Once a Hero

by Jan Thompson

  “Or a mole,” Jake suggested.

  “That would be bad. We’re a small team here. Who could it be?”

  “Have we established that she wouldn’t want you dead?” Jake prayed and hoped it was the case. It could buy them time.

  “I used to think that, but she’s insane.” She handed Jake a mask.

  It was heavy. Came with its own oxygen canister stored in a backpack he would have to wear over his shoulders. “How long is this going to last?”

  “Only long enough for Ansel to arrive.”

  “And that is?”

  “Fifteen, twenty minutes.”

  We could be dead by then. “Maybe you should stay in here and wait.”

  “Me? What about equal opportunity and all that?” Beatrice asked, zipping up her Kevlar vest. She pointed to a helmet.

  Jake picked up the helmet. “Maybe we should both stay.”

  “Ray and Ken need our help.” Beatrice pointed to a few Kevlar vests.

  Jake fell behind. Beatrice was donning her oxygen mask before Jake put on his Kevlar vests. She was checking the safety of a few weapons before he had found his weapon of choice.

  He did not want her in the firefight.

  He did not want her to leave the office.

  And yet, he respected her right to make decisions for herself.

  Why did it affect him so?

  Their equipment was heavy, and Jake had a hard time moving. Beatrice seemed to do better, but her head was down.

  “You okay?” Jake spoke into the microphone attached to his helmet.

  Beatrice nodded. “We forgot to pray.”

  “We can pray now.”

  Their foreheads mask to mask, Jake said a quick prayer for protection and safety. When he looked up, he found Beatrice’s eyes staring straight at him.

  Brave eyes.

  And so beautiful.

  “We’re going to get out of this,” Jake said. “And then I’m going to marry you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  Her gear was so heavy that Beatrice could barely walk across the rug in the office. Her head was down, checking her steps.

  The large floor rug with the geometric pattern had been a gift from a grateful but anonymous client. It was handmade in Persia, but it was ultra-modern. The patterns ran in grids, like a…

  Circuit board.

  Wait.

  The nodes on the board were large circles, reminding her of the amber cabochons in the brooches.

  Maybe…

  Shots fired outside the office interrupted her thoughts. She’d have to return to this later.

  Her headset crackled. “Ansel, where are you?”

  “We’re outside. Can you get to where Ken is?”

  “He’s in the bathroom downstairs.”

  “Not anymore. He’s with Ray and they’re in the bunker. Get to the bunker and we’ll find you.”

  “Copy that.” Beatrice was about to tell Jake what Ansel had said.

  “I heard that too.”

  “Thank God Ansel canceled his plans of going to Paris to wait for us.”

  “Yeah.” Jake was at the door. “You saw the swarm. We’re up against an army.”

  “There’s a back stairwell.”

  Jake nodded. “Lead the way.”

  Beatrice wasn’t sure if she wanted to be in the lead. She unlocked the door, but Jake got out first, shielding her.

  He nodded to her, but Beatrice had no idea what that meant. He pointed this way and that. All she knew was that she had to get them the stairwell.

  Beatrice took the lead and Jake followed her down the hallway.

  It was filling with smoke, and Beatrice had a hard time seeing. She could hear noises coming from the now distant lab—people ransacking and breaking things.

  The insurance would pay for all of that, but they had to stay alive to collect.

  Beatrice didn’t know why that popped into her head. She was sweating now, and her brain was going blank. She had never been in this situation before.

  “Stairs,” Jake whispered into her earpiece. It was as if he had sensed her hesitation.

  She nodded. It was too late now to return to the office to get their night vision goggles.

  In the low visibility, Beatrice found the Exit sign above the stairwell. Quickly, they entered it.

  They made their way down two flights of stairs. Jake groaned a couple of times, and Beatrice knew his leg was hurting.

  Jake went out of the door first before he motioned for Beatrice to come along.

  The hallway was empty. No smoke. No people.

  “This way.” Beatrice pointed to her left. The bunker was one floor down.

  They walked as fast as Jake could go toward a door that led to the bunker—

  It was locked.

  Beatrice took off her gloves and pressed her palm on the biometrics scanner. It rejected her. She knew she had to take off her oxygen mask so the scanner could read her retina.

  She checked her wristband that came with the oxygen mask. The oxygen level was normal. She showed the readings to Jake. He nodded.

  She took off her mask.

  And heard multiple clicking sounds. Surrounding her were weapons pointing at her head, ready to blast her to kingdom come.

  Where had those people come from? She hadn’t heard them at all. How could they have sneaked up on her?

  Slowly, she raised her arms in the air.

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  Jake woke up on a cot in what looked like a small medical clinic. Busy nurses and doctors walked back and forth, attending to patients in paramilitary uniform.

  He tried to get up, but it hurt everywhere. There was something on his neck.

  A bandage.

  He pressed on it. It was soft and painful.

  “Ouch.”

  Someone in paramilitary uniform hovered over him. “You’re awake. Good.”

  “Where’s Beatrice?” Jake asked.

  “We all want her back.”

  “Are you Ansel?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “What happened?”

  “Molyneux’s men attacked the lab, put everyone to sleep, and abducted Bee.”

  Jake recalled being with Beatrice as they headed to the bunker in the basement. They were stopped by armed men. He didn’t remember anything else.

  “How did you stay awake?” Jake asked.

  “Years of training, son. Years of training. And a good gas mask with a perfect seal.” He chuckled.

  “Glad you got us help. Where are we?”

  “Normally you’d be in the local hospital,” Ansel said. “However, Benjamin recognizes you, so we brought you here.”

  “The Glynn Mansion.”

  Ansel neither confirmed or denied it. He looked Jake over. “They changed the bandages on your thighs. Can you walk? We have a meeting to attend.”

  Slowly, Jake sat up. He felt pain here and there. “I could use some Tylenol.”

  Ansel motioned to a nurse. “You got something for him?”

  She nodded.

  A few minutes later, Jake walked with Ansel down a very long hallway and up a flight of stairs—which took Jake forever to climb because of his injuries.

  “Are we mounting a rescue mission?” Jake asked as he was ushered into a large meeting room that looked like it had once been a ballroom back in the mansion’s glorious days.

  Beneath the vaulted ceiling with old world chandeliers, there was a long and ornately carved table that looked like it had come from a medieval castle out there somewhere.

  As the far end of the table, a man who was about Jake’s age paced back and forth. Taller than Jake by at least four or five inches, he towered over the table. He had the same colored hair as Beatrice. Could that be Benjamin Glynn, the recluse?

  “Ben, this is Jake Kessler,” Ansel said.

  “We met virtually in some of Bee’s meetings. Did you bring me any pralines?” Benjamin’s voice echoes in the cavernous room.

  “I didn’
t get a chance. Next time?”

  There was no “Nice to meet you, finally!” from Benjamin. He was all business. When he sat down, everyone else did—everyone else being Jake and Art.

  Truth be told, Jake did not want to attend yet another meeting.

  He wanted to find Beatrice.

  Benjamin drank some water from a covered glass in front of him. Slowly.

  It was so deliberate that Jake almost jumped up and walked out.

  I’m not me right now

  He closed his eyes and prayed for calm and wisdom. Slowly, he also reached for the glass of water in front of him. It tasted like spring water. Crystal clear and odorless.

  “It’s good, isn’t it?” Benjamin said.

  “Yeah. Wow.” Jake didn’t want to make small talk right now, but if Beatrice were there, he would’ve asked her to tell him about the source of the spring water and so forth.

  “Ansel, what do we know?” Benjamin turned his attention away from Jake.

  Just as well. Jake wanted to sit there and mope about failing to protect Beatrice. It didn’t matter that they had knocked him out with a blow to his neck. He should have been more prepared.

  Prepared how?

  He didn’t know. All he knew was that he had failed Beatrice.

  Jake already knew half of what Ansel said. Yeah, yeah. The intruders knew where the lab was. In fact, it wasn’t hidden from anyone.

  “I should have moved you all to the house,” Benjamin said. “Bee insisted that the lab was a fine place to work.”

  “I should have beefed up security,” Ansel said. “I’m sorry.”

  “She’s not dead,” Benjamin said. “If Molyneux has her, she’d want Bee alive for what she can do for them.”

  “Like what?” Jake couldn’t think of anything.

  “My sister has been searching for the Amber Room for over ten years. Molyneux could use her expertise.”

  “What if that’s not why they abducted her?” Jake wasn’t trying to throw a stone into a spinning wheel, but he knew he offered a perspective that the Glynn family might not have considered.

  “You think she’s doing this to draw the rest of us out?” Benjamin chuckled. “Molyneux doesn’t care about me.”

  “If your father is still alive…”

  Benjamin seemed to consider it. “It’s true that Molyneux has tried to kill him twice, and if he still had not died…”

  “Someone left the postcard and key in the California cabin,” Jake reminded everyone. “Someone gave Philomena the two brooches to sell to me.”

  “We have many unresolved mysteries.” Benjamin got up from his chair to get more water from a trolley by the wall. Against the wall was a tall mirror. Through the mirror, he seemed to be looking directly at Jake.

  “How is the circuit board coming along?” Jake asked. “What is it? What does it say? What does it do?”

  “I have no answer for you. It seems like a dead end. Would you like more water?”

  “Yes, please.” Jake asked him to leave the jug of water on the table. “I’m gathering that if we put together what we have so far, they would lead us to Molyneux, and there is where we’ll find Beatrice.”

  “Obviously.”

  “Is it? The postcard is a dead end. The golden key, likewise. We have one brooch short of a complete set. We don’t have the original brooch box. The fake brooch box is flying out there somewhere in the world.”

  Benjamin grinned. “If Bee were here, she’d tell you to stop being so negative.”

  “I’m not negative. I was merely stating the facts.”

  “She tells me I’m negative all the time. Maybe this was ruse to get me out of the house.” Benjamin sat down in his chair again. “Since I can’t leave the house, you have to go in my place.”

  “Me?” Jake realized now that it was the reason Benjamin had invited him over.

  “I’m assuming you do want to rescue Bee.”

  “But we don’t know where she is.”

  “We will soon know. Ken is working on it. He’s built quite a friendship with those hackers from Binary Systems. Plus, Ken has his own network of specialists. The whole world is looking for my sister.”

  His words sounded cold, but Jake could feel the compassion. Benjamin truly loved his sister. He would leave the house for her if he could.

  Jake leaned forward, elbows on the conference table. “I’ll go if you go too.”

  Sitting on the other side of the table, Ansel looked up, concern on his face—like the concern of an older man for his ward. Ansel was about Jake’s dad’s age. Maybe in his fifties. Probably retired military. Here for one purpose only: to protect the Glynn family.

  “Thank you for the invitation, but I can’t.” Benjamin’s eyes were steel gray.

  “I learned that if I don’t go forward, I may regret it the rest of my life,” Jake said. “I have many stories of regret if you want to hear them.”

  “Spare me.”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Beatrice had no idea if she was still in the United States or outside. Abducted in Charleston, where could they have taken her in a matter of hours?

  Practically anywhere in the whole wide world.

  She wished she had left a trail of some sort for Benjamin and Jake to find her.

  Jake.

  Oh, Jake.

  Beatrice prayed that Jake would recover from that blow to his head back at the lab. As the weapons were pointed at their heads, Beatrice had felt a prick in her neck just as she saw Jake collapse on the floor. The rest of her memory had faded to black, and she had woken up here, in some vehicle.

  It was dark all around her, but from the way the vehicle moved, Beatrice guessed she was inside a van of some sort—not dissimilar to the vans she, Kenichi, and Raynelle drove around in California. This one smelled of grease and gunpowder, a strange combination to her nostrils.

  If they took her to Molyneux, to where the fake brooch box was, she could stay close to the box. Perhaps Kenichi would soon find a way to track down the box.

  Regardless, her only hope was in God and Him alone.

  After a long drive in the back of the vehicle, she felt sleepy. She was used to sleeping in the backs of vans, so it wasn’t too torturous for her—except she was tied up and had a yet another piece of tape over her mouth.

  She wasn’t sure what would happen to her next, so whatever she could do now had to be done. She counted two things: pray and sleep.

  When she finally awoke, she could hear voices outside the van. Spanish words everywhere. Since she didn’t understand the language, she couldn’t figure out what was happening outside the van.

  Finally, the door opened.

  She was in a garage of some sort. No one spoke English around her.

  They made her walk to another van. This one had a Mexican tag on it.

  Are we in Mexico?

  How long had they driven her? As far as her recollections went, driving from Charleston to the border of Mexico would take at least twenty-one hours.

  Had she slept all that time?

  Or had she been drugged?

  Strong arms pushed her into the back of the Mexican van. She felt a sharp sting on her arm. A syringe?

  Before she could think about it, she felt another lull…

  And woke up in a canopy bed surrounded by the sounds of birds outside the diamond-shaped leadlight windows. The glass looked old and salvaged, but the cames seemed to be authentic lead.

  Where am I?

  She lifted the comforter off her, and found herself in a pair of pajamas. She did not recall changing clothes.

  She stayed still for a moment, trying to collect her thoughts.

  I’m alive.

  The door opened. A woman walked in carrying what looked like her clothes.

  “Washed and ironed for you, madam.” She placed them on an armchair next to the bed. “Molly asks that you get ready and join her for tea.”

  “Tea?”

  “She said you asked to be invit
ed to tea, and here you are.”

  When she last talked to Molyneux back in California, she hadn’t expected to follow through on tea time with the certifiably insane.

  “Where are we, exactly?” Beatrice still didn’t move.

  “You’re in Poland, madam.”

  “Poland? As in Europe?”

  “Is there another?”

  “I just want to make sure,” Beatrice said. “Why am I in Poland?”

  “This is where you’ll have tea with Molly.”

  Slowly, Beatrice got out of bed. Her bare feet dangled over mattress. “Help me.”

  “You have fifteen minutes to get ready or the tea will be lukewarm by the time you show up.”

  “Help me,” Beatrice tried again.

  “Help you to do what? To change your clothes? Comb your hair?” Her voice was calm.

  “Help me get out of here.” Beatrice slid off the bed and landed on her feet.

  Immediately, the woman pulled out a small pistol.

  Beatrice tried not to freak out. “I’m going to brush my teeth, take a shower, and put on some clean clothes. Is that okay?”

  “Fifteen minutes.” She backed away slowly to the door. She left without another word.

  It took her longer than fifteen minutes to shampoo her hair three times to get the smell of grease off. Then she took her time drying her hair with a small hair dryer they had provided.

  By the time Beatrice came out of the bathroom in a towel, Miss Pistol was sitting in an armchair waiting for her.

  “Please leave. I need to change,” Beatrice snapped.

  “You’re late.”

  “It’s better to be clean than early. Tell Molly that.” She waited for Miss Pistol to leave.

  Beatrice took her time changing into her clothes. There was no lotion anywhere in the room. She reminded herself to ask for lotion and an extra towel. She’d rather air-dry her hair if possible.

  She turned the knob, but the door was locked.

  The knob was another thing. Along with the modern bathroom, they told Beatrice that this building had not been restored to its original state. Not that it mattered to her.