THE GREATEST BETRAYAL: A romantic thriller with a shocking twist, page 24
She sensed the presence of the man. He’d stepped up right behind her now. She heard his trousers unzipping.
She stared intently at the ground in front. There was a shape there, and squinting through the tears, she saw it was a broken branch limb, with a narrow, spiked end. The tears dried, her vision came sharply into focus, and she felt a sudden surge of adrenaline, of anger, of the will to fight back.
She felt the brute’s hands grip her thighs, lifting her from behind.
She reached forward, grabbed hold of one end of the branch and in one rapid movement she swung her body around, raising the branch, and drove its spiked end into the man’s throat.
He reared back, a distorted scream escaping his mouth as he dropped onto his back, his body convulsing and blood shooting like a geyser from the wound.
Liz watched in horror.
Is he dying? Have I killed a man?
She pulled herself quickly out of her shock. In its place anger rose, fuelling her will to survive. ‘Who’s the fool with the obsession now?’ she said to the man’s twitching body, her voice ragged.
Instinctively she knew she had to act fast. La Vipera would have heard the man’s scream. Liz heard the rustle of someone tramping hurriedly through the foliage, approaching. Oblivious to the pain in her shoulder, she pulled on her underclothes, and looked around for her boots but couldn’t see where they were. Clutching her hiking pants and blouse, and the branch, she ran deeper into the forest.
She’d been given the chance to live. She had to survive. For Luke. For Mac.
I have to outrun that viperous bitch and her cousin.
She could hear the crashing sounds of her pursuers as they trampled through the foliage, hot on her trail. A vulture took wing from a low-hanging branch as she raced into the clearing beneath it. She fell, gouging her knee, but pushed on, disorientated, gasping for every breath, heart pumping.
She fell again, her ankle twisting on a stone, and she lay on the forest floor, the pain in her ankle making her fear she’d sprained it.
The rustle in the woods was much louder now and she caught a fleeting glimpse through the towering pines of the man and woman hunting her. Only minutes now before they were upon her. She wanted to scream in anguish, images of Luke and Mac and a lost life with them filling her vision.
There was a sudden movement behind her. She whipped her head around, startled by the sight of a deer, curious, cautious, watching her. Then, after just a few seconds, it took off, darting away in a different direction.
Still on the ground, Liz crawled into a thick tangle of shrubs, hoping they were deep enough to cover her. If she remained deathly still and the woman and her cousin didn’t see her, Liz hoped they’d follow the sounds of the fleeing deer, thinking it was her.
Less than a minute passed and Liz heard them, frantically rushing by, alarmingly close, and then veering off in the direction the deer had taken.
After a while, certain the sounds of her pursuers had faded, she rose unsteadily to her feet. Her ankle was still painful but thankfully, not sprained. She headed off, treading lightly at first, in a different direction, eventually starting to sprint.
She wasn’t sure for how long or how far she ran. Time had no meaning. The forest flashing by around her was a blur, with strong rays of the sun shining off the sea of green, the birds in the treetops twittering madly as though to encourage her escape. Eventually she dropped to her knees, wheezing for breath. She wasn’t sure when she’d dropped her hiking pants and blouse, but she was still clutching the branch. Her whole body was covered in scratches and welts.
She listened intently but still didn’t hear anyone following. She readjusted her bra. She rested for a while, her eyes continually scanning the forest like a hunted animal. Her mouth was dry, she needed water, and focusing her hearing on all the sounds of the forest she heard the trickle of a creek. She moved towards the sound and presently came to a narrow, rippling stream.
She scooped up handfuls of the fresh water and drank greedily, feeling the liquid’s invigorating power, then she was on her feet again, refreshed, running. When she broke through the bushes and onto a wide country road she felt as though she’d single-handedly discovered El Dorado.
She had no idea which direction to take, or how long it might be before a car came along. She started walking towards the sun. Every muscle ached, then as she marched tiredly, losing speed, her knees sagging, she heard the mechanical hum in the air, faint at first, then very quickly thunderous and she saw a couple of choppers flying overhead.
The emergency rescue crews, heading to the Aspromonte landslide.
She ran to the middle of the road and began leaping up and down, frantically waving her arms and signalling with the bloodied branch that had saved her life.
EIGHTY-NINE
Of all the moments from the past few days, the one Liz would recall the most, calling it forth so she could make sense of everything, was the moment of her reunion with Luke. Her baby boy squealed with delight when he saw her, wriggling free of the policewoman who was minding him, and running forward with those lovable, uneven steps of his, into the arms of his mother. She held him close, then lifted him up and whirled him around as he giggled. Mac completed the picture, embracing the two of them.
They’d arrived at the police station minutes before, with Liz becoming conscious of the press entourage that milled about on the exterior steps that led to the front foyer. In particular she noticed Carl Vickerson, interviewing police officers, taking notes, shooting photos.
‘He’s got his big story,’ she said to Mac.
‘He always does.’
‘We’re going to be plastered all over the news back home.’
Mac shrugged. ‘It will die down when the next big story breaks. You once told me that.’
When the rescue helicopter had picked Liz up earlier that day, she’d babbled her story incoherently.
The rescue team had been on their way to the mountain, and when they landed at the old Vetrani rifugio, Mac had sighted them from his hiding spot in the woods, and come running.
The open sat phone line which led authorities to the house in Taurianova, enabled the polizia to be granted warrants to raid all properties owned by members of the same family – the Margoli clan. It was at one of those homes they’d liberated Luke and arrested Bruno along with La Vipera and one of her cousins.
The Margoli woman had left her other cousin at the local hospital. He was in a serious condition but would recover from the injury Liz had inflicted.
Liz had breathed a sigh of relief at that news. ‘Thank God,’ she said to Mac. ‘I didn’t want to kill the man.’
‘Of course you didn’t,’ Mac said. ‘He’s alive and now he can pay for attempted murder, behind bars.’ It angered him and sent chills through his body when he thought of how close Liz had been to assault and death.
When the helicopter crew delivered Liz and Mac to the police station in Reggio Calabria, the two of them had been interviewed by detectives. This was the law enforcement team who’d been investigating the Margoli family for several years. Now that they’d been able to raid the family’s homes, the polizia had uncovered incriminating evidence of the drug ring.
‘This is a family with its fingers in a network of national and international crimes,’ the lead detective had said to Liz and Mac. ‘It’s all going to come crashing down now.’
Liz and Mac were told that until advised otherwise by the courts, Raf was still in custody. He’d been transferred to Rome, then flown back home. They learned, when Raf had fled the landslide, he’d turned himself in to the polizia at Reggio Calabria, declaring his innocence.
His testimony, together with the testimonies of Liz and Mac, confirmed Bruno as the kidnapper.
In their hotel room that evening, Liz’s first call was to Martin, back in Sydney. His quick action in contacting the Italian authorities had saved the day.
‘If Bruno had fled with Luke before the police raid,’ Liz said to Martin, ‘I might’ve lost him forever.’ The thought still terrified her.
As always, Martin was the voice of reason and calm. ‘That’s all in the past now. You and Luke and Mac are together. That’s the future and that’s all that matters.’
That night, she drifted to sleep in Mac’s arms, with Luke sleeping in a rented cot beside their bed.
The comfort and the exhaustion didn’t stop her waking with a start in the middle of the night, crying out, sweat on her brow, her mind awash with that terrifying moment in the woods, stripped naked, seconds from rape, minutes from death.
NINETY
The following morning, the hotel’s cable TV enabled them to access the BBC. It carried a feed from the Australian news reports.
‘In an extraordinary turn of events’ – the male newsreader’s deep voice was accompanied by footage of Raf, flanked by police, coming through the terminal at Kingsford Smith International – ‘flamboyant entrepreneur Raf Vetrani has returned to Australia. All charges against Vetrani are expected to be dropped, while his brother Bruno, arrested in the Calabrian district in Southern Italy, has been charged with those same offences. Joining us now is our financial correspondent…’
An image flashed on the screen of Bruno, hands in cuffs, being led away by police. He looked like a stranger to Liz, a man she didn’t know. Another image flashed, this time of Bruno with his wife and daughter. Liz felt a great weight of sadness in her heart for Caterina and Chloe…
‘With its assets seized, finances frozen, and shares hitting rock bottom,’ the financial reporter said as he appeared on screen, ‘Vetrani Investments is unlikely to see out the week while the future of Raf Vetrani remains unclear. Whilst it’s believed he’ll be cleared on the major charges, Raf Vetrani is also under investigation for a series of lesser fraudulent dealings. The bigger story, behind all this, is that Bruno Vetrani engineered a series of abductions, of his brother’s wife and baby son, and of celebrity airline pilot Captain Mac. His various other deceits include the murder of businessman Warren Leeman. To fill us in on those details, we cross now, live, to correspondent Carl Vickerson, in Reggio Calabria.’
* * *
Later that morning, at the Reggio Calabria Airport, Mac took their baggage to the check-in desk. As he stood at the counter, a young man of Indonesian appearance approached. There was a brief exchange, then the young man walked away just as quickly. Mac called after him, but the young man simply waved, with a polite smile, then was gone, his figure disappearing into the crowd.
Liz was nearby, at the cafe, with a restless Luke squirming in her arms. She watched as the young man walked away, Mac looking after him. From her line of sight, she hadn’t been able to see everything, then the terminal loudspeaker boomed into life, calling their flight to Rome.
* * *
Walking back towards Liz and Luke, Mac pulled a letter from the envelope the young Indonesian had given him.
His eyes scanned the handwritten note.
Mac,
My very good friend,
Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. I have pangs of regret for the decision I made so long ago now.
I loved you, Callan McKenzie.
But I also love my country. I’ve had a passion, ever since I was a young girl, to fight for the rights of those who are wronged. There are many wrongs here, some because of corruption at high levels.
My father and I shared this belief. My father’s cargo business and contacts made it possible for him to play a small part in the struggle.
As you know, that didn’t stop the cold-blooded murder of my father by corrupt forces.
I knew I could not honour my father without taking up the cause he believed in. They call us rebels, but it is an important fight. We strive to have the true voice of the poor heard.
This cause has its own problems and I needed to help to change that.
I could not drag you into this new world. I knew, in my heart, I had to let you go. The only way to do this was to simply vanish.
It was hardest thing I have ever done. It ripped my heart to pieces and I know it caused you great heartache…
* * *
As the plane taxied along the runway, Mac reached across in his seat, placing his hand over Liz’s. ‘I’ve got a confession to make.’
Liz arched her eyebrow. ‘I’m past the point where anything could surprise me.’
‘When we get to Rome, we’re not switching to a flight to Sydney.’
‘We’re not?’
‘Remember I said one day I’d show you Rome?’
‘Of course I remember.’
‘Now’s as good a time as ever.’
‘You’ll show me and Luke the sights?’
‘The Colosseum, the Fountain of Trevi, the Sistine Chapel.’
‘All the usual suspects.’
‘And a few that aren’t so usual.’ He squeezed her hand and she squeezed back.
‘There is something we haven’t discussed…’ she began.
‘Which is?’
‘Being Luke’s father, Raf is going to be in the picture…’
‘I’ve got a feeling Raf isn’t going to be around as much as you think.’
‘Maybe not, but even so…’
‘We’ll deal with it,’ Mac said.
She tingled all over as Mac touched her cheek lightly then traced his finger gently down to her jawline.
‘Who was that young guy at the airport?’ she asked.
Mac pulled the envelope from his pocket. ‘He’d been sent to give me a letter. Seems there’s a group of people who’ve been keeping an eye on me.’
‘A group of people?’
‘Remember you told me Bruno said he hadn’t arranged for my escape from the Jakarta house?’
‘It was this group of people?’
‘An underground network. They knew when I arrived in Jakarta and they knew when I went missing, although they didn’t know why I was there nor what had happened to me. It took them a while, but they eventually found out I was imprisoned, and they mounted a raid, impersonating POLRI.’
‘And they removed the bodies and cleaned the whole place up as though nothing had ever happened?’
‘Seems so.’
‘That Indonesian guy told you this?’
‘Not in as many words… more of a hint.’ Mac handed her the letter.
Liz unfolded the sheet of paper and began to read.
…hardest thing I have ever done. It ripped my heart to pieces and I know it caused you great heartache.
But I knew, in time, you would find a new life and a new love.
As for me, these years have been hard but there has been some good also. I have a partner, a good man, as passionate as I am about our cause.
But I still have those moments, in the middle of the night, and I relive the pain of my decision.
I pray you are able to forgive me. You are a good soul but we are from very different worlds.
When my people told me of your return; that you had come to Jakarta and had disappeared, we searched for you.
Because your abductors were not the Indonesian authorities but instead a private criminal group, it took us much longer to find you than I’d hoped.
We knew, after our raid, that the criminal group would clean up the mess and that they wouldn’t contact the POLRI. We left you to make your own way out – not wanting to risk the government linking you to us should my people ever be apprehended with you in their company.
We kept watch from afar until you were safely out of the country.
I pray that our actions helped you.
Now, I must go.
I wish only the best for you and Liz Carter. Be strong, Mac, make the most of the rest of your life.
Love and peace
Cinta dan perdamaian
Sari
Liz refolded the letter and handed it back to Mac. Her eyes met his and she smiled. Luke squirmed in the baby seat alongside her and she kissed his forehead.
Then she pulled Mac towards her, hugging him, gripping his hand tightly, embracing his strength, his warmth. The plane began its descent and the two of them gazed out the window as the magnificent city below came into view.
* * *
A week later, on their last night in Rome, Liz woke in fright to the sound of an eerie wail and she sat up, heart pumping. It couldn’t be a curlew. Not here. Was it Luke, crying out? She listened intently but there was nothing but silence.
Mac, still asleep, shifted in the bed beside her. Liz slipped out from under the sheet and padded her way into the next room, where Luke was fast asleep. She stood for a moment and watched the peaceful rise and fall of his tiny chest.
She calmed her breathing. She didn’t think she would be able to get back to sleep, not right away. She went onto the balcony and leaned against the railing. There was a full moon and its luminescence shimmered across the tops of the trees.
This was the second time this week that she’d had bad dreams and woken to the scream in her head. It was a balmy night and she let the touch of the gentle breeze soothe her. Somewhere, deep in the woods on the other side of the world, she imagined that a lone curlew cried out, heard by no one. There was a part of her that suspected the nightmares would always come when she least expected them. She could only hope that, in time, those horrors would fade deeper into the distance, like the cry of that solitary bird.
THE END
More fiction by Iain Henn
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