The Squire's Tale - 4. Chapter 4

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 20th, 11:30 AM — LIMATAMBO DISTRICT

El Arquero brought another bowl of mush for breakfast and handed it to the prisoner without a word, averting his eyes. Keiran ate in silence, then submitted meekly when his hands were re-tied, leaving him alone on the cold floor in the dark.

What felt like several hours later, the door of the shed burst open, spilling blinding sunlight into the dank space. The silhouette of a man filled the doorway, and Keiran recoiled in alarm.

The Keeper laughed at his prisoner’s reaction and barked in Spanish, “Let us go, little girl. Time for the next telephone call.”

“What call?”

“The one where you mother says she cannot raise the money and begs El Jefe to release you.”

“Why are you so sure she’ll do that?”

“They always do. You Americans think you are so smart you can fool us ignorant campesinos into lowering the price. El Jefe never negotiates down, only higher until he is sure they do not have any more money. It takes some convincing...and usually a few pieces of your anatomy.”

Keiran shuddered and thought to himself, I hope Mom got the fuckin money somehow.

He was jostled roughly across the compound and brought into the big room again, where he was tied down in the same hard, wooden chair as the day before.

Deliberately making a noisy entry behind Keiran and his guard, Pepe arrived, carrying something resembling a giant pair of pliers.

“Wh...what’s that?” Keiran choked on his voice. El Arquero quickly turned his eyes away from the gruesome implement.

Suares’ evil laugh issued from somewhere deep in his stinking bowels, rumbled through his filthy entrails, and burbled and thundered up his throat and out of his vile mouth like fiery lava erupting from an angry volcano. If the Devil ever laughs, that must be what it would sound like.

With ruthless gusto, El Jefe chortled, “That’s to cut off one or more of your fingers, if your fucking family tries to talk me down or weasel their way out of paying the full amount for your worthless little ass.”

Pepe joined in the torment, snapping the jaws of the tool together menacingly and roaring with diabolical laughter as Keiran shuddered with horror.

“I have found the screams of a loved one undergoing amputation are usually enough to convince the family to pay as much as I ask, and right away. Whatever the fuck they may have been planning to trick me evaporates at the sound of their son, or husband, or brother in agony.”

Sweat ran down Keiran’s forehead and mingled with the salty tears on his cheeks. He thought he was going to throw up or pass out, or both. His breathing became rapid and shallow, while his whole body went ice cold and began to shiver.

With false sympathy, his tormentor leaned in close to his prisoner’s face. “But I’m sure we won’t need to use them on you, will we Kee-rahn? Your family is so goddamn rich they won’t even care when I double the price. They’ll fall all over themselves getting the money and assuring me it will be paid as fast as fucking possible.”

El Jefe glared at him. “So, little shithead, are you ready to speak to Mommy again?”

Defeated, he lowered his head toward the floor. “I guess.”

The evil man taunted viciously, “What’s the matter? Are you afraid to say anything?”

Keiran stared up into Suares’ face and shrugged.

The kidnapper’s evil laugh filled the room and was joined again by Pepe’s cackling. “Well, if your family cooperates, this will all be over very soon.”

The prisoner lowered his head again.

Pleased with himself, Suares warned, “Now, you will listen. Don’t you make a goddamn sound unless I permit you. ¿Entiende?” His face was so close Keiran’s nostrils filled with the vile odor of the man’s breath. Adding injury to insult, he kicked Keiran hard in the shin, making him scream with pain.

“You understand, you little prick?” El Jefe bellowed.

“Y-yes. Yes, I understand.”

“Smart move. Now shut the fuck up.” He picked up Keiran’s cellphone and pressed the speed-dial. When it began to ring, he hit the speaker button.

“Hello?” Natalie’s voice was so strained that the men in the room could barely hear her.

Keiran sobbed softly when he heard his mother’s voice. Suares glared at him and he quickly stifled the sound.

“Keiran? Is that you?”

“Buenos días, Señora Bronson. Your son is right here, but he has nothing to say...for now. Tell me, do you have the money?”

There was a pause until a male voice came on.

“I am taking over this conversation. To whom am I speaking?” Keiran’s head shot up as he recognized his grandfather’s voice.

El Jefe put his hand over the microphone.

“Who is this one?”

“My grandfather, Thomas Hutton.”

“Is he rich?”

Keiran shrugged, “He does all right.”

Suares backhanded Keiran in the face.

“When I ask you a question, you answer me, you little shit, or I will hurt you so bad you will wish to die. Understand?”

He nodded silently, tears flowing.

Turning back to the conversation, El Jefe continued, “Hello, Señor Thomas Hutton. I assume you are the man with the money?”

“You may assume so. Now who the hell are you?”

The kidnapper guffawed in derision. “I am called El Jefe. It means ‘The Boss.’ That is all you need to know. I have your little shit of a grandson tied up in a chair here in front of me, which makes me the boss of him...and you.”

“Is Keiran all right?”

“He is well enough, under the circumstances, as long as he learns when to keep his fucking mouth shut. How well he remains is entirely up to you.”

“Let me speak to him.”

“Not so goddamn fast, Señor. You have to earn the privilege. Now, answer me, do you have the fucking money?”

“Arrangements have been made.”

“What kind of arrangements?”

“The money is ready and waiting, but I am going to need positive identification of my grandson before I’ll release one penny to you.”

Suares laughed darkly, “You fucking Americans always think you’re in charge. You are not calling the shots this time, Señor Hutton. You are now at the mercy of someone you consider a goddamn loser. Only this time, you stand to lose a lot more than me.”

After a long silence, Tom cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, El Jefe. You’re right, I’m used to being in control, but I see better now. You are the one holding all the cards.”

“Much much better. Now, let’s review the situation. I have your grandson. He cannot escape. You cannot find him. He is in decent shape, although every time he opens his fucking smart little mouth, he gets slapped down. I imagine this is a new experience for him?”

Tom was silent.

“I know this is true. He is a typical fucking spoiled rich American brat.”

Again, no response from Tom.

“So let’s cut through the bullshit. I have someone you want, and you are willing to pay whatever I ask in order to have him back, am I right?”

This time, Tom had no choice but to reply, “Yes. It would appear so.”

“Bueno. I’m glad we understand each other. So you say you have arranged for the million dolares?”

“I have.”

“Well, I’m afraid there has been a slight...change to the situation.”

“What!?” Keiran’s grandfather sounded surprised and angry.

As if he were speaking to a child, Suares laid out the grim news, “Your grandson eats like a fucking horse. He is a pain in the ass, and he is running my expenses through the goddamn roof.”

Tom grew more wary. “I’m sorry to hear that. He can be a handful, but he’s a decent kid at heart.”

El Jefe turned toward Keiran, who was glaring at him with hatred.

Staring his prisoner down, he spoke in an understanding tone to Tom, “I imagine so, Tomás. I think the same of my own grandchildren. So, grandfather to grandfather, I think we should be able to resolve the difficulty and arrive at a solution satisfactory to both of us.”

“Go on.”

El Jefe broke into an evil smile. He was going in for the kill. “So, in view of the increased expenses incurred by keeping your grandson alive and all in one piece, the price for his return has doubled.”

“What? Two million dollars? Are you out of your fucking mind?” Even from across the room, Keiran could hear the indignation in his grandfather’s voice.

The kidnapper grinned in triumph. “Now, now, Abuelo. We both know you can easily afford a lot more, and I see no reason why you should pay only the standard fee for a typical middle class brat when your nieto is so much more trouble to me. And so much more valuable—to both of us.”

*****

In the living room of the Bronson home in California, Tom put his hand over the phone and surveyed the people in the room, as if to seek consensus on what he should say next.

An FBI agent was listening on the extension, and a tape recorder was turning silently. Natalie’s eyes were wide and red with tears. Her face implored her father to pay whatever it took to save Keiran. Keith’s lips were set and his face was aflame with rage, but he didn’t say anything. Richard hung his head, a fist pressed to his mouth.

He heard, “Señor Hutton? Still there?”

“Yes, Jefe. I’m still here.” Tom made up his mind. “I accept your terms, but I will not go any higher, so don’t try.”

El Jefe laughed into the phone. “Bullshit, Abuelo. You will pay as much as I ask, even if you have to sell everything you own. But I am a reasonable man. I will stay firm at two million. Now, do you have the money?”

“I have half right now. It will take another day to line up the rest.”

“Oh, yes. We don’t want to trigger a Suspicious Activity Report or anything to hurt your company’s finances, now do we?”

Tom’s eyes shot at the FBI agent, who slowly shook her head, as if to say, “This son of a bitch has you all figured out.”

Accepting the stark reality of the situation and not wanting to provoke the kidnappers into harming Keiran, Tom responded quietly, “You’re right. I will have two million dollars ready for you tomorrow at this time. So please let me speak to my grandson.”

*****

Seated behind his desk, El Jefe was savoring the power he exercised over this fucking rich American industrialist.

He teased mercilessly, “I have no reason to doubt you, Tomás, but also no reason to trust you. What I do have is my fist gripped tightly around your balls. If you are trying to find me or buy time to take some stupid fucking action against me, your nieto will pay the price.”

With a malicious glance at Keiran, the kidnapper mocked, “He is such a beautiful child. I would hate to disfigure him or deprive him of a hand or an eye.”

Natalie’s scream of horror was clearly audible on the telephone call.

Tom’s voice came back in, shocked and furious. “Listen to me, El Jefe. I have made no threats against you, and I have agreed to do what you demand. There’s no need to terrify the boy’s mother.”

Realizing he had gone too far and contrite for the unnecessary pain he had caused Keiran’s mother, Suares replied, “No. You are right, Señor, I should not have said such a thing. I simply wanted to make sure you are aware who is calling the shots here.”

“I am well aware of that. Now may I speak with Keiran?”

El Jefe placed the phone next to his prisoner’s ear. “Watch what you say, or you will be in a lot of pain,” the heartless kidnapper whispered.

Keiran swallowed hard before speaking softly. “Granddad?”

“Keiran! Are you all right?”

There was a sound of a struggle, as though his mother had tried to wrest the phone from her father’s hand. Keiran heard his grandfather tell her, “In a moment, Natalie.”

He spoke again with longing in his voice, “Granddad?”

“Yes, I’m here. Are you all right?”

Looking fearfully at Suares, he replied, “Yes, I’m OK. They haven’t hurt me, but I’m so fuckin scared.” He heard his mother gasp—he had never said “fuck” in her presence. It was too late to take it back now.

Tom Hutton quickly smoothed over the f-bomb, “That’s completely understandable, son. Listen, I’m going to give them what they want. It’ll take another day to pull the money together, and maybe several hours to move it to wherever they want—some offshore bank account, I would imagine. You hang in there, do whatever they say, and above all don’t try to escape. OK?”

“I promise. Can I speak to Mom?”

“Your mother is right here. And your father, too. Here she is.”

He heard his mother sniffle and clear the throat, struggling to control her emotions. “Keiran?”

“Mom!” His voice broke and he sobbed.

Natalie did her best to hold back her own tears. “Now, now, Dear. You’re going to be all right. Your grandfather is going to send the money to the...the men. You do what they say and don’t make them mad, and—” She began sobbing.

His grandfather came back on, “Keiran. Your mother loves you, and so do I. Your dad is here, and he loves you, too. And Karen is saying prayers for you. You’ll be home soon, don’t worry.”

“Enough!” El Jefe roughly jerked the device away from Keiran’s ear. “What a touching scene, Señor Tomás. Everybody loves everybody else. So fucking nice. Now, we will be signing off.”

The kidnapper jeered, “But I will call you at noon tomorrow, exactly. You yourself will answer right away. And you will have good news for me, or I will be extremely disappointed, and I will take out my disappointment on your grandson. Understood, Señor Hutton?”

“Yes, I—” But El Jefe had ended the call.

He grinned at his prisoner, “Well, young man. It all went better than I had expected. You appear to have a sensible family, or else they recognize when they are up against a foe they cannot conquer.”

Keiran regarded him with hatred. “I hope they find you and—”

Suares backhanded him so hard the chair fell backward to the floor.

“Get this little piss-ant out of my sight before I fucking kill him!”

El Arquero quickly hefted Keiran to his feet and hustled him out of the room.

They started across the courtyard, heading for the shed. The young guard kept a painfully tight grip on Keiran’s arm as he force-marched him toward his prison.

The Keeper snarled at him, “You are lucky he did not kill you. El Jefe does not tolerate back-talk, ever.”

Keiran began to say something, but he was interrupted by jeers tossed their way.

A few yards to their left, some of Suares’ men were standing around, smoking.

One of them called out in Spanish, “Hey, Sami, you little cabro. You like your pretty boyfriend? You going to suck his cock or let him fuck you in the ass?”

Shocked, Keiran turned to his guard, whose face had turned a deep red.

“Fuck you, Pepe!” Sami shouted back at the teaser.

“More like you want me to fuck you!” the bully retorted. He put both hands on his butt and made thrusting motions with his hips. The other men laughed derisively.

“Go. Now!” the humiliated guard ordered, violently jerking Keiran the last few steps to the shed.

He shoved the prisoner into the dark, slammed the door behind them, and leaned back against it, breathing hard.

In the dim light, Keiran could see Sami was shaking, and tears were running down his face.

“Are you OK?” he asked in Spanish, taking a step toward him.

“Shut up!” Sami snapped.

“What did he—”

“I said, shut the fuck up.” With all his strength, he slapped Keiran’s face, knocking him backward into the wall so hard the young man went limp and crumpled onto the floor.

Panicked, Sami spoke with a shaky voice, “Oh, no. I did not mean...are you all right?”

Dazed and with his head spinning, Keiran peered up at his tormentor. As the haze in his mind gradually cleared, the enormity of his situation hit home. This was the last straw for him. The stress of the last 36 hours was finally more than he could take. He lay on the floor and curled up in a ball, sobbing and shaking.

Sami stood over him, shocked by how brutally he had mistreated his young prisoner. He turned his head and contemplated in horror the hand he had used to slap Keiran, fell to his knees, and put his hands on Keiran’s shoulder.

“I am sorry. I did not mean—”

Through his choking sobs, Keiran harshly accused, “Yes you did. They hurt you, so you hurt me. Shit flows downhill, and right now I’m at the bottom of fucking Mount Everest, so you take it all out on me. You’re just as fucking cruel as the rest of them.”

Devastated by the truth of the words and ashamed of himself for the violent outburst, Sami began to weep in contrition. With shaking hands, he fumbled to untie Keiran’s bonds. He leaned forward and placed his head on his prisoner’s shoulder, holding him tightly.

For a couple of minutes, the two young men shared their frustration, fears, and tears.

Keiran studied Sami’s face. He saw the pain and alienation, and it dawned on him that his keeper was as much of a prisoner in this place as he himself was.

Sami’s tears subsided and he leaned back. Keiran sat up, softly drew his guard into his arms and held the young man, who again shook as he wailed on Keiran’s shoulder.

He ran his fingers through Sami’s hair, hugging him tightly and whispering in English, “It’s all right now, Sami.”

Not understanding the language, but hearing his name, he lifted his head and gazed into Keiran’s eyes.

They froze, their faces only inches apart.

Keiran reached up and tenderly wiped away the tears from the other man’s eyes, cupping his hand behind Sami’s head and guiding the young guard’s face to his.

Their lips met and each tasted the salty tears of the other.

Keiran opened his mouth and pressed his tongue against Sami’s lips.

Sami opened them and received Keiran’s tongue.

Instantly, they began to kiss and embrace each other with mounting passion.

They clawed their pants down and fell to the floor on top of the dirty rag pile that served as Keiran’s bed.

“Follame, por favor,” Sami demanded in Spanish.

“You want me to fuck you?” Keiran asked, wanting to be positive he understood.

“Yes, right now. Please.”

Keiran gasped, “Turn over,” and Sami quickly rolled onto his side.

Hugging his captor for all he was worth, Keiran spit on the palm of his hand, moistened his cock, and entered him.

Sami responded eagerly by pushing back until his hot skin was firmly against Keiran’s thighs.

It was over in less than a minute.

Sami lay on his side, his breath coming in gasps.

His pants were down around his knees and his back toward Keiran, who pressed his own nearly-naked body against Sami’s and wrapped his arm around his guard’s shoulders. His softening penis still rested against the crack of Sami’s butt.

Both had ejaculated—Keiran inside Sami, and the guard onto the ground.

They lay, breathing hard. The release had been so intense they were utterly exhausted from the unexpected encounter.

“Can I ask you something, please?” Keiran inquired tenderly in Spanish.

El Arquero turned his face toward him. “I guess so. What do you want to ask?”

“Your name—Sami—doesn’t sound Spanish. It kind of rhymes with Tommy, an American name.”

“I do not know any American names.”

“Well, it does sound like one. Is it Spanish?”

“No. It is Quechua. It means ‘lucky.’”

“And are you lucky?”

“I am still alive, I have food every day, and I have not received a beating in two weeks.”

Wordlessly, Keiran hugged Sami and kissed the back of his neck.

Sami rolled over to face him and asked shyly, “What does kee-rahn mean?”

“Keiran is an Irish name.”

“Irish?”

“My name comes from a country called Ireland, actually an island next to England, far up in the Atlantic Ocean.”

“What does your name mean?”

“It means ‘the dark one.’ It was the name of a saint, I think.”

“You do not look like a dark one, and you do not act like a saint.”

He laughed, “No, I don’t. I have a twin sister, and my mother wanted to name her Karen, after Mom's grandmother. So I needed a name that sounded like Karen, and Keiran fit.”

With a deep sigh, Keiran gently smoothed Sami’s hair.

“And as for the ‘saint’ part, well I came out as gay to my family last year.”

“Were they angry? Do they hate you?”

“No, not at all. It’s not a big deal today, at least in California where I live.”

“Here, they would rape you, and me, and maybe kill us both, if they knew about this.”

Keiran gently kissed Sami’s lips and whispered, “Then they will never know about this. Thank you for helping me. And for...what we did. I hope I didn’t hurt you.”

“This was not my first time...and you were much more gentle than any of the others have been.”

With a protective hug, Keiran tugged Sami close and kissed his forehead. “I’m sorry we had to do it in this place, and this way.”

“They say you Americanos always wear a condón when you fuck. We do not have those here.”

“We use them most of the time. But I get a shot every two months that helps protect me, at least from HIV. It doesn’t help with sexual diseases, so I hope you don’t have any.”

“I do not think I do. El Jefe is the only one who fucks me. He keeps me for himself, so men like Pepe do not do it to me, although they would like to. I am sure some of them would make me sick with a disease.”

Keiran hugged the young man, who squirmed out of the embrace and abruptly got to his feet.

“I have to go, before anyone realizes how long I have been in here with you.”

Standing, he pulled up his pants and hurried out of the shed, locking the door behind him.

Sitting up in the semi-darkness, Keiran pulled on his pants and leaned back against the wall, realizing Sami had not tied his hands or chained his ankles. He was free to try to escape, but he was afraid of what lay outside his prison, in the camp or in the jungle.

Besides, now he had another reason to stay.

Feeling a little better knowing he had a friend among his kidnappers, Keiran curled up, and rested his head on the little blanket Sami had left him.

Falling asleep, he dreamed of a happier time, only two months ago, when he had been about to graduate from high school.

A familiar voice came to him in his dream... “Hey, K, let’s go kick some fuckin Blakeley ass!”