Liberation Day Page 20

  Chapter Forty-Two

  Every eleven minutes the sprayers kicked on. There would be a small hissing sound to alert Iggy it was coming, followed by the incessant icy mist sprayed over her body.

  The last thing Iggy remembered with any certainty was Ling throwing her over his shoulder and carrying her from Gold’s office. The last thing she saw was the smug look of self-satisfaction on the old man’s face as Ling drove her head into the doorway, darkness settling in. When she awoke an unknown amount of time later she found herself in her current position, completely drenched.

  The room was tiny, measuring barely five feet square. Her arms were secured by chains extended from either side that ended in heavy shackles around her wrists. The walls and ceiling were lined with a labyrinth of irrigation pipes resembling something found in a greenhouse or the produce department of a supermarket.

  Perfectly synchronized, every eleven minutes they unleashed a blast of water that soaked Iggy’s entire body. No matter where she stood or how she tried to cover herself, she could not hide from the frigid mist. Dressed only in the white bikini top and shorts she wore on the boat, goose bumps covered her exposed skin and her nipples stood hard beneath her top.

  Between blasts, Iggy attempted push-ups or jumping jacks to warm her freezing body, but each time the pounding dizziness in her head minimized results. For long periods of time she would sit and clench various muscles, trying her best to keep blood flowing to her extremities.

  When she no longer had the strength to do even that she simply sat on the ground, hugging her knees to her chest and shivering violently. Though far beyond exhaustion, the quivering that wracked her entire body kept rest from occurring.

  Almost catatonic and on the verge of passing out, the heavy sound of a lock turning rang out and jarred some flicker of consciousness into her. Making no attempt to rise, she shifted as much as her bindings would allow to face the man she knew would be there.

  A flood of bright light swept into the room, silhouetting her visitor and his black fedora in the doorway.

  “I trust you are enjoying your stay here with us,” Ling asked in a voice that oozed sarcasm.

  Iggy did not try to hide the disgust on her face as she looked at him under heavy eyelids, her hair hanging wet and lank over her face, trembling but saying nothing.

  “Mr. Gold and I have both told you, this can all be over. All you have to do is cooperate.”

  “C-cooperate? That’s w-what you call it?” Iggy asked, her voice barely a rasp.

  A thin smile grew across Ling’s face. “Yes, cooperate. That’s what I call it.” He took a few steps forward into the room and knelt down so he could look Iggy in the eye.

  A second silhouette appeared behind him in the doorway, a shadow falling over the room, though Iggy never took her gaze from Ling.

  “So, are you ready to cooperate?”

  Again, Iggy said nothing, instead just glaring back at him.

  “Who are you working with?”

  Iggy exhaled a couple of times and said, “As I told your boss, I am here on vacation with my boyfriend.”

  “This boyfriend of yours, would he be the Latino gentleman that looks an awful lot like you? Or maybe the large white guy I met on the dock the other night?”

  “I don’t know any large white guy,” Iggy whispered. “My boyfriend is Cuban. You saw him. You tried to drown us for no reason.”

  Ling sighed and extended his hand, using it to grasp hers. His grip felt warm compared to the cold water, the sensation seeming to burn her skin. “Are you aware of who I am?”

  “I have no idea who you are or why you’re doing this to me,” Iggy whispered, her hair swinging as she shook her head.

  “I am a man that does not like to be lied to, and I am a man that does things in a very particular way.”

  “I’m not lying to you,” Iggy whispered, shoving the words out in one quick burst.

  For a long moment Ling simply stared at her, a look bordering on pity crossing his features. Just as fast he grabbed hold of her pinkie, snapping the first knuckle perpendicular to the rest of her hand.

  The bone broke with the sound of a twig snapping, a pained wheeze escaping from Iggy as her entire body recoiled, twisting back as far as the chains would allow. Hot tears burned her eyes and snot ran from her nostrils as she tried to pull away, agony coursing through her.

  “Stop lying to me and this will all be over,” Ling said, leaning over her, addressing her as if a schoolmaster speaking to a naughty child.

  Iggy cradled her hand against her body, not daring to look down at her shattered digit. “Why? So you can kill me?”

  Looking up, she saw a bit of a smile tug at the corner of Ling’s mouth. “I’m going to kill you regardless. The only question now is how much pain you endure before you get there.”

  Glassy-eyed, Iggy looked up at him, her top lip peeled up into a sneer, but no sounds escaped.

  “Since you claim to have been out fishing yesterday,” Ling said, “I’ll put this in a way that you can understand. Right now you are bait, nothing more to me than bloody chum that I chop into little pieces and toss into the water.

  “Once the fish I’m really after shows up, I can dump you overboard and go after him.”

  Something in the description, in the words that were chosen, clicked in the back of Iggy’s mind. For the first time she allowed just a hint of defiance to show in her face, unable to hide behind a mask of subservience.

  “Him?” Iggy asked, letting Ling know she had picked up on his gaffe.

  Ling stared at her a long moment before smirking and standing to his full height. He turned to the man in the doorway and said, “She’s not ready to talk yet. Let’s leave her down here for a while longer. Maybe a few more showers will help jog her memory.”

  Ling looked down at Iggy again and walked from the chamber. “We’ll talk again soon.”

  Iggy waited as his steps fell away, buffeted by the sound of the door closing. “You mentioned something about a large white guy, right?”

  She could hear the door stop moving at the sound of the inquiry, the footsteps falling silent.

  “Yes?” Ling asked, not bothering to walk back into the room.

  “Are you talking about the same one that kicked your ass two days ago?”

  There was no forewarning, no sign that the blow was coming. One moment she was staring at the opposite wall, nothing but wet concrete block, the look of triumph on her face. The next she felt the heel of Ling’s shoe connect with the base of her skull, the lights blacking out, her chin rolling forward to rest on her chest.

  Inch by inch her unconscious body melted to the side, the chains rattling against the floor as she fell into a twisted heap and lay motionless.

  “Jesus,” the associate whispered. “Should we just leave her like that?”

  Without looking back, Ling walked away, wet footprints in his wake. “Don’t worry, the water will be back in a few minutes to clean her up.”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Thorn paced back and forth in front of his television, his shoes squeaking against the wooden floor beneath him. His arms were folded across his chest, trying to determine his next move while nearby Abby sat and watched, diligently tracking his movement with her eyes.

  “So he just recognized her from the docks and went after you guys?”

  Seated on the couch across from him was Nio, a pale green towel draped over his shoulders. His hair was askew and his eyes red as he sat and stared straight ahead, a glass of water gripped between his hands.

  “That’s all I can figure,” Nio said, bitterness in his tone, his gaze aimed at the coffee table in front of him. “Iggy said he saw her the other night, but you emerged from the water before he could approach.”

  At that he shifted his attention up to Thorn. “I guess I should thank you for scaring him off when you did.”

  Thorn waved the comment aside with a shake of his hand, continuing to pace. For several days he had opera
ted knowing the Garcia’s were nearby, that the two sides would lend a hand whenever possible. This pushed things into a different stratosphere though. Not only had they nabbed the coordinates that were intended for him, they had alerted the target that somebody was on to them.

  “Any idea what they’ve done with her?” Thorn asked.

  “Best guess, she’s somewhere deep inside that fortress,” Nio said, again focusing on the table between them. “The boat sped off in that direction, though by the time I got to shore it was long gone.”

  “And that’s when you called me?” Thorn asked.

  Nio glanced up to him before looking away. “I didn’t know anybody else in the area.”

  Again Thorn waved the comment off, looking only to get a full understanding of the timeline more than imposing any sort of guilt. Focusing on the clock above the stove, Thorn left Nio in the living room and moved to the kitchen. He pulled his laptop to life and began anew on the surveillance system.

  A small jolt of electricity passed through him as the relay feed started the moment he kicked it to life, Ingram’s afternoon mission a success.

  “What are you looking at?” Nio asked, walking in from the living room, his bare foot shuffling over hardwood.

  “Satellite surveillance,” Thorn said, pulling the cameras to life and zooming in on the grounds. Using the new point of contact he was able to zoom in more than twenty times closer than before, life size images relayed directly to his laptop.

  “Damn,” Nio whispered, his eyebrows rising.

  “Yeah,” Thorn muttered, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the counter. Extending his right hand in front of him he began navigating the camera, swinging around to the back of the house and focusing on the cars parked there.

  One at a time he took screen shots, uploading them to his desk top. When he was done with that he sent them on to Ingram to begin processing before pulling his view out a bit and beginning to scan the grounds for any signs of life.

  “What have you been able to glean from this so far?” Nio asked. “Anybody you recognize?”

  “We only just got this level of clarity,” Thorn said, shaking his head, not bothering to go into full detail about Ingram or his role.

  “Can you go back in time any?” Nio asked.

  Again Thorn shook his head, having already had the same thought. “Only in real time. Besides, I’m guessing they took her right through that underground marina you mentioned. Hard to tell if we’d have seen anything anyway.”

  Pushing the view around to the top side of the house, Thorn focused in on a few stray guards. All were dressed in black, all seemed to be carrying automatic weapons in their hands. One at a time Thorn waited until they turned towards the camera, getting a full shot of their faces and sending it over as well, a half dozen in total.

  Once they were all uploaded and sent he grabbed up his cell phone, calling the first number in his recent call log. It rang just once before Ingram snapped it up.

  “Yeah?” he asked, clearly distracted.

  “You on the ground yet?” Thorn asked.

  “Back in the office already,” Ingram replied, “about to start running those licenses you sent. I see everything is operational?”

  “Clear resolution, full view of the grounds,” Thorn said. “Good work, Coach.”

  Ignoring the compliment, Ingram asked, “Found anybody yet?”

  “Just some low level thugs,” Thorn replied. “I sent you the still shots to start on facial recognition with them too. Most likely they’re in the system, but won’t be real high priority.”

  “Right,” Ingram agreed.

  “No sign of the Chinaman yet,” Thorn said. “Or anybody that even resembles somebody in charge.”

  On the other end he could hear a string of mumbles that sounded like obscenities, though he couldn’t be certain. At the moment, he felt much the same.

  “Alright,” Ingram said, pushing out a sigh. “Stay on it, keep sending me whatever you find. I’ll be here all night, set an alarm to go off whenever something new comes in.”

  Thorn nodded at the directive, shifting his attention over to Nio. For a long moment the two stared at each other in silence, neither one wanting to say the words aloud.

  “Coach,” Thorn said, his attention still aimed at the man beside him. “Just so you know, we may have to push things up faster than we’d like.”

  Facing forward he could see Ingram stop moving, his focus turning to meet Thorn. “Meaning?”

  “Meaning as of this afternoon they have a hostage,” Thorn said, the words tasting acrid in his mouth. “And they know somebody is aware of where they are.”

  A look of malevolence passed over Ingram as he ran both hands over his face, glaring at the camera. “Did you?”

  “No.”

  “Then how?”

  “Long story,” Thorn said, shaking his head, the same angry look on his features. “But just believe me when I say it’s very real and we’re now working on a very tight timetable.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Thorn was asleep on the couch when he felt a hand shake his shoulder. He had taken the first shift on the computer, painstakingly sweeping the grounds for any new faces that might show, sending everything he found directly over to Ingram. By early evening the events of the last few days had begun to catch up with him, his eyes becoming bloodshot, his vision blurring. It was at that point Nio insisted on taking over, his entire being a coiled mass of nervous energy, his fingernails all chewed to the quick and rimmed with blood.

  Handing over the controls, Thorn had gone to the couch at nine. Two minutes after that Abby had curled up by his feet. Three minutes later they were both asleep.

  The next time his eyes opened he could see it was still dark outside. He rose with a start from the shaking of his shoulder, reaching out and grabbing the front of Nio’s shirt. He held it a long moment, his fist coiled by his side, before releasing the fabric.

  “Sorry. What time is it?”

  “Eleven,” Nio said, leaving his shirt rumpled, seemingly not even noticing it. “I found someone new for you to send to Ingram.”

  “Yeah,” Thorn said, swinging his feet to the floor and rubbing his face. His wounds from two nights before were still raw to the touch and he winced as he followed Nio into the kitchen. “Sorry I blacked out there.”

  Nio ignored the comment. “Whoever this guy is, he’s not a street-walking thug like the rest of them.”

  On screen already was the man’s image, the best angle captured and enlarged to full size. Halfway across the kitchen Thorn stopped, his mouth going dry. “I'll be a son of a bitch...”

  “You recognize the guy?” Nio asked.

  Thorn bobbed his head up and down, his gaze never wavering.

  “So who is it?”

  Another few seconds passed as Thorn stood in silence before snapping to attention. He grabbed up a long-sleeve pullover from the table and snatched his keys from the counter.

  “My email password is Abigail1. Get this picture to Ingram right now. He’ll know who it is and send over everything we have.”

  “And where the hell are you going?” Nio asked, his face a mask of incredulousness as he watched Thorn move. “That’s my sister out there, I’m going with you.”

  “No!” Thorn said, his voice even. “Stay here, keep monitoring. Where I’m going you can’t come. I don’t know how this guy fits in, but I promise you he doesn’t have Iggy.”

  A torrent of objections and obscenities followed Thorn as he sprinted through the front door before Nio could give chase. He crossed the yard in five long strides and was into his Explorer, headed for town. In quick order he worked his way through the light evening traffic, taking Route 2 into the heart of the city before catching 93 towards Dorchester.

  Twenty minutes after leaving his condo he pulled up in front of a solid brass gate. It was stretched between two brick columns, moonlight gleaming off of it, a public announce box mounted just outside Thorn’s driv
er’s side door.

  Leaning out through his window Thorn extended a hand to the call box, his movement stopped halfway by a heavy voice.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “I need to see Billy Turner,” Thorn said, his fingers turning upward, raising his hand in a gesture of surrender.

  The movement was responded to by the metallic click of a gun being cocked. “Out of the car, right now.”

  Feeling his pulse race and his frustration rise, Thorn remained seated. “I’m unarmed and I’m not looking for trouble. I need to see Billy Turner. It’s urgent.”

  A second gun cocked somewhere in the darkness. Another voice, just as deep, said, “Out of the car, slow.”

  “Look...” Thorn started, but the barrel of a gun appeared through the window, pressing against the side of his head.

  One on one, Thorn could have disabled the attempt and had the weapon in hand in fifteen seconds. Knowing that a second gunman was standing nearby though, would cut him down the moment he tried anything, kept him from making any movement at all.

  “Get out, asshole,” the man with the gun said.

  Reaching down with his left hand, Thorn unlatched the door from the outside and pushed it open. He kept both his arms extended above his head and stepped out.

  “Damn, big sumbitch, ain’t he?” said the second man said, this time his voice ringing more Appalachian than Irish.

  “Sure is. What should we do with him?” the first guard said.

  “I got a few ideas,” Appalachian replied and the two guards both shared a husky laugh.

  “Guys, I don’t want any trouble here. It is imperative that I speak to Mr. Turner. Now.”

  The man in front of Thorn stepped forward and thrust his gun into the lump on Thorn’s cheek. “Do not talk again.”

  Pain shot through Thorn’s face as he gritted his teeth and fought the urge to snatch the gun from the man and beat him with it. There was no doubt the entire incident was being watched on closed-circuit camera. At the moment he could ill afford to have a hoard of angry Irishman swarming him.