Page 106 of Code 6
“Do you know what Code Six is?”
She smiled thinly. “I know this much. Patrick Battle is the most courageous young man I’ve ever met.”
Kate turned and hurried out of the room.
Chapter 48
Patrick couldn’t breathe. He was seated on the cabin floor, knees to his chest, his spine firmly against the pole, his hands bound behind his back. Javier’s grip was like a clamp around his throat, his mouth inches from Patrick’s nose.
“Don’t youevermake me look stupid on the phone!”
Patrick had expected him to be angry over Code 6, but he hadn’t figured on a volcanic eruption. The tirade continued.
“You spent thirty minutes explaining the code to me in words I could never remember. Then I put you on the line, and you describe it in two words!Why?”
Patrick needed air. Javier wouldn’t allow it, not even to get an answer to his question.
“Let him breathe!” said Olga. “He’s turning blue!”
She was chained to the other side of the pole, also on the floor. Javier snarled at her but released his grip. Patrick gasped, thankful to be alive and breathing.
“Explain yourself,” said Javier.
Patrick was still struggling for air. He took a moment, then answered. “I didn’t think Mr. Peel would actually be on the line.”
“What does that have to do with it?”
He took another breath. “Kate would have no idea what Code Six is. The shorthand reference could only make sense to Peel. I gave you the long version so you could tell Kate exactly what you want, and there would be no mistake about the ransom.”
Lying didn’t come naturally to Patrick. But he would do what needed to be done.
Javier stared into Patrick’s eyes, a penetrating gaze, as if he were conducting some sort of telepathic lie detector test. “Code Six better be real,” he said.
“It’s the most real thing the tech industry has ever seen.”
Javier seemed to accept it—at least for the moment. “I guess we’ll find out.”
“I need to use the bathroom,” said Olga. “It’s been hours.”
Patrick appreciated the well-timed change of subject. “My bladder is calling, too.”
Javier seemed annoyed, but acquiesced. “Hookers first,” he said, and he unchained Olga from the pole. Her back cracked as she straightened and stood up. He left Patrick on the floor, his wrists bound to the pole. At gunpoint, he led Olga to the door.
“Don’t get all Houdini on me and try to slip out of those chains,” he said to Patrick.
“I don’t think you need to worry about that.”
“I’m not worried. If you’re not here when we get back, it’s Olga who pays.”
It was a pointless warning, as there was no escaping, but Javier never missed an opportunity to intimidate Olga. The door closed, and their footfalls faded as they crossed the deck to the bathroom. Outside, the rain had stopped, and the remaining drops on the porthole glistened in the morning sun. Patrick focused on one drop, in particular, as it slowly made its way down the glass. He wondered if it would trickle all the way to the bottom, or if it would evaporate first, like a river run dry. Passing the time in solitary confinement made for small thoughts. He felt lucky to have Olga to talk to most of the day, though “lucky” probably wasn’t the right word.
The click at the door caught Patrick’s attention. The handle had dropped to the open position, no longer parallel to the floor. Slowly, the door opened, but only halfway. It was too soon for Olga’s return from the bathroom. And Patrick didn’t believe in ghosts. At least he didn’t think he did.
“Is someone there?”
The possibility of rescue crossed his mind, but so did the memory of his last encounter with strangers, which had ended in kidnapping. He stared at the half-open door, waiting for a response. None came, but he could almost feel the presence of a visitor.
He tried in Spanish:“Quienestá?”