Payne nodded anxiously, praying that Ariane was inside and unharmed.
It had been nearly a week since he had last kissed her, since he had held her in his arms and confessed his love to her. It was the first thing he was going to do when he saw her. He was going to grab her and tell her how much he cared, how much she meant to him, how lonely he had been without her. She was his world, and he was going to make damn sure she knew it.
“Got it,” Jones whispered.
The sound of his partner’s voice brought Payne back to reality. He moved to the left of the entrance, wrapped his finger around his trigger, and waited for Jones to turn the handle.
With a flick of his wrist, Jones swung the door open and calmly waited against the outside wall for an outburst of violence. Payne and the others waited, too, knowing that inexperienced guards often charged forward to investigate the unknown. But when the four men heard nothing—no footsteps, voices, or gunshots—they realized they were either facing an elite team or no one at all.
Payne did his best to raise his injured arm and slowly counted down for his men.
Three fingers. Two fingers. One finger. Showtime.
The MANIACs entered with precision. Jones slid in first, followed closely by Payne and the others. With guns in a firing position, the men scoured the room for potential danger, but none was present. The only thing they saw was a scared group of hostages, gagged and tied up in the center of the floor.
“Is there anyone in here?” Jones demanded. “Did they set any traps?”
The heads of the hostages swung from side to side.
Shell and Sanchez didn’t take their word for it, though. They carefully searched the corners, the walls, and the exposed pipes of the twenty-by-twenty-foot metallic room, which had the feel of a submarine mess hall, but found nothing that concerned them.
When Shell gave the word, Jones grabbed his radio and spoke rapidly, ordering the next wave of MANIACs to enter the facility.
But Payne ignored all of that. His mind was on one thing and one thing only: Ariane.
He moved into the group of hostages and instantly recognized their faces from the boat. He couldn’t wait to ask them how they managed to get caught—the last thing he knew they were motoring away from the island—but that would have to wait until after he found Ariane.
Shit! Where was she? Why couldn’t he find Ariane?
Out of nowhere, the face of Robert Edwards appeared in the crowd, and Payne rushed to his side. He removed his gag and asked, “Are you okay?” But before he got a response, he continued. “Have you seen Ariane?”
“No,” Edwards said. “Have you seen Tonya? Have you seen my Tonya?”
At that moment, Payne could’ve kicked himself. Here he was worrying about his own needs when he should’ve been more concerned with the needs of the slaves. They were the ones who had been through the bigger ordeal. Compared to them, he’d been through nothing.
“Tonya’s fine, just fine. And the baby’s still inside her, right where it should be.”
Relief flooded Edwards’s face. “Where
he
should be. We’re having a boy.”
Payne smiled at the information. “Right where
he
should be.”
“And Tonya? Where is she now?”
“Don’t worry. She’s safe. She’s in New Orleans at FBI headquarters, giving a statement. And before I left town, I got her an appointment with the best obstetrician in the state. He promised me that she’d be in good hands.”
“Thank God,” Edwards muttered.
Payne gave him a moment to collect his thoughts and count his blessings before he continued his questioning. “Robbie, I don’t mean to be rude, but . . .”
“You want to know about Ariane.”
“Have you seen her?”
Edwards nodded. “She was on the plane with the rest of us, but once we landed, the two big guys grabbed her and a male slave and took them somewhere else.”
“Two big guys? Was it Holmes and Greene?”
“Yeah. They grabbed her as soon as we landed.”
Payne couldn’t believe the news. Why did they single her out from all the others? Was it because of him? Were they planning on torturing her because of his interference? That would be a tough thing for him to handle.
“Do you have any idea where they took her?”
Unfortunately, Edwards stared at him blankly, unable to offer a single suggestion.
CHAPTER 59
Friday, July 9th
The Kotto Family Estate
Lagos, Nigeria
WITH
trepidation, Ariane moved toward the large man. They had shared a boat to Mexico, a plane to Nigeria, and a train to Lagos, but he had failed to utter a single word during the entire journey—not even when he was handcuffed, drugged, or beaten. It was like his body was there, but his mind wasn’t. She hoped to change that, though. She wanted to undo the damage that had been done to him. That is, if he would let her.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” she whispered. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you like those other guys. I just want to know your name.” She studied his face, hoping to see a blink or a smile, but there was no sign of interaction on his part. “My name’s Ariane. What’s yours?”
Nothing.
“I heard some of the guards refer to you as Nathan. Is that your real name, or did they just make it up?”
Still nothing.
“I like the name Nathan,” she said. “So many people are named Mike or Scott that it gets monotonous. But not Nathan. That’s a name that people will remember, like you. You’re a big guy that people will remember, so you should have a memorable name.” She gazed into his eyes, but they remained unresponsive. “What about my name? Ariane? Do you like it? I do, for the same reason that I like yours. It’s different. In fact, I’ve never met another Ariane in my entire life. How about you? Have you ever met an Ariane before?”
For an instant, he shifted his eyes to hers, then looked away. It wasn’t much, but it was so unexpected she almost took a step back in surprise.
“Well, I guess that means you haven’t.” She grabbed his hand and shook it. “Now you can never say that again because we just officially met.”
A large smile crossed her dry lips as she tried to decide what she wanted to say next. “I’d ask for your last name, but I have a feeling that might take a little bit longer. Besides, we don’t want to get too personal. This is our first date after all.”
LEVON
Greene sat on the edge of his bed, trying to block out the events of the past few days, but too much had happened for him to forget. Jackson and Webster were dead, murdered by his own hand. The Plantation was history, blown to bits with the touch of a button. And worst of all, he was a fugitive on the run, unable to return to the only country where he’d ever wanted to live.
Greene tried to analyze things, tried to figure what went wrong with Webster’s full-proof scheme, and he kept coming up with the same answer: Payne and Jones. It was their fault. Everything could be traced back to them. If Greene had just shot them when they met at the Spanish Plaza or killed them while they slept at his house, none of this would have happened. The Plantation would still be in business, the second batch of slaves would be in Africa, and Greene would be enjoying a hot bowl of jambalaya in one of his favorite restaurants.
“Fuck,” he mumbled in disgust. “I can’t believe I let this happen.”
With a scowl on his face, he trudged from his bedroom, looking for something to alleviate his boredom. Kotto and all of his servants were already in bed, sleeping peacefully in their air-conditioned rooms, but Greene was still on New Orleans time, unable to rest because of the difference between the two continents.
Limping down the marble staircase, he heard the far-off mumble of an announcer’s voice. He followed the sound to Kotto’s living room.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Holmes asked while glancing up from the game on the plasma TV.
A smile returned to Greene’s lips. “It’s late afternoon in Louisiana. My body won’t be ready for bed for another ten hours.”
Holmes nodded in understanding. As a mercenary, he had been forced to work in several different countries, so he knew about the inconveniences of travel. “Don’t worry, Levon. Your internal clock will adjust to the sun. You should be fine by the end of the week.”
Greene sat on the couch across from Holmes. “What about the other stuff? When will I get used to that?”
“Like what?”
“Food, culture, language, girls . . .”
“Oh.” He laughed. “You mean all the stuff that makes life worth living. That will take a little bit longer, but if you’re flexible, you’ll learn to adapt. Every country has its advantages and disadvantages—if you know where to look.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Greene said while rubbing his knee.
Holmes instinctively glanced at Greene’s left leg, staring at the gruesome scars that covered it. “Does your knee still trouble you?”
Greene didn’t like talking about it, but he realized Holmes was the only American friend he had left. “The pain comes and goes, but the instability is constant. As I start to get older, my joint will deteriorate even more, meaning I’ll have to get knee replacement surgery . . . Something to look forward to in my old age, I guess.”
Holmes realized there was nothing he could say, so he decided to change the subject. “Levon, I’ve been meaning to ask you a question for a while now, and since this is the first time we’ve ever talked about your knee, I was wondering if I could ask it.”
Greene looked at Holmes, studying his face. He knew what Holmes was going to ask even before he asked it. “You want to know about Nathan.”
“If you don’t mind talking about it.”
“No problem. You brought him here for me.”
“True, but I don’t want to overstep—”
“It’s fine. What do you want to know?”
A thousand questions flooded Holmes’s mind. “Everything.”
Greene smiled as he thought about it. He’d waited nearly three years to get back at Nate Barker, the player who had ended his magnificent football career. Thirty-three months of pain, rehab, and nightmares. One thousand days of planning and plotting his personal revenge.
“I started thinking about Barker as soon as they wheeled me off the field. It was amazing. There I was, in unbelievable pain, listening to the gasps of horror from the crowd as they replayed the incident over and over on the scoreboard, but for some reason, a great calm settled over me. You could actually see it during the TV telecast. One minute I was writhing in agony, the next minute I was serene.”
Greene shook his head at the memory. To him, it felt like it had happened yesterday. “The team doctor assumed that I had gone into shock, but I’m telling you I didn’t. The truth is I started thinking about Nate Barker. The bastard who did this to me was responsible for getting me through my agony. I’m telling you, one thought, and one thought alone, allowed me to get through my pain. It was the thought of revenge.”
“So you knew right away that you wanted to get even?”
“Hell, yeah! He took away my livelihood. He took away my leg. You’re damn right I wanted to get even. And do you know what? I’ve never regretted it. From the moment we seized him to the moment I locked him in the cage downstairs, I’ve never looked back. In fact, I view his kidnapping as the crowning achievement of my life.”
A bittersweet smile appeared on Greene’s lips.
“Nate Barker ruined my life. Now I’m getting a chance to ruin his.”
THE
loud ringing startled Kotto, causing him to flinch under his purple comforter. Nightmares had gotten the best of him lately, so he’d been sleeping in a state of uneasiness.
The damn phone just about killed him.
After turning on a nearby light, he realized what was happening and grabbed the cell phone off his nightstand. Few people had his number, so he knew that the call had to be important.
“Kotto,” he mumbled, slightly out of breath.
“Hannibal?” Edwin Drake shrieked. “Thank God you’re alive! When I heard the news, I thought perhaps they had gotten you, too.”
“What in the hell are you talking about? Do you know what time it is?”
“Time! I can’t believe you’re worried about time! There are so many other things that we need to be concerned with.”
Kotto glanced at his clock. It was after midnight. He would much rather be sleeping. “Have you been drinking, Edwin? You’re not making any sense.”
“Sense?
I’m
not making sense? You’re the chap who isn’t making sense—especially since the incident happened in Ibadan!”
The fog of sleep lifted quickly. There was only one thing in Ibadan that Drake would be concerned with, and the thought of an incident sent shivers down Kotto’s spine.
“My God, what has happened?”
“You mean, you haven’t heard? It happened at your place, for God’s sake!”
“What did? What’s wrong?”
“The slaves . . . they’re gone!”
The four words hit Kotto like a lightning bolt, nearly stopping his heart in the process.
“Gone?” he croaked as his chest tightened. “How is that possible?”
“Don’t ask me! I sent one of my men to inspect the snow, and when he got there, there was no snow! They were gone!”
“But that’s not possible! If the slaves had escaped, I would’ve been told. My guards would’ve called me! These were my best men. They would’ve called me immediately.”
Drake remained silent as he thought about the ramifications. “If those were your best men, then we are in trouble. Very grave trouble.”
