“That we make love in the pagoda.”
“Anna’s pagoda?”
“It’s not hers. It’s ours.”
“I’m not sure it’s the place to commit adultery.”
He glanced at her, frowning. “You leave tomorrow. I don’t know when I’ll see you again. I want to have you tonight.”
She smiled and squeezed his hand. “We’ll think of something.”
They drove down the avenue of camphor trees. The lights were on in the house. Jack looked at his watch. It was seven-thirty.
“I had hoped Anxious would have gone home by now,” he said.
“You can send her home, can’t you?”
“Of course. I just want to be alone with you.”
They drew up and climbed out. He stood a moment, staring at the door, a frown lining his forehead.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t know. Nothing.” He shrugged off his doubts and opened the front door. “Anxious!” The house was silent. He glanced at Angelica, his face suddenly pale.
“Are you all right?”
“I don’t know. Get back into the car.”
“I’m not leaving you alone.”
“Do as I say.”
But she followed him through the house to the terrace. As he opened the kitchen door Angelica saw blood on the tiles and caught her breath in horror.
Before she could scream at the sight of the dead dogs, a gang of Africans swept onto them like birds of prey. They seemed to materialize from nowhere, wrapping grubby hands over their mouths and pointing guns to their temples. Jack didn’t struggle, knowing they would have no compunction about shooting them, too. The men whispered urgently to one another in a language she didn’t understand and marched them through the hall into the dining room. Angelica was so paralyzed with fear they had to drag her. There, in the corner, sat Anxious, her bright smile reduced to an unhappy line of fear. She raised her bloodshot eyes to Jack.
“I’m sorry, Master.” She began to cry.
“It’s not your fault, Anxious. Angelica, don’t struggle, and do everything they tell you to do. For God’s sake, don’t look at their faces.”
He proceeded to speak to them in their own language. Pleading for their lives, she assumed. Telling them to take everything but their futures. Even in that moment of deepest terror, Angelica couldn’t help but be impressed.
They bound their hands behind their backs and their feet together with ties they must have found in Jack’s bedroom, then ordered them to sit on the floor beside the dining room table, back to back.
“Those are my favorite ties,” he hissed at Angelica.
“God, Jack. How can you joke at a time like this?”
“Fear.”
“The dogs . . .”
“Don’t.”
“Are they going to kill us?”
“Not if we do as they say and remain calm.”
“I’m so frightened.”
“We’re in this together, Angelica, and we’ll come out of this together. I won’t let them hurt you.” His voice was so full of conviction, she believed him.
A gang member with bulging black eyes knelt beside Jack. “Where are your mobile phones?” he demanded in English. His breath smelled of spirits.
“In my shirt pocket,” Jack replied calmly. He delved into Jack’s shirt and removed his phone.
“Where’s the safe?”
“We don’t have a safe.”
“You’re lying.”
“There’s cash in the study, top right drawer. We have nothing to hide.”
“Everyone has a safe.”
“We were robbed ten years ago. After that, we decided not to have a safe. Take what you want and go.”
Bulging Eyes hissed at another gang member standing by the door and ordered him to go to the study to find the money. Angelica was petrified. She thought of her children and how much they still needed her. Remain calm, don’t cry, hold it together for Joe and Isabel. They won’t kill us. They’ll take everything valuable and leave.
Bulging Eyes leaned over Jack. “We’re going to tear your house apart, and if we find a safe, I will personally cut your throat like an animal.”
Angelica was too shocked to cry. She felt as weak and vulnerable as a little bird. Was it naïve to pray for help? Was it possible that someone might have seen them enter and called the police? She closed her eyes and prayed.
“There’s no safe,” Jack repeated.
Angelica opened her eyes and looked over at Anxious, the personification of her extraordinary name. She was somehow smaller than before, as if the air had been punched out of her. Her right cheek was beginning to bruise. Angelica sent a hasty prayer to God, requesting only that their lives be preserved. I’m not ready to leave my children, she pleaded. Or Olivier. Oh, Olivier, what have I done? Please God, forgive me. I promise from now on I’ll be good. Don’t let them separate me from my children, I beg of you. Let us live. Please God, let us live.