Empire Builders (27 page)
THIRTY-SIX
THE OLD MAN stood with his pistol in his hand still smoking, his eyes wide at the sight of his daughter sprawled and broken on the ground. The Mafioso who had killed her lay not more than a meter away, broken and bleeding. The helicopter dwindled into the dark night sky, carrying Jane Scanwell with it.
THIRTY-SEVENThe three other gunmen lay dead around him. He stepped past their bodies and went to the minivan, where his four men lay, their bodies riddled.
They died well, the old man thought. But my daughter died the best of them all.
He had much to do. First, he slid back the door of the van and climbed inside. Crouching before the electronics hardware that lined one side of the van’s interior, he flicked several switches. A display screen lit up, a single red dot blinking off to one side of its circular grid. The elder Japanese touched two keys and the red dot moved to the center of the screen. Another touch, and a map appeared on the screen.
It is well, he thought. My daughter succeeded in planting the tracker bug on the helicopter. Now at least we will know where they are taking the Scanwell woman.
He powered up the satellite link and made his report to his superiors in Kyoto , knowing that he had to take care of the bodies of his team before the sun rose and anyone could see what had happened here. Knowing that he had really failed in his mission to protect the Scanwell woman. Knowing that as soon as the proper services were conducted for his daughter he would take his own life as payment for his failure.
“Kidnapped?” A bolt of almost electrical intensity raced through Dan. Nobo’s face on the phone screen seemed wretched with anguish.
“Abducted, kidnapped. They took her from Paris last night.” Dan had just finished the latest of his pirate broadcasts, breaking in on evening entertainment shows in the western hemisphere with his abrupt warnings about the greenhouse cliff and corruption in the GEC. He felt tired, as if he had been struggling to reach the top of a hill for ages yet still had a long, long way to go.
Snow was banked against the window. The wind was howling outside, moaning down the chimney so strongly that Dan feared it would blow out their meager fire. George was squatting by the fireplace,
feeding sticks while glancing over his shoulder at Dan. “Kidnapped,” Dan repeated. “Not killed.” “They are holding her as a hostage,” said Nobo. “We received a message from them this morning.” “We? Who do you mean?”
feeding sticks while glancing over his shoulder at Dan. “Kidnapped,” Dan repeated. “Not killed.” “They are holding her as a hostage,” said Nobo. “We received a message from them this morning.” “We? Who do you mean?”
“Gaetano spoke to Malik about it this morning.”
“Gaetano. The Italian. He’s come out into the open, has he?” “Dan—he says they’re willing to release Jane.”
“Malik told you that?”
“Yes. He gave me the message because he knows I can reach you.”
“Malik wants me to know that Jane’s been kidnapped,” said Dan. “Nice of him.” Nobo closed his eyes briefly, tiredly. “It has nothing to do with your rivalry. The message Gaetano gave him was that they will release Jane in exchange for you.”
“Oh?”
“And the data file you have from Astro.”
Dan thought swiftly. “I suppose they’ve swiped the copy that Jane had.”
“Her apartment seemed undisturbed, but no trace of the file was found when the police searched it.” “They want me, huh?”
Nobo answered tautly, “In forty-eight hours. They have set a deadline of forty-eight hours.” “That doesn’t give us much time.”
“They will kill you, Dan.”
“They’ll kill Jane, too. She knows as much about them as I do, now. Maybe more.”
“Dan, I will throw the full weight of the House of Yamagata into finding Jane and rescuing her.” Dan thought, Your team of bodyguards didn’t do much good, pal. What can you do for her now? As if he could read Dan’s thoughts, Nobo said, “We know where the helicopter took her.”
“You do?”
“One of our agents managed to plant a bug on it before she was killed.”
Killed, Dan said to himself. Of course. Nobo’s team wouldn’t let Jane out of their protection without a fight. “How many casualties did they take?” he asked aloud.
“Six dead.”
“Damn! I’m sorry, Nobo.”
“The important fact is that we know where the helicopter landed.” “Where?”
“At a private airport just outside Lyon .”
Dan leaned back in his chair. “They must have transferred her from there.” “Yes. And we don’t know where they’ve taken her.”
Dan swept the room with his eyes: the bare wooden floor, the sturdy beams of the ceiling, George hulking by the fireplace, the snow piling up outside. They’re holding her hostage someplace and I’m stuck here in the ass end of Shangri-La.
“I’ve got to get out of here,” he said to Nobo.
“I have already dispatched a plane to the airport nearest you.” Dan pictured the bumpy grass strip that passed as an airport, down in the valley below this monastic retreat house. “It’ll be covered with snow, Nobo.”
For the first time, the trace of a smile played across Nobuhiko’s face. “I am aware of the climate in the Himalayas , my friend. And the team I have sent is well acquainted with the region. Three of them have scaled Mount Everest .”
Dan grinned back at him. “I should have guessed.”
“In the time until they reach you,” Nobo asked, his face going somber again, “what should I say to Malik?”
Dan shrugged. “Tell the sonofabitch that I’m on my way to Paris .” “Paris?” Nobo seemed startled. “Is that wise?”
“No,” said Dan. “But it’s necessary.”
Luther Clay leaned back in his creaking leather chair and wondered why the whole world seemed to conspire to make his life miserable. He had fought and struggled and scrapped for every little step up the ladder of success. Now, at his age, life should be easier, much easier. Instead, it got harder every blessed day.
Clay had been appointed to head the state’s environmental protection office only a year earlier, the culmination of a long and dedicated career in the state bureaucracy. He had a right to expect a long and uneventful reign as the state’s top environmental man, and then a peaceful and well-paid retirement.
Instead, he had troubles with the mayor of New Orleans and these federal pests who insisted that the levee on Lake Pontchartrain was no longer sufficient to meet their theoretical worst-case scenario. And now he had an assistant who had just dropped a worse-than-worst-case scenario on his desk.
Damn!
He peered over his glasses at Regina Cartmill, sitting nervously on the front two inches of the chair before his desk. She was a mousy type, plain brown hair and plain vanilla skin blotched here and there with acne.
“An earthquake?” asked Clay, his voice dripping with disbelief. Bobbing her head up and down, Ms. Cartmill said, “That’s what the report predicts. A Richter scale seven earthquake in the Gulf sometime within the next twelve months.”
Clay pushed his glasses back into place. “There hasn’t been an earthquake in these parts within the memory of living man. I don’t even think there’s one on the records.”
“There is. I checked. Eighteen-twelve. The New Madrid fault. It was one of the biggest earthquakes in history.”
Clay shook his head. “Eighteen-twelve? More than two hundred years ago?” “Maybe we’re due for another one.”
“My sweet lord.”
Ms. Cartmill said, “But the prediction is for the quake to be out in the Gulf, hundreds of miles from here.”
“Then why the warning?”
“There might be disturbances in the water. You know, a tidal wave.” “Tidal wave?” Clay yelped.
She nodded unhappily.
“What on earth are we supposed to do about a tidal wave?”
“According to the report, all we can do is evacuate all the low-lying coastal areas.” “Evacuate!”
“That includes New Orleans ,” she said, her voice so low that Clay could barely hear it.
He seemed to shrivel before her eyes, sinking into the chair as if he wanted to disappear altogether. “Mr. Clay? Are you all right?”
“Oh, I’m fine,” he said, his voice little more than a croak. “Our budget’s being cut again. Our lawsuit against the companies who’ve been dumping raw sewage into the river has been thrown out of court. There’s a madman on television telling everybody that the greenhouse is going to drown us all. My wife is hysterical because our daughter wants to marry a white boy.
“Now you’ve just told me that half the state might get flooded out. That means I’ve got to go to the mayor of New Orleans, who already hates the sight of me, and tell her that on some unknown day sometime in the next twelve months she’s going to have to give the order to evacuate the city because a potential tidal wave caused by a theoretical earthquake might possibly wipe out her city. That’s fine, just perfectly fine. That’s wonderful.”
Despite the dogged weariness that was draining him, Dan paced the main room of the retreat house, half mad with impatience. He was perspiring beneath his heavy woolen shirt and leather vest, yet he felt chilled, as if his bones were turning to ice. The fire flickered fitfully, throwing gleaming highlights on the polished wooden beams of the low ceiling.
Big George banged through the door, looking like a fuzzy bear in the long-haired coat he wore. For once, no blast of wind followed him into the room.
“Storm’s over,” he announced, trying to sound cheerful. “Moon’s up. You can even see the lights of Alphonsus and Copernicus. It’s really a pretty night out there.”
“Any sign of them?” Dan asked.
George shook his shaggy head. “We might be the only two fooking people left on Earth for all the signs you can see out there. Not even a paw print in the snow.” He pulled off the coat and tossed it onto the chest by the door. “Fooking beautiful, though, what with the moonlight on the new snow.”
“They should have been here by now,” Dan said, still pacing. “You eaten anything?”
Dan shook his head. George muttered to himself and went to the smaller room that served as a kitchen. When they had first arrived at the retreat house, they had been surprised to see a modern refrigerator, a sizable freezer, electric stove and even a microwave oven. The lama who had guided them up the steep and narrow mountain path to the house explained with a gentle smile that although the lamas themselves were forbidden to use such luxuries, they knew that Western guests regarded them as necessities. Then he had gone outside and started the diesel generator that powered the house.
Dan could not help thinking, at the time, that even in this remote site, in a house built by religious ascetics for peaceful contemplation, they were adding their little bit to the greenhouse effect.
Later, he grumbled that the lamas had not bothered to wire the house for electrical heating, relying only on the pitiful fireplace which also added its jot to the greenhouse.
George made a meal from the dwindling supplies they had brought with them and insisted that Dan sit at the table with him and eat.
“You’ve got some strenuous days ahead of you, mate,” George said, almost cheerfully. “Better keep up your strength, eh?” Dan spooned whatever it was into his mouth, his mind focused on Jane. Where is she, what are they doing to her, is she all right, have the bastards already killed her, how can I help her sitting here in this godforsaken shack at the ass end of nowhere with a close of radiation sickness eating away at me?
“Where in the seven levels of hell are they?” he shouted, slamming his spoon down on the table.
George eyed him from beneath his bushy red brows. “If you’d keep quiet for half a tick you’d be able to hear them.”
Dan’s breath caught in his chest. Yes, in the stillness of the night there was a faint thrumming sound. Then he huffed and said, “It’s just the damned generator.”
George shook his head. “No it’s not. Listen.”
It seemed as if each second stretched into eternity. But soon enough Dan realized the young Aussie was right. It was definitely the sound of a helicopter.
He bolted from the table, grabbed his parka and dashed out into the snow. The sky was bright with moonlight, the snow glittered clean and untouched except for George’s own tracks around the cabin. And up in that sky, clattering and thundering like a giant mechanical insect, Dan saw the black silhouette of a helicopter approaching.
“Hey, you’re right, Georgie! It’s a beautiful night! A gorgeous night!” He laughed and pounded the big man’s back.
“YOU DON’T LOOK so well,” said Vasily Malik.
“Never mind that,” Dan snapped. “We have work to do and less than twenty-four hours to do it.”
They sat facing each other on the fantail of a luxury yacht under the warm Mediterranean sun, beneath the shade of a molecularly thin plastic awning, reflective white on top and UV-absorbent blue-green underneath. Barely an hour had passed since the Yamagata supersonic jet transport had landed Dan and George at San Remo , on the Italian riviera. From the deck of the yacht the magnificent old hotel and casino stood white and colonnaded against the hills that glittered with row upon row of hothouses where Europe ’s finest flowers were cultivated.
Malik had suggested a meeting place outside Paris , claiming he was afraid that Gaetano had him under surveillance. Dan did not entirely believe the Russian, but Nobuhiko suggested the yacht at San Remo . It belonged to Yamagata Industries; it was safe and unbugged.
Now Nobo sat between Malik and Dan; Big George was up on the bridge with the skipper, hugely enjoying the first time he had been on the water in more than ten years, even though the yacht lay at anchor.
“I have a medical team on its way,” said Nobo.
“We’re here to get Jane back,” Dan said. “Everything else can wait.”
Malik inclined his head slightly, as if conceding the point. But he said, “May I remind you that, technically, you are under arrest? You are in no position to make demands.”
Nobo’s eyes shifted from the Russian to Dan, who put on a grim smile and replied, “May I remind you, in the real world, that Jane’s being held hostage by a bunch of bastards who say they’ll let her go only when they get their hands on me. I’m a valuable property, pal.”
“That is the only thing that is keeping you out of jail, at the moment,” said Malik.
Dan’s nostrils flared. “And the only thing that’s keeping me from throwing you the hell over the side and into the drink is that I double-damn need you and the capabilities of the GEC to find where they’re holding Jane and rescue her.”
“You have no intention of trading yourself for her?” Malik asked. He was almost smirking. “What a surprise. I thought that at last you would show some shred of altruism, some particle of self-sacrifice.”
The air between the two men seemed to crackle like the filaments in a spark tube.
“Listen, Vasily,” Dan said, hunching toward the Russian until their noses were barely an inch apart, “I’ll do what has to be done, but I have no intention of going in like a lamb to the slaughter. They’re not going to let Jane go no matter what I do and we both know that.”
“I do not know that,” said Malik.
Dan leaned back in his canvas chair. He looked into Malik’s ice blue eyes. “Just how much do you know?”
“What do you mean?”
“Are you working for them? Are you part of this double-damned Mafia operation?” “Certainly not!”
“Then prove it.” Dan jabbed a finger at the Russian. “Cut all this bullshit and give us the help we need to find her.”
Malik stared back at Dan intently. Finally he made a small smile and waved one hand in the air. “Very well. I propose a truce between us, until Jane is safe once again.”
“A truce,” Dan echoed.
“I will forget that you are a wanted fugitive,” said Malik. “Until Jane is safe.”
A small grin returned to Dan’s face. “And I’ll forget that I’d rather feed you to the fishes.” “That seems like an excellent arrangement to me,” said Nobo.
“Okay.” Dan put out his hand. Malik hesitated for just a moment, then took it. Dan was surprised by the strength of his grip.
If I find out he really is working with Gaetano and the rest of those thugs, I’ll kill him, Dan said to himself.
At the same time Malik thought, Perhaps the hoodlums will kill him and save me the trouble afterward. “Shall we go to work now?” Nobo asked.
“By all means.”
Nobo picked up the portable phone beside his chair and said, Please bring up the map.”
A moment later, Tamara Duchamps emerged from below deck, wearing a flowered bikini beneath a filmy beach coat. She carried a square electronic display map in both hands.
Dan saw Malik eying her and it made him angry the way a father would simmer at a man’s lecherous ogling of his daughter.
Then he noticed how Nobo looked at her. And how she looked back at him. He’s really fallen for her, Dan saw. He’s in orbit. And she doesn’t mind it a bit.
Tamara put the flat display map on the low table before the men and managed to touch Nobo’s hand before she stepped back behind his chair. He reached up and nuzzled her hand. She beamed a smile at him.
Dan grinned widely. Looks like Sai’s going to get the grandson he wanted.
Then Nobuhiko became businesslike again. Pointing to the map, he said, “The security team that I had watching over Jane was under orders not to risk her life. That is why they allowed the kidnappers to take her.”
Malik muttered, “That is their excuse for failing to stop the kidnappers.” Nobo glanced at Dan, who let his disgust with Malik show on his face.
“Sir,” he said to the Russian, “five men and one woman let themselves be killed rather than risk Jane’s life. The leader of the team killed himself after making his report to me.”
Malik said nothing.
“Before she died,” Nobo went on, “the woman managed to plant a homing device on the helicopter that carried Jane away from Paris . The helicopter landed here, near Lyon .” He tapped the map. “And then you lost track of her,” said Malik.
Before Nobo could reply Dan said, “But you can help us pick up the trail, Vasily.” “I? How?”
“The surveillance satellites. The World Meteorological Center keeps the satellite tapes on file, don’t they?” “I suppose they do, but-”
“Jane’s abduction happened less than forty-eight hours ago. They took her to this private airport and we assume that they transferred her to another plane and flew her somewhere else. We can scan the satellite tapes to see the planes that left that airport during the critical time period and track them to their destinations.” Malik rubbed his chin. “Yes, I suppose that is possible. If the tapes have sufficient resolution.”
“If they don’t, there’re the military systems in the Peacekeepers’ satellites. They can read the flyspecks on a postage stamp.” “Then we should go to the Peacekeepers first,” said Malik.
“Okay. Good,” Dan said. “Two things, though. It’s got to be done fast. No hang-ups from the usual red tape. And it’s got to be done in absolute secrecy. If they know we’re tracking them they’ll move Jane again.”
Malik nodded. “I can get the commander of the Peacekeepers to help us. He is a Swede; I know him well. And I doubt that even the Mafia has infiltrated the International Peacekeeping Force.” “Assume nothing,” Dan warned. “If you and the IPF commander can work this out with nobody else in the loop, that would be best.” “I understand.” “What do we do in the meantime?” Nobo asked. “The forty-eight hours are almost up.”
“I will contact Gaetano and tell him that you are on your way to me,” said Malik. “I will ask him for instructions on how and where to deliver you in exchange for Jane.”
“Good enough,” said Dan, adding silently, I hope. He turned to Nobuhiko. “We won’t be able to use Peacekeepers’ troops, Nobo. They’re forbidden from anything that doesn’t involve aggression between national groups.”
“I know,” said Nobo. “Yamagata will supply you with all the muscle you need. It would be difficult for me to stop my people from trying to avenge their friends’ deaths.”
It was night. A cool breeze swept across the water, pushing low clouds past the smiling moon. Dan saw the twinkling lights of San Remo as the anchored yacht bobbed on the swells. People there are going to dinner and gambling at the casino and living their lives just as if there’s no greenhouse cliff, no disaster staring them in the face. Everything we’ve done so far hasn’t put a dent in their awareness.
Maybe nothing will until it’s too late. The breeze gusted and he shivered.
“You should get medical attention,” said Tamara softly in the shadows.
Dan turned and saw that she had wrapped a windbreaker around herself, though her long lithe legs were still bare. She held another jacket out to Dan. He was still in the woolen shirt and chinos he had been wearing since the helicopter picked him and Big George out of the snow of the Himalayas . In the heat of the Mediterranean afternoon he had felt comfortable. Now he was chilled.
“Thanks,” he said, pulling on the nylon jacket.
“We just got word from the Yamagata spaceport at Alphonsus. Kate Williams left yesterday.”
“Yesterday? Where’s she heading?” “The space station Nueva Venezuela .” “And from there?”
She shrugged.
Dan thought a moment. “Wherever she’s going, it’s probably where Gaetano is. Which is probably where Jane is, too.”
“Very likely,” said Tamara.
“I’d better tell Nobo. Maybe he can track her.”
“I’ve already told him.Yamagata personnel aboard the lunar shuttle will follow her.” “Good.” He looked into her almond eyes. “You and Nobo have hit it off very well.” Even in the darkness he could see her dazzling smile. “He says he loves me.”
“And you?”
“I think I love him.” “Think!”
“Everything has happened very quickly. I want to give this time, to see if this is really love or not.” “He’s a fine young man,” said Dan.
“He thinks the world of you.”
Dan grinned. “You see? A man of rare perceptions and fine discriminations.”
But she did not laugh. “You really must see a doctor. George told me that you received a severe radiation close.”
“Mild,” Dan said. “Not severe. I’ve had worse and I got over them.” “But you are much older now than you were in those days.”
Dan’s grin turned bitter. “Ah, the innocent cruelty of youth.” “Oh! I did not mean to hurt you, Dan ....”
With a sigh that was only partially a put-on, Dan said, “How keener than a serpent’s tooth is a reminder of a man’s age from a beautiful young lady.”
Before she could reply, Big George stuck his head up from the main hatch. “Hey, Dan. Malik’s got the tracking data from the Peacekeepers.”
“Come on,” Dan said to Tamara as he headed for the hatch. Down in the yacht’s main salon, Nobo and Malik sat side by side on a leather couch, poring over the electronic map board. Dan tugged at an armchair; when it barely moved, George picked it up and deposited it at one end of the couch.
“According to the satellite data,” Nobo said, “there were five departures from the airport where the
helicopter landed.”
helicopter landed.”
“Five?” Dan asked. “Over what time period?” Malik.
“Within twelve hours of the time the helicopter landed,” said Dan nodded. It was reasonable to assume that they wouldn’t keep Jane at the airport for more than a few hours. They’d want to move her to a safer, better-protected location.
Nobo was working the control dials of the map. It showed five red lines radiating from the airport. The map expanded, as though their point of view were rising like a rocket. Two of the red lines went to Orly airport outside Paris , a third to Milan , the fourth and fifth to Oran , on the coast of Algeria .
“Would they take her back to Paris ?” Nobo wondered.
“If they have it will be extremely difficult to find her,” said Malik.
“Or Milan , too,” Dan said. “Big cities are easy to hide in and tough to find anybody who’s being hidden.”
“Oran is not that much smaller than Milan ,” Nobo pointed out. “It must be Milan ,” Malik said. “It’s in Italy . That’s where Gaetano would take her.”
Dan asked, “Did those two planes for Oran leave at the same time?”
Nobo checked the data on the map display. “Within five minutes of one another.” “That’s where she’s gone,” Dan said eagerly. “I’d bet on it! Two planes full of hoods.” Malik was shaking his head. “I doubt it.”
Tamara, standing behind the couch, touched Nobo’s shoulder. He twisted in his seat to look up at her.
“You can have Kate Williams followed. She will most likely lead you to Mrs. Scanwell.” “Yes, that has already been arranged.”
“Where’d those planes go after they landed in Oran ?” Dan asked, still poring over the map.
Nobo tapped the map’s control keys. “One remained in Oran for two hours, then returned to Marseille. The other stayed in Oran for forty-five minutes and flew to-” A new red line appeared on the map. “—to Cagliari , on Sardinia .”
“Sardinia?” Malik looked shocked.
“Holy shit.” Dan groaned. “They must have a stronghold there that’s fight out of the Middle Ages.” It’s a castle, Jane said to herself. An honest to goodness castle, just like in a fairy tale.
She stood on the roof, by the crenellated parapet, and gazed down into the green valley below. The Sardinian sun was blazing hot out of a brilliant blue sky, but the breeze was cool. In the shadows it was chilly, and inside the castle’s thick walls Jane had felt positively cold. On the long climb up to the roof, along the dark, steeply winding stone stairway, she had seen her breath steaming in the air.
They had brought her here the previous night. Her captors had treated her with deference. If they realized that she had pushed the gunman from the helicopter they gave no indication of it. They had delivered her to a plane, flown to another airport, changed planes, and finally brought her here. All with the exaggerated formality of handling a very high-ranking prisoner of war. No threats, no cruelty, but no warmth or kindness either.
This must be the way the British treated Napoleon after Waterloo . He was from Corsica , though, not Sardinia . And they took him to Saint Helena , little more than a barren rock out in the middle of the Atlantic .
The Sardinian countryside was harsh but not barren. The castle sat perched atop a steep cliff of bare rock, thrust like a fist through the forest below. Down in the valley Jane could see a tiny village and some cultivated fields. Vineyards, she thought, and wondered how the local wine tasted.
Her quarters in the castle were reasonably comfortable, though too small and confined to be royal. The door was thick and bolted from the outside. Her windows were narrow and barred. Peering over the edge of the parapet, Jane tried to locate her room. If those are my windows, she thought, there’s a sheer drop down the wall and the cliff. Even if I could get past the bars on the window there’s nothing but a straight drop of a couple hundred feet.
She sighed. At least I’ve got my own bathroom. The kidnappers had been very thorough. When they solemnly escorted her to her room they assured her that a complete wardrobe had been assembled for her, everything in the correct size. Jane had seen that they told the truth, and wondered how they got her bra size. Now she stood in the morning sunlight, wearing the same turtleneck and skirt she had when they had captured her. It was her only sign of defiance, that she refused to put on the clothes that they had provided.
Otherwise there was no fight left in her, not even any fear. She was here and there was nothing she could do about it. If Dan or anyone else on Earth cared about her abduction and was trying to do something about it, she had not the slightest inkling. She had been kidnapped. She had witnessed the cold-blooded murder of five people. She herself had killed a man, deliberately pushed him to his death. It was if all the emotion, all the adrenaline in her had been used up. Now she felt numb, almost dazed, totally unable to do or even think of anything that could help her escape from this. “Are you enjoying the scenery?”
She turned and saw Gaetano ducking through the low doorway of the winding staircase. As he started toward her he pulled a pair of sunglasses from the breast pocket of his jacket and put them on like donning a mask.
“You should not stay out in the sun more than a few minutes,” Gaetano said. “The ozone, you know.” “You’re concerned about my health?”
“Of course.” “How touching.”
Gaetano smiled at her and took his cigarette case from his inside pocket. Automatically he offered a cigarette to Jane, who refused it with a shake of her head.
After he lit up, Gaetano said, “I’m sorry it had to come to this, Jane. But believe me, we have no desire to harm you.”
“And those Japanese people who were trying to protect me?”
He shrugged nonchalantly. “Soldiers killed in a skirmish. It happens.” “It was murder and you know it.”
“So? Salvatore tells me that you might have helped Carlo out of the helicopter.” “He was murdering a helpless girl.”
“And you murdered him?” Jane glared at him.
Gaetano puffed on his cigarette, smiling. “Come on, Jane, there’s no sense arguing over spilt milk. Or blood. I have good news for you: Dan Randolph will be coming here for you.”
“Dan?” She tried to control her sudden surge of emotion; almost succeeded. “Once he’s here we can let you go.”
“What do you mean? What are you going to do to Dan?”
“We just want to keep him quiet, that’s all. He’s been a pain in the ass for a long time. Now we can hold him here and get on with our plans.”
Jane swiftly pieced it together. They want to get Dan out of their way. So they take me, knowing that Dan will come after me. I’m the bait, nothing but bait.
“Once Randolph has come to us we can let you go back to Paris ,” Gaetano said. Then his smile clicked off. “But you will say nothing about us, or about this, eh episode. Nothing to anyone, understand?
Otherwise Randolph will die.”
“You use me to get to Dan, and then you use him to keep me quiet.”
Gaetano nodded. “As long as you remain quiet,Randolph will remain alive.” He spread his arms wide, the smile reappearing. “And it’s not so bad living here, is it? Princes and kings fought to take this castle, centuries ago. We’ll let Randolph live like a king!”
The memory of Napoleon flashed again through Jane’s mind. Once the British had him safely tucked away in exile on Saint Helena , they slowly poisoned him to death.
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