Consummate Betrayal

by Yungeberg. Mary

  Seth watched, hands on hips. “You can’t seem to get a rise out of him today. Let me give it a try.”

  Breathless with fresh agony, he wondered what had happened to Ralph and Chad. If his tormentors thought he was alone and unprotected, there was no telling what might take place. He forced himself to remain still, trying to control his harsh breathing as Seth slid around the end of the bed and maneuvered next to him on the other side. Goddamn it, they were going to manhandle him again, and he couldn’t do anything but endure it.

  The agent grabbed him by the chin, turning his head, first to the left and then to the right. “Hey Milani, you look like a regular raghead now, and I see your face recovered nicely from our gentle persuasion.”

  The simmering rage boiled over. He didn’t care anymore what they did. Let them get it over with and put him out of his misery. Smirking at Seth, he said what he was thinking. “Fuck you and this big-assed horse you rode in on.” Jerking his head away from the heavy hand, he turned toward Lucien. His next words should get the ball rolling. They had sure as hell worked the first time. “Allahu Akbar, kafir.” Like a charm was his last thought, before the monstrous fist smashed into his jaw and brilliant stars streaked behind his closed eyes.

  * * *

  Consciousness washed over Rowan in a slow wave, dragging him away from peaceful black waters. He tried to stay, but the water shoved him back, leaving him lying on the cold sand of wakefulness. The familiar tang of blood lingered in his mouth, and he knew the side of his face was already swollen. Both eyes still opened and closed. That was something, although the lights above him were too bright. His head throbbed, his right shoulder burned, and tight straps kept him secured to a stretcher. They’d wrapped him in a heavy, rough blanket, and the leg irons remained above his ankles.

  Ralph’s face, taut with anger and fear appeared above him, blocking out the bright light. “Are you all right? What do you say to these jerks, that they can’t stop themselves from beating you every time they lay eyes on you?”

  Managing a half-assed smirk, he coughed and tried to speak, voice croaking in a hoarse whisper. “It’s like you always say, boss – I’ve got a charming personality. Where did you and Chad disappear to? And where are we now?”

  Ralph snorted and shook his head. “Rowan, this is serious. You could be dead. That son of a bitch really laid you out. We’re waiting for the elevator, next stop the airport. Your CIA escorts are trading papers with the charge nurse. And – Chad and I got our wires crossed and dropped the ball. I am sorry.”

  He coughed again, squinting up at Ralph. “Tell Chad, there’s a small, wrapped box… Danielle left it for me. Can you make sure it comes with me?”

  Ralph nodded. “You got it. We’ll make sure your friends have it, before you leave.” The older man choked up on the last, but there was nothing left to say.

  Seth’s insolent voice intruded. “All right, let’s go, he’s been released to our custody, and we have a plane to catch.” The stretcher moved. Rowan closed his eyes with a terrible feeling that the transport they were going to use was one he’d already enjoyed.

  They’d no sooner stepped outside at the delivery bay on the back side of the hospital than he felt the straps being loosened and pulled off. Ralph swore. “What the hell is this shit?”

  Neither agent paid any attention, shoving him carelessly into the back of the same black Suburban he’d ridden in once before. His head missed the wheel well this time and he was conscious for the next humiliation, as he was jerked forward, a heavy length of duct tape plastered rudely over his mouth and a black hood pulled over his head. The hood smelled musty. He sneezed and struggled to breathe through his nose. While he coughed into the duct tape, they pushed him backward and slammed the doors, leaving him in silence.

  The Suburban tilted back and forth when the two men climbed in. He heard the ignition and felt the vehicle jerk into motion. Familiar tendrils of terror snaked through his mind and wound around his heart. What if Michael and Gabriel weren’t at the airport, what if their timing was off, what if they’d been purposely misled or delayed? Disoriented and helpless in the claustrophobic darkness, his body listed from side to side as the vehicle accelerated and then slowed and turned, stopped and started.

  The rumbling engines of a nearby jet aircraft let him know they’d arrived at the airport. The vehicle stopped again. The doors opened, big hands dragged him unceremoniously out of the SUV and carried him, one with his feet and the other with a massive arm around his upper body. They trotted along and then slowed. The screaming engines deafened him and the smell of jet fuel permeated the hood. When his head tipped up, he guessed they must be ascending the steps into the aircraft.

  Utter terror overtook him as he wondered what had happened to his colleagues. One of the men grunted and dropped his feet. Seth spoke, “What the fuck?” and let go of him. His body slammed face first onto the floor of the aircraft. Nose stinging, he lay inert, the breath knocked out of his lungs. The crash that followed rocked the cabin.

  Gabriel’s voice bellowed, “Stay on the floor motherfuckers and don’t move,” followed by a solid thud and a grunt of pain. His friend yelled again. “I said don’t move. What’s the matter, you bastards don’t know fuckin’ plain English? You move again, I’ll shoot your fuckin’ balls off.”

  Quick hands flipped him to his back and ripped the black hood off his head. Michael’s wild, blue eyes and grinning mouth appeared through holes in a black ski-mask, the rest of his face obscured. “Holy shit Rowan, how you doin’?” Michael yanked the duct tape off his mouth, and he dragged in precious air. “Damn brother, you look like you’ve been out in the field somewhere mean, not in the good ol’ U.S.A. Let’s get you moved to this bed we made up for you.”

  He pulled in another ragged breath but couldn’t stifle a moan as Michael pulled him to a sitting position. His colleague paused and gripped his right shoulder, making him gasp. “I’m sorry, Rowan. Look, we gotta hurry. Jerry and Bryan created a distraction. We’ve only got a few minutes to get these jerks out of here without being seen. Gabriel has the divan all ready for you, and I need to make sure he doesn’t kill those two before we finish up. Then we’re out of here.”

  Eyes closed, he nodded and coughed as blood trickled down his throat. Michael lifted him as Gabriel’s voice began again. “Get up slowly ladies and walk like you want to live, right down those steps and back to your Suburban.” He heard the dull smack of pistol on flesh, and another grunt as Gabriel continued his badass routine. “Give me a reason, and I’ll end your stories right here motherfuckers, because I want to, very, very badly.”

  Michael deposited him on what seemed like a bed and disappeared. Time slowed. He felt woozy again from the pain all over his body, but at last he was in the hands of people who could take him away from the pervasive evil that wanted so badly to destroy him. He shuddered at how close he’d come to annihilation.

  A gentle hand touched his face, and he opened his eyes to see Gabriel bending over him like a dark angel. “Hola, my brother. Michael says you need some relief. Let’s see what we got going on, eh?” Gabriel pulled away the rough blanket, took in the casts on his arms, moved down and whistled when he saw the leg irons. “Holy Mother of God, we gotta get you out of this shit, yes we do.” Disbelief and anger burned in Gabriel’s eyes. “What’s up with this, Rowan? You really fell into it this time. I’ll be right back. Don’t you go anywhere.”

  “No worries,” he whispered. Relief and pain blurred into one as he drifted on the edge of consciousness. Gabriel reappeared over him, brandishing a key. Did that mean Ralph and Chad were at the airport? He frowned, couldn’t sort it out. Gabriel slid the shackles off his legs and rubbed with warm hands where they’d dug into his skin. It felt good to be free of the cold metal and the chain.

  Gabriel waved something above him and he tried to focus. “Are you still with me? This will take your pain far away and let you go to sleep.” He felt the prick of a needle and
instant heaviness in his arms and legs. Drifting into familiar black waters, he heard Gabriel’s voice close to his ear. “You’re safe Rowan, and we’ll keep it that way. This shit is all over. Buenas noches. Sleep well.”

  * * *

  Michael bounded up the aircraft steps and yanked the black ski-mask off his face. Making a quick search, he found the correct button to activate the hydraulics and lifted the stairs. Then he turned the handle and secured the door. Stepping to the entrance of the flight deck, he listened as Jerry and Bryan discussed the specs of the powerful aircraft, conferring cheerfully while they waited. He chuckled. Those two were having a ball.

  Bryan twisted around and smiled at him. “All set? We’re ready anytime you are. How’s Rowan?”

  Wiping sweat off his forehead, he nodded. “We’re good to go, the sooner the better. Rowan’s OK, but he got knocked around. Gabriel doped him up for the trip. Hey, your distraction worked perfectly. We didn’t see a soul when we needed to move those two jerks. Everybody was with you on the starboard side. What did you do?”

  Both Bryan and Jerry snickered. Bryan gave Jerry a quick wink and looked back at him. “Yours truly here moved one of their tugs and parked it about a foot from the wing. Then I raised holy hell and demanded that management, customer service and every damn line tech get their asses over there. I took pictures with my phone and threatened to publish them and expose their incompetence. I told them we’d see to it that every government contract they ever dreamed about would go somewhere else. The line supervisor and customer service rep were shitting their pants. I lectured them about safety and the proximity of ground equipment to aircraft like they were kindergartners. It was great.”

  While he chuckled, enjoying the story, Jerry addressed the Sioux Falls control tower. “Sioux Falls Ground, Gulfstream November 275 Whiskey Tango at the General Aviation Ramp, ready to taxi.”

  The controller replied. “November 275 Whiskey Tango, Sioux Falls Ground, I don’t have a clearance for you. Say your destination.”

  As the impressive engines revved, Jerry spoke calmly. “Ground, November 5 Whiskey Tango departing eastbound VFR.”

  The controller responded. “November 5 Whiskey Tango, Roger. Taxi runway 33. Squawk 0245. Verify you have ATIS Papa.”

  While Jerry continued conversing with the tower, Michael turned and navigated through the galley, glimpsing Gabriel fussing over Rowan in the mid-aft cabin. Watching for a moment, he gave his colleague quick thumbs up and slid into his forward cabin seat. He tightened his seat belt and folded his hands in his lap, thinking about his unconscious friend, safe at last under their auspices. Remembering the tiny, wrapped box Rowan’s tall colleague had thrust into his hand, he pulled it out of his pocket and examined it. Something for Rowan had been the hurried explanation. Well, Rowan would have it, as soon as they got him settled.

  Jerry and Bryan had told him they’d take off and head east. When they were twenty miles or so away from Sioux Falls, which he figured should take about three minutes, they could terminate radar service. After they’d done that, Jerry would turn off the aircraft’s transponder and head back west. No one would notice them, as long as they stayed at approximately 10,500 feet and avoided either Rapid City or Ellsworth Air Force Base on the western end of the state. Locals in central and western South Dakota often saw military aircraft flying lower than normal. And they had the added benefit of darkness.

  Gazing out the window, he watched the runway lights flicker by, disappearing as the big engines sent them thundering down the runway and screaming into the sky. He shared the unspoken sentiment and admired Jerry’s skill as they climbed precipitously fast into the empty blue-blackness. Smiling in satisfaction, he leaned back in the luxurious seat and closed his eyes. Just as he’d planned, they’d completed another successful extraction of Rowan Milani, delivering their friend from monstrous evil at just under the speed of sound.

  * * *

  Jerry contacted the tower again. “Sioux Falls departure – November 5 Whiskey Tango with you, climbing through 3000 to 4500, VFR eastbound.”

  Sioux Falls departure responded. “November 5 Whiskey Tango Sioux Falls departure radar contact. Did you want flight following with Minneapolis Center?”

  Giving Bryan a quick smile, he replied. “Negative departure. We are going to be maneuvering out here.”

  He rolled his shoulders while he listened to the controller’s response. “November 5 Whiskey Tango, Roger. Radar service terminated, squawk 1200. Frequency change approved.”

  Nodding decisively, he completed the conversation. “November 5 Whiskey Tango, Wilco. Good day. See ya.” He banked the powerful jet in a lazy arc, reached for the transponder switch and flipped it off. Away from radar contact, they were ready, as he’d informed the tower, to maneuver Rowan out of danger. Grinning, he applied the throttle and sent them howling back the way they’d come. God, he loved this airplane.

  * * *

  Chad stood quietly beside Ralph in the shadows next to the black Suburban and watched the jet as it roared into the sky at hellacious speed, climbed at a jaw dropping rate, banked sharply east and blinked out of sight. He looked at his boss, brows rising as his breath coalesced in a cloud. “Damn. They didn’t waste any time getting him out of here, did they?”

  Ralph just looked at him, wiped his face with the back of his hand and gestured toward the Suburban. “Let’s finish up with these two and get the hell out of here.”

  Taking a deep breath, he grabbed the handles and opened the back end of the SUV. The two men sat quietly, hands cuffed behind their backs, ankles cuffed as well. Black hoods covered their heads, and he knew Rowan’s cohorts had covered their mouths with duct tape. Hidden from sight, watching Rowan’s colleagues handle the two CIA agents with ease had given him bitter pleasure.

  And now he would complete their participation. He grabbed the stockier man by the arm, dragged him forward to the edge of the floor above the bumper and shoved him face down. Bending over, he whispered. “This is for Rowan Milani.” Pulling his pistol, he looked at the black hood and groped with his fingers until he found the man’s ear. Estimating carefully, he delivered a punishing blow behind the ear with the steel slide. The son of a bitch groaned as his body went limp. That’s not nearly what you deserve, he thought savagely as he shoved him back.

  Lugging on the taller agent, the one who’d beaten Rowan, he grabbed him by the jacket and yanked the huge man toward the door frame. First tapping the side of the agent’s head through the hood with the barrel of his gun, he poked it against the man’s temple. Leaning close, he murmured intimately. “If you ever lay a hand on Rowan Milani again, I will hunt you like the animal you are and kill you myself.” First holstering his pistol, he drew back his arm and smashed his fist into the black hood with all the power he could muster. Cracking his knuckles in satisfaction, he watched the massive man topple over.

  Ralph whacked him on the shoulder and closed the cargo doors of the Suburban, motioning him away. “Rowan would be indubitably impressed, special agent. Now, take me back to the hotel, because the shit is going to hit the fan when the media and Ainsley get a hold of this.” Chuckling along with his boss, he shivered as they tromped back to the red Mustang.

  * * *

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Ralph climbed stiffly out of the Mustang and waved as Chad drove away. They’d agreed to meet at eight-thirty the next morning at the hotel. The South Dakota assignment had officially ended. Snorting, he trudged into the Sheraton and headed for his room. It wasn’t over by a damn sight, but they’d been effectively shut down, and he couldn’t do anything about that. Now he planned an intimate affair with his bottle of Glenlivet, and no one could do anything about that, either.

  Arriving in his room, he laid his Glock on the bed and stripped down to his t-shirt and boxers. Smiling sadly as he looked at his stocking feet, he fumbled for the bottle of scotch in the drawer and commenced the affair. He made strides and settled back on his bed
with the TV tuned to FOX News, eager to hear the first Breaking News Alert about the duplicity of their evening activities.

  Drinking alone always made him nostalgic, and his thoughts wound their way back to the first time he’d met Rowan. Remembering the young hotshot special agent with an ego to match, he shook his head. That was nearly twelve years ago. His hand quivering as he poured more scotch, he sighed, unable to get his mind around the fact that his friend was gone. “Poof,” he muttered, and snapped his fingers. “End of story.” As he stared blindly at the TV, he wondered where Rowan’s colleagues had taken him and whether he’d be well cared for. He raised his glass in tribute to his absent friend. “Godspeed, Rowan. I hope we meet again someday.” Wiping the wetness out of his eyes, he tossed back the rest of the Glenlivet and poured again.

  * * *

  Michael stood and stretched as the jet banked and continued to rumble across the sky. He bent over Rowan, frowning as he watched him cough and turn his head to the right. Placing a hand on his friend’s forehead, he felt the heat and noticed the color in his cheeks. Rowan was tough, but a man could only take so much. It was time to bring them all home and get his friend started on the road to recovery.

  Stepping to the flight deck, he listened to Jerry and Bryan, quietly discussing the conference they were both due to attend in Atlanta the following week, hosted by Gulfstream. “Hey guys, we should be seeing the signal sometime soon.”

  Jerry twisted around and smiled. “Yeah, we’ve been waiting for radio contact from your dad. You said it’s a two-lane road, right? And we can taxi right into the storage facility or warehouse, whatever it is you guys have out here?”