Chapter 12
Sleep – how did he suppose she could even attempt to sleep? She lay staring at the ceiling, wondering when he would come, if he would come. Midnight he’d said, but time in this room had no meaning. There was no clock and her watch had been taken from her when she had first arrived. It was an easy way to disorientate a prisoner: making them lose track of time. She’d no idea if the midnight hour were close or had indeed passed. She’d done everything as he’d said, followed the same routine and now she lay waiting.
It was hardly surprising but she had not been able to settle. Her muscles tingled in anticipation while her heart rate and respiration rate were faster than normal. Her mind was in turmoil, wondering how they were going to get out. (The Casa was like a fortress.
Her thoughts were halted abruptly by the click of the key in the lock of her door. She turned slowly and peered into the shadows. It was him. Even in the dim light she recognised him. He was still in the suit he had worn at dinner.
He didn’t move towards her but silently made his way to the bathroom. What was he doing, she wondered? It was a bloody daft time to be caught short, that was for sure. He reappeared and stood framed in the doorway, illuminated by moonlight. In his hand he held a knife – small and compact. He clicked a button and she saw the flash of the blade – a switch blade. Her mouth went dry. It was stupid to be surprised that he was armed. He glanced at his watch.
“If there are trousers and a long sleeved top in the wardrobe put them on now and see if there is any flat foot wear,” he said quietly.
How calm he seems, Rhiannon thought, as she jumped out of the bed and opened the wardrobe door. The only clothes that were remotely like he’d specified were a pair of silk dress trousers and a silk shirt. The outfit looked completely incongruous with the flat canvas pumps she had worn down by the pool; they weren’t ideal for the jungle but better than the stilettos she had worn earlier.
“You’ll do until we get away from the Casa – hopefully my back–up will have thought to provide clothing for you as well as me. Now listen, from here on in, Miss Phillips, you do exactly as I say. No questions, both our lives depend on it. No matter what you see – and it won’t be pretty – you have to trust me. Don’t think, just do. Understand?”
Rhiannon nodded.
“Good girl. Now, when I give the command to advance, you can follow me. Stand where you can see me.”
He moved to the door and walked out onto the landing, the knife clasped loosely in his hand. He turned and in one fluid movement the knife arced through the air towards some unseen person, the thud of something falling indicting it had hit its target.
Using the hand single for advance, he beckoned her forward. The guard at the end of the corridor was slumped on the floor and she watch horrified as Kendal reached down and withdrew the knife from the man’s chest, pausing only to wipe it clean on the man’s shirt. He retrieved the man’s weapon and, again using a hand signal, indicated they were going right and then down a set of stairs she hadn’t seen before. Servants’ stairs, she supposed.
As they neared the bottom, he brought his hand up in a halt signal and then brought his finger to his lips, indicating she had to be quiet. She could just see a guard standing in the hall. Slowly Kendal reached up and pulled his tie from around his neck. She watched as he withdrew a fine wire concealed within the material. Holding the wire taut between his hands, he stepped down the final two steps. It was at the last moment that she realised he intended to use the wire to cut the man’s throat. She closed her eyes, leant against the wall and swallowed hard, praying she wouldn’t be sick. She was glad she wasn’t looking – it was bad enough listening. Knowing the sounds she could hear were of a man’s last, desperate seconds of life did nothing to ease her panic. My god, he was an assassin. Did it have to be like this? Was her only way out to kill in cold blood? A fine tremor shook her body.
Porter glanced back at Rhiannon. She was leaning against the wall, her head resting on her arms and her eyes tightly shut. Was she going to lose it now after being so strong? He touched her arm. She flinched at his touch and her eyes flew open. He could see fear in their depths – not just of her situation, but of him as well. That realization disturbed him but he couldn’t afford to dwell on it.
He beckoned her forward and helped her step over the body of the guard. Rhiannon watched as he bent down and took the weapons from the dead man. The hand gun he slipped in the waist band of his trousers and the rifle he slung over his shoulder. She was glad he’d ordered her not to speak because she didn’t think she could have spoken coherently. Was it all so easy for him, the killing? When she looked at him, his brilliant blue eyes showed not one shred of remorse, not one ounce of doubt. She shivered – it scared her. He was making the OK sign at her. She had no time to think, to analyse, all she could do was keep moving. She nodded briefly and they made their way along a passage way towards the rear of the house.
They were about two thirds of the way along when the man, Becker, appeared.
“Good to see you. Any problems?”
“No, but Cortez is short of two guards.”
“OK, there are two more guards in the kitchen. Try to disable, not kill them because then my being found unconscious won’t look suspicious.”
“I’ll do my best,” Porter smiled.
“I take it you know each other?”
“Becker’s our ally on the inside, so to speak.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Miss Phillips.”
Porter glanced at his watch.
“We have to go. Layla can only jam the CCTV for fifteen minutes.”
“Give her my love.”
“I will and sorry.” Porter swung the butt of the weapon he held across the side of Becker’s head.
If Becker saw the blow coming he didn’t show it. Rhiannon stood shocked as he collapsed to the floor, unconscious.
“Why?”
“He’s undercover with the DEA, I was protecting his identity. Come on, this way.”
They were about to enter the kitchen when the maid who’d served them the night before came out of the door.
She would have screamed but Porter placed his hand over her mouth.
“You speak Spanish, explain what’s going on,” he whispered.
Rhiannon spoke quickly, praying the girl understood.
Porter felt her nod and he lowered his hand.
“Ask her where the guards are.”
“I speak English, senor. They are eating at the big table, senor.” The maid turned to face him. “It is not possible to go in there with the senorita.”
“Is there somewhere she can hide while I deal with them?”
Rhiannon shivered at his words.
“Si, the maids change in here,” she whispered and opened a door to the left of the kitchen door.
“OK, Rhiannon, wait in there until I have taken care of them.”
She shivered again; his words were so devoid of emotion.
“And you go to bed, senorita. Just pretend you never saw us,” he whispered. “And thank you.”
“You’re welcome, senor. Buena suerte.”
Rhiannon watched the young woman run lightly away and then Kendal nodded to her and she walked into the cupboard.
“I won’t be long,” he said, shutting the door, leaving her in darkness. She shivered yet again. Alone in the dark with just her imagination for company she couldn’t help but wonder what he was doing. Becker had told him not to kill the men if he could help it. So how would he neutralise them? A bubble of laughter rose in her throat – neutralise them? That sounded like he was the hero in some science fiction or spy novel – but he wasn’t and the cold reality of what he did was injury and death, not entertainment. She understood now what he meant by “ask no questions”, “don’t think, just do” and “it won’t be pretty”. It wasn’t pretty and if she thought about it, even a little, it would be easy to believe that the stench of death was on her. She sighed. He was right, she shouldn’t think but it was impossible not to.
How long had he been gone? It seemed ages but in reality it was only a minute or two. She strained to hear anything but all was silent. All she could hear was her own breathing. Suddenly and without warning, the door opened and she shrank back into the shadows as light from the corridor spilled in. She sighed in relief as his unmistakable silhouette filled the doorway. He made the OK sign with his hand and she responded in the same way and walked towards him.
The kitchen was quiet and deserted except for the two guards who were both lying immobile on the floor. Rhiannon ordered herself not to look and she didn’t ask if they were dead or not. She just followed Kendal across the kitchen and out of another door to what must be the pantry and kitchen stores area.
Another door was at the end of the short corridor and Rhiannon could see that it led outside into the garden. Porter opened it cautiously and led the way out. One of Cortez’ men was standing at the corner of the house. It was difficult to say who was more surprised, them or the guard. Damn, Porter thought. He hadn’t been expecting to see a guard just there. The guards had a route around the house that they followed – there shouldn’t be anybody here at this time. He and Rhiannon should have been able to cross the lawn to the perimeter wall without being seen. Porter didn’t think the man was a guard on duty; he’d obviously just slipped out for a cigarette – bugger. Even a guard off duty at Casa de Marguerita would be carrying a weapon and unless he was an idiot he would realise that the supposed drug lord was actually rescuing the British hostage. Somehow Porter didn’t think Cortez would hire idiots. He watched as the man’s hand moved a fraction – no, he wasn’t an idiot.
Later Rhiannon would realise that it didn’t happen in slow motion but a matter of seconds. For now, though, it seemed as if she was watching everything one nanosecond at a time. The Colombian’s hand reached into his jacket and curled around a metallic grey gun. As it arched impossibly gracefully through the air Kendal pushed her firmly down to the ground. It was then she realised he had drawn his own weapon. The twin sounds of each gun being fired shattered the silence of the night. It was only when she saw a patch of red appear on the man’s chest that she realised that Kendal’s aim had been better.
“Come on, we have to get out of here,” Kendal said, pulling her back to her feet, the need for silence over.
Footsteps could be heard crunching on the gravel and they were moving fast.
“Head for the shrubs over there. Don’t dawdle and don’t look back. I’ll be right behind you.”
She realised he was putting himself between her and the men chasing them.
When was the last time she’d run? Probably back in secondary school on sports day. But she ran now – like the wind. Gun fire again shattered the silence and she heard Kendal grunt behind her but, remembering his words, she didn’t turn back. Once in the shrubbery, he moved to her side and grabbed her hand to lead her towards the wall. Was there some exit out of the grounds that they were making for?
“Right, lass, you’re going over the wall.”
“Over the wall!?”
“Yep.” He stooped and cupped his hand. “I’ll boost you up. Grab the top and pull yourself up. Do not stand up; just lower yourself down the other side. When you drop, bend your knees and roll out of the landing to lessen the impact.”
“I don’t think…” The sound of dogs barking interrupted her.
“Don’t think, just do. I’ll be right behind you.”
She nodded – it didn’t matter how scared she was, she had to act now or she’d be dead. Bracing herself she put her foot into his hand and nodded at his “ready” and then found herself launched upwards. The hard stone of the wall bit into her fingers as she scrambled on to the top. Heeding his words she stayed flat and turned around ready to lower herself down the other side. Don’t look down, she told herself, just drop.
Porter watched her disappear as he ran at the wall, cursing the burning in his side. He’d been caught by a bullet, running for cover. He was sure that it had passed through him – the fact he was still standing made him think that it had missed anything vital but it didn’t stop it hurting like hell. He dragged himself over the top of the wall and dropped to the ground on the other side.
“Are you OK?” he asked as he landed.
“Yeah,” she whispered.
“OK, let’s go.”
“Where to?”
“The jungle,” he said quietly.