by Jianne Carlo
Terry surreptitiously studied the Gypsy girl, noting the dirt under jagged fingernails and the holes showing in scuffed, muddied sneakers. Her right big toe poked a show-and-tell dance from one such opening. She appeared unnaturally contained for such a young girl.
Thomas rose and Terry noted the way he avoided looking in his direction.
“Translation?”
Thomas shifted so he faced everyone. “From what I can gather, Adria’s brother Casmir locked her up in a cottage on the property. Tony found and rescued her. They’ve hung out together since then. When Rolan left to meet us in Nice, he explained everything to his wife and son. Tony went into PI mode and managed to obtain a picture of Su-Lin. He showed it to Adria about thirty minutes ago. She told him her brother had Su-Lin in the barn. She saw him injecting something into her arm.”
A slight hiccup and a Germanic-sounding phrase erupted from Adria’s mouth.
“Adria says Su-Lin’s sleepy but okay.”
“Well done, son.” Rolan ruffled his son’s hair.
“Aw, Dad,” the boy whined, edging out from under his father’s embrace. “Don’t do that. It’s not cool.”
“Have you eaten?”
“Naw, Mom said we had to wait for you guys. She’s going to adopt Adria.”
Rolan’s eyes crossed. “She can’t adopt every stray she bounces into. That woman’s going to be the death of me.”
“Adria’s not a stray,” Tony snapped. “And she understands English. Speaks it too.”
“Son. You and your mother cannot adopt every wounded dove that comes your way. And you do realize Arnold will have to go to a zoo.”
“Arnold?” Jean-Michel interjected. “Zoo?”
“Our pet elephant,” Rolan replied.
Jean-Michel’s lips curled and his navy eyes twinkled. “Mais oui, but of course, everyone has one.” He waved a hand in the air.
“You said once I found a way to get rid of his turds, you’d think about letting me keep him.” The boy sprang to his feet. “You did.”
“I saw the size of Arnie’s doo-doo,” Harry drawled. “What crazy notion did you come up with, Tony?”
“Time’s ticking,” Terry barked. “I’m heading to the fricking barn.”
“Don’t be a fool. You know the rules, no SR, no SITREP, no go.”
“I am not making nice with anyone, Harry, nor do I intend to waste time with gruel.”
“Listen to Harry.” Thomas grasped his forearm. “Whatever those acronyms are, I’m certain they’re crucial.”
“US Army terminology for the first two steps before a deployment, Special Reconnaissance, Situation Report,” Harrison explained. “No one’s freaking expecting you to be a social monkey or to swallow food. We’ll go after Su-Lin right away, but after we suss out the situation.”
“Let calmer heads prevail, Terry.” Rolan urged. “Come on, let’s go inside.”
“Ask the girl if Carol-Ann was in this barn too,” Suresh suggested.
The comment stun-gunned Terry’s brain. “Jaysus, I’d completely forgotten about her.”
“No, she hasn’t. We saw the other woman on CNN.” Tony raced up the steps and threw open the double doors. “Come on. Everyone’s in the kitchen.”
They followed, albeit at a slower pace.
A soft musical voice tinkled across the entranceway.
“Miche, don’t let your amis linger in the cold. Bring them in.”
“Maman,” Jean-Michel stated, kissing his mother’s cheek. “Entrez, everyone.” He waved the group into the room.
Nothing registered on his brain. Terry followed Harrison into a square airy room the size of a small department store. Two fireplaces with blazing flames framed glass French doors, which ran ceiling to floor and led to a canopied, slate-tiled terrace.
A lithe woman, dressed with the casual, elegant style only a Frenchwoman could muster, in less time than it took to inhale, graced a teak-planked center island bordered on the far end by two retro bar stools. Adria sat on one, grubby hands clamped together at her waist, gaze darting between Rolan’s wife, Sarita, and Michel’s mother. The resemblance between the two Fragonards couldn’t be missed.
“Terrence.” The woman’s voice proved even more musical up close. “I haven’t seen you since you were ten years old. I’d forgotten how identical you and Thomas are.” She tiptoed and kissed him twice, first on one cheek and then the other. “Welcome.”
“Hi, honey.” Rolan grinned and ate up the distance to his spouse. He circled one arm around her waist and dropped a kiss on her head.
“Hello, yourself.” Sarita untied a white apron and deposited it on the island’s wooden counter.
Jean-Michel introduced everyone to his mother, Renée Fragonard.
“Terry, I know you must be anxious and that you need to get to Su-Lin as soon as possible. Everything’s organized. Dinner’s delayed until all of you get back. Adria, Tony, and I scouted the barn and the approach to it. Don’t worry, Rolan.” Sarita rolled her eyes. “We didn’t get close. I took a zoom camera. We took zillions of shots. All the photographs are on the kitchen table. Go for it.”
“Thank you,” Terry said, and his words were heartfelt. He approached a side table littered with five-by-seven pictures. Breathing unsteady, fingers shaking, he thumbed through them. Even with the cold air bristling through the open doors, sweat broke out along his hairline and his palms grew damp. Accustomed to complete dominion over all body functions at all times, his reactions unnerved him further. Terry realized he’d started using terrorist tactics to combat anxiety, compartmentalizing the night into tight boxes and focusing on them.
Reconnaissance, rescue.
His brain shied away from anything faintly futuristic.
In the background, he heard the murmur of soft conversation. Terry concentrated on the photographs of the barn and its surroundings.
“How far away’s the barn?”
“About half an hour’s walk from the château,” Jean Michel replied. “We have three scooters, several bicycles, four or five vehicles, and the horses, of course. Your choice?”
“Horses,” Terry stated. “Details.”
“Four Arabs, all expertly trained.”
“Dad, you have to hear this.” Tony skidded to a halt beside Terry. “Adria says there’s some celebration tonight, and her brother’s at the Gypsy village. He’ll probably be there the whole night. That’ll help, won’t it? I mean, you guys can get going right away?”
“It helps oodles, Tony. You’re a great kid. Thanks.” Terry ruffled the boy’s hair.
“Aw, what is it with you grown-ups?” Tony complained, ducking away.
An argument broke out when Terry stated he and Harry alone would rescue Su-Lin. Thomas and Jean-Michel, furious and adamant, demanded to be included.
“Four makes more sense than two, Terry.” Sarita interrupted their quarreling. “I think one of you men should stay here. The others can keep us informed, and if we need to call in the authorities, we can.”
“I suppose you’re volunteering me for the stay behind man.” Rolan’s voice sounded sullen.
“I think it’ll take both you and me to ensure our son doesn’t follow everyone else.”
Rolan let out an audible sigh. “I’d forgotten about that. Tony, let’s teach Adria billiards.”
Tony spoke to the girl in her own language. Surprise had her eyebrows climbing to a widow’s-peaked hairline. She set her hands on her hips and grinned, raking Rolan head to toe.
“Uh-oh. That look so says I just caught the perfect patsy,” Sarita murmured. “You three head to the pool room. Renée and I will bring in snacks and join the game.”
As soon as the room cleared Terry asked, “You carrying, Harry?”
“You bet.” He patted his left shoulder.
“I can hardly believe it, but I must have left my Ruger behind last night. I don’t have it on me.”
Within ten minutes, the four men, mounted on powerful stallions, moved down a mud-
packed path at a brisk walk. Jean-Michel led the way across a wide meadow toward a thick forest lining a steep ridge. Terry signaled his horse into a trot, keeping the pressure constant with his heel so the animal maintained an even, fast pace. They entered a canopy of green interspersed with tall, narrow pines and thick, spreading oaks.
A carpet of papery leaves crunched and cushioned the animal’s hooves. Terry shivered as a frozen northeast gust swept low-hanging boughs and branches, the chill in the air echoing the apprehension feathering each nape hair into a desperate salute.
Ahead of him, Jean-Michel eased into a canter as the forest thinned and opened into a narrow clearing. An unsteady stream of moonlight played havoc with solid and phantom shapes. When they neared a line of four sparse pines, Jean held up a palm.
“That’s it.”
Terry cursed even though he’d been forewarned by Sarita’s photographs. The barn stood in the center of a half a mile of a short-grassed, treeless field.
“Harry and I’ll approach on foot. You and Thomas watch our backs. If they spot us, or you notice anything out of the ordinary, charge. If either of you spots a woman, hold all fire. Otherwise, shoot. Try to wound, not kill. Got that?”
“You want answers, I understand. No problem, they will be alive.”
Terry grunted, his brain already in deploy mode.
They waited for the moon to duck behind one of the many clouds dotting the midnight sky. Harry took the left flank, Terry the right.
The iciness in the air didn’t prevent perspiration from coating Terry’s forehead. Crawling forward slow inches at a time, senses attuned to any nuances not of nature, he paused ten feet away from the dilapidated building.
Peering ahead through dancing green blades, he made out a set of high, square double doors, rusting iron handles held together by a sparkling steel chain and a brand-new padlock.
A slight rustle heralded Harry’s arrival at the right of the barn.
The moon picked that moment to peek out from under its cloud and Terry cursed and burrowed into the dewy grass. Above his head, brilliant radiance illuminated every detail: a series of footsteps imprinted in moist earth near a listing door, trampled weeds half-hidden where a hard shoe had dug out a clump.
He stifled a stream of expletives.
Harry’s booted feet disappeared around the opposite side of the stable.
Realizing nature had blown his cover, Terry shot to his feet and lunged for the chain.
Metal clinking reverberated like an exploding hand grenade in the quiet night.
Taking a step back, he pulled out the wire cutters Jean-Michel had provided them with earlier.
“Don’t bother. Place is empty. Back door’s open.”
“He moved her.” Bile flooded Terry’s mouth.
Chapter Seventeen
“Wake up.” The coarse-accented whisper penetrated Su-Lin’s fogged mind, but the words seemed faraway and floated around her mind, meaningless.
Her head throbbed.
Bony hands with jagged nails bit into her flesh.
“Vite, vite. Before he comes back. Merde.” The hissed expletive bore the scent of onion.
Su-Lin gagged. Her eyelids opened in slow increments. She wet her lips and winced when the light touch stung.
“I’m dreaming.” Did that coarse voice belong to her?
“Non, non. No dream. Come with me.”
The girl’s thin face swam in and out of focus.
“Adria. Gypsy. Gym.”
Su-Lin wriggled bare toes and tensed, stilling as a thousand pins lanced her flesh.
“Up, up,” the girl whispered and darted a glance over one shoulder. She edged one hand under Su-Lin’s armpit and pulled.
The movement brought a wave of nausea and shaved returning sharpness from her vision. Su-Lin bit her lip and dug her elbows into cool dirt, leveraging her back off the ground. Something hard dug into her pelvis; she shifted and pushed her hand into her pants pocket. Her fingers closed around cool metal, and she removed the object.
“Qu’est-ce que c’est?”
“Phone,” she muttered. “One.”
The girl crooned, “Up, up.” Her small hand pried Su-Lin’s fingers open, and she took the phone. “Bien, vite, vite.”
The girl moved behind her, and using two small palms, she pushed Su-Lin to her feet.
As soon as Su-Lin stood, her knees buckled and she fell against a wooden surface. Slivers worked into one hand as she grabbed a rough edge.
Working one arm around her waist, the girl kept Su-Lin standing.
Su-Lin frowned when her eyes grew accustomed to an almost-pitch darkness. She recognized a thatched interior and puzzled over the dirt floor.
A loud chorus sung in a lilting rhythm almost drowned the sound of loud laughter, a hearty cackling, and the splintering of glass on glass. Through a hole in the matted leaves and twigs, Su-Lin glimpsed colorful garments, and…dancing?
“Dreaming,” she muttered.
“Non, non.” The girl took two steps forward, and Su-Lin stumbled along.
In fits and starts, they made it to an opening in the hovel. With each slow inch, Su-Lin’s mind absorbed more sounds. Shots? Screams? A tambourine? As they edged out of the structure, she understood the persistent onion stench. A heap of the rotting vegetables braced a door hanging off one hinge.
She held her breath, but that made her head spin, so she breathed through her mouth.
“Rapide, rapide,” the Gypsy hissed and broke into a trot.
Su-Lin bit her lip to stifle the moans threatening to emerge. She choked in oxygen, gulping cool air into starved lungs.
“Please, stop.” She gasped. “I can’t.”
“You must. He comes soon.” But she slowed their pace.
“Who?”
“Mon frère. Vite, vite,” Adria shouted. “He comes. Run, run.”
“Phone.” Su-Lin gasped. “Phone. One. Une.”
A variety of male voices splintered the forested area. From the thrashing and crashing behind them, Su-Lin knew it wasn’t a single person following them, but several. Had she finally lost her grip on reality?
It felt real. Her heart competed with the hammering in her head. Each strangled breath made her dizzier.
A bellow sounded from right behind them.
Adria urged. “Rapide, tout de suite.”
Su-Lin stumbled and fell to her knees.
“Non, non. Up. Up.”
“Phone, une,” she muttered, squeezing the girl’s fingers. “Une.”
“Merde,” Adria muttered, but she flipped open the cell and stabbed one. Shoving the phone into Su-Lin’s hand, the girl thrust her hands under Su-Lin’s armpits and pulled.
“Adria.”
Su-Lin turned; she recognized the boy from the Cours Saleya. The menace in his flashing black eyes cleared the fog from her brain. Racing toward them, less than a highway’s width behind them. A surge of panic flooded her brain; she broke into a jog and stumbled.
“I get knocked down,” accompanied by the pounding bass of a guitar, blasted from the phone’s receiver.
Her feet tripped over a gnarled tree root, and Su-Lin hit a tree trunk and wrapped one arm around the rough bark.
“Su-Lin! Su-Lin, where are you?”
“Terrence,” she said, “I don’t like this dream.”
The phone fell onto the forest floor. She pushed off the spindly tree and turned around, Casmir stood not two feet away, lips in a snarl baring white teeth. Adria faced him. He raised a hand behind his head. Protective instincts showered adrenaline through Su-Lin’s veins; she jerked between the two Gypsies.
Su-Lin glared at the boy and remembered his name. “Casmir.”
The boy shouted, “Adria.”
The girl stepped in front of her, arms folded across a thin chest, chin jutting. Adria opened her mouth, and a barrage erupted. Startled by the force of her bellow, Su-Lin jumped. These two argued often, she guessed and grew giddy trying to decipher their yells. As she lean
ed her head against a tree, the aches and pains the adrenaline had blocked surfaced.
In the distance, through the thin curtain of leaves swishing in a cool breeze, she saw four men galloping across a meadow.
Su-Lin blinked, certain now she’d lost all sanity.
Horses? When she spotted Terry’s wheat mane flying in the wind, she surrendered to the white-knight-on-a-horse fantasy and smiled, waiting for his rescue.
This dream proved perfect. He never took those wonderful gray eyes off her, not for a second. The sound of pounding hooves added a nice soundtrack to this movie, she decided. Terry brought the black steed to an abrupt halt, threw the reins to one side, and vaulted out of the saddle, every movement powerful, intent, determined. He stalked to her side, drew her into his arms, cradled her face with one hand, and raked her features.
“You’re cut. You’ve blood on your right temple. Here.” He touched a thumb to her skin.
His voice shook and moisture leaked from one storm-filled eye.
“Don’t,” she whispered. “I’m okay. I love you, Terrence O’Connor.” She brushed the tear off his cheek. “This is the best dream I’ve ever had.”
He scooped her off her feet and held her tight in his arms.
She rested her cheek against his chest and closed her eyes, listening to his heart beating, knowing everything would be all right now.
“Round up everyone. I don’t give a fricking damn if any of these men happen to get hurt in the process, especially that piece of vermin.” She opened her eyes to see the vermin, but Terry whirled around and so did everything else.
“Get them all to the house. Miche, call a doctor. Have him at the house before I get there. Harry, find a vehicle and drive us back now.”
“There are several trucks in the village,” Jean-Michel stated. “I’ll ride ahead and return with one.”
“Go, honey,” Thomas said. “I’ll keep my brother from murdering anyone.”
“You are going to regret ever touching my woman, Gypsy boy. I’ll make you pay every minute of the rest of your short mongrel life.”
