Nick Nolan

by Double Bound (Sequel To Strings)

  The vehicle was swarmed by five men in ski masks holding Uzis, and the bodyguards had their hands in the air.

  "Jesus, Jesus, Jesus," Arthur muttered.

  I've got to protect him--I'll do anything--I should've known--

  The soldier in him came to life as the rear glass windows were shattered.

  " Maos pra cima! " a man's voice screamed.

  "They said get our hands in the air," Carlo hissed.

  "Jeremy, don't move!" Arthur instructed. "Keep your head down. Now! " Arthur pushed his head down and covered his body with his own. He heard Carlo cry out, and looked up in time to see a man's arm reach inside the door and open it, then yank him out as Arthur reached for his arm but missed.

  " Senao bou atirar! " the voice commanded.

  "They'll kill us if we don't do what they say!" Carlo yelled from the street.

  Arthur heard the TATATATATAT! of the Uzi being discharged in the air; then the smoking barrel was shoved through the window into Jeremy's back. " Ow! " he cried, as the familiar smell of spent gunpowder filled the interior.

  "Baby, they've got us," Arthur told him. His training told him to surrender. "Just do what I do. They'll take us together. All they want is money."

  Arthur's hands went in the air, and he slowly made his way out of the vehicle. He looked back to see Jeremy copy his movements, and the look on the boy's face any other time would have made him cry.

  They threw Arthur onto the street next to Carlo, with booted feet holding them down, as well as a gun barrel pressed into the backs of their skulls.

  Then moments later he heard some of the most sickening sounds he'd ever heard--

  sounds he would file in his memory right next to the phone ringing that day in Germany--the screech of wheels spinning and an engine gunning, and the unsteady sobs of Carlo lying next to him.

  Chapter 29

  Their hands were bound and their mouths gagged and their pockets emptied of their wallets, passports and cell phones before they were pushed into a van, then blindfolded, and driven through the city somewhere up into the hills; Arthur detected their locale from the vehicle's shifting from low to high, and its listing from side to side. During this excursion, the only way he could tell Carlo was OK

  was by tapping his foot with his own, upon which Carlo would tap him back.

  He'd learned about kidnappings during his stint with the FBI, and knew that in most cases they either ended with death--if the ransom amount was refused--or quickly with release, if the demand was paid. But he figured Katharine would be forthcoming with the needed money, considering the purported bounty in the Tyler coffers. The only complication might be if their capture had been politically motivated; then the State Department would refuse to become involved, due to their zero-tolerance policy on negotiating with kidnappers of political targets.

  The thought made him dizzy.

  Until he considered the money.

  This has to be about the money.

  Finally, the van stopped and he heard the squeal of metal hinges as a door was moved aside. They continued a short distance, then stopped again, and the engine was switched off. He heard men chattering in Portuguese, then the rolling open of the vehicle's cargo doors. He felt hands grab at his biceps and push down his head as he was pulled from his seat.

  "Take those blindfolds off them at once!" he heard Dom Fabiano's voice shriek.

  "And cut those ropes. Are you stupid?"

  At once the blindfold was slipped from his head and he could see again; they were inside some sort of large garage or warehouse with hewn stone walls.

  The air inside was cool and damp.

  We're inside a mountain.

  They cut the ropes binding his hands, and the gag from his mouth was untied. He looked over and saw Carlo was being cut loose, as well.

  Where's Jeremy?

  "My poor friends!" Fabiano exclaimed, rushing down a flight of stairs.

  Arthur stepped toward him. "What the fuck is going on?" he growled. "What did you do to Jeremy?"

  Fabiano held up his hands. "What the fuck is going on is I have paid for your release!" he stated indignantly. "But if you'd like I can deliver you back to the monsters who were responsible for your capture."

  What's going on? He looked at the man's face and saw he was telling the truth.

  "Thank you," he said, rubbing his wrists. "But please, tell us where Jeremy is."

  "You were captured and ransomed by a militant group. Kidnappings like this have been taking place for the past decade; some wealthy Brazilians have even resorted to travel by helicopter to evade this phenomenon."

  "But where's Jeremy?"

  "We are working toward his release. We don't know where he is, but we have been assured he is safe. For the time being."

  "Does Katharine Tyler know about this?" Carlo asked, hugging his shoulders.

  He looked like he was about to faint, so Arthur threw a steadying arm around his shoulders.

  "Of course. She is the one who caused this."

  "That can't be," said Arthur.

  "Come with me. There is so much I need to tell you. But first, you should have a drink and some food; you have been through a terrible, terrible ordeal today. I can explain everything while you rest and eat. Please, come."

  And with that, Arthur and Carlo followed him up the stairs, and into the bowels of the mountain.

  Chapter 30

  They passed through an old, unused catering kitchen into a long hallway that stank of mold, then pulled themselves up yet another long flight of stairs to a door that opened onto the grand foyer of Fabiano's once elegant modernist mansion.

  Arthur noticed, with a quick scan, the neglected state of the extravagant materials: the limestone walls were dirty and had even drawn algae in places, the terrazzo floor was a map of bulges and cracks, and the mahogany-paneled walls were faded and sun bleached. even the simple chandelier bowls overhead were missing strings of crystals.

  They continued at a fast clip through the entrance hall, then through the sparsely furnished salon, then stepped outside into the viewing garden, where the teeming beachside city lay below, and Cristo peered down from just the next hilltop.

  Carlo and Arthur took their places in chairs around a glass table, while hot coffee and pastries were served.

  "This is a very sensitive situation," Fabiano said after sipping from his cup, "that could have been avoided. But there is still an easy remedy."

  "Could you please tell us what's going on?" Arthur asked.

  He looked from Arthur to Carlo and back. "To be brief, Katharine Tyler has withdrawn all funding and support for this project. She attained a court order to withdraw millions of her dollars from the consortium's escrow account."

  " What? " they asked.

  "As a result, one of the members of our consortium, with apparent ties to...a militant group, organized this kidnapping in an attempt to recover their money."

  "But you said she took her money out," Carlo blurted. "Why would some group be trying to get their money back by kidnapping us and Jeremy?"

  "And why would she have taken her money out in the first place?" asked Arthur.

  "It's complicated," Fabiano stated, withdrawing his cigarettes from his shirt pocket.

  "The order came directly from your government's State Department, with her name and signature, as well as those of her attorneys, on the papers. If you'll recall, Carlo, when you asked to come find your cousin again, I mentioned some urgent business I had with my bankers in Rio. This was that very issue. of course I did what I could to remedy the situation, but I had no idea that any of you were in danger; even I am wholly surprised by this terrible turn of events." He pushed a cigarette between his lips and lit it with his gold lighter.

  "But I don't understand why they would've made her do this," Arthur said. "We didn't give her any reason to pull out; in fact, we haven't even had any contact with her since we got here."

  "It wasn't you, dear friends. It was your government."
The man sucked heavily on his cigarette, then pushed his huge frame up from the chair and began pacing back and forth, emitting smoke with each word spoken. "The world has become a difficult place to do business, a place that becomes more complex each year.

  Simply put, your government alleges that since the Tyler family is part of the consortium where one of the members has alleged ties with this militant group, then the Tylers have been, de facto, funding anti-American activities throughout the world--especially in the Middle East and Southeast Asia."

  "But I'm certain that Katharine didn't know anything about this, so how can they hold her responsible for contributing to some militant group?"

  "Clearly they are strong-arming her," Fabiano replied. "And I'm certain they threatened her with very serious charges had she not withdrawn her support, immediately."

  "But why would they kidnap Jeremy?" Carlo asked.

  "As I said, this is also complicated," Fabiano said, blowing out another drag, "but since this group of investors, which I assure you appeared to be completely legitimate, has been exposed for what they are and their funds have been seized, they are attempting to recoup, by force, that which they will most certainly lose--

  not only from the loss of their initial capital, which is frozen now and will most certainly be tied up in litigation for years, but also from what they imagine they should lose in the long run after being excluded from our wonderful resort."

  "That's just crazy," Arthur said, shaking his head. "But I understand why the State Department would have reacted that way. now the only thing that matters is getting him back."

  Fabiano dipped his eyelids and nodded. "The group holding him has been in contact with me, and they assure me that he is fine, and is being cared for appropriately. But they have given us, as well as Mrs. Tyler and your government, a very short time frame for payment."

  "So what's the deadline?" Carlo asked, not realizing his choice of words.

  "Tomorrow. At nine p.m."

  "And if Katharine can't get it together by then, what'll they do?"

  Instead of answering, Fabiano shook his head.

  "What have the police said about this?" asked Arthur. "I assume you've contacted them and they're working on their end?"

  He laughed. "Involving the corrupt Brazilian police would be foolish. They would only complicate the situation. Remember, this is an international issue--not some little traffic accident."

  Arthur thought for a moment. "So do you know how much they're demanding?"

  "The amount has not been disclosed to me. At this point, I am simply the mediator: cash for a life, all or nothing. I'm sorry to be so blunt."

  "I need to call Katharine, and my phone's gone. Carlo, do you have yours?"

  He shook his head. "They took mine, too."

  "Is there one I can use?" he asked Fabiano.

  "Of course. In my office. Please." He stood and motioned for them to follow, and they made their way back through the house into his office. Arthur sat behind his desk and dialed first the international code, then her number.

  It rang once. "Yes?" Katharine's panicked voice asked.

  "It's Arthur."

  "Oh, thank God it's you. Are you all right? I've been trying to reach you about this fiasco."

  "Carlo and I are fine."

  "Have you heard anything about Jeremy?"

  "We're working on it. Fabiano's mediating. They've given us a deadline of tomorrow at nine p.m."

  " Nine p.m. ? Then they've moved it up from midnight!" she cried. "You cannot believe this mess our government has us in! And if you can believe it, they have some pompous jackass telling me that because this is the work of a militia group that's an 'organization of interest' and an 'enemy of the United States,' they are refusing to negotiate with them on our behalf, because 'negotiating with these groups only encourages more kidnappings'! You should hear the doublespeak from these idiots at the State Department; you'd think I was only trying to get my car registered at the DMV!"

  "I was afraid of that." Arthur's skin crawled, and he shivered. "But why would some anti-American 'organization of interest' want to throw money into some resort with security that was guaranteed to keep their kind out?"

  They both answered his question. "Money laundering."

  "Remember, Arthur," she continued, "remember what I said that day down at the architect's office about 'our own little Masada'?"

  It took him a moment, but her words came back to him. "You said this time it would be the Romans who were inside the fort."

  "What was I thinking? " she said, beginning to cry. "I should've known that anything Bill was involved with would be supremely corrupt. And to think that my money, Jeremy's and my money, has been going to pay for such atrocities! And then to negotiate with these... these beasts for his very life! I can't stand it, Arthur; I just cannot stand it!"

  He had to think quickly to calm her. "But you don't have to negotiate with them.

  Fabiano's doing the mediating. You just need to get him the money, and he can do the rest."

  "Hah! That sounds easy. Have they told you how much they want?"

  "No. He said it was inconsequential; an all-or-nothing situation."

  " One...hundred...million...euro," she told him, her voice quivering. "At today's exchange rate, do you know how much money that is?" she cried. "Do they think I keep that kind of money in my purse? Who the hell do they think they're dealing with? And where the hell am I going to get nearly one hundred fifty million dollars by tomorrow evening? "

  "Who's your liaison at the bureau?"

  "Some man named Singer; he seems nice enough, but I don't know how effectual he is. Do you know of him?"

  "No. But it doesn't matter. What did he tell you? When are they sending down their liaison team?"

  "They are not. Sending one down, that is."

  " Why not?"

  "Because apparently in Brazil, kidnappings are almost as commonplace as instances of shoplifting. And considering his statistics--now let me read them for you." She shuffled around through the papers atop her desk. "Here it is...'there are nearly ninety kidnappings of Americans each day on foreign soil, and eighty-eight percent of these end favorably, so long as the ransom is paid.' So he's telling me to just pay the money and hope they drop off Jeremy alive somewhere before they toodle away with nearly everything I own!"

  "So they're not going to do anything," he muttered.

  "Apparently not. And to make matters worse, after I spoke with the Brazilian police, I learned that they are so overwhelmed with this 'kidnapping craze' that even they have to make certain this is not a 'virtual kidnapping,' whatever the devil that is, before they send even one man out on the case!"

  "I remember those from the bureau," he told her. "That's when they get someone's name, then call their family saying they've been kidnapped when they really haven't; they'll even play a recording of someone screaming so the family runs to the bank and gets the money." He thought for a moment. "But there was nothing

  'virtual' about this; I was in the car when it was rear-ended and they fired their Uzi into the air. I'm sure the police know this by now."

  "No one seems to know anything, Arthur. And can you believe one of these idiots suggested I should be 'grateful' that the kidnappers contacted me, because sometimes people are abducted and that's the end? No ransom, no grainy videotape, just a corpse? Grateful, indeed!"

  "So what're you gonna do?"

  "Agent Singer told me--off the record--that I should make them an offer based on however much cash I can scrape together, and there's a Swiss foundation that can make us a loan if I put up Tyler, Inc., as collateral. They help victims' relatives, for a substantial fee of course, to come up with the difference in situations like this; we'll just have to make a good-faith offer and hope these monsters accept it. So I'm working with Singer, that Swiss company and those idiots from the State Department. But no one is doing anything! Nothing is getting done! "

  "Katharine, the only thin g you can
do at this point is to send as much money down here as you can, right away. And I'll do whatever I can, too."

  "Thank you Arthur," she muttered. "But please don't let anything happen to him; I don't know what I'd do, how I'll live if Jeremy--"

  "I'm not going to let anything happen to him."

  "I...know," she managed between sudden sobs, "you...won't."

  He looked up and saw the impatience in Fabiano's eyes. "I've gotta go. I'll call you when I know anything." Then he hung up.

  "What did she tell you?" he asked.

  He looked from Fabiano to Carlo and back. "our government won't help us negotiate with the militant group because they are an 'antiAmerican organization of interest,' and Jeremy qualifies as some sort of political hostage."

  "I was hoping they would not go that route," Fabiano said gravely.

  "So what happens next?" Carlo murmured, clutching his stomach.

  Fabiano leveled his gaze at them both. "We wait for the money. And we pray."

  So Arthur and Carlo began that arduous process of waiting under duress, where minutes stretch interminably, and nothing possesses the mind but one's worst fears interwoven with arching hope.

  But Carlo and Arthur and Katharine were not the only ones suffering this anguish.

  For in a locked room just one floor down, awaited Jeremy.

  Chapter 31

  Where am I?" Jeremy demanded, thinking the bald creature opposite him looked familiar somehow. "What are you gonna do with me? Who the fuck are you? "

  "Shhh! Menino! This is the good part," Rosa told him, then turned her attention to the novela blasting from the tiny TV next to her. "Hector is to discover his novia is his dead wife's daughter's sister." She sucked in a heavy drag from her unfiltered cigarette, blew out a gray cloud, then pinched some stray tobacco flakes from her tongue. " Que escándalo! " she exclaimed, fanning herself dramatically with her free hand. Then she opened her purse and pulled out a tiny brown vial, from which she snorted some white powder.

  It hit him: Marinheiro só. "You're the one from the club--with the sailor!"