Chapter 26

 

After finishing her sat-phone conversation with Luna, Elaine slowly made a complete circle of the building. She was so livid that she could scream, and in her mind she was screaming, screaming at the top of her lungs. The way Giorgio Cattoretti had pretended to have rescued her from the black site, and how he had oh-so-tenderly nursed her back to health…knowing the entire time that the frail, weak, half-dead state Elaine was in was the result of his own sick actions! And Raj! The thought of those two men working together to create this revolting façade was beyond sickening.

It took all her willpower to control herself. She used the empty oil barrel in the back yard to quietly climb up onto the roof of the building, taking deep breaths every now and then to control her flaring temper.

It was completely dark outside now. She peered into the vents in the ceilings of the rooms that had served as her and Nick’s “cells”…and her mind flashed back to those long, horrific days when she was hanging from the ceiling by her wrists, blasted with cold water, doubting she would ever see either of her beloved children again.

She was going to kill Giorgio Cattoretti.

Get a grip on yourself, she thought, her hands shaking. She had the man right where she wanted him—it was her chance to get even!

She couldn’t blow it, not now…

The only viable way to gain entry to the building was through the garage door, but there were two padlocks on it that were so heavy that even shooting them off would be difficult. Firing the rifle might attract people from the nearby villages.

Elaine put her ear to the vent, listening for sounds, but heard nothing from within the building. The cells themselves still faintly smelled of her own stench—she felt her rage cresting again and had to take a few more slow, deep breaths to steady herself.

No one was inside the building.

She finally concluded that if Cattoretti was still around, he must have temporarily gone out.

She was just climbing back down from the roof when she heard the sound of the approaching motorcycle.

Gripping the Kalashnikov tightly under her poncho, her heart beating faster, she jumped from the top of the oil barrel back to the ground.

 

* * *

Giorgio Cattoretti was guiding the dirt bike down the path that led to the building he and Raj had used for the black site.

There was a Glock tucked into the back of his shorts—he had to be careful at all times here in Chad, and particularly out in the wilderness, in such a deserted area. When he’d arrived last week, he’d found that the building had been broken into and ransacked by local villagers. Everything of any value had been stolen, including all the speakers hidden in the walls for the sound system, all the kitchenware, all extra food and provisions, and of course the expensive gasoline-powered AC generator. He didn’t even have a way to charge his sat-phone. He had bought an extra battery and had to pay a guy at one of the stalls at the market, where they had electricity, to charge it, and had to stop there every day to swap the run-down battery for the refreshed one.

Fortunately, he had been smart enough to hide the most important items—the guns, handcuffs, tools, lantern, a sleeping bag, etc.—in a wooden crate which he had buried out in the back of the building, two feet down in the dirt. He had known he would be coming back, and had recovered everything when he had arrived. The place had been such a mess that he had spent the entire day cleaning it up—squatters had been living there, too, it seemed.

When he was fifty meters away from the building he brought the dirt bike to a complete stop.

With the engine idling, he spent a moment glancing around in the drizzle with his one good eye to make sure no one else had shown up since he’d been gone. The only way into the building was through a heavy garage door, and he had added another two eye hooks and heavy-duty model padlocks that could not be easily picked or broken.

He saw no sign of anyone around, so he gunned the dirt bike’s engine and continued on.

 

* * *

From the harsh rup-rup-rup of the engine, Elaine could tell that it was a dirt bike that was approaching. Elaine thought it might just be some teenager from Abéché who was riding around in the drizzle, but she remembered how Giorgio had used a dirt bike when he had picked her up in France to take her to the house where he’d been holding Tony hostage.

It sounded like the bike had rolled right up to the garage door.

The engine stopped.

Staying low, with her finger on the rifle trigger, she edged her way along the side of the building, to the corner. She heard the rattle of one of the padlocks opening.

She pulled out her compact, opened the mirror, and slowly extended the edge around the corner of the building so she could see.

Giorgio Cattoretti was standing only a few feet away, turned at an angle, not quite facing her, unlocking one of padlocks on the door, the dirt-bike parked beside him. He could not see her at all, because his left side was facing her and he was wearing his eye patch. On his shoulders was a large backpack...but no rifle. And no pistol in his hands, either.

If she could take him by surprise—

Giorgio swung the garage door open, and it obscured him from view.

Elaine quickly moved towards it.

She heard the rattle of the dirt bike as he wheeled it inside and pulled the door shut just as she reached it.

A deadbolt slid closed on the other side, and then a second one.

“Damn,” she said under her breath.