22. Caleph
22
CALEPH
I remove the gag which has been tied over the hood. I shake my head; it’s a good thing the girl didn’t suffocate. Then I remove the hood and wait as her eyes adjust to the light. Her eyes widen in shock when she sees me, turning to saucers as she regards me with disbelief.
“You!” she squeals, and there is nothing but anger in her eyes. I would be angry too, if someone had kidnapped me not once, but twice.
“We really should stop meeting this way,” I tell her, shooting her my signature smirk. Although the reasons for her being here are dire, I can’t help but be happy that she’s here. And I can’t help but exchange this playful banter with her.
“What am I doing here, Caleph? I fulfilled my end of the bargain.”
“Yes, you did. And how.”
“Then?” She shrugs at me with wide eyes then holds up her hands in irritation. I cut at her bonds until she’s free and watch as she rubs at her wrists. “Why am I here?” she asks. “And where is here?”
She looks around the entry foyer for any clue to her location, but she finds none. She’s in a random house in a random country; she could be anywhere in the world, for all she knew.
“Come.” I hold out my hand, an invitation for her to follow me. When she doesn’t, I turn back to her with a sigh. “You must be hungry. Let’s get some food in you, then you can shower and change, and I’ll explain everything to you.”
“What’s to explain, Caleph? You can’t keep dropping into my life like you belong there.”
For some reason, her words are like a serrated knife digging into me. No, I don’t belong in her life, but her saying it makes it hard to accept the words. Realizing it is one thing: hearing it another entirely.
“Let’s eat,” I say, my voice firm, a command.
“I don’t want to eat.”
The petulant child in her rears its ugly head; all that’s missing is for her to stomp her feet. The look I give her tells her not to test me. Not today. She knows I’m many things, but rational is not one of my strengths when I’m challenged. She follows me reluctantly into the dining room, which I’ve already had set up in anticipation of her arrival. I don’t tell her that I watched the tiny dot on the map signaling her arrival through a tracking device that Dante inserted into her shoe. I’m sure the tracker was for his peace of mind as much as it was for mine. I tracked that dot for hours waiting for her to arrive safely at the villa. But she doesn’t need to know this.
“Where am I, Caleph?” she asks softly as she looks down at the food on the table. I can almost see her mouth water at the array of Italian dishes I had the chef prepare especially for her.
“Guatemala,” I tell her, and she drops her fork in horror even before she’s started.
“Guat… Guate… Guatemala? Why the fuck am I in South America?”
I’ve never seen her so angry. It’s kind of cute the way her face reddens, and she looks like she’s about to really lose her shit.
“I brought you here for your own protection.”
“The only protection I need is from you. ”
She points at me when she says “you”, emphasizing the word to make sure it registers.
“You can thank me later,” I tell her, disregarding her comment.
She’s so angry, she’s fuming. And liquid pools in her eyes, causing already iridescent eyes to shine brighter. I need her to calm down enough to listen to reason, but she’s off on a tirade before I have a chance to say anything else, cursing and cussing me out as though her life depends on it.
I pick up my phone and dial Seven’s number, putting it on speaker so she can hear the dial tone. She calms down long enough to look at me in confusion and look at the phone as it clicks and Seven answers the phone.
“Boss?”
“State your name, your rank and what it is you do for me.”
“Seven. COO of Communications. I monitor incoming threats against you, your organizations and any known associates.”
“I’m here in the company of Miss Ariadne Moore. Please explain to her the contents of our last conversation concerning her.”
“I informed you that there was a contract out on her life.”
I watch as Ariadne’s gasp stops before it forms, and her body shrinks away in fear.
“And who could possibly want Miss Moore dead, Seven?”
I ask so casually, we could be having this conversation over coffee.
“I haven’t yet figured out which of the six politicians it is, or if it’s all,” he tells me.
“And what are the stakes?”
“Five million dollars to bring her in alive.”
I hang up without another word. If Seven takes offence to this, he hasn’t let it show in all the years he’s worked for me.
“Seven dedicated his life to being a hitman,” I tell her. “Damn good one, too. Seven is the number of people he killed before he turned back to God. He no longer does that for a living, but he still has contacts on the dark web, which is where he got his intel from. Someone wants you dead, and six zeros with a five preceding them gives people a lot of incentive to hunt you down, Ariadne. A hell of a lot of incentive.”
She shakes, a spasm overtaking her body; the moisture in her eyes is evidence that she understands the severity of the situation. If it wasn’t for Seven’s vigilance, we may never have known about the contract, and this could have so easily gone south.
“But he said they want me alive,” she protests.
“Loosely translated – they want your death to be long and torturous. That’s the only reason they want you alive. You need to understand the danger to you, Ariadne. I can take you back home. I can leave you to fend for yourself. But you have no idea what you’re up against.”
“Who?” She whispers. “Why?”
But I think she already knows the answers to her own questions, so I don’t reply to them.
“I brought you here because I can only protect you where I am.”