Then he turned to Raya.
The hairs on the back of Slater’s neck bristled.
‘Jesus Christ,’ King muttered.
The soldier seized the restraints around her wrists, and her face turned white with fear. Her hands shook, bound together as tightly as possible. Slowly, the man lowered her hands to the floor, and spread the fingers on her left hand out. He took the pinky finger and pressed it down against the sawdust, pinning it in place.
Then he rolled the blade over the knuckle with expert precision.
It happened so fast, and so smoothly, that at first Slater thought he’d faked it. Then the soldier picked up the severed finger and displayed it to the camera.
Sweating, shaking, groaning against the gag, Raya’s eyes nearly rolled into the back of her head.
‘This today’s punishment. Every day your soldiers spend on trail, more punishment. Tomorrow, twice as bad. Trust me. Pull your soldiers out, and then we negotiate.’
Neither Slater nor King said a word, but they both bristled with rage.
‘And we have demand. We know girl have special risks insurance. So you get back to us on this website, and you tell us how we can speak to professional crisis responder. Then we sort payment. This way, things go smooth. Or you keep your soldier on trail heading toward us, and things no more smooth. Things very messy. Do not make messy. Last warning.’
He reached toward the camera, and the video ended abruptly.
Slater sat in silence.
King sat in silence.
They stared at the final thumbnail — saw the intensity in the soldier’s eyes, saw the pain in Raya’s, saw the discomfort in Mukta and Perry. Both men seemed genuinely horrified by what had happened. Their eyes were bloodshot and wracked with terror.
It wasn’t an emotion you could easily fake.
‘Maybe we’ve got it wrong this whole time,’ King said. ‘Maybe it’s neither of them.’
Slater said, ‘Maybe…’
The phone rang in their hands.
40
Violetta again.
King took the phone back, and answered.
‘You’ve seen it?’ she said.
‘We’ve seen it.’
‘I want you to know I’m seriously considering pulling you out.’
‘No way.’
Slater added, ‘Not a chance.’
She said, ‘This isn’t the situation we imagined. Your presence has made it unimaginably worse. We didn’t understand that they’d have eyes everywhere. We still don’t know how—’
‘We were ambushed last night,’ King said. ‘Everything’s been so chaotic that we haven’t had the chance to debrief you. We stayed at the teahouse in Kharikhola and woke up to a midnight assault. The owner relayed information to Parker’s guide who confirmed it’s Maoist paramilitary mercenaries who’ve been hired to deal with us. Seems like they’re committing the cardinal sin of coming down into tourist-heavy areas to take us out, so there must be a pretty spectacular price on our heads.’
She didn’t immediately respond, and he could practically hear her processing the information and trying to sort out the next move.
Then she said, ‘Okay — I’m pulling you out.’
‘No.’
‘No?’
‘Have there been any more sightings since the Swedish backpackers saw them along the trail?’
‘No. We’re moving heaven and earth to try and get accurate intelligence, but there’s basically nothing. Which means they’re probably spreading the hostages out between different groups of these Maoist troops so that no-one ever sees them all together when they’re walking during the day. And it’s fairly straightforward to cover your face when you’re passing by other hikers. They’re practically ghosts.’
‘But that makes for slow progress,’ King insisted. ‘There’s no way they’re keeping a pace like ours. Not with three resisting hostages spread out across multiple groups. Raya’s only fourteen, and she’ll be in bad shape with a missing finger. They admitted themselves how valuable she is, so they’re going to make damn sure she doesn’t drop dead on the trail.’
‘What are you saying?’ Violetta said.
King paused, ruminating.
‘We can be up past Namche Bazaar by mid-morning tomorrow. Then we’ll keep hiking for as long as it takes to catch them. Logistically, if they were spotted near Namche yesterday, then we’ll almost certainly get them tomorrow.’
‘That’s a massive effort.’
‘It’s what we have to do.’
‘Are either of you hurt?’
‘No,’ King said.
Slater raised an eyebrow, and gave his bandaged forearm a glance.
King stared at his own swollen ankle.
Then met Slater’s gaze and shook his head.
She can’t know.
She’ll pull us out.
Slater nodded his understanding.
Violetta said, ‘I’d need guarantees from both of you that you’re in good enough condition to close the gap tomorrow. Because that’s all the time we have before this thing escalates out of control. And that’s my head on the chopping block if I keep you in the field against my superiors’ orders.’
‘We’ll get it done.’
‘How are your bodies holding up? You’ve probably covered close to thirty miles of extreme terrain.’
‘I’m fine,’ King said.
‘And Slater?’
‘I’m fine, too,’ Slater said.
‘If either of you are lying to me…’
‘Do you want this kid back or not?’ King snarled. ‘If we drop out, she’s as good as dead. And what was all that about a “professional crisis responder”? Who the hell do they want to talk to?’
Violetta sighed. ‘You know the basics of the kidnap insurance industry, right?’
‘Guess I haven’t done my research. Enlighten me.’
‘Obviously there are certain sections of the planet where kidnapping is more rampant than others. Modern solutions are required, and these days everyone has something to sell. Insert “special risks insurance.” These firms offer insurance and protection for wealthy clients if they’re going to be venturing into dangerous parts of the world. They have professional negotiators on standby in case everything goes to hell, and they’ll also cover any of the ransom costs that might ensue.’
‘That sounds like a messy industry to try and maintain control of.’
‘It is. And it’s usually the richest of the rich that they market these policies to, so they can charge as much as they damn well want. The more paranoid their clients, the better. But it works — they have incredible success rates at negotiating with terrorists and kidnappers.
