The Forty Column Castle

Six


My pulse was hammering so hard in my head, I thought it would explode. I looked behind us but whoever had attacked made no attempt to follow. Our attackers had had no vehicle, or if they had, they weren’t using it to pursue us. I couldn’t believe Zach had put on a bullet proof vest in anticipation that our flight might involve gunfire. I was in way over my head. I should have gone to the Cypriot authorities. In hindsight, it would have been much wiser. Too late to think about that now, wasn’t it?

Zach’s sun-bleached hair was hardly ruffled, and beyond the holes in his shirt he looked like he hadn’t done anything more exciting than spend an afternoon at the racetrack. I had the uneasy feeling that Aunt Elizabeth and I were pawns in a game, and this game involved criminals. The man sitting next to me was a player in the game. The thought was unnerving, and my opinion of him underwent a serious overhaul.

He slowed the Rover to maneuver the ruts better. I thought my neck would snap in the attempt to get away from the so-called safe house, and my demise would involve a broken neck instead of flying bullets.

“Where are we going?” I asked when I had a chance to calm down.

Zach didn’t reply, his attention focused on putting distance between us and the flying bullets. He appeared to be scowling at the question and the answer to it.

“I’m not sure. I’m thinking,” he said, not taking his eyes off the road.

“Who were those people? Do they have names?”

“Max and Irene.”

“How could they not exist?”

“They decided long ago to go under cover and not come back. They led a simple existence, and they helped a lot of people in trouble. I’m sorry to see them go out like they did. They were the best, but they knew the risks.”

Like that justified everything. “I hadn’t bargained for running into bullets, but you had.” Truth be told, I hadn’t bargained for any of this.

Zach glanced at me like he didn’t believe the words coming out of my mouth and looked back to the road. We turned right at the end of the lane leading away from the safe house and headed higher into the mountains. In greater abundance were the tall, biblical cedars of Lebanon that I loved so much. Seeing them now brought me no joy.

“We’ll try to find your aunt,” Zach said. “Or would you like to tell me where she is?”

My mouth dropped open, and I looked at him in astonishment. “I thought you knew. Wasn’t that the bargain? That you would take me to her?”

“I was playing a hunch. You said you would cooperate.”

“I was lying,” I said.

“So was I,” he said.

We bounced along in strained silence, me trying to make sense of the situation and having no luck. My stomach had settled down enough that it began to rumble. I realized I hadn’t had anything to eat. I fished in my bag for the sweet rolls I had bought at the hotel. It wasn’t much, just two small rolls, but I needed something to settle my stomach. I debated whether to offer one to my kidnapper, and my nicer side won out.

“Would you care for a sweet roll?” I asked. It seemed an inane thing to be talking about after the scene we had left.

He looked at me and half smiled. “Kind of you to share with me.” He took one. “Look behind you and get a couple of bottles of water from the case on the floor.”

I added two bottles of water to our repast. He pulled open the console between us and fished out two power bars and handed one to me. That completed the feast.

We munched in silence until I voiced my suspicion. “This is kidnapping, you know.”

“Hardly. I’m helping you get away from the Cypriot authorities so you can find your aunt.”

What a lying son-of-a-bitch. I had had such hopes for Zach. Men were the same when you peeled off the layers and got to the core, but this one was worse. He wore a bullet proof vest and carried a gun.

I looked at the gun on the floor between us. His lay beside it. I thought of trying to overpower him which was a joke, but what did I have to lose? I shouldn’t have been so overt about looking at the guns. He picked up both and put them under his seat. He possessed an uncanny sixth sense. I wondered if they taught that in law enforcement school.

We jolted up over a rise and looked out over the forested mountains below. We had reached the top of the mountain. Ahead lay a paved road that ran along the ridge.

“Where are we?” I asked.

“I’m not exactly sure,” he said. “But if my memory serves me well, we are not far from the border of the Turkish section of the island. I think there is a small inn along this road with some decent chow and a place to stay for the night.”

Food and bed were appealing, as long as the beds were in separate rooms. I wasn’t in the mood for sharing one with a kidnapper. I might be able to get away if we had separate rooms. The problem was where I would go. On foot I’d have to trek through unfamiliar mountain terrain in flip-flops. To try to take the Rover would be difficult unless somehow I could get the key. A drug in Zach’s drink? With what?

Isolated lights started blinking on along the forest ridges as twilight settled in. We were almost on top of the lodge before I saw it. A solitary lamp lit a short driveway. We pulled in.

I fretted that I might make the news, and someone at this inn might recognize me. The lodge didn’t look like a place that got much traffic. I saw no satellite dish or outside antenna that would indicate TV reception.

“I’ll wait here,” I said. “You see if they have any news of an escaped criminal tourist and her niece.”

Zach laughed. “You’ll come with me. I don’t want you wandering off, looking for your aunt, and falling off a cliff.”

I sighed, knowing I wouldn’t win this one.

The lodge was cut into the side of the mountain and had winding stairs leading up to the front entrance. The structure had an alpine look with carved shutters and roof trim and window boxes on the railings. Bright red geraniums bloomed in the boxes.

Zach steered me by the elbow up the stairs and into the front entrance. There was not a soul in sight. We walked to the check-in counter. He tapped the bell, and we waited. The room stretched the full length of the building. It was combination reception sitting room with worn overstuffed chairs clustered around a fireplace that was not lit and didn’t look like it had been in a long time. A solitary lamp burned on a pine end table. The glare of a bare light bulb lit the check-in counter. The atmosphere was on the cozy side of seedy.

A thin, wiry man limped down the hall toward us after Zach tapped the bell at the desk again. He didn’t look Greek, at least not short and barrel chested but more Turkish, taller and gaunter in the face. I didn’t think we had crossed over into Turkish Cyprus. We would have had to cross the Green Zone with U.N. border guards.

The man greeted us in Greek. Zach responded, carrying an entire conversation in what appeared to be fluent Greek. Surprise. There was no sign of TV, radio, or general interest in life with the innkeeper.

Zach bent over the register. I watched as he signed Mr. and Mrs. Henry Dellinger. Now we were traveling under assumed names. Mr. and Mrs. was not a good sign.


“I’d like a room of my own,” I said.

“No,” said Zach in a low voice. “Don’t try to make a scene.” He straightened and put his arm around my shoulders. “You don’t think I’d let you out of my sight, do you, my darling Claudie?” he whispered into my ear.

Chills pricked my spine, but it was fear not sexual excitement. The innkeeper watched the little display of affection. The honeymooners.

“If you promise to be really good,” Zach said, “you’ll get a ham sandwich for dinner.”

I gave him a thin smile and patted his cheek, figuring I might as well keep up the charade, if it kept the bullets from flying. I was definitely not partial to flying bullets.

Zach pulled a wad of bills from his pocket and paid the innkeeper, who gave him a receipt and the number of our room. I smiled as pleasantly as I could under the circumstances to the gaunt-faced man. He must have honeymooners come by the wagonload. Zach took my hand which made me jump, my nerves being just about shot, but he held on tight and led me down the hall in pursuit of room 113.

In spite of everything his touch reassured me because a sense of being out on a limb all by myself had set in. Even though I didn’t know whose side Zach was on, at least he had found us shelter for the night. I worried about the bed arrangement. He could have the floor I decided.

“What did the man tell you? He looked Turkish but he spoke Greek. What time is dinner?”

Zach laughed softly, almost a snort. “I didn’t exactly get the in-country report. I just signed us up for a room for the night and arranged for some sandwiches, which they’ll bring to our room along with a few Keos. For your information his Greek had a Turkish accent.”

We stopped outside room 113 while Zach fiddled with the key to unlock the door.

“Where did you learn Greek?”

“In Greece.” He smiled down at me and pushed open the door.

A double bed. I held back but he put his hand to my waist and pushed me in. The room was small with a tiny bathroom and shower. A window looked out on the road we came in. We were two stories up on the hillside. There was another set of rooms under us looking at the same scene. The double bed took up most of the narrow wall. With a straight back chair and a lamp on a stand beside the bed, there wasn’t much sleeping room for a person on the floor.

Zach stood in front of the window and seemed to be studying the lay of the land although what he could see in the gathering dusk I didn’t know.

I cleared my throat. “This is not what I had in mind for sleeping accommodations.”

“I know,” he said, not turning around. “But it’s what we’re going with. I’m going out to bring in our bags and lock up the car.”

He turned dark, inscrutable eyes on me. “Don’t try to take off. These are isolated mountains. It’s cold up here at night even though it’s hot down at sea level. You wouldn’t last long in that outfit.”

We both looked over my shorts and tank top.

His attitude was wearing thin. I was tired, hungry, confused, frustrated, needed a drink bad and was beginning not to care about anything.

“I’m taking a shower,” I said with a look that dared him to stop me. I wasn’t concerned what he thought at this point. “When you bring my bag in, leave it by the bathroom door.”

I went into the bathroom and slammed the door hard, sharing my pent up frustration with the wood door. Not that it mattered much to the door but that simple act felt good. I couldn’t get the instant hot water switch to work so I bathed in a trickle of water from the solar tank. At least the water wasn’t ice cold. Using the small cake of soap, I washed my hair but had a hard time getting all the soap out. By the time I was finished the water was cold. In a perverse way I was pleased he would have to take a cold shower. Maybe it would calm him down.

I pulled my bag into the tiny shower room and got out a pair of fresh shorts and tank top. When I came out of the bathroom, he wasn’t there. I checked the door. Locked. I tried to open the deadbolt but it was jammed or locked from outside. I kicked the door in frustration.

On the stand beside the bed was a tray with several small hard roll sandwiches and two bottles of Keo beer. I could really tie one on with two beers. I took a long, thirsty swallow and smacked my lips good enough for a beer commercial back home.

Zach’s bag was no where to be seen.

By the time I had eaten one of the sandwiches and downed a beer, exhaustion overtook me. The day had started too early and involved too much drama. I stretched out on the bed and turned off the light. I remembered looking out the window at the stars blazing away in a crystal clear night and must have drifted off.

I started awake.

Someone was standing by the bed.

The faint illumination from the lamp on the driveway outlined Zach’s profile. He wore only a pair of shorts and his hair was slicked back wet, like he had just showered. I could see the well-defined contours of the muscles in his chest. Any other time I could be real interested in those muscles but now I tensed, waiting to see what he was going to do. I didn’t have long to wait.

“Time to get up,” he said with no more effort than was needed for a night time conversation.

I propped up on one elbow. “What time is it?”

“Around four A.M. We’re pulling out.”

“Do I get to brush my teeth?” I felt cranky and difficult. And not refreshed at all.

“If you hurry.”

I pushed the hair out of my eyes and tried to finger comb it but ran into too many snarls. It would be impossible to untangle now.

He pulled me from the bed and headed me in the direction of the bathroom. “If you’re cooperative, I’ll buy you a coffee.”

I slammed the bathroom door again. That was beginning to feel really good.