Chapter 54

Ben Nevis Mountain, Scotland

Dave attempted to free himself from the old wooden chair, bound by a tightly wound thread. He was in a small study room, which overlooked what seemed to be a moderately considerable property. A vast yard neighbourhood surrounding the old building ended unexpectedly in a deep, rolling wilderness. The room where he was restrained must have been at least three stories high. If it had been a house, it would have been enormous by any standard.

Jerking his head around, he took a better look at the room around him. The soft, dark chestnut floor led to an empty, arched doorway. It was impossible to see beyond the nook, but he speculated that it led into a corridor. On either side of him were shelves of volumes that went all the way up to where the canopy curved into a sort of conifer-formed glass sunroof. An old wooden library ladder was in place to access the highly shelved books. An enormous oval window sat before him, rimmed by Borthman-coloured drapes. The window soared awfully, enabling a remarkable view of the residence and, beyond, the mountain ledge overlooking a great lake from miles away.

Scampering the chair of bondage around, he found himself behind a wide oak table that fit the dark, rich chestnut of the ground. Whoever he was, this abductor actually had a reasonable fondness for antique things that surrounded the entire room. On top of the table, an Apple laptop displayed a screensaver of pictures of some random kinds of heavy weapons and machine guns. Directly next to him, a much more prosperous-looking, high-backed, skin-hide desk chair mocked his less than preferable seating arrangement. Two smaller visitor stools sat opposite on the other side of the Borthman desk, giving the impression that the study was more of an office in some aspects.

Wrenching his body around again to get a better view of where he was, Dave wormed closer towards the window.

"Oh well, look who's wide awake now. I trust you like the view, young man?" The foreign accent came suddenly from the open doorway.

Dave groaned, "Um—I would like it a lot more if I wasn’t tied down to this embarrassing chair. It hurts my back, you know. My artist hand couldn't take this any longer." Even in a horrible circumstance, Dave hadn’t lost his awareness of wit. "I would have much wanted you to tie me up to that bad boy right there," he proceeded with a quick smile, gesturing with his head to the much more comfortable leather option."

"Oh, speaking of art, I love your design. You have talented hands, boy, but my apologies." The old man leaned slightly and smiled back. "It is a tragic procedure to have to restrain you captive like this. Unfortunately, it is necessary, boy."

"And why is that?"

"Well, I need a key, and you can direct me to it."

"A key to what? You know, I don't have a dime on my name yet, right? Not much less than a key to great fucking fortune."

"I know, Dave. I know... But I need you as a pawn, perhaps a bait? You choose, and, of course, Tyler wouldn't let his wife's brother perish to death. Right?"

"My sister is dead. It doesn't matter if you kill me. He won't care. And a key? I have no idea what you are talking about." Dave figured the guy knew about his sister's sudden appearance. But a key? Whatever it was, he was glad it was not in his possession.

The old man had been standing politely, hands folded behind his back, wearing a very expensive, trendy coat. His striped silver tie looked like it was about two decades behind the current trend, which, oddly enough, must have made it the modern fashion of an elite society of rich people.

"There is no need to play coy with me, Mr. Borthman; I know more than you do. I possess men all over Europe, and believe me when I say this," he began. "We were aware of your sister's whereabouts from day one. But the key is all I need. I also know that you were in contact with her."

So far, this man seemed to be right on the money, but what bothered Dave was the key he was talking about. Whatever it was, maybe it was a key to an unknown treasure. "Anthony and I are friends."

"Who's Anthony are we talking about here?"

"Tyler's grandfather."

"Aw!" Dave nodded, puzzled as to how wealthy people could be so dissatisfied with their money.

"He had the key that I needed, and he passed it down to his grandson."

"Why not ask Tyler about it? Why kidnapped me?"

"Silly, you know why, little boy? Of course, he will come here, knowing full well that he won't leave you alone, and of course, I will use you as a point of exchange."

"I don't think Tyler would do that. I'm not important."

"Yes, you are. His wife is important to him, and so are you." The man shook his head, making a clicking sound with his mouth, and took a few steps towards the desk. Leaning over and placing both hands palms down on the top, he stared directly into Dave’s eyes. “It would be better for you if you would just tell us where Tyler is. As soon as my men have him, I will let you go."

Dave sincerely had no clue if Tyler and Mary had reached London, much less called him.

"My men had ambushed him on the way to the airport, but they escaped."

Fuck! That's why he didn't receive a message from his sister—not that he was aware of his mobile phone when the stranger ransacked his apartment and kidnapped him.

Dave started to relay that information, then decided to keep it to himself. "It would be better for you if you wouldn’t wear such dazzlingly coloured ties. It doesn't suit you well."

The captor was thrown off slightly by the statement, glancing down at the material. Then, standing, he continued his cold, deadly façade.

"You think you are funny, my boy?"

"I’m better in a gay bar; they love me."

"Well, Dave, I wonder if you think this is funny. Reaching over to the corner of the table, he yanked a remote control and switched on a 65-inch flat-panel TV that was mounted to the wall at the corner of the oval-shaped ceiling.

The screen flicked onto a feed from a closed-circuit security camera. Dave’s heart nearly stopped. They were looking at an image of David, their younger brother's adopted parent's home. "Hell, you son of a..."

"Now, now," the man let out before he could finish, "your brother will be fine. All you need to do is help me find what I want."

How on earth did he even find out about David?

Jane and Amaya didn't even know about him; it was their secret.

Dave struggled against the ropes. Unfortunately, whoever did the tying must have been one heck of a boy scout. He could hardly move. "You better not touch him or I—"

"Oh, we won’t touch him. He will simply be a victim of a tragic accident. Remember this: many innocent people have died over the centuries during times of conflict. Millions have given up their lives during wars. My mission is a new campaign; I need tremendous wealth to fund them.” He cocked his head as if chatting to a primary school youngster. "If casualties are essential, who am I to deny them?"

The tone in which he was speaking spoke of great, crazy zealot confidence inside the crust of a madman. That was an extremely difficult thing, and the smile on his face was even more alarming and chilling.

"I’ve heard this speech before, you know," Dave spat out. The world has seen dozens of lunatics and zealots like him. Usually, they end up taking the easy way out when justice catches up with them.

The man halted in mid-step. A sinister smile crept across his face. "You would compare me to someone badass in history?" Leaning close, his voice lessened to a near whimper. "If those men acquired what it is I seek, I'll be the richest fucking person in France.” He stood straight again before continuing. "All the more evidence that they were meant to have ruled, right?"

"My brother is innocent and has nothing to do with this," Dave declared, thinking a shift of subject might help the conversation.

"Nothing to do with what?"

Seeing himself, Dave realised he may have just hooked himself without knowing. Or maybe he just bought himself, Mary, and Tyler some time.

"Fine," he mumbled with reluctance. I’ll do whatever you want. Bait me. Just leave him out of this." Desperation was in his voice.

"What happens to him is determined by our success, Dave." The man strode closer, around the desk, and leaned in so that Dave could smell the pungent and probably overpriced Arabic cologne the man was wearing. A cruel grin crossed his face. The man smirked. "Now, tell me everything. What do you know about your sister?"

Dave frowned. "My sister, I thought you were talking about Tyler's whereabouts."

"That too, Dave. That too."

"Um, what do I call you?"

Standing straight, as if contemplating what damage could come from his hostage knowing his name, he then reacted, "I have had many names, but you may call me Javier Johnson III."

“Jhonson? Are you one of Tyler’s cousins?”

“Obvious?” Javier winked.

“The fuck is wrong with your family? ”