Lagos, Nigeria
WITH
trepidation, Ariane moved toward the large man. They had shared a boat to Mexico, a plane to Nigeria, and a train to Lagos, but he had failed to utter a single word during the entire journey-not even when he was handcuffed, drugged, or beaten. It was like his body was there, but his mind wasn’t. She hoped to change that, though. She wanted to undo the damage that had been done to him. That is, if he would let her.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” she whispered. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you like those other guys. I just want to know your name.” She studied his face, hoping to see a blink or a smile, but there was no sign of interaction on his part. “My name’s Ariane. What’s yours?”
Nothing.
“I heard some of the guards refer to you as Nathan. Is that your real name, or did they just make it up?”
Still nothing.
“I like the name Nathan,” she said. “So many people are named Mike or Scott that it gets monotonous. But not Nathan. That’s a name that people will remember, like you. You’re a big guy that people will remember, so you should have a memorable name.” She gazed into his eyes, but they remained unresponsive. “What about my name? Ariane? Do you like it? I do, for the same reason that I like yours. It’s different. In fact, I’ve never met another Ariane in my entire life. How about you? Have you ever met an Ariane before?”
For an instant, he shifted his eyes to hers, then looked away. It wasn’t much, but it was so unexpected she almost took a step back in surprise.
“Well, I guess that means you haven’t.” She grabbed his hand and shook it. “Now you can never say that again because we just officially met.”
A large smile crossed her dry lips as she tried to decide what she wanted to say next. “I’d ask for your last name, but I have a feeling that might take a little bit longer. Besides, we don’t want to get too personal. This is our first date after all.”
LEVON
Greene sat on the edge of his bed, trying to block out the events of the past few days, but too much had happened for him to forget. Jackson and Webster were dead, murdered by his own hand. The Plantation was history, blown to bits with the touch of a button. And worst of all, he was a fugitive on the run, unable to return to the only country where he’d ever wanted to live.
Greene tried to analyze things, tried to figure what went wrong with Webster’s full-proof scheme, and he kept coming up with the same answer: Payne and Jones. It was their fault. Everything could be traced back to them. If Greene had just shot them when they met at the Spanish Plaza or killed them while they slept at his house, none of this would have happened. The Plantation would still be in business, the second batch of slaves would be in Africa, and Greene would be enjoying a hot bowl of jambalaya in one of his favorite restaurants.
“Fuck,” he mumbled in disgust. “I can’t believe I let this happen.”
With a scowl on his face, he trudged from his bedroom, looking for something to alleviate his boredom. Kotto and all of his servants were already in bed, sleeping peacefully in their air-conditioned rooms, but Greene was still on New Orleans time, unable to rest because of the difference between the two continents.
Limping down the marble staircase, he heard the far-off mumble of an announcer’s voice. He followed the sound to Kotto’s living room.
“Couldn’t sleep?” Holmes asked while glancing up from the game on the plasma TV.
A smile returned to Greene’s lips. “It’s late afternoon in Louisiana. My body won’t be ready for bed for another ten hours.”
Holmes nodded in understanding. As a mercenary, he had been forced to work in several different countries, so he knew about the inconveniences of travel. “Don’t worry, Levon. Your internal clock will adjust to the sun. You should be fine by the end of the week.”
Greene sat on the couch across from Holmes. “What about the other stuff? When will I get used to that?”
“Like what?”
“Food, culture, language, girls . . .”
“Oh.” He laughed. “You mean all the stuff that makes life worth living. That will take a little bit longer, but if you’re flexible, you’ll learn to adapt. Every country has its advantages and disadvantages-if you know where to look.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Greene said while rubbing his knee.
Holmes instinctively glanced at Greene’s left leg, staring at the gruesome scars that covered it. “Does your knee still trouble you?”
Greene didn’t like talking about it, but he realized Holmes was the only American friend he had left. “The pain comes and goes, but the instability is constant. As I start to get older, my joint will deteriorate even more, meaning I’ll have to get knee replacement surgery . . . Something to look forward to in my old age, I guess.”
Holmes realized there was nothing he could say, so he decided to change the subject. “Levon, I’ve been meaning to ask you a question for a while now, and since this is the first time we’ve ever talked about your knee, I was wondering if I could ask it.”
Greene looked at Holmes, studying his face. He knew what Holmes was going to ask even before he asked it. “You want to know about Nathan.”
“If you don’t mind talking about it.”
“No problem. You brought him here for me.”
“True, but I don’t want to overstep-”
“It’s fine. What do you want to know?”
A thousand questions flooded Holmes’s mind. “Everything.”
Greene smiled as he thought about it. He’d waited nearly three years to get back at Nate Barker, the player who had ended his magnificent football career. Thirty-three months of pain, rehab, and nightmares. One thousand days of planning and plotting his personal revenge.
“I started thinking about Barker as soon as they wheeled me off the field. It was amazing. There I was, in unbelievable pain, listening to the gasps of horror from the crowd as they replayed the incident over and over on the scoreboard, but for some reason, a great calm settled over me. You could actually see it during the TV telecast. One minute I was writhing in agony, the next minute I was serene.”
Greene shook his head at the memory. To him, it felt like it had happened yesterday. “The team doctor assumed that I had gone into shock, but I’m telling you I didn’t. The truth is I started thinking about Nate Barker. The bastard who did this to me was responsible for getting me through my agony. I’m telling you, one thought, and one thought alone, allowed me to get through my pain. It was the thought of revenge.”
“So you knew right away that you wanted to get even?”
“Hell, yeah! He took away my livelihood. He took away my leg. You’re damn right I wanted to get even. And do you know what? I’ve never regretted it. From the moment we seized him to the moment I locked him in the cage downstairs, I’ve never looked back. In fact, I view his kidnapping as the crowning achievement of my life.”
A bittersweet smile appeared on Greene’s lips.
“Nate Barker ruined my life. Now I’m getting a chance to ruin his.”
THE
loud ringing startled Kotto, causing him to flinch under his purple comforter. Nightmares had gotten the best of him lately, so he’d been sleeping in a state of uneasiness.
The damn phone just about killed him.
After turning on a nearby light, he realized what was happening and grabbed the cell phone off his nightstand. Few people had his number, so he knew that the call had to be important.
“Kotto,” he mumbled, slightly out of breath.
“Hannibal?” Edwin Drake shrieked. “Thank God you’re alive! When I heard the news, I thought perhaps they had gotten you, too.”
“What in the hell are you talking about? Do you know what time it is?”
“Time! I can’t believe you’re worried about time! There are so many other things that we need to be concerned with.”