“Can you see down there?” Lazlo asked, his light trained into the black depths.
“No. It looks like it twists around,” Sam said, transferring his lamp to his right hand. “Remi, hand me one of the rope bundles. I’ll tie it off and go after him.”
“Sam?” Remi said, her voice low.
“What? Didn’t you hear me? He’s probably hurt.”
“Sam…”
Sam exhaled loudly and twisted around and froze when he found himself staring down the barrel of a pistol held by a tall islander a dozen yards away.
CHAPTER 46
Three men stood in the gloom beyond the gunman, machetes in hand. The islander with the pistol grinned malevolently and thumbed back the hammer on his weapon. The snick was as loud as a firecracker in the sudden quiet.
“Well, took you long enough,” the gunman said, and pointed the weapon at where Lazlo was trying to inch away. “Don’t any of you move.”
“We don’t mean you any harm. Our friend slipped and fell,” Sam said. “We have to get him. He could be badly injured.”
“Saves me a bullet. Now, don’t you be trying anything or I’ll blow your fool heads off. Any of you give me trouble, the little lady gets it first. Boys? Search them.”
The thugs made short work of a cursory frisking, confiscating their machetes and kicking their bags aside. The gunman kept the pistol trained unwaveringly at Remi the entire time, watching as she glared at him. When the islanders were finished, they manhandled everyone, pushing them forward. The gunman backed up, a flashlight in his other hand, while his companions directed them toward a dim glow at the far end of the massive space.
“Who are you?” Sam demanded as he passed the gunman.
“Your worst nightmare,” the gunman snarled. “You been sticking your nose into business that don’t concern you. Causing a heap of worry. That all over now.”
“What are you talking about? What is this place?”
“Shut up. No more talk,” the thug nearest Sam ordered, and gave him a hard push between the shoulder blades, causing him to stumble. Sam barely maintained his balance, his equilibrium thrown by the lack of a reference point in the gloom, and he could hear Remi’s breathing quicken.
“Don’t worry,” Sam said. His captor clipped the back of his head with the handle of his machete, knocking him to his knees.
“I say shut up, I mean it,” the man snarled. “Up,” he growled, kicking Sam in the ribs.
Sam struggled to his feet and felt the back of his skull. His fingers came away with a smear of blood.
“Sam,” Remi whispered.
He shook his head, instantly regretting the abrupt gesture and wincing in pain. The thug stepped back and raised his machete, the muscles in his arm bulging. “Move or I chop you right here.”
Sam staggered forward in the faint light. The others trailed him, as their captors radiated menace, machete blades glinting, as they made their way to a gap in the cave wall. Another armed islander stood to one side of the opening, watching them.
Once through the gap, they looked around in surprise — they were in a lit area. Cables ran along the wall to low-wattage bulbs mounted in industrial enclosures, wooden crates served as tables, a half dozen cots rested near one wall, and a marine refrigerator hummed quietly in a corner.
The gunman motioned with his pistol. “All of you. Sit down there.” He pointed at a clear area near the cots.
They sat where instructed. Remi quickly inspected the back of Sam’s head and cringed at the split in his scalp. Eyeing the gunman, she wordlessly withdrew a wad of tissue from her pocket and pressed it against the wound to stem the flow of blood.
“There are plenty of people who know where we are. If we don’t return, they’ll come looking,” Remi said quietly.
“Ha. You liar,” the gunman said, but Remi could see a flicker of doubt in his eyes.
“Why are you—”
“Silence!” the gunman roared, taking a step forward, bringing his pistol to bear on her. “I ask questions. You answer when I say.”
“Do as he asks,” Sam cautioned.
The gunman’s eyes narrowed. “You bring this on you. Why you here?”
“Here, on the island? Or here, in the caves?” Remi asked.
The gunman’s eyes narrowed. “You think I stupid?”
Remi shook her head. “No. I don’t understand the question.”
“Why you look for?” he asked.
Sam cleared his throat. “We’re exploring the cave system. They’ve never been mapped.”
“Lies!”
“It’s the truth. Why else do people go caving? It’s our hobby.”
“You make big mistake.”
“Why are you doing this? Are you rebels?” Lazlo demanded.
The big man laughed with genuine amusement. “Rebels. Yes, we rebels. I rebel!”
“We mean you no harm,” Remi tried.
“You come. Now you all mine,” the gunman said, his gaze roaming over Remi.
“There are people who know we’re here. If anything happens to us, it will be disastrous for you,” Sam said.
The man laughed again. “Where are you?”
“We gave our headquarters the latitude and longitude before we entered the caves. If we don’t reappear, they’ll come search,” Remi said, her voice calm. “We’re well-known explorers.”
“Maybe they pay for you?”
“A ransom? I’m sure something could be arranged,” Sam assured the man.
The gunman exchanged a glance with his accomplices and then refocused his attention on Sam. “Who you with?”
Remi looked confused. “With? What do you mean ‘with’? We’re with ourselves. We explore remote places. We’re archaeologists. Our interest is scientific.”
“Who send you?” he demanded. “Who pay me for you?”
“We have a foundation. Nobody sent us. We choose where we explore.”
The man looked at his cheap plastic watch and signaled two of his henchmen. “Tie up.”
“You’re making a big mistake. Our hurt friend is a famous archaeologist. We need to help him,” Remi said.
The gunman’s face could have been carved from mahogany. He watched impassively as his men tied the captives’ hands behind their backs, and then their ankles, immobilizing them. When he finished, the leader slipped his weapon into the waistband of his ratty shorts and turned to the rest of his men. They had a brief discussion, in a local dialect, the gunman giving instructions, and two of the islanders went back to the passage where the Fargos had been discovered. The gunman watched them go and then stepped closer to Remi and leaned over her. She winced in anticipation of a blow. He tilted her head up with his hand, studying her, and offered a grin that froze the blood in her veins. “Pretty.”
Sam struggled against his bindings. “Touch her and you’ll die.”
The gunman sneered at Sam and backhanded him, the move nonchalant yet lightning quick like the strike of a snake. Sam’s head snapped to the side and he fell backward.
“No!” Remi screamed, the sound amplified by the cave walls, echoing over and over.
“Shut up or I hurt you.” He glared at Remi. “You first.”
The gunman crouched down and grabbed a handful of Remi’s hair, causing her to cry out. He brought his face down next to hers and whispered in her hair, the stench of his breath and sour sweat overpowering. “I going to hurt you good.”
He released her and stood, watching Remi. After a few moments, he barked terse orders and pointed at the captives, then stalked off after his departing men, leaving one islander to watch the prisoners, machete in hand.
They remained silent until the guard drifted to one of the crates and poured himself a cup of coffee from a jug. Sam slid nearer to Remi and murmured to her, the sound covered by the hum of the refrigerator.