07.1 Mazzikin

“Countess! Countess!”

A raspy whisper flowed in through the window above the bed after she heard a noise. Marina rolled her eyes in the bright light.

“Comtesse! Comtesse!”

She heard taps on glass. She jumped up and sat upright in bed looking at the window. In between the slats of the venetian blinds, she thought she saw a pair of eyes. The light was bright and the blur on glass on the ventilation helped little to capture those eyes. They only appeared when a face come in contact with the planks nailed from the outside. The interloper had removed one of the planks.

Marina’s reaction did show a sparkle in her eyes, nodding an effort could help because she wasn’t chained to the bedpost. On her feet, Marina reached the window, hands from the rear and undid the bolt. Meanwhile, the interloper engaged to remove the planks raucously using a crowbar.

Carlos and the guys in the outer room did not hear because there was no window on this side of the wall where they seated and the door to the little room was locked.

This snooper who knew where she was couldn’t actually see her lying in bed through the narrow slot of plank detached. Instead, her image reflected on the mirror on the opposite wall in the brightly lit room.

Marina dived head first out of the tiny window. Those hands were soft of the person who pulled her out. Long and shiny black hair of a woman in black catsuit, belted a crowbar and reached to untie her bonds.

“Are you okay, countess!”

“Yes, yes…” shaky, meek and frail, she began to find her voice, “Police!”

“Shh! Shh!”

“Who are you?”

“Hush! Can you jump?”

“Yes, yes…” Marina shattered.

“Let’s get out!” she grasped her arm.

On the tilt of the slab, Marina trembled down to her heels, “I can’t, I can’t…”

“Give me your hand,” said the woman, “I will lower you down.”

“I can’t…”

“Come on! Come on!”

Marina grabbed the hand and dropped her body hanging stretched to the lower slab shy of three feet. She was heavy no matter how many kilos she lost. That woman lying flat on the terrace could hold no more. Marina landed on the slab. They repeated two more levels in descend and jumped down to the ground.

“Ouch!” she released a cry hitting hard in the dirt.

“Are you alright?”

“Okay…” she got on her feet and began to brush off dirt from her hands and back.

“Don’t worry about that dirt now!” That woman seized her hand and ran to take cover of the darkness. “Can you jump over the fence, Comtesse?”

Marina detained her arm and rustled as she did, “Call me Mary.”

She paused to stare for a brief moment and motioned to the fence. They jumped down and ran up a narrow lane, climbed a road and headed towards a car parked on the curb, two wheels in the grass.

“Are you the police?” she asked.

“No,” said the rescuer reaching to start the engine of the cream-colour Fiat.

“Who sent you?”

The engine cranked, “Nobody.”

“Are you French?”

The engine failed. She stared and tried, tried and stared, but it would not fire up.

“What is your name?” asked Marina.

“Eva,” she turned the key and it started eventually. She drove off.

“Do you know Zaid?”

“Your husband! No.”

“Then who sent you?”

“Nobody,” said the woman.

“Freelance!”

She glared again.

“How do you know I was here?”

“I napped in that room one night,” said the woman, “Your friend Jamal, I just want to annoy him. I like to make people angry.”

“Why?” asked Marina.

“I guess it’s my hobby!” she peered and uttered rather to herself flipping her fingers, “I cannot forgive this man for putting a finger up in my ass! Excuse me!”

“You smell bad!”

Madeleine cackled.

Madeleine Blanche read in papers how Jamal Carreon was involved in the kidnapping of Falak’s wife. She had visions too of the full moon in Santa Rosa, Castillo holding his hat in his hand, the rusted car and two guys buckling handcuffs on Tony Yunis. How could she ever forget that finger! She knew him then as Mister Fish and now as Jamal. She was eager to find out if this bunch was behind this media frenzy kidnapping.

She arrived in Quilmes two days ago in this Fiat and located the house. Drove around a couple of times before she could figure the exact place. She observed the window blocked by planks of the room she slept five years ago. And this room could be seen to the road over the roofs of the row of houses standing low. In few years, this district added more houses around.

She dyed her hair black. In the leather catsuit, a gun and implements on her belt, she looked like a police officer. She returned this evening to pick her up. It happened to be the night the drop was called. And Madeleine did not know a thing about it. Marina could have possibly set to go free that night.

She came to snatch her and take her to the Silverside Club, drop at the wrought iron gate and drive off before anyone could see.