Kidnapped and a Daring Escape (9 page)

    
Bianca seems to be completely unaware of her surroundings. She
places one foot in front of the other without ever raising her vacant eyes
from the ground. Several times she bumps into ‘
le vilain
’ when for some
reason he slows down or hesitates at an obstacle in the path. André feels
for her. He would have liked to hold her, comfort her, make her smile
again. He does not want any harm to come to her. Two days and she has
crept under his skin to the point where she is constantly on his mind. Has
he fallen in love, he wonders? And then he forcefully pushes that thought
from his mind. Such a diversion is hardly appropriate in their current
circumstances.

    
In spite of having to pretend being drugged, he is able to take in the
lush scenery; the abundance of exotic flowers on the forest floor or
clinging precariously to trees; orchids he has never seen before. Birds of
all sorts are their constant companions. He is particularly fascinated by
the tiny hummingbirds that hover in the air, their long beaks inserted
deep into the mouth of the flowers. Sometimes this gives the impression
that the bird forms part of the flower. He has to remind himself several
times not to show too much interest, to keep his eyes mostly to the
ground and not give himself away. But even the forest floor is full of
exotic plants.

    
Although he feigns complete submission to their captors, in some
sense he is waiting for the first real opportunity to escape. He is
constantly on the lookout for the right conditions. He wants to get away
before they reach a settlement or hideout where their captors intend to
keep them prisoners. Once inside a building, incarcerated in a room and
guarded, in all likelihood separated from Bianca and almost certainly
chained to a bed at night, escape becomes more difficult, if not impossible. Oh, he has no intention of abandoning Bianca, but if he gets away,
he will follow them, something they would hardly expect him to do, and
then find some way to free her. Somehow his own freedom without hers
is no true freedom, but a failure that he knows he would find hard to
forgive himself for. So he will go after them. His tracking skills, acquired
as part of a volunteer search and rescue service during his two-year stint
in the Southern Alps of New Zealand, will stand him in good stead.
There are plenty of edible plants and fish to survive, even if he has to eat
them raw. He won’t rush it. He will scout things out thoroughly.
Whatever he does to snatch Bianca from their captors has to work first
time. There will be no second chance.

    
They have a rest in a large meadow above the river. Ahead, the valley
opens up on the true right of the river, while a sizable plateau some fifty
meters above the river dominates the left. About a kilometer away the
river emerges from behind a cliff that forms part of the edge of the
plateau. He searches for the track. As they walk along the river, he
discovers the telltale signs of switchbacks up the steep slope prior to the
cliff. The last turn brings the track above the cliff proper before it
disappears over the edge of the plateau. A ledge rounds the cliff two
thirds up. It draws his attention. A few trees and bushes are clinging to
it. Getting closer, he inspects it carefully. The part he can see is no more
two meters wide. There seems to be no way of reaching it from the top
without a long rope, but he thinks that an experienced climber like him
should be able to negotiate a way down to the river from there even
without equipment. He figures that the ledge should be visible from the
top few meters of the track. Then he makes another auspicious observation. A pair of hawks is soaring along the cliff, using its thermals to gain
height rapidly.

    
His decision is made. In his early twenties he did a bit of cliff
jumping. Its main thrills are the first few seconds of free fall, where the
jumper uses his torso and outstretched arms to glide away from the cliff
wall prior to opening the parachute. He is confident that he should be
able to manage gliding the fifteen to twenty meters down from the path
and across to the ledge for a hard landing in the small trees. But he could
end up with broken bones if he crashes into the cliff side rather than the
springy young trees and bushes. He is even prepared to get a few bumps
and scratches. For his captors he simply went crazy, jumped and vanished
in thin air. He doubts that the guy walking behind him could get his
AK47 ready in time to fire. They have lowered their vigilance and carry
the weapons on the shoulder. Believing him dead, they are unlikely to
search for him.

    
He burns any distinguishing features at the top of the track into his
mind — bushes, rocks, slips near where he judges is the best location to
jump. With eyes closed he tries to recreate the image, and then verifies
its accuracy, repeating this several times.

    
As they ascend the switchbacks, he prepares himself mentally and
physically for the jump. He begins to breathe deeply and regularly and
rolls his shoulders to loosen them up. He opens the rain jacket, so that he
can stretch it out like wings. That will create more resistance and cushion
his descent. He knows the jump is not without risks. In cliff jumping
there is always the safety net of the parachute. Released too early, the
worst that can happen is to end up getting snagged in trees half way down
the jump. This time, he has to rely exclusively on his gliding skills, nor
will he have the leisure to judge the leap before he jumps. He will only
have a second or so to assess distance and angle. The added risk, the
increased challenge and the always underlying fear combine into a heady
mixture, like he has not experiences for ages.

    
Maybe he should do something to give himself a bit more time, divert
the attention of ‘
le second
’ walking behind him. But what? Like a light
being switched on in his mind, he remembers that in the restaurant he
stuffed the change, two twenty thousand peso notes — worth twenty US
dollar — into the little coin pocket below his belt. They are still there. If
he drops them at the right moment, the guy is bound to pick them up.
That will add a couple of seconds more time.

    
They pass the small slip fifty meters from the top. There is the bush.
It is much larger from close up. The slight bend where the path veers
away from the cliff must be coming up. That’s the place he figured the
ledge should be visible some ten meters to the right and a bit farther
down. He walks closer to the outside edge of the track. The ledge should
become visible. It is not. After three more steps, it appears. He quickly
assesses the best angle of the leap, drops the peso notes one at time, and
turns halfway around a step later, searching the ground. ‘
Le second
’ spots
the notes too. André’s moment has arrived. When he sees the guy bend
down to pick them up, he firmly grabs the front bottom of his jacket,
while bursting forward three steps along the cliff edge, takes a deep
breath, and launches himself horizontally to the right toward the ledge,
his outstretched arms opening the jacket like the sail of a hang glider.

4

A scream of terror snaps Bianca from her drug-induced nightmare. For
a moment she is disoriented, does not know where she is, what is going
on, except that the scream makes her skin crawl. She is standing on a
height that overlooks peaceful river flats, flanked on her side by
treacherous slopes, while on the other side forested hills and bare
mountaintops extend as far as the eye can see. Two men in army
camouflage are shouting and gesticulating at the edge of what looks like
a cliff. She goes closer and asks in Italian: "What happened?"

    
Both men shoot around, one pointing an AK47 at her, shouting: "Stay
where you are." Their faces leave little doubt that they are upset and very
angry.

    
She freezes, frightened. Slowly her mind reclaims memories. She
came to Colombia with a University study tour group. Franco, her fiancé
is their leader. She flew to Pitalito with two fellow students and another
man she only met the evening before. What’s his name again? — ah, yes,
André. He joined her visiting the archaeological site of San Agustin. A
sudden shiver passes down her spine and fright swamps her like a
crashing wave. They were kidnapped and then driven around for hours.
André said that the ransom could be four million euros. But where is he?

    
One of the two men continues looking down the precipice, as if he
were searching for something, while the other watches her.

    
She plucks up all her courage and asks in Spanish: "Where is the man
who was with me?"

    
The fellow watching her does not respond. The other turns and shouts:
"He jumped off the cliff, and took Rinaldo with him, the fucking
bastard."

    
She does not catch every word, but gets the gist of it. André jumped
off that cliff? He took his own life? Somehow he hadn’t struck her as that
kind of person. What made him do it? "But why?"

    
"How would I know what goes on in the mind of a stupid gringo? And
you,
señorita
, don’t get any silly ideas now. I’m in no mood for more
idiocies." His eyes are blazing.

    
She lowers her gaze, trying to make herself inconspicuous, afraid to
ask anything else, such as where they are taking her. Did André really
snap over? Was it an act of desperation? Did he kill himself because he
knew that his relatives would never be able to raise the ransom? Could
that be it? But didn’t he admonish her not to lose courage, to concentrate
on what will keep her sane? And now he abandoned her, left her alone in
the hands of these brutes. She feels betrayed. How foolish of her to warm
to him when he gave her comfort during their first few hours of captivity.
She had been right, there in San Agustin, to accuse him of worthless
promises.

    
Only half listening to the two men, she hears one of them say: "I’ll go
down and see if either is still alive."

    
"Don’t be stupid too," barks the other. "Nobody survives that fall. Just
look at Rinaldo’s twisted body. Both are dead."

    
"Then I should go and bury Rinaldo. We owe that to him."

    
"Not now. We don’t have time. I want to get to La Punta before
nightfall. You can take Juan down tomorrow and bring him back up for
a proper burial. Let’s not waste any more time now."

    
"You’re the boss. I still can’t understand how that guy could simply
jump off the cliff. He was drugged like her."

    
"Maybe I didn’t give him enough, but I didn’t want him to collapse on
us like happened last time." He turns to her. "
Señorita
, the rules are still
the same. You follow me and obey or else I’ll make you to drink another
cup of drugs." The last is said with a large dose of sarcasm.

    
"Please
señor
, talk more slowly. I did not understand all."

    
"Just do as you’re told, understood?"

    
She nods. He marches off along the track across the plateau. She
follows obediently. Did she hear correctly that both of them were given
drugs? Was this the reason André jumped? Has she just come out of a
drug-induced state now? She tries to remember what happened after they
got out of the second vehicle. Wasn’t it in the middle of the night? She
has no recollection. She doesn’t even know how long ago that was. Was
it one day? Two days? Where there should be memories, there are only
blanks. Her thoughts turn to Franco, suddenly her only hope. What is he
doing? The night before the flight, hadn’t he expressed his misgivings
about her going? He must have been deeply worried when she didn’t
return from the trip. But does he even know that she was taken hostage?
The driver of their Jeep might have informed Paolo and Giuglio, unless
the kidnappers killed him. She is confident that Franco cancelled the
remainder of the tour, while he waits in Popayàn for news. He will do
everything in his power to help her get released. He will already have
asked the Italian Embassy to intervene with the Colombian Government
on her behalf. He will reason with her father that it is crucial to pay the
ransom promptly, to have her freed as quickly as possible. Maybe this
episode, the shared distress and suffering will restore and deepen their
relationship once she is back with him. It is something to cling to.

* * *

André experiences the same adrenalin rush of old, as he recaptures the
feeling of floating, senses the air rushing past his face. His outstretched
jacket catches the updraft, cushioning his descend. Changing the angle
of his arms and legs, he veers closer to the cliff wall. At that point, a
desperate scream tears through the air. From the edge of his vision he
sees a figure tumble down the cliff. For a split second he fears that
Bianca has imitated him, but then realizes that the scream comes from a
male. This fleeting inattention almost makes him lose control. He is
descending too fast and risks being carried past the spot he was aiming
for. He must have misjudged the leap. The momentum takes him beyond
the bend in the cliff. Putting all his skills into play, he once more adjusts
his limbs and is driven back toward the cliff face where the updraft seems
stronger. Fortunately, the ledge slopes down steeply for a considerable
length and even doubles in width before breaking off. The scream stops
as abruptly as it started. A fraction of a second before he crashes into tall
bushes, he covers his face with both arms. The force of the impact bends
and breaks several branches, and then the bushes dump him to the
ground. The whole jump lasted barely four seconds, but felt like an
eternity. He remains motionless, his heart beat slowing, the adrenalin
rush fading.