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"But there is an antidote," I add, leaning in closer. "Tell me where Ahmet is holding my wife, and it's yours. You have my word."
Desperation seizes the man as he realizes I’m not playing. His eyes dart around wildly, the sheen of sweat on his forehead reflecting the dim light of the room. He begins to speak, his voice quivering uncontrollably, each word laced with the fear of impending doom.
"Ahmet's hiding out in a compound downtown, not far from here," he stammers, his breaths coming in short, panicked gasps. "It's heavily guarded, cameras everywhere. They change the guards every six hours, and there's always someone patrolling the perimeter."
I lean in, my face an unreadable mask, my eyes locked onto his. Every detail he divulges, every tidbit of information, I engrave into my memory, visualizing the layout, the guards, and the potential vulnerabilities.
"The main entrance is always watched, but there's a service gate at the back. It's less guarded, but still..." his voice trails off, his eyes pleading for the mercy of the antidote.
I nod, barely perceptible, encouraging him to continue.
"As for Ahmet, he's always in the central building, also heavily guarded."
His words spill out faster now, a torrent of crucial intelligence. The more he speaks, the clearer the picture becomes in my mind. Ahmet's fortress, his defenses, his routines—all laid bare before me.
The man's voice fades to a hoarse whisper, the last of his strength spent. I step back, processing the flood of information.
As he finishes, he looks up at me, hope mingling with fear. "Please," he pleads, "the antidote..."
I look at him, my expression unreadable, and walk to my bag, retrieving a bottle of water. I hold it up, letting the liquid catch the light.
With a firm, unyielding grip, I hold the man's gaze. "Is she okay? Mariya. Is she unharmed?" My voice brooks no argument, demanding a straight answer.
The man, his eyes wide and still shimmering with fear, nods vigorously. "Yes, yes, she's fine. As far as I know, she's okay."
Relief, swift and immense, floods through me, but there's no time to dwell on it. I unscrew the cap of a water bottle and motion toward him. "Open your mouth," I command.
He complies, a look of bewilderment crossing his face as I pour the clear, cool liquid into his mouth. He drinks with a desperate eagerness like a man granted a lifeline.
"How do you feel now?" I ask, my tone laced with a hint of amusement.
His confusion is replaced by a look of dawning realization. "I feel better. Much better," he stammers, his voice expressing gratitude.
I can't help but smirk at his reaction. "Good. A nice drink of water tends to have that effect."
His confusion deepens, his brow furrowing. "But the poison..."
I lean in close, my voice dropping to a whisper, my words deliberate and clear. "There was no poison. It was all a bluff."
The shock on his face is almost comical. His eyes widen, his mouth agape, as the truth of the situation dawns on him. He's been played, and he knows it.
"Thank you for the information," I say, my voice cool and detached. Housekeeping will be here tomorrow morning. I suggest you sit tight until then. We wouldn't want you running off to warn Ahmet, now would we?"
With those final words, I turn on my heel and stride out of the room, leaving the man to process what just happened. As I step into the night, a renewed sense of purpose invigorates me. The information he provided is invaluable, a key piece in the puzzle to rescuing Mariya.
I'm closer than ever to bringing her home. The mission is clear, and the path is set. There's no turning back, no second-guessing. For Mariya, for us, I will do whatever it takes. The game is on, and I'm ready to play.
Chapter 30
Mariya
The flowers captivate me as I speak, their robust petals swaying gently in the soft morning breeze.
"These oleanders are quite remarkable," I say aloud, tracing the outline of their vibrant clusters with my gaze. "Hardy, yet so elegantly poised, their blossoms are like a shock of color against the green." I take a step back, my eyes scrutinizing every inch, assessing their health and vigor.
Ahmet, who has been quietly observing me from a short distance, interjects with a wry tone. "Are they to your liking, then?" He folds his arms, his expression a blend of amusement and curiosity.
I nod without hesitation. "Yes, they'll do just fine. Thank you." The oleanders, with their resilient beauty, are perfect for what I have in mind.
