On Thin Ice (3 page)

A moment later a light flared, and she closed her eyes against the glare. The smell of sulfur followed the match, and she squinted, trying to take in the bearded, long-haired figure sitting cross-legged across the small room.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God,” came the dry voice from the darkness. “As if things weren’t bad enough.” And he blew out the match.

Finn MacGowan leaned back against the rough wall of the shed and contemplated fate, that fickle bitch. Izzy and the new kid were wandering off, complaining bitterly and fantasizing about what they would do to the new arrival the moment they had the chance. MacGowan wasn’t particularly squeamish, but he was glad the woman either couldn’t hear or couldn’t understand what they were saying. If she did she’d be screaming bloody murder.

“No.” Her voice was flat, calm, as she struggled to sit up. He could see her quite clearly – the match had momentarily blinded him but once he blew it out he found he could concentrate on her silhouette and take in all the basics. Late twenties, maybe even thirties, long golden hair that would probably attract snakes, expensive clothes and shoes. They’d chosen someone with money this time – maybe the Guiding Light was finally getting smarter.

“No, what?” he said, curious.

“No, I don’t happen to be Holy Mary, Mother of God,” she said, wiggling herself into a sitting position. “My name’s Beth Pennington.”

He would have been impressed with her coolness if he hadn’t heard the betraying wobble in her voice. “I won’t lie and say I’m pleased to meet you,” he said. “You have any idea why they put you in with me? I don’t suppose you’re my reward for good behavior?”

He saw her silhouette jerk nervously, but her voice in the darkness was still calm. “As far as I could tell the General thinks you’ll keep me safe from Carlos and his rabid friend. Apparently you’re a romantic.”

He couldn’t help it – he laughed. Faced with one major monkey wrench in his plans for escape, all he could do was appreciate the absurdity of it. “Afraid not, darlin’,” he said. “I’d as soon cut your throat as look at you. If I had to.”

There was a sensible pause from the silhouette in the darkness. “Then I should probably not give you a reason to,” she said. “Who are you? How long have you been here?”

He had a number of names he could offer her, but in the end they wouldn’t make much difference. One or both of them would probably be dead in the next twenty-four hours – it didn’t matter if she knew his real name or not.

“MacGowan,” he said.

“You’re Irish.”

Score one for the new kid – he’d been using his generic BBC voice. “When I want to be,” he said. “When did they take you? Where were you?”

“Why do you care?” It wasn’t a hostile question. In all, she seemed more curious than hysterical with fear the way most of the female hostages were.

“I don’t,” he said. “I’m trying to figure out exactly where we are. If I know where you came from and how long it took them to bring you here that would help me pinpoint where we are.”

“I was in the town of Talaca, at the Mission of Santa Luz.”

“Oh, Christ, not another nun!”

“Do I look like a nun? And what have you got against nuns?”

He decided against telling her the truth. “I was raised by nuns, and still have the scars to prove it,” he drawled, using his best Irish.

“I’m an aid worker. I teach English, help Father Pascal . . .” Her voice faltered. “I helped the priest in the infirmary.”

“They killed the priest?” He kept his voice matter-of-fact.

“They did. And the two women from the village who worked there as well.”

“And they took you. They’re showing some brains. The Catholic Church doesn’t ransom priests – they only protect them if they molest children.”

“Did they molest you?”

“Jesus, woman!” He laughed it off. “Don’t believe everything you read. So where’s Talaca?”

“Talaca is thirty-five miles west of Puerto Claro. I don’t know how long I was unconscious – and my sense of time is still a little rattled, but I think it took around three days. We were climbing steadily – first by car, then by truck, for a little while by animal, and then by jeep. What day is it?”

“You’ve got to be kidding. I don’t even know what year it is.”

Silence, as she digested that information. “How long have you been here?”

“Here? About three months. Before that, about a two day hike to the north. Before that, somewhere down in the rain forest. Or maybe that was the time before.”

“How long since they took you?”

“You don’t want to know.”

A deep intake of breath. “Are they going to keep me as long as they kept you?”

“I doubt it. You’ll either be ransomed or dead long before then.”

“How encouraging. And why are you still alive?”

“They keep me around for comic relief.”

“Yes, you’re a bundle of laughs.”

Damn, he thought in the darkness, moving a little away from her. He liked her. Faced with a terrifying situation, she was neither panicky nor weepy. “I’m also a damned good poker player.”

“Well, that’s something.” Her silhouette shifted in the darkness. They must have tied her up – they’d stop that after a few weeks, once they knew she wouldn’t make a run for it. “At least we’ll have something to do.”

“Sorry, darlin’. I’m not going to be here long enough.”

“You’re being ransomed?”

“I’m getting the fuck out of here. And don’t even think of asking me to take you with me. I travel alone. You’re better off here, waiting for the ransom to be paid. Assuming someone’s got enough money to pay them.”

“There’s enough money,” she said. No begging or pleading, just calm acceptance.

“But you’d better watch Izzy and the new kid. They’ve got orders to keep their hands off you but they’re not real good at following orders.”

“Carlos. That’s the new one’s name. He was one of my students.”

“If you were anything like the nuns who taught me then it’s no wonder he wants to kill you.”

“Carlos never paid any attention to me.”

“That’s what you think. He’s clearly spent many hours thinking about what he’d like to do to you. I take it you don’t understand Spanish. What the hell are you doing in Callivera when you don’t speak the language?”

“I speak Spanish. I just don’t understand the dialect and Carlos’s slang.”

“Yeah, they don’t teach those words in schoolgirl Spanish. Trust me, their plans aren’t particularly pleasant. And once Redbeard leaves you’ll need to watch your back. I expect they’ll think fun with you would be worth more than any ransom your people could come up with.”

“I don’t think so.”

“They like inflicting fear and pain on women, darlin’. It takes a hell of a lot of money to trump that.”

“My name isn’t ‘darling’,” she said. “It’s Beth Pennington. Pennington. As in Pennington Pharmaceuticals. There’s enough money.”

He was silent for a moment. “Well, shit. Maybe
I’ll
kidnap you.”

“I can pay you more than you ever earned at your regular job if you take me out of here.”

“Tempting,” he said. “But if I tried to take you with me I’d end up killing us both, and money’s no good if I’m dead. Tell you what – I’ll get the hell out of here, spend a couple of weeks getting drunk and laid, and then I’ll come back and bust you out.”

“Lovely,” she muttered. “I won’t hold my breath.” She squirmed again. “I don’t suppose you have anything to get me out of these ropes, do you?”

“Maybe for a price.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Well, I figure we might both get out of this alive, and I can always use a little cash. Say ten thousand for untying you?”

“You’re kidding,” she said flatly.

“I never kid about money.” Too bad she couldn’t see him in the dark – he was using his charming Irish-adventurer persona and having to rely on his voice to do it. Then again, he had a matted beard covering his face, hair to his shoulders, and he hadn’t seen hot water in almost three years. Maybe she was better off with the voice.

“All right,” she said finally. “I’m afraid I don’t happen to have ten thousand on me, but once I get out of here I’ll write you a check. You do take checks, don’t you?”

“I prefer cash but I can be reasonable.” He dropped the handcuffs on the dirt floor and moved across the hut, quiet as he’d been trained, so quiet that she jumped when he put his hands on her. “Hold still,” he said. “I can’t untie you when you’re squirming.”

“You’re not tied up?” She was beginning to sound a little testy – that was a good thing. Her unnatural calm was refreshing, but she was going to need a temper to get her through this.

He made quick work of the nylon ropes – Izzy had never been very good at knots. Back when Finn had been kept tied up he’d always been able to get them unfastened, do what he needed to do, and tie himself up again.

He finished untying her wrists, then began to run his hand down her legs to see if her ankles were tied, when she batted him away, scrambling back. “I can untie my own ankles,” she said. “I don’t want to have to spend another ten thousand dollars.”

“Oh, I would have done those for five,” he said cheerfully. “You hungry?”

“Yes.”

He was learning her voice better – he could trace the edge of desperation beneath her measured tones, and he decided not to razz her any more. “Here,” he said, tossing her the candy bar he’d won off Izzy three nights before. He’d been saving it for something special – his first night off the mountain, or Christmas, whichever came first. He didn’t even tease her with it.

She caught it expertly, even in the dark. “What is it?”

“A Santander bar.”

“Oh . . . my . . . god.” Her tone was reverent. “Real Callivera chocolate?”

“As good as it gets,” he said, trying to ignore the erotic pleasure in her voice. He heard her rip off the paper, heard the exquisite torture of her teeth biting into the rich, dark chocolate. There were times when he didn’t understand his own crazy impulses – probably a gift from his madman father.

And then she moved, sliding across the dirt floor before he realized what she was doing. “Here,” she said.

In the dark he couldn’t be sure what she was offering, and he didn’t know which he wanted more. The taste of chocolate, or sex. It had been thirty two months without either.

He put out his hand and touched hers, and she put a piece of chocolate in it. A big piece.

“You don’t want it?” he said. “World’s best chocolate not good enough for you?”

“I’d kill for it,” she said. “But I figure, until you abandon me, that we’re in this together. Take it.”

“I don’t . . .” The chocolate stopped his mouth – she’d taken aim like a drunken bride with a wedding cake, and he wasn’t about to resist.

It was no wonder she’d been making sex noises – he could practically come from the taste of it. Why the hell had he suddenly gotten noble? He could have eaten ten times that amount and not even begun to satisfy his hunger.

She started to move away, and he reached out and grabbed her ankle, stopping her. Her mouth probably tasted like chocolate, he thought, momentarily distracted.

“MacGowan, what are you doing?” she said.

He wasn’t quite sure. He hadn’t been this close to a woman in God knew how long. “Maybe we’ll call it even then. You can have the untying for free.”

“You’re the one who had the candy bar in the first place,” she said, reasonable. “In fact, I’ll give you another ten thousand dollars if you have a second one.”

“That’s how you get ‘em hooked,” he said, releasing her. Reluctantly. “Give them a free sample and then make them pay.”

“Fifteen thousand?”

“I’m guessing you really like chocolate.”

“What woman doesn’t? Twenty thousand.”

“Sorry, princess, I’m all out. That’s the only candy bar I’ve seen in thirty-four months.”

For a moment there was silence. “And you gave it to me?”

Shit. “A farewell present,” he said lightly. “Since I’m leaving you.”

“When?”

The night was cool, overcast, and he could hear the partying from up the hill. “Now,” he said, and pushed open the door to the jungle night.

CHAPTER THREE

Beth didn’t hesitate. She dove after him, out the rough door, scrambling down the path behind his silhouetted figure. He was moving fast, blending with the shadows, and she had a hard time keeping up with him. Every step she took seemed to echo in the night forest, twigs snapping beneath her feet, leaves rustling as she brushed by, but she didn’t hesitate. She could barely see him up ahead – if she lost him she’d be screwed. Wilderness training had never been part of her upbringing, and she’d be lucky if she didn’t get eaten by alligators.

Except there were no alligators in the Andes, she was pretty sure of that. But there were wild cats and God knew what else. She’d eaten some strange things since she arrived in South America, and she didn’t like to think about what kind of animal they’d come from. Probably Rodents of Unusual Size.

She slipped, going down hard on her backside, but she managed to keep it to a small grunt of dismay. By the time she got to her feet again he had disappeared into the night as if he’d never been there.

She froze, momentarily panicked. He was her only chance at escape, and she’d already lost him. She’d understood more than MacGowan had thought when Carlos and the other boy were arguing – if she made it back home it wasn’t going to be in pristine condition. The thought pushed her onward, deeper into the jungle. So she knew squat about surviving in the wilderness. At least she’d read enough Worst Case Scenario books to have a general idea of what to do in an alien abduction. She couldn’t remember whether escaping from guerilla kidnappers in the Andes was mentioned, and if it was, she’d forgotten. All she could do was keep moving and hope she’d catch up with MacGowan before he went to ground completely.

In the distance she could hear the sound of a stream. That was a start – water had to flow downhill, and her only chance at survival, if MacGowan proved elusive, was to get as far down the mountain as she could. If nothing else, she could follow the stream.

Someone with MacGowan’s training wouldn’t need to rely on something as simple as that. He was clearly well-versed in dealing with these kinds of things. The closest she had come was reading a book on worst-case scenarios.