“Well, that’s good. At least, they haven’t taken anything.” After a silence Allie added ruefully, “Except, that is, our freedom!”
“Yes, and our peace of mind,” Maggie said.
“Peace of mind,” Hadi interjected, “Now that is an interesting phrase. How can that be taken from you? It is inside you and you have the choice—to permit it to leave or to hold to it. When our faith is strong, then nothing can take peace from us.”
Allie sighed and said, “Hadi, I’m sure that’s okay for a saint or something, but we’re human. We have feelings and right now we’re scared. I don’t like even to say this, but I’m afraid they mean to do away with us when they get what they’re after or if they decide we can’t give it to them. I don’t think they intend let us go whatever happens. It’s scary and it’s not easy to be peaceful right now.”
Hadi replied, “What you say may be so, dear lady. I have some knowledge of these people and I agree that they do not wish any of us well. However, what they wish and what Allah wills may not be in congruence. That is, they may wish us evil, but Allah may wish us good. We must remember where the real power lies.”
Suddenly the door was thrown open and two bodies landed in a heap on the floor between them. Maggie and Allie gasped. The bodies began to move and groan. The three prisoners hurried forward to help their visitors to upright positions. As the newcomers sat up, Maggie exclaimed, “Andre! Brigitte! How did you get here? Are you all right?”
Allie asked, “What happened to you? Everyone’s been worried.”
Andre and Brigitte Fouchet blinked, their eyes adjusting to the dimmer light in the little room. They looked blankly at Maggie, Allie and Hadi. With a shake of his head, Andre looked at Maggie and said, “You? You were on the airplane? Yes, I remember now. You were on the airplane.” His English was much better than Maggie remembered. He shifted his gaze to Allie, a puzzled look on his face. “You look familiar, but I do not know . . ..”
Allie interrupted, “The FLO party. We didn’t meet, but you may have seen us there. I am Allie McGill and this is my mother, Maggie.”
“You were there? You both were there?” His puzzled look cleared as he remembered. He looked again at Maggie and said, “You at the party. I saw you for a moment. Then you were gone. I had forgotten. Well, you seem to know our names. How do you do.” First Andre and then Brigitte reached across and shook hands with Maggie and Allie.
With his arm around Brigitte, Andre turned to Hadi. “And you? I think we have not met. My name is Andre Fouchet and this is my wife, Brigitte.”
Hadi inclined his head, smiled and introduced himself, “Mohammed Hadi El Kabir. You may call me Hadi.”
As he shook Hadi’s hand, Andre looked at him strangely and intently. Then he said, “How do you do, Hadi. You have an interesting name.”
“That is so, sir. Why do you say so?” Hadi asked in flawless French that Allie followed only with difficulty and Maggie could follow not at all. Allie translated softly.
Hearing her native language being spoken, Brigitte raised her head and listened, some of the fatigue leaving her face.
Andre looked inquiringly into Hadi’s eyes and said, “Hadi is the name given to the Sufi trickster God. Are you a Sufi?”
“Yes, I follow the teachings of the Sufi tradition. So you know about my culture,” Hadi said again in fluent French. “That, indeed, is interesting.”
“Yes, it’s been my life’s work to study the cultures of the Middle East,” replied Andre. Maggie and Allie were grateful that Andre now spoke in English. Harry was right. Andre’s English was very good.
“It is indeed fortunate that we have met.” Turning to Maggie and Allie, Hadi said, in English this time, “It may be that we have been waiting for these, our friends, to join us. If so, and if it is the will of Allah, then we may perhaps leave this place.” He grinned and added, “The floor? It is becoming somewhat hard, no?” Then he turned to Brigitte and greeted her in French, inclining his head toward her to show his concern.
Brigitte replied in French, at first mumbling slowly, but then seeming to gain strength and encouragement from his concern, she spoke more clearly and rapidly. It was apparent that she was exhausted and terrified by her ordeal. Maggie reached over, took her hand, and gave it an encouraging squeeze. Brigitte turned to her, “Merci, merci.” Any English she may have known seemed to have disappeared during her imprisonment.
The five prisoners talked in low tones, becoming acquainted and sharing the details of their recent adventures in an increasingly workable mixture of French and English. Brigitte and Andre told of Brigitte’s daylight abduction from a San Francisco street corner, of the ransom telephone call to Andre, of Andre’s attempt to rescue her, a sort of treasure hunt from phone booth to phone booth, and his subsequent abduction from a dock area in San Francisco.
Talked out, silence reigned. Suddenly, Maggie asked, “How did they know about Harry?” Then she stopped and put her hand over her mouth and looked at Allie. In their account of the last few days, Maggie and Allie had omitted any reference to Harry Cavanaugh and the CIA.
Andre sat up and asked, “Who is Harry?”
Allie gave her mother a smile and said, “I really think it’s okay to tell them about Harry. I don’t think it matters one way or the other.” So they told about Harry.
Andre released a sigh and said, “I, too, have held something back. I, too, think it really does not matter now whether you know about it or not. After Brigitte had been taken, I was beside myself. I had just received a phone call in my hotel room making demands of me, when a man appeared at the door. His name was John Landis and he said he worked for the CIA, that they had tried to protect Brigitte and me. Together we came to some conclusions about who it may have been who had kidnapped Brigitte, what they wanted and we developed a plan to rescue her.” He paused and looked lovingly at his wife. Then he continued ruefully, “As you see, it didn’t work exactly as we’d planned. The plan was quite simple. I was to wear a tracking device and follow the instructions from the kidnappers until I had been led to Brigitte. At which time, Landis and his group would come to the rescue.” Andre paused again and shook his head. “They were very angry when they discovered the bug. I think they wanted to kill both of us then and there, but so far they haven’t done so. Early this morning they put us into the back of a car and brought us here. Where are we, by the way?
“Oh, we are at a house in the Hollywood hills,” Allie said.
Again silence fell upon the little group. All except Hadi slumped against the walls. Brigitte rested her head on Andre’s shoulder and sighed. Maggie and Allie propped themselves against one another. Hadi remained in his corner, his back straight, his legs crossed, his eyes closed, his breathing slow, deep and even.
Chapter Nine
The inner tube bounced as it floated down the river. Maggie was suspended in it, her behind hanging down in the cold water. As she watched, small floes of ice drifted by. She was freezing. Most of all, her derriere was cold, in fact, it was freezing. Parts of her were becoming numb. She shivered.
Maggie woke shivering. She opened her eyes to find herself still in the little room with her fellow prisoners. She was cold. The room was chilly. Most of all, the concrete was frigid and her behind had gone numb from sitting in one position on the hard floor. She shifted uncomfortably. The movement roused Allie who groaned a little and sat up also. In the semi-darkness the small oblong window above their heads was now only a little lighter than the dark walls. Across the room she could just see the Fouchets still asleep and in the opposite corner, Hadi sat, unmoving.
In his soft singsong voice Hadi asked, “Ah, dear ladies, you have come back. Welcome. Did you rest well?”
Maggie and Allie stretched and flexed cramped muscles. “Well, yes, Hadi, I think we did,” answered Allie. “And you? Did you rest?”
“Hadi rests in the arms of Allah, always,” was the reply.
At the sound of voices Andre gave a little start and sat
up. Brigitte also awoke and stretched. “What time is it? Is it late?” he asked.
Through the gloom Hadi smiled at Maggie and Allie, looked at Andre and Brigitte and said, “It is time, I think, for us to find a new place to be. Shall we be out of this place now?”
“Oh, my, yes! Let’s,” breathed Maggie.
Allie nodded her head vehemently.
Gently, in French to Brigitte, Hadi said, “And you, dear one, are you now able to leave here?”
Softly she answered, “Oui, oui.”
Allie said, “But, Hadi, how? How can we get out of here? There’s no way out. There’s only the door and it is locked.”
“That is true, dear lady. That is true. At the same time we know now it is the will of Allah that we leave. We had only to wait for all of us to be here, for a little rest and for darkness. Now that all three events have occurred, there no longer is a reason for us to be here. Allah will guide our steps,” Hadi said matter of matter-of-factly. “Let us delay no more.”
The five prisoners stood up, stretching and testing cold and cramped muscles. “It would seem to me that a very small person might be able to propel herself through that small opening on the wall. Once she arrives on the outside of this room, if she looks diligently, she might then find a key near the door that would open the door and then we all will be able to walk out.” Once again Hadi spoke with complete confidence.
Maggie could feel four sets of eyes turned in her direction. “Are you saying that I could crawl through that little window?” she asked tremulously. “If that’s your idea, I’m afraid we’re sunk. I’ve spent many hours contemplating that window and its possibilities. I do not have wings and I certainly can’t reach that high. Even if I could get up there, I doubt that I could open it, and even if I could do that, how would I get down on the outside?”
Hadi replied, “Please, please, calm yourself, dear lady. If M. Fouchet will allow me, I will stand on his shoulders and thus open the window. If necessary, I will break the glass. However, I fear I would not fit through the opening.”
Maggie looked at Hadi. Even though he was a small man, his shoulders were broad. Looking at the window, she could see that he was correct. She considered her own form. A bit round in places, but basically petite. She might be able to squeeze herself through it.
Hadi went on, “The four of us will lift you high enough to go through the window. This room is built against the hillside. Have you not noticed the difference in the temperatures of the different walls? The drop on the outside should be quite short; however, I will, just for you, sacrifice my turban. If I unwind it, you may use it to support your descent to the ground.”
Maggie took a deep breath. “Yes, yes, I see. It just might work. Okay. Let’s go for it.”
Andre and Hadi stood under the window. Andre bent over with his head resting against the wall. Hadi then climbed on his shoulders and slowly Andre stood upright. The three women stood around them, steadying them. Hadi now was nearly chest high to the window. He worked silently for a few moments, and then with an “Ooof!” and a scraping sound, the window opened out, hinged at the top edge. “Quickly now. Let me down.”
On the floor Hadi said softly to Maggie, “I was correct. The ground is no more than four or five feet below the window. Do you want the turban for security?”
“No, no. I think I can jump that far. I wouldn’t want to desecrate your turban unnecessarily,” she said with a little forced laugh.
“Very good. Now. We shall built a pyramid, no? Andre and I on the bottom. Brigitte and Allie above us.” As Hadi talked the others followed his directions. “Now, dear lady, if you would just climb up us, as if we were a stair. There. Good. Good.”
Maggie found herself standing on the bent shoulders of Brigitte and Allie. Before her, the open window seemed pitifully small. It was, however, just at her waist. The only way she could move through it was headfirst. Cautiously, she turned with her back to the window and edged her head and shoulders through the opening. With a little grunt she hoisted her body up so that she was sitting on the sill with her feet and legs still inside and her upper body leaning out, hanging onto the edge of the window itself. She looked down. In the dim light it appeared that the ground was not so very far away. Slowly she scooted her bottom out, still clinging to the window with her hands. When her feet were on the windowsill, she began to walk them down the side of the wall, hanging on to the window for dear life. Before she knew it, first one foot and then another touched solid ground. She was out! And without mishap!
The air smelled wonderful. There were stars over her head. Hallelujah! Now to release the others. Carefully, as quietly as she could, Maggie inched down the hill all the time touching the wall of the little building. She rounded a corner and along the wall of the building. Near the next corner was the door. She stood quietly for a moment, listening. Nothing. No sounds from the big house. She approached the door and looked around. Now to find the key, if Hadi was right about its being here. A half-moon high in the eastern sky gave limited illumination. She passed her hands around the edge of the doorframe, standing on tiptoe, reaching as high as she could. Nothing. On her knees, again using Braille. To the left of the door. Nothing. To the right. Only a planting pocket filled with rocks. A large stone. There, under the stone, a key. Maggie’s hands were shaking. She stopped and took some deep breaths. Now quietly, quietly, to fit the key in the lock. At last the door opened. The others welcomed her with hugs and pats on the shoulder.
“Allie, where are our purses?” Maggie whispered. Allie handed Maggie her purse. Maggie draped it around her shoulder and neck so that it would be out of the way as much as possible.
Silently, they filed out of the little room. Softly Hadi closed the door behind them. Just then they heard voices above their heads. Someone was talking softly on one of the upper terraces. Hadi touched each one quickly and led them back, up the hill behind their prison, away from the house. They found themselves on a sharp ridge of ground. Below them to the left spread the Los Angeles basin, its lights glittering like regimented stars. Below them on the other side was the street. The drop to the left probably was not negotiable even in daylight. Certainly it was not so after dark. The street to their right seemed much too exposed. Hadi led them slowly along the sharp ridge for about three hundred yards where the land broadened into open country. In the weak moonlight they marched single file upward, away from the houses.
Maggie was grateful that Hadi had chosen to lead them away from the house and the obvious choice of the street and the other houses. Their recent abortive escape still was all too vivid in her memory. She could not see very much, but what she did see was daunting. Rough, open country covered with prickly scrub growth and above their heads on the side of the mountain was the huge HOLLYWOOD sign, its letters glowing dimly in the moonlight. Where were they going? What was on the other side of this mountain?
Maggie found herself out of breath frequently as they climbed. They stopped to rest from time to time. It was understood, although no one mentioned it, that Brigitte was the most fragile of them and the rests were for her benefit. However, Maggie was extremely grateful for each breather. She promised herself a regular exercise program when she returned home. She could hardly remember her home and her office. That part of her life had taken on a strange dream-like quality, like a movie watched long ago and dimly remembered.
Hadi moved ahead steadily, without haste, seemingly effortlessly. Yet, they were covering ground quickly. When she looked back, Maggie was surprised to note that the Los Angeles basin with its lights had disappeared. There was only a glow on the horizon behind and the nine huge letters above to remind them that they still were in the city.
They stopped for another rest. Maggie sat on a rock, breathing heavily. Allie gasped between breaths, “Are you doing okay, Mom? This is a pretty arduous hike.”
“Yes.” Breath. “Yes, I’m okay.” Breath. “Just a little out of shape,” Maggie answered.
“Ah, dear ladies
, it is a glorious night for a walk, is it not?” Hadi said softly in his singsong voice. He motioned above their heads. Overhead the stars blazed brightly in the black velvet night. The moon silvered all objects it touched. Then Maggie noticed a cool breeze on her face. He was right. It was a beautiful night. However, calling this scramble a walk was stretching positive thinking to the limit.
They moved on, continuing to climb upward. “Hadi,” Allie gasped, “Where’re we going? Do you know?”
Hadi answered, “We are going where Allah leads. We do not need to know more.”
“But,” Allie started to reply, but saved her breath.
Brigitte’s steps were becoming noticeably more faltering. She leaned heavily on Andre, their progress became slower and slower. While Maggie and Allie had the advantage of being dressed in jeans, sweaters and walking shoes, Brigitte wore the short skirt, blazer and light flat shoes she was wearing when she left her hotel for a short shopping trip.
“Madame Fouchet,” Hadi said at their next rest, “I know this is a difficult trek for you. But you must know that we need to put as much space between our captors and ourselves as quickly as possible. For all of us, it is important that we continue. If you will let the earth help you it will be easier. As you place each foot, feel the earth give it back to you. Feel the earth pushing you on.”
“Oui, oui,” murmured Brigitte. “We go.” Brigitte seemed to strengthen with Hadi’s words. She drew a long breath, stood up and started walking upward. Andre hurried to her side and took her arm, but she shook it off and walked resolutely ahead.
Maggie did not know how far they had climbed. She had ceased looking around, but focused her attention only on putting one foot in front of the other. Just when she thought she could go no farther, it seemed that she got a second wind, it seemed that the earth was helping, was supporting her. Amazing!
Maggie's Image (Maggie McGill Mysteries Book 1) Page 10
