Death In The Caucasus: An International Suspense Thriller

by J. A. Kalis

  A yellow beam of light cut through the darkness like a knife. It flickered several times but didn’t go out. Almost blinded by the sudden light, Carol blinked. Impatient to take in her surroundings, she looked around, her eyes struggling to focus. Everything was a blur. It took a couple of minutes for her eyes to adjust to the light and make out some shapes in the murky interior. Sweeping the narrow torch beam across the cave, she scanned bit by bit the enclosed space.

  She tried to stand up but failed, the ties obstructing her. Dragging her feet, she crawled until the rope went taut. To get a better angle, she tilted her head. In front of her loomed the dark entrance to the passageway, which they’d come through earlier. On the opposite side, to her right, was another black opening. A corridor, or another chamber? Impossible to tell.

  Carol shone the light around her own body. A one-and-a-half litre plastic bottle filled with water stood by her side. On the boulder next to her lay something wrapped in a paper bag. She looked inside. It was a baguette filled with cheese, ham, lettuce and tomato slices. So it seemed he didn’t want to starve her to death. He had some other plans with her.

  Focusing the beam on her bonds, she inspected them. The knots were tight and looked expertly made. Her bare hands weren’t enough to undo them. Once more she swept the light across the room, this time slowly, searching for something she could use to cut the ropes. She found nothing.

  Afraid the batteries might not last long, she switched off the torch and put it aside, though still within arm’s reach. She didn’t feel like eating his food. Not knowing what else to do, she lay down on the sleeping bag, curling on her side again in the foetal position. Trying to keep calm, she processed everything that had happened in the last couple of days. But the more she pondered, the angrier she became. Angry both with herself and with her abductors. How could she be so gullible? Corinne had lured her into her trap so easily. She must have called Lucien right after she had first talked to her, arranged for him to be waiting in the car park. A wave of hate swept over her. Her fists clenched in helpless frustration.

  But why?

  The question was easy to answer. It meant they were scared. Scared of being found out and caught. It meant they were involved in her sister’s death. Sandy hadn’t just slipped and fallen. She was murdered. One or both of her abductors killed her. There was no doubt left in Carol’s mind now.

  So how and when was he going to kill her? Why hadn’t he done it already? He could have done it right away, after he’d brought her here.

  Maybe he wanted to keep her as his slave in order to play some sick games, only to murder her later. Before long, this thought had settled with horrific certainty into her mind, making her shudder. Dark thoughts swirled in her head. Once more fear threatened to engulf her. If she didn’t want to die she had to find a way to free herself and escape before he came back. She had to. It was her only chance to survive.

  Suddenly, she heard a sound. A soft noise, like the flapping of wings.

  Her body tensed. She wasn’t alone. Was there an animal in there? Would it attack her?

  She tried to place the source of the noise but failed, feeling disoriented without her sight. The sound had died away before she had time to grab for the torch.

  Again, silence fell.

  Just as she’d started to think that she’d imagined it, another sound reached her ears, this time resembling high-pitched scraping. A few seconds later it stopped, and all was quiet again.

  Still not daring to move, she listened. But there was only silence.

  How long had she been there already?

  She’d lost all track of time. With no natural light to guide her, it was impossible to tell night from day. She didn’t have a watch. It was in her bag together with her mobile. And her bag was gone. They had taken it away.

  How much time did she have left? Was he going to come back soon?

  There was no way to know when, but she knew that eventually he was going to come back and slaughter her like a helpless animal. With this thought, her heart was filled with a sense of urgency.

  Do something! Don’t let it happen! She sat up and switched on the torch. For a while, her fingers plucked desperately at the ropes. The knots wouldn’t budge.

  It was a waste of effort, she concluded. She ran her tongue over her parched lips, and realized how thirsty she was. She opened the bottle and gulped down half the mineral water.

  She shone the torch beam on the stone floor and jagged rock walls of the cave. She hadn’t yet abandoned all hope. Maybe she would find a sharp stone and use it to cut the ties. Again she crawled around, running the palms of her hands over the eroded stone surface. None of the edges she touched seemed sharp enough to do the job.

  She stopped. She couldn’t go any further; the rope had become too taut.

  Making one last attempt, she stretched both hands as far as she could and swept the floor. Nothing. Finally discouraged, she returned to the sleeping bag, unzipped it and crept inside, as far as the bonds permitted. Suddenly, all strength abandoned her. She felt exhausted, too tired even to think. Her eyelids became heavy and within minutes, she started to drift off to sleep.

  ***

  A bright light, shining in her eyes, woke her up. It must be morning, time to get up, she thought, wondering why her head felt so heavy and her muscles so stiff and painful.

  Was Mike still asleep?

  She opened her eyes. What she saw wasn’t at all what she expected: no sunlight streaming through the window, no bed, no Mike by her side. Instead a dark figure stood in front of her holding a torch in his hand, its beam pointed at her face. She flinched, her eyes squinting against the harsh brightness that assaulted them. She held up her hand to block the blinding light. Even so, she recognized the man standing in front of her. It was her abductor, Lucien Chabert.

  In an instant, past events flashed across her mind. A wave of hate swept over her at the recollection.

  ‘Happy to see me? Did you miss me?’ A devilish smirk accompanied his words.

  He moved closer and bent down to inspect her ties. She let him do it without protest, feeling too groggy to react.

  ‘Sorry to disappoint you, but I didn’t bring you company. Mind you, it was not for lack of trying. I swear, I did my best but it didn’t work the way I planned it. I looked for that blonde bitch everywhere but she was nowhere to be found. She must have suspected something and decided to hide away. But I’ll find her. You’ve got my word. She can’t escape me. Only now you’ll have to wait a bit longer. Still it’s worth it. Trust me, we are going to have some real fun.’

  When he was finished, Lorenzo straightened up, his gaze falling on the paper bag. He opened it and peered inside.

  ‘You haven’t eaten anything? Don’t you like the sandwich? How ungrateful. I chose it for you with such great care. Ham, cheese, tomatoes, lettuce. It looks tasty. You don’t want to starve yourself to death, do you? Believe me, it’s not the best way to die. No need to rush things up. Wait and you’ll see, I’ve got something much better for you in store. But first you should eat. Look here, I’ve brought you some more.’ He placed another paper bag filled with food and a plastic bottle of water next to her.

  ‘I told you I’m not a bad guy. Pity, not everybody sees it. But I must admit I’ve got a short fuse. So I warn you, don’t push my buttons. Better do what I ask you to.’

  She recoiled in disgust when his right hand reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from her cheek. His fingers lingered on her skin, caressing it. He cupped her chin and tilted her face, studying it intently. Their eyes locked. It must have been mere seconds but it felt like minutes before she averted her gaze. Being so close to him made her skin crawl.

  ‘I see hatred in your eyes. A lot of hatred. It doesn’t suit you, it makes you look less attractive. There’s no need to hate me. I did nothing to deserve it.’

  ‘You killed my sister. Why? Why did you do it?’ The words tumbled out of her mouth before she could stop them.

 
; ‘Oh, I see you have already figured it out. I must admit you are a smart girl. So that’s where all that hatred is coming from. But you are wrong to blame me for what happened. It was all her fault. She asked for it. I didn’t want to hurt her but she left me no choice. And now you. You make the same mistake. Why did you have to look for us, attempt to pry into our lives? What were you going to do next? Contact the police? Tell them to arrest us? It’s not healthy to be so nosy. It does more harm than good. What should I do with you now? What would you do if you were in my place? Don’t you get it yet? You brought it all on yourself. Do I have any choice left?’

  ‘What do you want from me? How long are you going to keep me here? What are you going to do to me? You don’t have to kill me. Let me go and I swear I won’t tell anybody.’

  ‘I don’t believe you. It’s pretty obvious what’s going to happen, isn’t it? The answer is a no-brainer. Easy to figure it out on your own. So why keep asking such silly questions? Just to get on my nerves? And don’t ever tell me what to do! Be careful, you may regret it.’

  She fell silent, afraid to make him angry. One look at the set of his face told her it was better not to take the risk. Something in the way he spoke and the steely glint in his eyes sent shivers down her spine.

  ‘I warn you one more time, don’t try any tricks. It’s useless. You can’t escape from here. And your disobedience will only irritate me. Bad things will happen then. Very bad things.’

  He checked his watch.

  ‘I’ve got to go now. Don’t worry, I’ll come back. Wait for me and behave yourself.’

  As soon as the words left his mouth, he turned his back on her and left.

  Carol sat still for a few minutes, not daring to move. She just watched as darkness engulfed his slender, wiry figure, her mind a jumble of emotions. She was at a mercy of a ruthless killer. A feeling of hate overwhelmed her to the point of driving her crazy. He had killed her little sister. And now he held her in his power and control. She didn’t want to become his next murder victim. She didn’t want to die. Yet, she was unable to find a way to escape from his clutches. Nor could she do anything to punish him for Sandy’s death. Angry at her own helplessness, she clenched her fists. Her jaw tensed. She felt tears welling up in her eyes, burning them, tears of frustration. Before they began rolling down her cheeks, she forced them away, deciding she had to stay strong. Maybe not everything was lost yet. Letting despair overpower her was not the right thing to do.

  In her heart, she vowed to seek revenge if she ever managed to get out of there alive.

  CHAPTER 12

  Evening was approaching; the sun was low. The broad valley nestled between limestone cliffs was already draped in shadow. The Alzou river flowing through its middle glowed golden orange as the slanting sunrays danced on its smooth water surface. Houses clinging to the rock face, high above the gorge, were bathed in a warm dusk light, the amber coloured western sky reflected in some of their windows.

  Focused on keeping the rental car driving at a steady speed, Patrick neared the picturesque village of Rocamadour. Mike had told him that that was where Carol had gone. He would start his search there.

  Fuelled by the desire to find his daughter as soon as possible, he hadn’t let himself succumb to exhaustion after the long journey back from Georgia, and had left immediately.

  Next to him, in the passenger seat sat Mike. Having abandoned from the very start any attempt at small talk, both men kept silent, their minds engulfed in their own thoughts. Soft radio music filled the car, giving some distraction, but proved unable to ease any of the tension that gripped their bodies.

  ***

  As soon as Mike had learnt from Karen about Patrick’s plans to travel to France, he insisted on accompanying him. For quite some time, regret and guilt had been eating him up. He should have gone with her. And he shouldn’t have lied to her about why he couldn’t. His reason was a lie, just an empty excuse. He could have had a few days off work if he’d asked his boss. But he hadn’t. The truth was, he felt sick and tired of the whole commotion about Sandy going missing, and didn’t want to get too involved in the search for her. In hindsight, he admitted it was selfish of him to act the way he did. He had let his girlfriend down. Hearing about Sandy’s tragic death made him realize that Carol could be in great danger. Her prolonged silence put him on edge. Accompanying Patrick on his quest for Carol was the only thing capable of helping him shake the feeling of guilt that continued to plague his conscience.

  ***

  Initially, fearing Mike would hinder rather than help him, Patrick refused to take him. The fact he never liked him much played a significant role in his decision. But on second thoughts, he changed his mind. It was impossible to foresee what kind of obstacles he would have to face and overcome. Mike could prove useful. Judging by what he said, he really seemed determined to do whatever it took to help. Mike’s pleading eventually melted his resolve and he agreed. He was ready to do anything if it only saved his daughter. Saving Carol was what mattered most.

  Slowing down, Patrick steered the vehicle towards the car park. To his dismay, it appeared to be full. He cruised down the aisles for a while, searching for an empty spot. He had almost lost hope of finding one, when he saw a vacant space in the next row. Relieved, he pulled into it.

  Although by then the sun was already quite low, the temperature hadn’t dropped much. The moment they stepped out of the cool air-conditioned car, warm, heavy air enveloped their bodies, taking them by surprise. Fortunately, a balmy breeze blew their way, its touch agreeably refreshing.

  Overnight bag slung over his shoulder, Patrick headed towards the exit, his long legs carrying him rapidly along the aisle. The shorter Mike had to almost jog to keep up Patrick’s swift pace, especially as the bag he carried was bigger and heavier than Patrick’s.

  Soon they emerged into the long main street. It was bustling with meandering tourists and random, hasty passers-by. The murmur of voices and occasional laughter floated all around them as they weaved their way through the crowd. Seducing aromas of food and fresh ground coffee wafting from restaurants and cafés made Patrick’s stomach growl and his mouth water. Only then did he realize just how famished he was. Since breakfast he had only eaten a small sandwich. It was time for a proper meal. A few minutes later, a sign hanging from one of the buildings lining the street caught his attention, and he slowed his pace. It read: La Belle Etoile. He recognized the name of the guesthouse in which they were going to spend the next night. According to Mike, it was also where Carol was meant to be staying, and from where she had made her last call to him.

  Before they entered the building, Patrick stopped and turned towards Mike.

  ‘Listen, we have no clue what really happened. If we want to find out, we should keep calm and handle things with care. What I mean is I don’t want to scare people off by acting inaptly. Otherwise we might not learn anything from them. We can’t take any risks, ask inappropriate questions. I’m not quite sure you can handle things with care. So let’s be clear, from now on I am in charge and I do most of the talking … unless you speak perfect French.’

  ‘I don’t speak any French. Oh, you can be frank with me. I know what you think – you never liked me and you don’t trust me – but you shouldn’t worry, I’m not going to mess things up. I want to find Carol as much as you do.’

  The bell on the door jangled as they entered the dimly lit lobby. It was empty. Soon a young woman appeared behind the counter. Her chin-length black hair nicely framed her heart-shaped face. She stood still for a moment while her intense eyes studied the two approaching figures. Eventually, a plastered-on fake smile appeared on her face.

  ‘Bonsoir, messieurs, en quoi puis-je vous aider?’ Her eyes flicked from one man to another as if unable to choose between them, until they finally settled on Patrick.

  ‘Bonsoir, I booked two rooms here. Our names are Patrick Morton and Michael Richards.’ Patrick articulated each word with great care hoping he’d pronounced
them correctly. It had been a long time since he had spoken French.

  ‘Yes, I was expecting you. The rooms are ready and awaiting your arrival. But first I need your passports.’

  Both men complied with her request.

  ‘I won’t be a moment.’ She disappeared through an open door to the adjacent room.

  From the murmur of conversation that came to their ears, they knew there was someone else there with her. The voices, however, were too low to allow them to understand what was said. A couple of minutes later, the young woman reappeared, handing a sheet of paper and a pen to each man.

  ‘Could you, please, fill in these forms?’

  Seeing Patrick’s puzzled look, she added, ‘It’s for the police. All foreigners staying in a hotel are required to register. It’s the law, I can’t do anything about it.’

  ‘I see. Don’t worry, it’s okay. We understand.’

  The check-in formalities completed, Patrick straightened up and fixed the girl with his eyes. ‘My daughter, Carol Morton, stayed here at the beginning of this—’

  ‘Morton? Oh, yes, that’s why I thought your name sounded familiar. ‘Light brown, shoulder-length hair, slender figure, quite tall. She stayed here only one night, but I remember her well. She asked me about a woman. I think her name was Corinne.’

  ‘Sorry, but could you speak a bit more slowly, please? My French isn’t so good.’

  After she’d repeated what she had said before, only this time speaking slowly, he asked her, ‘Do you know this woman, this Corinne?’

  ‘No, I don’t know her. I don’t know any locals. I am not from here around. I’ve only worked at the hotel for a month. So I couldn’t help her.’

  ‘Do you happen to know where she was heading next?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, I do. You see, she received a phone call here in the lobby. She stood so close to the counter that I couldn’t help but overhear. She spoke in French. I don’t know who she talked to – maybe this woman, Corinne – but I understood she agreed to meet with someone. I heard her repeat the name of the village where she was supposed to go. It’s a bit complicated. I’d better write it down for you.’