The Freedom Broker (Thea Paris #1)(30)
Gabrielle’s palms dampened. Ares had a reputation for financing the abductions of prominent CEOs. Had he just landed the mother lode?
Chapter Eighteen
Nikos rappelled into a remote cave close to the Mycenaean caverns, a private place in which he held meetings with his subordinates. Located more than fifty miles southwest of Athens and a substantial distance from any tourist area, the cave featured Neolithic etchings on the walls, lending gravitas to his hideaway, and the surrounding lush forest provided the ideal camouflage for his secret entrance.
The dark and isolated location provided the perfect cover for his double life. He’d drop down the narrow opening and remain behind a triangular rock formation, his face hidden in the shadows as he dictated his instructions to his employees. Only one associate had dared to step deeper into the cave and attempt to have a face-to-face encounter; that man had never returned home.
One of his phones vibrated. Better grab it before he lost reception. He wrapped the rope around his arm, braced his feet on the side of the cave, and pulled out the cell he used as Nikos. The screen told him it was Father Rombola from Kanzi, the priest who helped him and Thea run the orphanage.
“Good afternoon, Father.” He kept his voice professional, even.
“I wanted to thank you for your generous donation. It couldn’t have come at a more opportune time. A group of youngsters was dropped off last night. Poor boys were half starved, shaken by their time with the warlords.”
Nikos’s goal was to eradicate the practice of taking child soldiers in Kanzi, one band of brutal guerrillas at a time. As horrible an experience as he’d had as a hostage, he’d been one of the lucky ones, eventually returning home. So many of the other boys never returned or didn’t even have a home to go back to after their parents were murdered. The orphanage was one way he tried to help. As Ares, he instructed his men to scour the jungle, rescuing such children. As Nikos, he was the benefactor of the African charity. The two dovetailed perfectly. “My pleasure. It’s important to give back.”
“I hope you’ll consider visiting again soon. We’d love to host a luncheon for you.”
“I’d be honored. Perhaps after the holidays?”
“Yes, of course. I’m sure you’re busy with your family.”
More than you know. “It’s that time of year.”
“Well, I won’t keep you, but please know you’re in our prayers every day. Send my regards to Thea.”
“Will do. Thank you.”
Nikos tucked the phone away and continued his descent into the cave, like a bat returning to its lair. The darkness comforted him, cleared his mind, and heightened every sense. He breathed in the rank scent of stagnant water; it smelled like home. Although the light had faded, he sensed where the next foothold would be and worked his way down.
His men had come through, finding the pilot who’d flown the helicopter used in Christos’s abduction and bringing him here to the cave. His name was Andel Raptis, and he was apparently an experienced member of the local coast guard. Interesting. He wanted to question the man personally, because Raptis might be the one person who knew the identity of the kidnapper—the person who’d beaten him to Christos.
Nikos’s climbing shoes scuffed the damp rock. He landed on the limestone floor of the inner chamber, eager to meet this moonlighting pilot. He unclipped from the nylon rope, stepped out of the rappelling harness, and reached inside his North Face windbreaker for a mini flashlight. The lightweight, insulated jacket was vital: the temperature had dropped more than twenty degrees during his descent into the bowels of the cave.
Shining the light at a narrow opening, he slunk through the cave, ducking when the overhanging archways weren’t high enough for his six-foot-one frame. Fifty paces later, he found the pilot exactly as he’d instructed his associates to leave him.
Bound to a bamboo chair, Raptis squirmed in his seat but couldn’t loosen the tight knots. He reeked of excrement and body odor. Urine stained his pants. Nikos’s men would have beaten him soundly, so a little mess was to be expected.
Nikos flicked on a camping lantern that hung from a protruding rock and turned off his flashlight. Raptis’s eyes bulged with fear. Nikos leaned over and ripped the duct tape off the man’s mouth, taking some of his salt-and-pepper stubble with it.
The pilot’s mouth moved, but no sound came out. Tears rolled down his grubby face. Nikos reached into his backpack and grabbed his water bottle. Positioning it near Raptis’s lips, he squeezed out the contents. The man gulped greedily, water dribbling down his chin.
While his captive slurped water, Nikos glanced at his watch. He needed to get answers quickly, then find Thea to see if she’d made any useful discoveries. Working both ends would pay off.
“You want to leave? Tell me where you flew the man from the yacht,” he said in Greek as he tipped the bottle of water upright and let Raptis catch his breath.
“Y-you’ll let me go?” the man croaked.
“Of course. I just need information.” Hope was a useful motivator.
Smudges of blood were caked in the wrinkles around his eyes as Raptis managed a weak smile. Within hours, most captives reverted to childlike shadows of their former selves, and an aggressive beating helped expedite the process. Modern life had softened people, leaving so few warriors.