Chapter 7
He was getting real tired of waking up in strange places, but that is exactly what was happening again, he was groggily becoming aware of his surroundings. How the hell did I end up on a train, he thought to himself as he heard the steel wheels of the train rolling on the tracks, speeding to an unknown destination. It looked as if he were located in a regular passenger cabin, typical of most European trains, much like the one he had taken many times as a soldier stationed in Germany. Even though there was room for at least four others in the compartment he had the room completely to himself, which he was sure was by design and not just happenstance.
He watched outside the train compartment’s window at the blue sky, which was populated with very few clouds. Day slowly faded into night, and the clouds in the sky were replaced by the occasional lights from one of many small towns that they raced by without stopping.
Just over two hours later, the train finally slowed at a gradual pace until they were stopped at a station. Now what am I supposed to do? He said to himself as he decided whether to depart the train or continue; did he even have a ticket if the porter came by and checked on him?
Before he could make a decision on his own, he heard the ringing of a telephone coming from the room, but scouring the walls saw no telephone. He followed the ringing to a sack of clean clothes located in a storage compartment above his head, and as he rifled through the clothes, he found a cell phone. What are the odds that someone left these items here from a previous train ride, he thought, because he knew just how good porters cleared the train compartments of forgotten items after each trip. He picked up the cell phone and placed the phone to his ear without speaking, “Put the clean clothes on, you’ll notice they are your size. Get off the train, and keep the cell phone on you,” then the line went dead.
The sign on the wall of the train station read, Verde, and he knew Spain well enough to know that they had gone south into Spain. It was not a city station where there are crowds of people, but rather a small town one with an old one-room building that looked as if it had been there for a hundred years. The Spaniards were actually Spanish in these small towns and not tourists that dominating the larger cities, if anybody stood out here it would be him.
“A driver will pick you up in a few minutes; go with him, and after he drops you off, watch the driver leave. When you are alone, cross the street without going to the overlook, and stand behind the abandoned fruit stand,” the feminine voice ordered from the cell phone that he had answered. This situation was out of his control, so he did as he was told in hopes that whoever was leading his every move knew the way to safety. Safety, he thought, that certainly had become a subjective word in the past few days.
He stayed out of sight, and only had to wait twenty minutes before a young dark haired man drove up in a black Mercedes announcing that he had received a call to pick up someone at this location and deliver them to an address. He jumped into the rear of the car instead of the front so that he could keep an eye on the driver; his trust level for anyone has dissipated long ago. No words were spoken between them, and when he was dropped off at a beach access point about twelve miles from the train station, the driver drove off into the night without asking for a fare.
It was as if someone were watching him, because he immediately received a call, ordering him to take the beach access stairs and make his way down to the shoreline of the beach. He, completely dependent on the directions given by his rescuer, turned and started down the steps heading towards the sound of the waves hitting the shoreline of the white sand beach.
It was very dark, but he was mesmerized by the moonlight glistening off the water; he felt akin to the water since his mom and dad took him to a Florida beach when he was a toddler. He stopped at the edge of the beach and took a deep breath into his lungs; he had always loved how the fresh air of the ocean seemed to cleanse a person. He was in tune with the ocean.
Tom, feeling the moment, took off his shoes and waded just enough into the water to feel the cool water caress his feet and sooth in between his fiery toes. He stood there basking in the glow of the ocean and fully relaxing for the first time in days, releasing the worries that plagued his soul.
He tilted his head back and looked straight up at the stars that were very bright because of the lack of city lights. He rolled his head to the side and was about to roll it in the other direction, when he noticed a figure standing on the shoreline maybe two-hundred feet from where he was standing. Leaving his shoes, he starting walking in the direction of the figure, and as he did, the person slowly became more visible and more in focus. The person was female, because it was hard to miss the beautiful curves that she possessed, and as he continued, he saw the woman’s hair blowing in the wind drummed up by the wind off the ocean as it broke the shoreline.
Yes, it was Alyse!
Without turning towards him, she said in a beautifully soft voice that only she could, “Hello my love.”
She turned towards him with her emerald eyes looking into his, as if to find some indication they he was still in love with her. I will love you until the end of time, was all he could think, almost as if the two were communicating by thought.
He could not hold back his emotions that he had hidden away in the deepest part of his being. He ran to her as the force of the contact collapsed their bodies to the sand, they were united in a loving embrace, with waves coming up between their two bodies; now united as one.
He felt the heaving of her breast against his chest as his mouth found hers, passionately kissing her endlessly. God, he could not get enough of her, he could not get close enough to her, even though their flesh touched.
“I’m sorry I got you into all this, “she said with an apology that let him know that she would rather die than to see anything happen to him. He lay back on the sand while she laid her head on his chest, the two were enjoying each other’s warmth and love as the moon glistened over their bodies like a spotlight.
“Are you going to tell me what's been happening with you since we first met in Germany? He asked. “I think I deserve that, I certainly can’t get in any deeper than I already am.”
She rubbed her fingers on his bare chest still straddling part of his body, “This is not the place, but I promise to tell you, you deserve no less.”
She raised herself off Tom, and as she walked away, she put her hand out to him, “Come with me.”
They were walking hand in hand, as she led him just a few hundred feet further down the beach and up to a house that could only be described as a French Riviera style mansion. The Spanish stucco structure more resembled a castle than a home. It was well lit and landscaped with a large waterfall containing a giant dolphin at its center, which was shooting water out of its mouth before returning it back to the pool. She did not take him into the house; instead, led him to the palm tree lined pool located outside the home.
It was an incredible pool, which was lit by underwater blue lights, and had the feel of a tropical oasis. She gave him a bottle of wine to open from the outside bar as she retrieved two glasses from their resting place. After he poured the drinks, she led him over to two lounge chairs that sat facing the ocean. He did not mind being led around by her, she could lead him into hell and back, and he would follow, if she hadn’t already.
Every movement of her lips mesmerized him as she began to recite to him all the events that had led her up to this point. One by one, she recalled each of the incidents and began to make him understand what they were facing, as well as the scope of this intrigue. He felt like he was reliving the moments that she was reciting, just as if he had been there witnessing them with her at the actual moment they occurred; his mind was transported to the past seeing the events through her eyes and with her perspective.
“That night we first met at the phone booth in Germany was the last moment of innocence I've had since the beginning of this nightmare," she said, looking like she had lost something that she would never again
be able to find.
Alyse explained that she was held captive at a secluded farmhouse some distance from his military base, after she was kidnapped and pulled inside the van in Germany. She went on to explain that her captors informed her that they were not interested in ransom money, but rather, they had taken her to lure her father to them. They did not explain why they wanted him, but they knew that he would not let his little girl suffer at the hands of crazed ideological maniacs. Her captors did not try to hide the fact that both of them would die, and actually looked excited at the thought of killing them. They often chided her for being nosy and overhearing a private conversation between her father and one of his associates at the family home in Canada just a few months before the events occurred in Germany.
She explained that she never gave a second thought to what she overheard during the conversation that day in Canada," I had no idea that anything I heard was out of the ordinary, and could not understand why they were acting as if I was responsible for being in the predicament," she exclaimed.
“Tom do you believe that our government's actions and decisions are made primarily on what's best for their citizens?" asked Alyse
"I do,” he said puzzled.
"They don't, she said, they make decisions based on what's best for themselves as the leaders of the government." She said with disdain. "I can assure you they will do anything to achieve their objectives, because what I heard that night was the making of a secret alliance between the American and Canadian governments." "What kind of alliance?” he asked in anticipation of learning more about the alliance.
Alyse went on to describe that what she had mistakenly overheard was the planning of two terrorist attacks in America and Canada by the two governments. Although, at the time she had thought that her father and the other man were just discussing scenarios of what the terrorists may have been planning for future attacks against the two countries.
"Our two governments created, planned, and executed the attacks in Chicago and in Toronto. She said looking at him. “That’s right; our government slaughtered thousands of their own citizens."
He did not know how to process the information that he had just heard and sat fidgeting nervously with his hands.
"Why?" he said with a tone of silence in his voice.
"That was the one question that I thought I would never get a chance to have answered before I was killed by my captors.” She said, “Then my father showed up and saved me. He single handedly killed my captors.”
Alyse realized her dad must have played a role in the government’s cover-up of the attacks, and was torn with emotion. She had tears in her eyes when she told of how he was found dead in his own bed with no apparent cause of death, two weeks after rescuing her from her captors.
"I forced him to tell me the day before his death why our governments would do such a horrific thing.” She said while looking at the dark sky. “My dad said that both countries' leaders came to the psychotic conclusion that their citizens needed a common enemy."
"The Phantom Terrorist," he said, starting to wrap his minds around the events of the past couple of days.
She went on to tell of a top-secret research study that was commissioned by an internal agency of the American government. The study combined historical data, along with poll numbers that proved leaders could get more of their political agendas accomplished. It also proved that the citizenry would come together, and back their leaders during times of outside attacks.
"The president’s poll numbers have never been better, and Congress will not vote down any legislation he asks for," she said.
"Mission accomplished.” He exclaimed, "That's if you don't mind killing your own people."
"Do you see why our countries can't afford us to be alive?” She said reaching out and gently holding his hand. “If this got out, the repercussions would shake our governments to their core."
He could not help the sick feeling in his stomach, as he thought of the innocent people who lost their lives just so two men could have good poll numbers and get their agendas through Congress. His mind went into overdrive trying to come up with a plan in which they could remain alive; she pulled up close to him and placed her head on his lap, quickly falling asleep. He stared down at her while stroking her hair; he would protect her somehow, someway.
When he awoke, he walked into the house to see boiling water in a teakettle that was steaming on the stove, while Alyse was positioning tea bags in the two large cups that were sitting on the marble counter.
"I think I figured out a way for us to have a chance of survival.” She said. “I have a friend who is a reporter for the Middle East Times; I called him this morning and told him the whole story."
"How did he react?" Tom asked.
"He said he was going to get a statement from the terrorists who had claimed responsibility for the attacks and put their comments, along with our story, into an article and have it published in the paper within the next two days,” she responded.
He stood speechless; it seemed that she was rescuing him once again. They forgot about the whole ordeal, and sat talking and sipping their tea, without mentioning their present circumstances; it was good to forget for a while. For the next couple of days she checked the online publication of the newspaper on her laptop, but there was never a story written from her friend. She thought that he might be having difficulty arranging a meeting with the terrorists. On the third day, she was reading that day’s edition of the newspaper, when she let out a muffled scream.
"What's wrong?" Tom said rushing into the room, expecting to find someone harming her; instead, she sat frozen to the computer screen. He noticed the cursor from the computer's mouse stationed over an article on the screen that reported that a Times reporter was killed while probing an unknown story.
"I'm so sorry,” he said placing his hand on her shoulder. How many more have to die? He thought angrily
"We have to get out of here," he said knowing that they would be sitting ducks if they stayed at the house. He turned and walked back towards the bedroom to get their things together, never seeing the gun that pounded the side of his head. He felt intense pain and suddenly everything went black.