The Bari Bones Page 8

  “Something tells me that’s exactly how you broke those two fingers of yours, mate,” Sam joked. “Our brave friend had the presence of mind to rip it off one of his attackers’ clothing,” he added.

  “It appears to be a company logo but it’s only part of it. It looks like it’s something tech,” Alex said.

  From where Father Rob stared at it upside down, he pointed to the barely noticeable image in one of the corners. “That looks like a Chinese letter.”

  Alex flipped the patch upside down. “Why am I not surprised?”

  “Does it mean something to you?” Father Rob frowned at Alex’s blasé response.

  “I guess you can say that. We had an encounter with a few Chinese men ourselves and they seemed to have had access to enough technology to track us down in the middle of the Adriatic Sea.

  “That and the fact that they had Chinese military issue weapons,” Sam added, taking a seat opposite her at the table.

  “I’m confused,” Father Rob said as he also took a seat at the table. “Are you saying the Turkish government is conspiring with the Chinese government? Against us?”

  Alex rubbed the piece of fabric between her fingers.

  “We’re not saying anything, Father. We don’t have any proof that the Turks are behind this. What we do know, however, is that the Chinese are somehow involved,” Sam answered.

  “More importantly, it begs the question as to why a tech company would be after the manna,” Alex said while still trying to make sense of the fabric between her fingers.

  “They had sophisticated military guns, drones, and the ability to track us. Perhaps weapons?”

  “Then why are they after the manna? That makes no sense,” Father Rob said.

  Alex didn’t answer. Instead she continued rubbing her fingers over the patch of fabric, feeling and sensing her way through a maze of questions that searched her mind for answers. Sam took his turn inspecting the fabric, running his fingers, in much the same way as his wife had, over the logo.

  “I’m no fashionista but I don’t think I’m far off thinking this cloth isn’t just any ordinary piece of clothing fabric. It’s almost as if it’s a piece of strong tissue paper yet it’s nothing like tissue paper at all,” Sam commented when he scrunched up the ripped patch between his fingers and watched it bounce back uncreased. “And it’s really thick and strong,” he added.

  “I think I know of someone who might be able to tell us about this piece of fabric,” Alex announced, “and I think we ought to take Khalil with us.”

  Forty minutes later Father Rob dropped them off behind the church and made his way back to the front of the basilica in time to prepare for evening mass. Alex and Sam carried Khalil into his cousin’s tailor shop and like before, Yusuf was sat in front of his sewing machine in the corner. As was to be expected, Yusuf wasn’t at all pleased with their visit when he saw his cousin’s battered and bruised body enter his shop.

  “I knew getting involved with you was going to get him killed! What have you done?” he yelled at them, taking Alex’s place under Khalil’s broken arm.

  “He’s not dead, Yusuf. In fact, your cousin saved a boy’s life. He’s a brave man,” Alex retorted.

  “He should’ve never helped you out in the first place. He has a family, you know.”

  “We’re aware,” was all Alex decided to say so as to not antagonize Yusuf any further.

  Yusuf beckoned for Alex to open a door that led into the back of the shop before a small set of stairs deposited them inside an even darker room in the attic. Alex allowed her eyes to take in the tiny space. A single mattress lay on top of two wooden pallets on the floor in one corner. Next to it an upside-down vegetable crate acted as his nightstand, displaying a Bible and a small lamp. Barely five feet away a single wooden chair served as a table upon which a few mismatched dirty dishes were stacked. Next to it, two more crates along the wall served as a kitchen counter holding a single burner stove and an old kettle. In the opposite corner a low three-drawer dresser separated a humble restroom from the living area and next to it stood a bucket with a towel draped over it.

  Yusuf was still mumbling words in his native tongue that were no doubt unsavory, as he and Sam gently lay Khalil down onto his bed.

  “It’s important that you keep him hidden, Yusuf,” Sam ventured with caution.

  “Hidden from who? He needs a doctor,” Yusuf argued.

  “No, he doesn’t. I am a doctor and I’ve done what was necessary. They won’t be able to keep him safe. Your cousin’s life depends on it, Yusuf. When the IV runs out you can remove the needle and feed him broth and water. Keep him hydrated and lying still and he’ll be fine. You can give him liquid painkillers if he needs it,” Sam instructed.

  “You need to leave,” Yusuf said sternly, pushing both Alex and Sam towards the stairs.

  “Actually, we need your help,” Alex dared to ask.

  “Help? You’re crazy if you think I’m going to help you. Don’t you think you’ve done enough? You need to stay away from us.” Yusuf flicked his hands in the way you might chase a stray dog off your lawn.

  “It’s important. It might help us find the men who did this to Khalil,” Alex said again, holding out the piece of torn off fabric.

  “What can you tell us about this?”

  “Nothing, now go away,” Yusuf said abruptly.

  “Look carefully, Yusuf, please? It’s important,” Alex urged.

  Yusuf looked back at his cousin whose eyes urged him to help. He reluctantly snatched the piece of fabric from her hand and walked over to his nightstand. He took his time inspecting the fabric under the small yellow light before he shoved it back in her hand.

  “It’s a fire-retardant fabric you’d usually find in a laboratory or chemical factory. That’s all I know. I’ve never seen the logo, or what’s left of it, but I can tell you that it was embroidered by an industrial machine and that the red cotton is custom-made.”

  “So a uniform?” Sam checked.

  “Probably, yes.”

  “Thank you, Yusuf. That helps us a great deal. Look after our friend.” Sam shook his hand before he and Alex left.

  Back at their yacht Alex flipped open her laptop and searched the internet for Chinese tech companies with a logo that looked remotely like the partial imprint on the fabric patch. Sam had motored the yacht a fair way from the small marina as they usually did when they settled in for the night. He slid into the kitchen next to Alex and ran his eyes over the laptop’s screen.

  “Anything?”

  “Nothing. Most of the tech companies with red logos are all IT based or vehicle manufacturing plants. And none have these odd-looking balls in the logo either.”

  “You’re assuming it came from an overall. It could just as well have come from a collared shirt’s pocket.” It dawned on them that they’d never bothered to ask Yusuf. Not that he would’ve been able to communicate it properly anyway.

  “Well,” Alex said, “the Internet only gives us so much to work with. Perhaps it’s something we need to do in person.”

  “You mean fly to China.”

  Alex didn’t answer. Her eyes confirmed Sam’s supposition.

  “And this is why I love you so much. Never scared to take the bull by its horns,” Sam said with pride, and got up to pour them each a cup of coffee before he spoke again. “There are one and a half billion people in China though and who knows how many tech companies? Where would we even start? Beijing?”

  “I have no idea, Sam. It could be anywhere, but we have to start somewhere, and right now, this is the only lead we have. They said they’d contact us with further instructions, but they haven’t. Perhaps they’ve found us useless, I don’t know. But what I do know is that we can’t just sit here and wait for better days.”

  “Let’s hope you’re right. Question is, what are we going to do once we find the company? Have you thought of that yet?”

  She hadn’t. “We’ll figure it out. We always do.”

&n
bsp; Sam walked over and lifted away the grid in front of one of the ventilation ducts in the wall to retrieve a small black bag. He plonked the compact backpack onto the table and scanned through the contents of passports, cash and a few burner phones before placing it back into the zip pouch inside the bag. They unclipped the magazines from their guns and locked them away inside the concealed safe in the kitchen, aware of the fact that China had some of the strictest gun regulations in the world.

  “Hopefully we won’t need them anyway,” Alex remarked when Sam took a deep breath as he locked the safe.

  “Well, as they say, no time like the present,” he said, masking his inner anxiety in his usual flippant tone before heading toward the flybridge. Whilst he was not ignorant to the fact that men didn’t possess the proverbial female sixth sense, he certainly couldn’t shake the alarm bells that had gone off in the pit of his stomach. Every cell in his body wanted to turn away rather than go ahead, but they had silently agreed to avenge the priest’s murder and complete Stavros’ mission to find the manna. Quitting wasn’t an option.

  Still deep in thought, Sam was climbing the steel ladder onto the flybridge when he felt the hard blow to his back, fell from the ladder and landed heavily on the main deck., Alex, packing a few items of clothing in their carry-on bags in their berth, stopped as she heard the thud overhead. With her senses heightened she leaped across the small cabin to the porthole but saw nothing. Instinctively she reached for the gun at her waist, only to recall they had just locked it away. Her eyes searched both nightstands for a fallback weapon and settled on the bug spray. It would do. Armed only with the aerosol tin she fell back against the inside wall by the doorway and popped her head out for a quick view into the hull. It was clear. She proceeded cautiously through the sitting area and kitchen, picking up a knife in passing. Sounds of something being dragged across the deck above her followed by several footsteps sent her senses into high alert. With her eyes on the doorway she allowed her free hand to find the safe and only looked away briefly to enter the digital combination. She ran her fingers nervously over the first four numbers of the code before everything went black around her.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The noxious sweet smell of benzene splashing in his face woke Sam up. A reflex had him open his eyes but he instantly forced them shut as the liquid burned his eyes. He fought for fresh air in his lungs and turned his head away as another splash of fluid hit his chest. Attempting to wipe his face he realized his hands were tied behind his back. He spat out some of the gasoline that had managed to find its way into his mouth and tried to wipe his eyes on his shoulder, only to realize his shirt was also soaked in the petrol. Unable to see, he homed his hearing in on the snickering male voices somewhere in front of him. There were at least two, he deduced, as he expelled another ball of petrol-tinged saliva in their direction. He recognized the sound of liquid hitting the insides of an almost empty metal container followed by the liquid splashing out onto the floor. He took note of the fact that the sound grew more distant with each splash, signifying that it was being moved away from him. He turned his head and heightened his senses in search of Alex but heard nothing. Behind him his bound hands felt the hardness of a steel pole against his back. His wedding ring chimed against the pole as he felt his way around it until his fingers settled on the familiar soft cotton ropes from their yacht. He must still be on the yacht, he concluded with relief while his insides remained tense over Alex’s safety. Still unable to see he slowly turned his head, allowing his ears to determine his exact position on the yacht. Behind him the hollow noise of an empty metal container hitting the floor startled him. Moments later he heard a metal lid pop off a new canister before the petrol splashed against something. Alex coughed and gasped behind Sam, bringing him a strange twisted sense of relief. She was still alive, albeit in the same unfortunate situation he found himself in.

  “Alex! I’m over here!” he yelled to put her at ease.

  Still recovering from the gasoline dousing, Alex didn’t answer. But as long as Sam heard her cough and draw oxygen into her lungs he was satisfied.

  Sam’s bold disruption to communicate with her must have angered their captors as his face was struck by the sole of someone’s boot. The metallic taste of blood flooded his mouth. He tried to open his eyes again. The blurry outlines of the stern of the yacht slowly came into vision in front of him. Again his fingers wrapped around the steel pole behind him for confirmation. He had been tied to the ladder beneath the flybridge. That meant they were both on the main deck and Alex would be in the seating area. He turned his head to the right over his shoulder and as far back as his body would allow in an attempt to see her. His eyes still stung from the petrol, causing him to blink several times before her faint silhouette came into sight where she was lying on the main deck. Desperate to cry out to her he refrained; for fear of arousing further hostility from their captors who had just thrown the second empty jerry can aside. Instead he coughed; so she’d know he was okay. After a slight pause he heard her cough in reply. She was okay too, for now.

  With his vision not yet fully restored, it was too hard to see properly, even with the light from the flybridge above him, but it afforded just enough illumination across the main deck for him to see three men—two on board the yacht, and one more seated next to the engine in a small fishing dinghy floating next to the aft side. The oars dangling from the sides of the boat indicated how they had managed to sneak up on them. Sam twisted his hands in an effort to loosen the ropes around his wrists as he waited for their next move.

  The deck seating afforded Alex much needed protection from the attackers’ field of vision where they stood at the stern. Using it to her full advantage, Alex wriggled her body across the deck and in doing so, drenched her clothes further with gasoline. Aside from her lungs burning as she inhaled the strong fumes her eyesight was clear. Her hands were bound, so were her feet. When she reached the inward curve of the built-in seating behind her, she used her elbows and pushed herself up onto the white cushions. It was quite evident that the attackers were not experienced at all, not having tied her hands behind her back. Perhaps they assumed her being a woman posed no threat. They underestimated her, she thought. From behind the backrest she peered over the cushions and saw Sam propped up against the ladder. Two of the men were already inside the small boat preparing to leave while the third appeared to be sending a text from his phone. She ducked down into the seating and moved her fingers nimbly over the knots around her ankles. The rope sprang free with very little effort. Using her teeth she set about the knots around her wrists having to pause a few times to rid her mouth of the bitter chemical taste that seeped into her mouth. The ropes around her wrists were harder to untie and clung together under the moisture of the flammable liquid she had been soaked with. She heard one of the men talking and carefully popped her head back over the cushion to see him speaking on his cellphone. He was speaking Chinese. Her eyes trailed to one of the men in the boat who promptly passed a cigarette lighter, along with a small, rounded white object, to his associate with the phone who had remained on the yacht. Alex dropped back behind the backrest and bit down harder onto the rope between her hands; realizing the object was a candle. Ignoring the bitter taste in her mouth her teeth worked relentlessly through the tight bindings until a final tug released the last knot. With the men now preoccupied with completing their mission, Alex took the opportunity to descend below deck. Again a mistake on their part to have left her so close to the doorway. Her heart beat fiercely against her chest when her fingers punched the digital sequence into the safe. She’d have to be careful, she thought. A bullet into the fuel on deck would set the entire boat ablaze, along with her and Sam. The door popped open and she worked quickly, reloading her Glock before putting it in its usual place under her shirt in the small of her back. Suddenly aware that she could no longer hear the man’s voice on the phone, she assumed he had set the boat on fire and left, but then decided she would’ve smelled the smo
ke. She didn’t. Her mind went to their getaway bag which she quickly snatched from its hiding place and slipped it into her waistband underneath her shirt. Adrenaline pumped through her veins as she suddenly thought to cut Sam’s ropes instead of wasting time fumbling with the knots. In a last effort of planning she spun around to reach for the knife that lay on the kitchen counter behind her but instead, found herself staring down the barrel of the man on the phone’s gun.

  There was no mistaking the short syllables that issued from his mouth as being a warning. It sounds the same regardless of the language it’s said in. Alex held her hands up in surrender. They had mistaken her for a timid woman before and it had served her well, at least until now. She whimpered the way B-list actresses do in the low-grade movies and begged for her life. His eyes fell on the knife that lay on the counter behind her, setting off a new sequence of short, abrupt words while his gun motioned for her to move away from the counter. She complied. She still had her gun and so far he was none the wiser. He pushed the gun into her back between her shoulder blades, shoving her towards the stairs to go up onto the deck, and she again let out a fake whimper, then coughed. She knew Sam would be within earshot and translate it that she was still in control. The Chinese man trailed behind her, shouting for her to move, so she did. When her feet hit the last of the four steps before she reached the main deck, using her elevated position over him, she kicked backward and disarmed her assailant. As she spun around she kicked him across the face, affording her enough time to pull her gun out and pin it against his forehead.

  “Move!” she instructed in a low stern voice as she swung him around. These men were inexperienced, yes, but she wasn’t about to take any chances. With her Glock pinned firmly against the base of his skull, she wrapped her arm around his neck in a headlock and climbed the stairs with him. When they reached the top she tightened her elbow onto his windpipe and moved her gun’s barrel to his temple. Using his body as a shield she moved along the deck towards where Sam was still sitting against the ladder.