Episode 77
Episode 77
A Not So Blast From the Past
MADAM ALANA
Emily trembled within my arms. Her skin becoming clammy and cool to the touch as the car careened through the busy streets of Paris. I could hear her breathing was rapid and shallow.
“ Chérie , look at me,” I whispered.
She lifted her face, her eyes rolling a bit before they centered again. I could see her pupils were dilated. I think fear was throwing the young girl into shock.
I rubbed my hands up and down her arms, trying to warm her while I kept her close. “I’m right here. You’re going to be okay. I’ll handle this. You just stay calm and quiet and everything will work out as it’s supposed to. Okay, my darling?” I encouraged, and she nodded silently.
“I said, shut the fuck up!” the masked passenger shouted, in an accent I believed was Russian. He pointed his gun at us while the SUV took another corner so fast our bodies squashed up against one man and then settled against the other like we were in a pin ball machine. “Give me your phones, now!” he barked.
I went to reach into my purse when it was ripped out of my hold by the attacker sitting to my left. Emily pulled hers out of her back pocket and half tossed it at the scary man before burrowing into my chest. She sobbed against my breast, her fingers digging into my arms. Her breathing became even more rapid before she brokenly gasped, and her entire weight slumped against my chest.
“Fuck, the girl passed out,” the man sitting to our right said.
“Good. We’re almost there,” the masked passenger growled as he tossed our phones out the window.
“Emily!” I panicked and pressed my fingers to her neck. Her pulse fluttered against my fingertips, sending waves of relief through my body. She was okay, just so terrified her body shut down.
I looked out the window and noted we were in the 1st arrondissement nearing the Ritz Paris, which overlooked Place Vend?me. A five-star hotel in the heart of Paris was not the seedy location I’d expected to be taken. And yet, the SUV pulled behind the lavish hotel where a few other masked men with visible guns were waiting. The SUV came to a screeching halt, and the men beside us jumped out. I patted Emily’s face gently.
“Wake up, darling,” I said, my heart in my throat. “Please, Emily…”
“Just grab her and let’s go,” the lead man instructed one of his men, while pointing at Emily.
Then, before I could make a move, one of the burly men grabbed Emily around the waist, pulling her limp body from my arms and tossing her over his shoulder. I scrambled out of the car after them.
“Let her go!” I screeched, reaching for her and hoping someone nearby would hear my screams.
A meaty hand covered my mouth while a large muscular arm wrapped around my waist and lifted me off my feet as though I weighed as much as a feather. We were bodily dragged through a dark back door that led to a freight elevator. It went straight up the four floors to the top of the hotel.
“If you scream or say a single word when I let go of you, I will take the girl and carve your initials into each of her plump baby- soft cheeks. Then maybe I’ll take one of her little fingers and send it to her parents as a gift.”
A sob tore from my lungs, muffled against his hand as the visual reached my brain. I nodded and held my breath as he let me stand on my own two feet and removed his hand from my mouth. I inhaled a full breath sharply and focused on Emily, who was still passed out, hanging over one of the men’s shoulders.
When the elevator stopped, one man walked down the hallway to a door at the very end. He opened it and disappeared through it. For several heartbeats, we all just stood there silently, none of us moving a muscle. The door across from us opened again, and he waved us forward.
“All clear, but hurry. Our guys have eyes on every floor, but you never know.”
I was grabbed by the elbow and shoved forward. I winced at the painful grip on my arm but kept quiet. We were led out into the main hallway of the fourth-floor suites from a staff only section. The men took us directly to the Suite Impériale, which made no sense. I knew from experience this room cost upward of $26,000 or more per night. In the States, they sometimes called it the Presidential Suite. Now why would my kidnapper take me to a room boasting the peak of luxury? None of it added up.
Not a single soul had exited any of the hotel’s suites as we were led to the double doors at the end. Once inside, two of our guards broke off and stood sentry outside the hotel room.
“Don’t let anyone in, no matter what,” the primary leader snapped.
They gave curt nods as the door shut, and Emily and I were brought to the living space in the center of the room. Once Emily was laid on the couch, I went to her, patting her cheeks. She blinked her eyes open, a confused expression on her face as she moved to sit up.
“No, stay lying down. I think you went into shock and passed out. You’re okay.”
“I want my dad,” she gulped, tears tracking down the sides of her face.
“I know, chérie . Just rest and stay quiet while I figure this out.” I pulled the throw blanket hanging over the back of the couch and covered her with it, then leaned forward and kissed her forehead. She held the blanket just under her chin while her eyes darted around the room.
Using every bit of strength I could muster, I faced forward, pressed my knees together and sat up straight. “Can someone please tell me the meaning of all this? Why are we here?”
Primary leader man lifted his hand and pulled off his mask, showing a handsome, rugged face I didn’t recognize. He had dark hair, short on the sides and long on top. His eyebrows were two narrowed slashes on a pronounced brow. His jaw was square and chiseled, reminiscent of someone from my past, but I couldn’t put my finger on whom. The visual was just out of reach.
He glared at me with hate in his dark, soulless eyes. “You know, for a rich woman, you’re not very bright. Leaving your guards behind like that,” he tsked. “Stupid move. Worked in our favor, though, didn’t it?” His voice was slightly accented, but he seemed to hide it, preferring to use an Americanized intonation.
“Our?” I prompted, attempting to get him to share more about who was behind all this.
The man chuckled dryly, then moved to the bar and poured himself a glass of straight Stoli vodka. He took a long sip, tilted his head to the side, and grinned. “You really don’t have a clue, do you?”
“I’m afraid not. I don’t tend to make enemies in my line of work. Especially not ones that would kidnap me and an innocent child.”
He took another drink. “That couldn’t be helped. You were holding onto her, making it very clear she was important to you. In my line of work”—he used my phrasing but with an added note of sarcasm—“you have to make split-second decisions that will benefit the whole. I knew you’d be more likely to come willingly if we took the girl. But as long as you do as we say, and follow our directions to the letter, no one will get hurt. Well, she won’t.” He gestured to Emily whose bottom lip quivered. “Your fate has yet to be determined.”
“That’s right, because I ruined someone’s life and now mine needs to be ruined? Wasn’t that what you wrote on the threatening messages?”
He shook his head. “Not me, but the man I work for.”
“Ah, some unknown man that believes I harmed him somehow.”
He shrugged. “So it would seem.” He finished the rest of his vodka and slammed the tumbler back down on the counter. “Settle in; he’ll be here soon.”
“I have to go to the bathroom,” Emily said, loud enough for both of us to hear.
The man rolled his eyes. “Hold it,” he growled.
“Auntie, I have to change my pad,” she croaked.
I looked at the man with a stern, pointed expression. “May I take her to the restroom, please? I doubt you want a mess on these lovely white couches.”
Emily sat up and curled forward, covering her pelvis with her hand and hissing as though pained.
“Cramps?” I asked, rubbing on her back.
She nodded.
“Fine,” he bit out. “Hurry. And if I think for a second you’re pulling a fast one, I’ll hurt the girl.”
Emily made a gagging noise.
“I think you get the picture, now go.” He pulled the gun from his holster and gestured toward a door off the living space.
“My purse has extra sanitary products.” I pointed to my bag that one of the men had placed on top of the bar.
Instead of handing it to me like I’d hoped, knowing I had a sharp nail file inside it that I could possibly use as a weapon, he dug through and pulled out a padded square wrapped in pink plastic. He tossed it at me, and I caught it mid-air.
I gave him a closed lip fake smile. “ Merci ,” I mumbled and hustled Emily into the bathroom.
Emily pulled down her pants and sat on the toilet. Apparently, she did need to use the restroom, but I knew she wasn’t due for her cycle for another few days. Thankfully, I’d kept a sanitary napkin in my purse just in case.
“Are you bleeding?” I asked.
She shook her head and then pointed at her watch. “It’s an Apple watch. They took my phone, but I can send and receive most everything.” She prodded the device display, pulled up her contact labeled “Dad” and moved to press call.
I shook my head and stopped her hand. “No, chérie , they’ll hear. Text him: 4th floor, the Ritz. Call 112,” I whispered close to her ear. In the states people called 911 for help. In France it was 112.
Her eyes lit up and she nodded, typing on the tiny screen at what seemed like the speed of light.
“Gotcha. I also silenced it,” she said so low I could barely hear it.
A loud banging sounded on the wood door, and we both jumped, Emily covering her mouth, so she didn’t scream.
“Hurry the hell up! The boss will be here any minute.”
I paced as Emily typed and peed at the same time. For having been so scared she’d passed out, she certainly bounced back and was doing great under pressure now.
She finished the text, flushed the toilet, and moved to wash her hands.
“Keep the sweater over your wrist,” I said right against her ear.
She nodded as I opened the door.
I took Emily’s hand and led her back to the couch. This time she sat right next to me, our thighs touching, our hands held together. She kept her head down, her hair covering most of her sweet face.
“You know, you could let the girl go before your boss gets here. There’s no reason to bring a child into whatever this is,” I tried.
The man’s shoulders shook as a bout of laugher left him. “Not happening. Besides, the girl looks familiar. Who is she?”
I shifted Emily closer, wrapping my arm around her back.
“No one. I’m babysitting for a friend,” I snapped.
“Bullshit. She called you Auntie, and I happen to know you don’t have any living relatives besides your husband, Christophe, who also has no family. And yet…” He tilted his head. “I’ve seen her somewhere… Look at me,” he demanded.
Emily shook her head and kept her head down. I’d never been more proud of her.
“Leave her alone!” I yelled as the door to the suite opened, and several men in black suits entered. A single large man in the center.
A man I recognized instantly.
It couldn’t be.
I hadn’t heard from him in over thirty years. Frankly, I’d been told he’d died at the hand of one of his many women. Stabbed in his sleep.
“Angus?” I gasped.
“Hello, Alana, it’s good to see you again,” he said in that charming thick accent I now knew was Russian.
My mouth fell open and closed. “I thought you were dead.”
His lips twitched into that smarmy smile that was all too familiar, his fake white teeth shockingly bright against his darker skin. His hair was no longer black as it had grayed over time, but it still looked greasy and unkempt.
He moved to the single chair across from the couch and took a seat. He snapped his fingers and one of his men got him a glass of vodka and put it into his hand. Another man handed him a cigar and a guillotine cutter with which he snipped the tip, allowing the top to fall to the white carpet without care. The same man flicked on a lighter and held it aloft. Angus leaned forward and lit his cigar, blowing large puffs of the noxious smoke into the air.
“Angus, why am I here?” I asked.
“That is the twenty-million-dollar question, isn’t it?”
I frowned. Twenty million was the exact number I paid him for the purchase of The Marriage Auction decades ago.
“I’m sorry I don’t understand.”
“Don’t you?” He puffed on his cigar and glared, an evil glint in his eyes.
I shook my head. “I really don’t. After I legally bought the auction for well over a fair price for the time, I never thought about you again.”
“Is that so?” He snarled. “That is not how I remember it going.”
“Oh?” I said, genuinely confused.
“After you took my book of business, my clients, and all my data and disappeared off to France, the authorities came after me for my part in the murder of Celine Holt. You double crossed me!” He sneered.
I shook my head. “Darren was given life in prison. I made no mention of you during any of my interviews or within my statements. You can check the court records.”
“Oh, believe me, I did,” he growled. “And yet, somehow, six months after all was said and done, you nowhere to be seen, the FBI came calling. They had been given undeniable proof of my involvement in the unlawful marriage of Celine and Darren. I was taken in, treated like garbage, and sentenced to ten years. And you know what I did for those ten years?” he asked, smoke billowing out his mouth and nose.
I licked my suddenly dry lips. “I swear it wasn’t me. Angus, you have to believe me,” I pleaded.
“I spent every minute of that time plotting how I would return the favor to you and yours,” he continued, not paying attention to me at all.
“It. Wasn’t. Me,” I said as loud as I dared.
“Lies!” he roared, his face turning a molten red. “You were the only one that knew the finer details of my connection to Darren and Celine and the other men who were involved. All of them were on my roster.”
“Anyone involved in your organization was kicked out of the business within 48 hours of it being mine. I had no involvement. I swear!” I repeated the truth as I knew it.
“You ruined my life!” he fired back. “I lost ten years of my newborn daughter’s life because of you and that bitch Celine. If she was still alive, I’d kill her all over again. Instead, I’m going to have to settle for making your life a living hell, or maybe I’ll just lock you in the basement of one of my homes, hmm? Let you rot for the next ten years so you know exactly what it feels like to lose everything you love and hold dear.”
“Boss…” one of Angus’s men, standing by the window, called out.
Angus patted his bottom lip as though in deep thought. “Actually, maybe I’ll…”
“Boss!” the man called out louder.
“You dare interrupt me!” he growled.
“The authorities are here.” The guy pointed out the window to the street below.
Angus’s head snapped back to me, and he glared daggers. “You called the authorities?”
“With what phones? We gave them to your men in the car.”
He inhaled, his nostrils flaring as he snapped his fingers. “You”—he pointed at window man—“look into this and ready the ‘copter.” He turned and faced the lead guy. “Dimitri, take the girls out the back and meet at location C in an hour.”
“Get up!” The man I now knew was Dimitri demanded. He grabbed my elbow and tugged me from the couch, Emily following. “What about my wife?” he rumbled, his focus on Angus.
“I take care of my own,” Angus sneered. “She’ll arrive in France soon. Now do as I say,” Angus commanded.
Dimitri yanked my arm, dragging us to the front of the suite and out into the hallway. We half-ran to the staff door we’d used earlier. I knew this was going to be our one and only chance to escape. I squeezed Emily’s hand and kept her close, my mind running through a thousand possible scenarios and coming up with nothing.
We entered the freight elevator and went down to the ground level. The second the doors opened, six policemen with guns and protective shields came into view. Red dots pointed at all of our chests.
“Hands up! Now!”