Sophia. 2:01 - I was dreaming. With big and little Highland warriors, a blonde fairy and a raven-haired witch. How about that?
His answer came after a few minutes.
Handsome. 2:04 p.m. - Perfect. Feel good?
Sophia. 2:04 p.m. - Feel marvelous. Don’t worry anymore. See U later. ☺
Handsome. 2:05 p.m. - I love you.
I love you too. I love you more. Her smile grew while she put the phone back on the table, but it fell on the floor.
When she reached down to pick it up, it slid further away, under the sofa.
A mild dizziness hit her when she straightened, making her see black dots in front of her eyes. “Dammit. Dammit!”
She breathed deeply.
A large hand covered her nose and mouth with a pleasant-smelling cloth, as another closed around her throat, applying pressure on her carotid artery.
She gasped and struggled, instantly stopping breathing. Her arms and legs flayed as she tried to free herself and fear blanketed her mind.
The hand pressed harder on her face and the strong fingers dug into her neck.
“Bitch,” a female voice said somewhere near her.
Eventually, she breathed in and lethargy, followed by numbness, led to a floating darkness.
It all happened in less than a minute.
Chapter 25
7:30 p.m.
“Mamãe! Mamãe!!” screamed Gabriela, entering the empty downstairs TV room, just to stop on her tracks and look up at Alistair. “Oh. She’s not here.”
Unfazed, she spun on her heels and climbed up the stairs, calling out, with a smiling Alistair following her, carrying loads of bags.
But Sophia was nowhere to be found. Neither was Maria. Nor Devon.
Alistair frowned and called her cell phone. After a few rings, it went to voicemail.
He picked up the intercom and talked to outside security. Devon and Maria had driven Sophia out in the Jaguar, precisely at two-thirty-four.
He called Alice, who hadn’t heard from Sophia since after lunch time, when she had talked with Gabriela before taking her nap.
He called John. It went straight to voicemail. He left a message.
Alistair checked his phone again for any missed messages or emails but there were none.
Neither were there any messages in her beautiful handwriting anywhere in the house.
Painstakingly, he tried calling Sophia a few more times but there was no answer.
“Where is Mama, Daddy?”
I don’t know. “I guess she had the same idea and went shopping. Gabriela, dearling, why don’t we put everything in the baby’s room to surprise your mother tomorrow morning?” But a nagging suspicion inserted itself in Alistair’s mind. It was not typical of Sophia to go out without leaving him a message. “Let’s grab something to eat. After, I’ll tuck you in bed and tell you a story. How about that?”
“Yes! Can I have pizza for dinner?” She jumped excitedly, her pigtails bouncing around her face. “I want a story with a Prince Charming and a beautiful Princess.”
“Aye, anything you want, Fairy.” he smiled at the little girl and shrugged away the bad feeling. There is nothing wrong, Alistair Connor. You’re turning out to be as paranoid as Sophia.
9:00 p.m.
John returned Alistair’s many calls and informed him that Sophia had not contacted him, which had calmed Alistair for a few minutes, especially when he tracked her iPhone and discovered she had forgotten it at home.
However, when neither Devon nor Maria answered their mobiles, he started feeling unnerved again.
His bad feeling increased as time passed and Sophia still hadn’t come back. He called Edward but he hadn’t heard from Sophia either. It was as if she had disappeared completely.
Fuck. There’s something very wrong. There was a piercing throb in Alistair’s head as he roamed the house searching again for a handwritten message from Sophia or something that soothed his concern. But everything was in its perfect place as she liked.
He opened the door to Gabriela’s room and leaned on the threshold, looking at their daughter, as if her serene, sleeping face could give him an answer, but it made him decide he had waited long enough.
He called the outside security and asked them to locate the Jaguar GPS again and now to trace Maria’s and Devon’s cell phones.
He paced the upstairs TV room as he waited for them to call back, running his hands through his hair nervously, holding inside the need to shout at himself. He knew he should have stayed. He knew something was very wrong. What is all my money worth if it keeps demanding more and more of me?
He picked up the intercom at its first beep. “Tell me.”
“Maria’s and Devon’s mobiles have not answered or been located yet.” Alistair could feel the hesitation in the security guard’s voice. “Mrs. MacCraig’s Jaguar is still in Central London and has not moved since the last time we verified half an hour ago. Maybe they are parked or in a traffic jam…” There was a brief pause before the man asked, “How do you want us to proceed, Mr. MacCraig?”
What the fuck she is doing in Central London? A silence ensued on the line as a black rage at himself swirled and encompassed Alistair. I’m an idiot; she needed me to stay. Maybe she felt unwell somewhere and someone drove her to a hospital. “Keep an eye on the car and double the efforts on locating the mobiles, please.”
He hung up and called Tavish, immediately saying when his brother answered, “Tavish Uilleam, I need your help. Meet me at Galewick House. It’s an emergency.”
Kensington
Galewick House
10:00 p.m.
Leonard felt some relief when Alistair sat down, temporarily putting an end to his frantic pacing of the living room.
Alistair had driven a sleeping Gabriela to Alice and Leonard’s house, then after tucking her in Ariadne’s spare bed, he briefly explained to them what was happening.
While they waited for Tavish, they started a frenetic search for Sophia, calling all the hospitals near where the car was parked, but none of them had an outpatient or an inpatient that met Sophia’s description.
“I can’t stand it, Leo. I have to do something. Anything.” Alistair got up again and resumed his pacing, shoving a nervous hand through his hair.
“There is no need to worry, you know how women are when they go shopping.” Leonard had been trying to calm him down, however, he wasn’t feeling any calmer himself. It was not typical of Sophia to disappear like this.
Alistair sat again and messaged Atwood House security center, asking for news on the Jaguar and the mobiles’ signals. He picked up his full glass of whisky, brought it up to his lips, but put it down with a bang. “I need a clear head.”
After a few minutes, Alistair’s mobile chirped with a message.
“No signal from Maria’s or Devon’s mobiles and the Jaguar is still in the same place.” He frowned at the screen, gazing at it for a moment but no longer seeing anything. He jumped up and moved to the door. “I’m going to meet her.”
“You don’t know where she is! Tavish is arriving at any moment and you’re waiting for him here.” Leonard raised and blocked Alistair’s exit from his house, looking at him sternly. “Alistair, it can’t be nothing but I agree it’s strange, therefore you are not going alone. Also, I’m not leaving Alice with the kids alone.”
Central London
11:30 p.m.
Alistair and Tavish tracked the Jaguar’s GPS signal to an underground parking lot, but failed to find the car.
Alistair called Edward for the third time and let him know he was reporting Sophia’s disappearance to the police and that he was calling everyone of importance he knew in UK who could help locate her.
It was then that the chaos really began.
Atwood House
Sunday, March 27, 2011
1:00 a.m.
The Missing Persons Bureau and Scotland Yard were immediately ordered by their superiors to assemble a team to investigate t
he case.
Specialists in disappearances, abductions and kidnappings, they put together three teams which were accompanied by victim recovery dogs: one was dispatched to Leibowitz Oil Building with Edward; another with Tavish to check on the Jaguar; the main team of investigators, with Alistair, arrived at Atwood House to collect evidence and interview the employees.
2:00 a.m.
“What about security?” inquired Detective Superintendent Isabel Martins.
From Scotland Yard, Isabel was a plain woman no one would notice in a crowd, however, she ruled her enormous team with firm control and they kept her informed of every new development.
“We have a high-specification intruder alarm system, including both perimeter detection and internal space detection, but no cameras inside the house. We do have external CCTV cameras and heat detectors, and everything’s recorded on a digital recording system.”
“We need access to the recording system, Mr. MacCraig.”
“You can ask Mr. Kang-Dae anything you need to know. He is the LO IT vice-president and installed our security system,” said Alistair.
Edward had sent Liang to their home to help the police check their computers.
A young Interpol hacker with rectangular glasses and a black Batman T-shirt, who introduced himself as Silver Sea, started firing questions at Liang about the house computer systems and they moved to Sophia’s office, in deep and quick confabulation about security programs.
Isabel’s cell phone rang and she answered it with clipped questions, before sitting beside Alistair. “Mr. MacCraig, we have the GPS.”
Uh? “The GPS?” he asked befuddled.
“Yes. Mrs. MacCraig’s car is not in Central London. We found the Jaguar’s GPS device inside an old mini Cooper parked in that underground garage. It was not locked, and along with the device, there was a digitized note, which said ‘Don’t contact the police.’ Now, Mr. MacCraig, in my opinion, they will make contact. That’s when we nail them. While we wait—”
Fuck that! “Wait? Detective Martins—”
A knock on the door frame interrupted them.
Another officer appeared, with many printed sheets and Sophia’s iPhone in her gloved hands. Confirming with Alistair it was really Sophia’s cell phone, she asked for the passcode, and entered it as Alistair gave it to her.
“Detective, her last text message to Mr. MacCraig was at two-oh-four. He answered her less than a minute after. We found her cell phone under the sofa in the TV room. It’s the only thing in this huge house that seems out of place, but it is not.”
“What does that mean? I’ve told you Sophia is very organized and everything has its own place, I’ve checked and rechecked myself.” Alistair almost shook the information out of the woman, but he knew from his own experience that patience was a virtue that helped in discovering breaches.
The woman paused in thought before handing a sheet to Isabel and another to him. On them was a printed photo of a van from the front and the back. “Mr. MacCraig, whoever entered your house, rearranged the room, picked up her bag and tablet, but didn’t notice her mobile under the sofa. There is more. The footage shows this laundry van arriving three minutes before the last text message. It left at two-oh-nine. Outside security said it wasn’t the usual young driver, so he requested and scanned his ID—we are already checking it—and also asked what he was delivering. The driver said it was at Mrs. MacCraig’s urgent request. A dress she wanted to wear tonight. The dress is pressed and hanging in her dressing room. It may lead nowhere—”
“It will!” Alistair jumped from their reception room sofa. “Show me the ID and the dress. Sophia wouldn’t do something like this. She plans everything in advance.”
Alistair and Isabel were handed equal sheets, showing the driver’s ID.
Alistair’s mouth dropped open. Even on a disguised face, with died black hair, mustache and bushy eyebrows, using a cap and wired glasses, Alistair would never mistake or forget those hateful blue eyes that threatened Sophia more than once.
“You know this man, Mr. MacCraig?” asked Isabel.
Alistair sat again, feeling slightly dizzy. He crumpled the sheet of paper inside his hand. His rage was so great he was afraid of what he would do. In an even voice, he informed Isabel, “This is Alberto Leibowitz. The father of Sophia’s late husband. He has promised to destroy Sophia to get Gabriela back.”
3:00 a.m.
As soon as the first note was found, all the official cars were driven away from Atwood House and Leibowitz Oil and only a few detectives and officers remained with Isabel. The prime-minister himself found it best to keep Sophia’s disappearance and the police work secret.
However, somehow, the news of Sophia’s disappearance had leaked to the press. Kensington Palace Gardens’ gates and Leibowitz Oil Building were swarmed with reporters and a helicopter hovered over Atwood House from time to time.
Ashley, backed by a stiff Edward, gave a statement saying that so far there was no indication that Sophia had been taken and that no, they hadn’t called the police. Alistair muted the TV as Ashley started to answer the reporters’ questions.
A minute later, the house line rang.
Everyone in the room went still.
Detective Isabel signaled Alistair to answer it. All the phones of every family member were being tapped and recorded by Scotland Yard as they were expecting contact at any moment.
However, it was only Ethan on the phone, putting himself and everything he had at their disposal to help with finding Sophia.
Isabel had sent a team to the laundry’s address but the van wasn’t parked in its garage.
Instead, they found a printed note taped to the garage door: ‘The closer you get, the further away she will be.’
In an effort to locate the laundry van and the Jaguar, two detectives had taken control of his and Sophia’s desks, contacting all the local authorities that ran the CCTV camera system, and Scotland Yard had ordered road blockades to stop all Black Amethyst XJ Jaguars and any van that matched the description of the laundry van.
Alistair couldn’t believe the police had no access or control over all CCTV cameras.
His head was hurting so much he was sure his brain would melt. Unable to stand still while waiting for news, he wandered through the house, Sophia smiling to him in each little detail he didn’t usually notice.
An officer blocked the entry to the dining room, where another detective was interrogating Steven but all he noticed were the fresh pink and orange orchids in an amazing arrangement in the Baccarat vase in the hall; flowers that Sophia chose personally every fifteen days.
He walked on, officers and detectives moving out of his way with understanding looks on their faces, until he found himself in the empty kitchen.
On the counter, there were the remnants of the chocolate cake Sophia had baked on Friday.
He realized he hadn’t eaten since five in the afternoon, when he’d had some ice-cream with Gabriela.
Despite not being hungry, he cut himself a piece, just to feel close to Sophia.
He sat alone in the kitchen, swallowing the scrumptious cake over a huge lump in his throat and salty tears on his lips.
Alistair wondered why his life was always giving him a small taste of wondrous, followed by a glass full of bitterness.
Somewhere in the United Kingdom
In a dark, cold, and humid place
3:30 a.m.
Sophia awoke feeling bruised and battered, but not on the move anymore. She was lying on hard, uneven, rocky ground somewhere humid.
The absence of light was total.
Her breathing was loud and raspy due to the drug-induced sleep. The temperature was so low, her teeth were clacking. She was barefoot and her light wool dress wasn’t heavy enough for the freezing cold.
What happened? I need to think. I have to concentrate.
She tried to flex her hands and feet to alleviate the numbness from the cuffs on her wrists and ankles, but they were so ti
ght that a fierce pain shot through her whole body, making her scream. Her head swam and for a moment bright stars flashed in her head.
“Hello?” Her throat hurt and her voice was so hoarse it was barely audible. She tried once more, “Hello? Is there anybody here?”
Sophia was hungry and thirsty. She was nauseated. She was frightened to her core.
One kidnapping in the family is more than enough. She laughed out loud. Hysteria threatened her for a moment but she clamped it firmly inside. I can’t lose control. I can’t break. Alistair Connor is coming. Soon.
Very slowly and carefully, on her back, she scooted on the ground, until she bumped into a damp wall. Using her back as support, she tried to stand up but her tied ankles wouldn’t allow it.
Resigned, she sat and waited.
Terror, frustration, fury, and boredom dominated her at the same time. But, then again, maybe that was the point of it all.
Minutes turned into hours and she lost track of time.
Atwood House
In the downstairs TV room
4:30 a.m.
“I’m so sorry, Mr. MacCraig. The criminals uploaded their own video feeds to many CCTV cameras throughout the city at exactly the same time during the whole day. Our hackers located a computer server on the outskirts of London. Officers are on their way. However, we have only covered a tiny portion of the CCTV systems.”
“And here I thought we were sleepwalking into a society of surveillance,” he sneered and dropped heavily on the sofa. “So, they hacked the CCTV cameras and Alberto probably chose the roads that weren’t being recorded.”
“Mr. MacCraig, no one disappears like this. No crime is perfect. They always make a mistake. In terms of distance, eighty percent of missing persons are found within a perimeter of fifty kilometers. She’s most likely to be found very close by. We’re going over all of the 999 calls that have come in since she disappeared, looking for any indication that this is a tiger kidnapping.