Authors: Cristiane Serruya
The whole group stopped what they were doing and looked at him.
“The money is arriving in ten minutes. Let the fucking party begin.”
The gang raised their handguns and submachine guns and shouted curses and cheers.
Alistair’s heart stopped for a moment when he heard the rapidly firing shots from multiple guns. “Christ, what kinds of weapons do they have?”
“Don’t worry, they are outnumbered,” the National Crime Agency senior officer informed him. “Our men already have their sights on them. Border Policing Command is just waiting for our signal to arrest their small boats. There is a big luxury yacht waiting for them outside our territorial waters. British navy is already tracking it. They are just around twenty men. We are more than two hundred. We have it all covered. The success of this operation will send a clear message to organized crime.”
At what cost?
Alistair rashly blew out a sigh and rolled his shoulders, struggling to unwind his taut nerves. “Sophia?”
“The camera in the dungeon is still black,” was the stern reply after a brief pause.
“So, you don’t really know
how many
they are,” Alistair stated.
There was a longer silence and the senior officer answered very somberly, “We’ve considered this scenario too.”
The acid taste of his fear grew stronger as Alistair looked at the ancient castle. He closed his eyes, furious at his own inadequacies.
After this is over, and Christ, with Sophia in my arms, no one will ever make my family this vulnerable.
“Don’t worry, Mr. MacCraig,” the Senior NCA officer said, “we’ve arrived right on time.”
But a pricking feeling on the back of his neck told Alistair they had not.
The muffled sounds of running boots made Sophia’s breathing speed up. She couldn’t make out where the sound was coming from.
It seemed to come from everywhere and it was getting louder and louder.
Something is off.
Sophia’s instincts told her she had to leave immediately.
Slowly, in a supreme effort of will, using her back as a support, with her wrists and ankles tied, Sophia moved as quickly as she could toward what she thought was the direction of the iron door.
Ethan saw Sophia as soon as he unlocked the last iron door and entered the dungeon. Flattened against the wall, she was heading unsteadily away from them.
“Sophia!” He ran and picked her up in his arms.
Isabel and her officers spread around the dungeon, offering protection.
“Ethan?” Sophia couldn’t believe it. “Oh, God. What are you doing here?”
He whirled on his heels to flee the room, not losing time to explain.
But the lights went up.
This unexpected fact made him halt and hesitate, unsure.
Two of Uó’s men opened the dungeon door, obviously expecting no trouble. Their grip on the guns was slack and casual and their machine guns hung from the straps across their bodies.
“What the fuck?!” the shortest one spit through clenched teeth, enraged.
The other one didn’t waste time cursing.
Sophia shrieked as she saw the tallest man aim his .45 gun at Ethan and fire at his back.
Ethan felt a stinging hot burning sensation, followed by the warm trickle of blood down his right leg which faltered once. His body jerked a few more times as the unmistakable, loud blasts of gunshots bounced repeatedly off the rocks.
In spite of his bullet-proof vest, Ethan never made it to the passage.
What happened in mere seconds took an eternity for him.
In slow-motion, he saw as his body was lifted from the ground by the impact of the bullets on his vest and his arms clutched Sophia, trying to protect her from the brunt of the fall of the approaching ground. Just before they fell together to the ground, another bullet caught him in the neck.
In an involuntary movement, he lifted his arms to protect his head.
NO!
It was a shock to be bereft of Ethan’s protection as Sophia fell free from his arms. She hit the ground with enough force to slide a few feet away. The sound of bullets cracking loudly barely registered in her shocked mind as Ethan dropped to the ground and didn’t move anymore, blood pooling around him. Terror gripped her for an instant as a big body blocked her view of him.
Crawling, Tavish pulled a shocked Sophia back into the passage, away from the shots.
When he propped her against the wall, she crumpled. Seeing Ethan being shot had been the final drop.
Tavish assessed her quickly, asking questions she hadn’t enough strength or clarity to answer.
When he returned for Ethan, more of Uó’s men appeared. Isabel and five officers were shooting from different corners. Another wounded officer was painfully moving to the passage on his back, still shooting.
Tavish would never know what made him fling himself once more into the melee of flaming bullets to save Ethan. Maybe it was bizarre empathy, because he’d lived through something similar; maybe it was a way of reliving those moments when he had been caught, because he had not reacted as quickly as he should have then.
“Come on, man. I need your help.” Tavish shouted, pulling him back and leaning his back against the wall. He could hear the pain in Ethan’s labored breathing and searched him for wounds.
“Go. And close the door.” Feebly Ethan pushed Tavish back. He couldn’t believe he had been shot. “I’ll cover… you.”
“Shut up!” Tavish cursed when he noticed blood quickly pumping out of Ethan’s leg and tied a tourniquet above it to stop the flow. Hastily, with gauze embedded with coagulant agents, he made a hemostatic dressing and put it over Ethan’s neck, reducing the hemorrhage.
“Tavish MacCraig, go!” Ethan forced Tavish back.
“STAY STILL!” Tavish ordered. Grabbing Ethan’s right hand in his and looking into his eyes, he placed his L85A1 rifle on it. “Here. They won’t get through Isabel and her team, but it doesn’t hurt. I’ll bring help.”
“Ethan.” Sophia shook herself out of her numb state when she saw he was still alive and dragged herself to sit beside him.
Thank you, thank you. What can I do to help?
What can I say to keep up hope?
“Ethan, I’ll be waiting for you. We have much to do together.”
Ethan looked at the face of the woman who had so much faith in him and who showed him that he could choose wisely and make peace with his past. “Sophia, you told me I could make a difference.”
Goodbye, my darling.
“DON’T! Don’t you dare, Ethan Ashford.” Her eyes filled with tears.
Say something meaningful, Sophia.
“You’re too important to me. Too important.”
When she put her hog-tied hands over his, Ethan grabbed Tavish’s coat and hissed, “She’s burning with fever. Get her out of here. Make it worth it.”
Make my life worth it.
“She is pregnant! You’re saving two lives. Go! Dammit, GO!”
“I’ll come back, Ashford. I’ll come back.” Tavish knew he couldn’t carry both of them and he had to choose. He picked up Sophia in his arms and sprinted, ignoring his protesting limp leg.
But Tavish’s heart was heavy as an unconsolable Sophia started to sob in his arms.
Chapter 33
10.27 p.m.
The blasts echoed from beyond the passage until they were just far away pops. The darkness grew and encompassed Ethan. He tried to be aware of what was going on, but his senses were confused until finally there was a comfortable silence and a strange numbness.
He wanted to laugh at how ludicrous the situation was.
I am dying a hero inside my own castle in a trap that I initiated.
His grandfather’s image appeared in front of his closed eyes. He wondered if Niarchos would be proud of him for keeping up appearances until his death. “It’s very hard to live up to an image, Granpa.”
“Why, Ethan?” Niarchos looked down at him and demanded again fiercely, “Tell me why!”
Niarchos wanted him to stay alive and continue with his predesignated fate. Ethan knew it.
I was never good enough, was I?
The echoes of all his bad memories came forth, all the chaos and emotions he had locked up in his dark rooms sprung to the fore and made him angry. He was ready to face all his ghosts.
Suddenly a fire blazed in Ethan’s chest, burning like it would eat him alive. But he was not afraid, he had always loved to play with fire.
Laughter started in his throat, a laugh that rose into a loud wordless shout. When he opened his mouth, the fire came blazing out, bursting to lighten everything, consuming the blackness and the dark rooms, setting them all alight, burning down Niarchos, Calista, George, Eve and every wrong deed done to him as Ethan laughed and shouted; in happiness, pain and grief; for the little boy who still lived inside him and for the grown man who was dying too soon.
Just before Ethan passed out, a smile opened on his face.
Niarchos’s image had taken Sophia’s form.
There were tears in her eyes and she also asked, “Why, Ethan?”
For her, he would answer.
“Because, in an ironic stroke of time and destiny, I needed to right my wrongs; to make a difference; to become fully responsible for my own acts and myself. I’m really sorry for everything, but I loved to play with fire. Is there such a thing as a fire that doesn’t burn?” He tilted his head waiting for her answer.
She shook her head, with the falling tears wetting her cheeks.
A pure, soft light illuminated his beloved grandmother Elizabeth, standing just behind Sophia’s image. She answered in his mind, “Yes, my dear. The fire of love burns, but it doesn’t hurt. Come now.”
Ethan whispered to Sophia just before he gave his hand to Elizabeth, “Don’t be sad, my darling Sophia, my best friend. I’m finally free.”
10.31 p.m.
On the beach beside the ambulance and the paramedics, a distraught pacing Alistair was waiting for the rescue team.
More than two and a half days.
He looked at his watch.
Almost sixty-two hours. Precisely, seven-thousand, two-hundred and fifty-one minutes since she left my arms.
Alistair hadn’t realized he had been so obsessed with time. He had been sick from waiting, from the panic that something could happen to her.
And he was still counting.
10.35 p.m.
“They need medical help inside. Do you copy?” Tavish said into the microphone, but no one replied. “What’s the name of your daughter, Sophia?”
He had been alternating between asking her questions and trying to get information to the policemen outside.
“Sophia! What’s the name of your daughter?” He tightened his arms around her and speeded up when she didn’t answer. “Men down. Men down. We need medical assistance and back-up in the underground tunnels. Copy?”
“Roger that,” a disembodied voice finally answered. “Special forces have taken over the castle and are making their way down to the dungeon. You’ve got her?”
“Aye. Lacerations, dehydration, fever, shock. Coming out in ten max. Get the ambulance and the chopper ready.”
10.43 p.m.
When his brother rushed from the underground passage, carrying an inert, tied and bloody Sophia in his arms, Alistair’s breath caught in his throat and his heart stopped.
It is happening all over again.
“She’s…”
Shot? Dead?
Tavish didn’t spare him a glance and climbed into the ambulance, barking out orders to the paramedics. Alistair barely had time to climb in with them. He saw the paramedics introduce an IV in her forearm, check her blood pressure as Tavish linked her to other machines.
Sophia’s skin was grayish and her breathing slow and shallow. When the ambulance made a sharp turn, her head moved and she caught Alistair’s stare.
Her pupils were so dilated that her eyes seemed like black pits.
For a moment, Sophia seemed confused as Alistair’s gaze caressed her bruised face and her cut, bloody, bald head. She mouthed his name and with a soft sigh, she closed her eyes.
NAE!
The dull, anguished thump inside his chest quickened into a frantic, aching drumming when Tavish put the oxygen mask over her face. Alistair couldn’t wait anymore. He gripped Tavish’s shoulder and snapped, “Tell me she is okay.”
That they are okay.
Tavish looked back, startled, as if noticing for the first time that his brother was inside the ambulance. He thought quickly of what he should say since he himself didn’t have a precise answer.
He put a hand over Alistair’s and squeezed. “Nae, she is not okay. But, have faith, she will be.”
Highlands, Inverness, Raigmore Hospital.
Tuesday, March 29
th
, 2011.
2.47 a.m.
His rigid control strained, Alistair paced around the waiting room while an unconscious Sophia was rushed in to do tests and scans. He knew everyone was doing everything possible, but still it wasn’t enough for him. He also wanted to do something.
Felipe sat close by, silently, jaw clenched and hands fisted. From time to time, he would mutter something in Portuguese about killing Alberto and then lapsed into silence again. Beside him, Carolina was gazing out in the air, her mouth opening and closing silently. Alistair didn’t know if she was praying or what, because she hadn’t said a word since she followed a crazed Felipe inside the waiting room.
Almost three hours now.
He walked up to the reception desk again. “Do you have any updates on Sophia MacCraig?”
The nurse checked her computer and looked up at him. The compassion and sympathy Alistair saw in her face might have bothered him at one time, but no longer. There was nothing more important to him than to know that Sophia was going to be okay.
“Not since the last one I gave you, sir.” She smiled a bit, but it did nothing to abate the heaviness in Alistair’s heart. “She has been assigned a room. If you want to wait there, I’m sure they will be bringing her in at any moment.”