THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 8:24 A.M.
RACHEL BOTELA’S APARTMENT, BOGAMA
Natalie glanced at the clock above the couch in Rachel’s living room. Three minutes had passed. It seemed like thirty. She finished packing her backpack, checked the clock again, and joined Rachel in the kitchen.
Rachel looked up from the coffee mug she was washing. “Do you need anything else?”
Natalie shook her head. “Thank you so much for everything. You risked your life for us when you didn’t have to.”
Rachel set the mug on the rack. “I did it for Aina…For Joseph’s father…For all of them. They didn’t deserve what happened to them.”
“We’re going to find them.”
“I know you will.”
Natalie leaned against the counter, reminding herself again that God was her protector. Words easily spoken when things were going right. Why was it a completely different matter when the whole world seemed to be falling apart? Rachel’s mom had been right: God was still bigger than all of this. Even that, though, couldn’t take away all her worry. If Patrick found out what Rachel had done, and if he really was one of those behind the raids, there was no telling what he would do.
Natalie grabbed a towel and began drying the dishes. “Are you going to be all right?”
“I’ll be fine.” Rachel sucked in a deep breath. “No matter what Patrick’s done, he’d never do anything to hurt me.”
Natalie wasn’t convinced. “Even if he finds out what you did?”
“It doesn’t really matter. I’d do it all over again.” Rachel reached out to squeeze Natalie’s hand. “Don’t worry about me. I’m going to believe that God has something good to bring out of all of this.”
Natalie hoped so, but she knew how difficult it could be to find that good. She’d seen too much pain and suffering the past year and a half to completely dismiss the possibility of a bad ending to their situation. Yes, God was there. She knew that. But so was the evil side of man.
“You haven’t eaten anything.” Rachel held out a plate of bread.
The thought of eating turned Natalie’s stomach. “I can’t.”
“You need to.”
Knowing Rachel was right, Natalie complied and took a piece of the bread.
“I meant what I said earlier,” Rachel began. “I don’t think you should let go of Chad. He’s different, and he cares about you.”
Natalie felt a blush creep up her cheeks as she remembered his kiss. Ten years ago she would have done anything for Chad to notice her. Funny how everything seemed so much simpler back then. She just hadn’t realized it at the time. Today it was a different story entirely. “Chad and I…Well, it’s complicated.”
Rachel shook her head. “Tell me what’s complicated about two people being attracted to each other?”
Natalie frowned. “How can I think about love and attraction right now?”
“Why not? Love is simple. People are the ones who try to make it complicated.”
Natalie tore off a piece of bread, wondering how much truth there
was to Rachel’s statement. Compared to saving the world, maybe love really wasn’t all that complicated.
Rachel glanced at her watch. “It’s time. Chad’s going to worry if he has to wait very long for you.”
Two minutes later, Natalie was hurrying down the alley behind the apartment with Joseph right behind her. Trash littered the narrow pathway leading toward the street. An unfinished cement wall, its mortar crumbling onto the ground, rose beside them. Tin roofs lined the top of the wall, with no backyards, sunny patches of grass, or flower gardens.
On the street, Joseph took the lead, weaving them in and out between narrow, muddy passageways and piles of garbage. Living in Kasili, she’d visited some of the worst parts of the city, but seeing a man sleeping beneath a pile of cardboard added a depth of desperation that ran chills down her spine.
They hurried past lines of shops with peeling paint and traders standing on the street corner. At the first busy corner, she glanced behind her, looking for signs that they were being followed. Women wearing traditional dresses and colorful head wraps chattered on the sidewalk. A young girl walked by carrying a plastic tub filled with fresh loaves of bread on her head. Another woman sat on the ground beside a pile of pineapples, waiting for a customer. But beyond a few casual glances, no one seemed to care she was there.
They rounded a corner and Natalie stopped short. Her breathing quickened. Two soldiers stood buying roasted corn from a woman. Joseph grabbed her arm and pulled her into another side street, where they hurried past a wooden stall where a woman cooked rice and fish.
Natalie pulled her cell phone from her pocket to check the time. If Chad had been able to catch a taxi right away, he should be at the embassy by now. In another fifteen minutes, they’d be there.
A street child approached them for money. Natalie felt a tug of guilt but hurried past. As much as she longed to give the girl something, she’d learned firsthand that giving to one would quickly
escalate into more requests. And a small mob surrounding her was the last thing she needed at the moment.
A taxi came toward them, bouncing over the potholes that filled the street. Natalie’s heart pounded. She wished there were another way to get to the embassy, but the only alternative was an hour-long walk across town. Definitely not the way to be inconspicuous. Out of options, she waved the vehicle down.
The driver slowed, splashing mud from a puddle across the bottom of her dress. So much for clean clothes. Joseph opened the door, but as she stepped off the curb to get in, a fight broke out in front of the store behind them. She paused to see the commotion—a woman with a broom chasing away a couple of kids.
Just as Natalie turned back to the taxi, someone grabbed her from behind and gripped her forearm. Twisting her body, she lunged for the backseat of the vehicle, but the man was too strong. Panic swept through her gut. A hand covered her mouth. Joseph shouted and tried to pull her free, but he was knocked onto the sidewalk.
A second man grabbed her backpack as they dragged her down the street and pushed her into a waiting car.
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 9:35 A.M.
OUTSIDE HE UNITED STATES EMBASSY
Chad checked the time on his watch as he continued pacing outside the high electric fence that surrounded the embassy compound. Over an hour had already passed since he’d left Rachel’s, giving Natalie and Joseph plenty of time to get here. The combination of coffee and acid from stress burned his stomach.
Something had gone wrong.
He wiped the beaded perspiration from the back of his neck. Even at nine-thirty the sun had already raised the temperature substantially. By noon it would reach the mid-nineties. Ignoring both the humidity and the questioning stares of the armed guard protecting the entrance to the embassy, Chad turned at the busy street corner and searched the narrow thoroughfare. A taxi approached then zoomed by. He let out a sharp puff of air. Where were they?
He stepped out of the way of a group of uniform-clad kids who chattered their way past him to school. He couldn’t panic. Not yet anyway. There had to be a number of legitimate reasons why they were late. He’d seen a couple of rallies being set up in the streets. Traffic had crawled by as supporters waving banners and hanging posters crowded the streets. But from what he’d seen, it was nothing more than a last-minute push for their candidate in tomorrow’s
vote. It was the aftermath of the election that could bring the surge of chaos into the streets. He could only pray it would stay peaceful.
Another five minutes passed, and there was still no sign of Natalie and Joseph. With his cell phone dead, he crossed the street and dialed her number again from the public phone on the corner. The phone rang, but she didn’t answer. Something was wrong.
He returned to the front of the embassy as a taxi pulled up alongside the curb. Joseph jumped out. The backseat of the cab was empty.
“Where’s Natalie?”
“They took her.”
A wave of nausea washed over him. “What do you mean, they took her?”
Joseph’s rapid explanation in Dha was lost on Chad.
He grasped the young boy’s arm. “Slow down and tell me what happened. Where is Natalie?”
“They took her!”
“Who?”
“I don’t know.” Joseph gasped for air.
Chad rested a hand on each shoulder. “I want you to breathe slowly.”
“I…can’t.”
Chad tossed the taxi driver enough coins to cover the ride and pulled Joseph away from the curb. “I want you to hold your breath, count to three, then take a slow breath.”
Joseph closed his eyes while Chad counted. The teen’s breathing slowly returned to normal, but Chad was afraid to hear what he had to say. Whatever it was, the bottom line was that Natalie was gone.
“Tell me what happened.”
“We were getting into the taxi…Two men grabbed her…shoved her into another car.” Joseph took another deep breath. “I tried to follow, but people were burning tires. The police started throwing tear gas…I lost her…”
Chad felt his heartbeat accelerate. He had to think. Now wasn’t
the time to let his emotions run away. This was no different than an emergency in the ER. Staying calm was vital; he’d deal with his emotions later. “I’ve got to talk with someone inside the embassy.”
Joseph glanced at the guard. “I can’t go in.”
“No, but there’s a small café a block away.” Chad dug some money out of his pocket and handed it to Joseph. “Go order something to eat and stay out of sight, then meet me back here in one hour.”
Joseph nodded.
Chad pulled out his passport and shoved it toward the guard. “I need to report a kidnapping of an American citizen.”
The man looked stunned. “You’ll have to speak to someone inside.”
Chad was ushered into a small room, where he was told to take everything out of his pockets, including his cell phone.
He threw his phone, along with a handful of change, onto the counter. “I don’t have time for this. Take me to whoever’s in charge, now!”
“Please, sir.” The Dhambizan guard shoved a plastic tray in front of him. “Place everything in here first. Then we will see about your friend.”
Chad dropped the photos along with his passport into the tray, then added the phone charger he’d just bought along the side of the road.
The guard glanced briefly at the photos then snatched up his passport. “Chad Talcott?”
“Yes. I—”
The guard picked up the phone and started conversing in mumbled tones.
Passport…Photos…Security…
Chad felt his stomach knotting; he was unsure if it had been the photos or his passport that had caught the guard’s attention. What he did know from the one-sided conversation was that something wasn’t right.
The man set down the receiver. “I need you to come with me.”
“Wait a minute…Why?”
“Please, just follow me.”
Chad wasn’t ready to admit defeat. “You don’t understand. An American citizen, Natalie Sinclair, has been kidnapped. Her life is in danger because of those photos. I need to talk to someone who can help—immediately.”
The man turned around. “You’re the one who doesn’t understand. With the upcoming election, we’ve been told to stay on high alert, and your name just kicked up a red flag.”
Chad blinked twice. “Wait a minute—someone’s been kidnapped…”
The guard threw open a door and shoved Chad through the narrow hallway. He opened another door to a small room that held nothing more than a table and two chairs. “Sit down. Someone will be in to talk with you in a few minutes.”
Before Chad could say another word, the guard slammed the door behind him and was gone.
THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 10:12 A.M.
SHACK OUTISDE
Natalie opened her eyes to semidarkness. Lying on her side, she watched a lone stream of sunlight filter down from a hole in the ceiling and scatter across the dirt floor. In the amber flecks of light, she could see her backpack sitting a couple of feet in front of her with some of its contents strewn across the floor. Beyond that, a thin mattress on the ground, a small table with two wooden chairs…and shadows.
A thick rope ate at her wrists where they’d tied her hands together behind her back. Pulling against the taut binding only made it rub against the raw skin, adding to the pain from the wound on her shoulder and the lingering headache she’d had the past three days.
She glanced at the closed door and tried to orient herself. Pulling her right knee toward her chest, she pushed against the ground, then managed to sit up. Four wooden walls, a packed dirt floor, and a tin roof. The shack could be located in any corner of the city. Any squatter camp or compound. Faint smells of a latrine and a cooking fire filled the air, turning her stomach. A radio played in the background. Screaming was an option, but more than likely that would only alert her captors. The tightness in her chest increased.
There had to be a way out.
She blinked her eyes against the darkness. Maybe Chad had been right and they should have stayed together. Or maybe it had been absurd to think she could simply show up at the capital with no opposition. For all she knew, they had captured Chad and Joseph as well and were holding them somewhere nearby—making their entire expedition a quest in foolishness.
She kicked at her backpack with her toe, refusing to believe that the odds were completely against her this time. If she could get to the bag, there might be something in it that could help her out of here.
The door swung open, temporarily blinding her with the light from outside. A man’s silhouette framed the doorway, shooting slivers of fear through her. She took in his uniform and heavy, black boots. She’d be no match against him physically. She’d have to find a way to convince him to let her go.
He grabbed her arm, catching her off guard. “Where are the photos?”
So Patrick—or whoever was behind this—must have concluded that her escape to the capital meant she had her own set of the photos. “I don’t have them.”
He slapped her across the face. She reeled at the impact as he picked up her bag and dumped the rest of the contents onto the floor. “Where are they?”
Her mouth went dry. “They’re not in there.”
“I know.” He picked up her flashlight and squatted in front of her, his expression hard. “Then who has them?”
Natalie gritted her teeth, knowing she couldn’t succumb to the pain or the fear enveloping her. But did she admit the truth and throw away the only bargaining chip she might have or try to convince him that she could get the photos for him?
“Here’s the deal, lady. There’s a reward out for you, but it’s not worth anything without the photos.”
His response cinched her decision. Without the photos, it was clear he didn’t need her. “I can get them for you.”
“Are they with your American friend? Or with the boy?”
She hid the relief she felt at his question. Chad and Joseph, at least, appeared to be safe. If they’d made it to the embassy, then maybe the authorities could find a way to track her down.
“They’re with my American friend.” If she could convince him she could help find Chad, she’d at least buy herself some time. “We knew someone was after us so we split up.”
The man dragged one of the chairs across the dirt floor, then sat down before pulling out a cell phone from his pocket. Her cell phone. “Then you will call him.”
She eyed the phone, hoping Chad had found a way to charge his phone by now. “You’re going to have to untie me.”
He hesitated for a moment, pulled a knife from his back pocket. “Don’t try anything. Trust me. Outside these four walls there are plenty of others who won’t be near as amenable as I am.”
Once the rope had fallen to the ground, Natalie flexed her wrists, then grabbed the phone from his open hand. “What do you want me to tell him?”
“Tell him to be outside the Oasis Hotel with the photos in an hour. And that if he talks to anyone about them…I’ll kill you.”
She tried to swallow her fear. So much for being amenable.
Natalie punched in Chad’s number. The phone switched automatically to voice mail. If he had made it to the embassy, his phone would be turned off and left at the front desk. She waited for the beep to leave a message.
“Chad this is Natalie. I’m being held for ransom. They want the photos—”
Her captor grabbed the phone from her hands and flipped it shut.
She eyed the phone. “Let me try back in another five or ten minutes. You know how unreliable the cell phone towers can be sometimes. It’s probably just a glitch in the system. He’s got to be worried and waiting for me to call.”
He shoved the phone into his pocket and tied her hands again.
“By then it might be too late. If those photos get into the hands of someone else…”
“How much are they paying you to turn me in?”
He paused, seemingly taken aback by her candid question. “My share is two thousand American dollars if I can get the photos.”
For a man who probably made thirty dollars a month plus a couple hundred in bribes, two thousand dollars was a fortune.
He retied the rope around her wrists. “I’ll be back in a few minutes with the phone. You’d better pray he answers this time.”
Striding out of the shack, he slammed the rickety door behind him.