Relief flooded Edwards’s face. “Where he should be. We’re having a boy.”
Payne smiled at the information. “Right where he should be.”
“And Tonya? Where is she now?”
“Don’t worry. She’s safe. She’s in New Orleans at FBI headquarters, giving a statement. And before I left town, I got her an appointment with the best obstetrician in the state. He promised me that she’d be in good hands.”
“Thank God,” Edwards muttered.
Payne gave him a moment to collect his thoughts and count his blessings before he continued his questioning. “Robbie, I don’t mean to be rude, but . . .”
“You want to know about Ariane.”
“Have you seen her?”
Edwards nodded. “She was on the plane with the rest of us, but once we landed, the two big guys grabbed her and a male slave and took them somewhere else.”
“Two big guys? Was it Holmes and Greene?”
“Yeah. They grabbed her as soon as we landed.”
Payne couldn’t believe the news. Why did they single her out from all the others? Was it because of him? Were they planning on torturing her because of his interference? That would be a tough thing for him to handle.
“Do you have any idea where they took her?”
Unfortunately, Edwards stared at him blankly, unable to offer a single suggestion.
CHAPTER 59
Friday, July 9th
The Kotto Family Estate
Lagos, Nigeria
WITH trepidation, Ariane moved toward the large man. They had shared a boat to Mexico, a plane to Nigeria, and a train to Lagos, but he had failed to utter a single word during the entire journey—not even when he was handcuffed, drugged, or beaten. It was like his body was there, but his mind wasn’t. She hoped to change that, though. She wanted to undo the damage that had been done to him. That is, if he would let her.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” she whispered. “I promise I’m not going to hurt you like those other guys. I just want to know your name.” She studied his face, hoping to see a blink or a smile, but there was no sign of interaction on his part. “My name’s Ariane. What’s yours?”
Nothing.
“I heard some of the guards refer to you as Nathan. Is that your real name, or did they just make it up?”
Still nothing.
“I like the name Nathan,” she said. “So many people are named Mike or Scott that it gets monotonous. But not Nathan. That’s a name that people will remember, like you. You’re a big guy that people will remember, so you should have a memorable name.” She gazed into his eyes, but they remained unresponsive. “What about my name? Ariane? Do you like it? I do, for the same reason that I like yours. It’s different. In fact, I’ve never met another Ariane in my entire life. How about you? Have you ever met an Ariane before?”
For an instant, he shifted his eyes to hers, then looked away. It wasn’t much, but it was so unexpected she almost took a step back in surprise.
“Well, I guess that means you haven’t.” She grabbed his hand and shook it. “Now you can never say that again because we just officially met.”
A large smile crossed her dry lips as she tried to decide what she wanted to say next. “I’d ask for your last name, but I have a feeling that might take a little bit longer. Besides, we don’t want to get too personal. This is our first date after all.”
LEVON Greene sat on the edge of his bed, trying to block out the events of the past few days, but too much had happened for him to forget. Jackson and Webster were dead, murdered by his own hand. The Plantation was history, blown to bits with the touch of a button. And worst of all, he was a fugitive on the run, unable to return to the only country where he’d ever wanted to live.
Greene tried to analyze things, tried to figure what went wrong with Webster’s full-proof scheme, and he kept coming up with the same answer: Payne and Jones. It was their fault. Everything could be traced back to them. If Greene had just shot them when they met at the Spanish Plaza or killed them while they slept at his house, none of this would have happened. The Plantation would still be in business, the second batch of slaves would be in Africa, and Greene would be enjoying a hot bowl of jambalaya in one of his favorite restaurants.
“Fuck,” he mumbled in disgust. “I can’t believe I let