by Ana Ban
Squeezing my eyes shut to steel myself for movement, I clumsily got to my feet. “A few minutes?”
“No,” her voice was hard and mocking. “Three seconds.”
“Three seconds?” My brows furrowed.
“Yes. You should be able to end any confrontation in three seconds or less. And you could have here. Why didn’t you?”
My brain was attempting to wrap around her words. “The arm bar,” I finally blurted out. “You wanted me to injure you?”
“I’m training you for undercover work, Detective Gonzalez. This is not sparring in your dojo. Do you think someone out there is going to appreciate that you spared them pain? They’re not. They will use your weakness to their advantage.”
Though my breath was still short, I was able to fully stand now. What she was saying made sense, but I didn’t know if I could hurt someone who’d done nothing wrong.
My thoughts must have been clear on my face, for her voice softened just the tiniest bit. “Mia, you’ll be playing a part. You will have to play it convincingly, or it could have dire consequences. I don’t just mean getting choked out,” she gestured towards the ground, where I’d almost been unconscious just moments ago. “It will constantly be life or death.”
Turning away, I paced several lengths away before returning to where she stood. With a decisive nod, I finally answered her. “I understand.”
She studied me carefully just a moment longer. “All right. Let’s take a break from the physical.”
Taking a seat at the only table in the building, she gestured for me to do the same. Files were sitting closed atop the table, and Agent McKenzie quickly pulled open the top one.
“Tell me about the target, Donovan.”
“Right hand to Selena. From Ireland, though his records have been wiped clean.”
“Handsome,” she murmured, pulling out an 8x10 photo and laying it before me.
My eyes flicked down just briefly, that weird little rush instantaneously marring my senses.
“You find him attractive.”
I met her look with instant denial. “No, I don’t.”
Her lip quirked. “Yes, you do, and that’s not a bad thing. It will certainly help convince him you’re Selena.”
That was the last thing I’d expected her to say. Seeing my hesitation, Agent McKenzie explained herself.
“If I were a man, I would tell you to ignore your feelings. Since we’re both women, we understand that emotions can be a tool. For example, if you were disgusted by Donovan, it would be very difficult for you to hide that fact from him. The fact that you find him attractive, use it. In this case, leading him on is a good thing. Just as long as you remember it’s a ploy, and you don’t allow your feelings to become real.”
“We don’t know the relationship between Donovan and Selena,” I commented, while I digested her words.
“True,” she acknowledged. “But, if he looks like this, and she looks like you, and they’ve been working together for years; trust me, there’s something there.”
“Have you ever gone undercover, like this?”
“I’m not sure anyone has ever gone undercover quite like this,” Agent McKenzie pursed her lips. “It’s a very unique situation. Most undercover work is attempting to buy drugs from a dealer. Some of the more advanced cases require assuming a new identity and slowly working your way into a criminal’s trust.”
She was thoughtful for a few beats, and I waited for her to circle back to my question. “I had one case like that. It’s not often an agent will assume more than one identity in their career. Too much of a risk of being recognized. My case lasted for three years. I’ve done and seen more than you could possibly imagine.”
Three years. I knew this case could go on for a long time, but I hadn’t really thought in terms of years.
“It isn’t easy,” Agent McKenzie continued. “But that’s why I’m here to help you. You must learn to think like Selena, act like her, respond like her. And, if that wasn’t difficult enough, we know nothing about her.”
I allowed a small smile to grace my lips. “That’s what the torture will be for.”
“Yes. Feigning memory loss will be beneficial for you. During that phase, you will have injuries that will need to heal. It would be best for you to drag out your progress as long as possible. Use that time to study the people around you, find out what you can about who Selena is.”
“It’s a bit daunting,” I admitted to her.
“That’s an understatement. But, that’s what this training is for. Your chief believes you can do it, and from what I’ve seen so far from you today, so do I.”
The words meant more to me than I realized. “I believe I can, too. I’ll do whatever it takes.”
“All right, we’re done for the day, but with a caveat. Take care of what you need to today, for starting tomorrow, you won’t be going home.”
This came as a shock. “What?”
“It’s prudent no one sees you that could possibly know what Selena looks like. You’ll train and sleep here going forward.”
Glancing down at my arms, I realized several bruises were already starting to form. If the rest of the training was anything like today- and I knew, without a doubt, it would be- I could see the reasoning behind keeping me out of sight. It looks like my “torture” would start now, with any cuts and bruises I received in training.
“All right,” I told her. “What time should I be here in the morning, and what should I bring with me?”
“Be here at 8:00. Bring clothes you can move in, and your badge and gun. Toiletry items. You won’t need anything else.”
Nodding my understanding, I made my way out to my car. It was an odd feeling driving through the streets of Baltimore, knowing I wouldn’t see them again for at least several weeks.
Or, depending how this went, years.
Chapter 13
When I got home that evening, I took a look around my apartment, having a moment of melancholy. After tonight, I had no idea when I’d see it again.
Thanks to my cleaning sprees, the apartment was the cleanest and most organized it had ever been. The chief had told me someone would look in on it, and collect my mail. My pay would also be held in a separate account until I was done, and my rent and few other bills would be paid out of it. The only things I really had left to do were pack and clean out the food in my fridge and pantry.
I thought about calling Alec, but the truth was, I didn’t know what more to say to him. We’d had our major goodbye last night, and it felt right to just leave it at that.
With nothing more to do, I lay down early and attempted to sleep. It was my first night without taking medication, so I found myself lying awake longer than had become normal.
Without the medication, my subconscious wreaked havoc on my mind. Much like so many years of my life, there was no coherent thought or scene playing out, just snippets of movement, shadows of sound. I woke early in the morning with my heart racing and the vague feeling that Donovan was one of the dark images in my dream.
Shaking away the feeling once again, I showered quickly and finished packing, determination set on my face. I would do this, and I would come home.
All my training remained at the same warehouse as I’d begun in, with the addition of a small cot in the upstairs loft area that would be my bedroom. There was a bathroom with a shower, and that was it as far as luxuries went. It didn’t bother me- I’d been through worse.
Agent McKenzie ran me hard, interspersing physical exhaustion with words of wisdom and practice interrogation, in order to keep me in character. She even began calling me Selena, so I would get used to answering to the name.
It was surreal, to say the least. I had a feeling it would get stranger yet.
On the second week, a man walked in to the warehouse with Agent McKenzie. He was well over six feet tall and built like a brick wall.
“Agent Richards,” he introduced himself. “You can call me Mack.”
“This is Selena,” Agent McKenzie introduced me. “Mack is going to be your sparring partner this week. He’s a teddy bear in real life, but he won’t take it easy on you.”
“The more bruises the better, right?” I said flippantly.
Mack showed no surprise to my statement. I was sure he’d been briefed with enough details to explain his job here, and no more. During my training at the Krav Maga studio, I’d been pitted against men and women of all sizes, so though his sheer mass didn’t have me as nervous as perhaps it should, I was sure his skill level was extraordinary.
“Let’s get started, shall we?” Agent McKenzie squared us off in the middle of the warehouse.
Normally when I was sparring a new opponent, I preferred to scope them out and get a feel for their fighting style. In our training so far, Agent McKenzie had made sure to drill it into me that being quick and being first, in real life situations, was usually better.
As soon as she shouted ‘go!’ I moved in, though not head on. Executing three strikes as swiftly as possible, I was out of his range and off to the side. When he retaliated, I managed to deflect his first two attacks before meeting the third with my face. He was quicker than he looked, and his punch packed a wallop. Since he hit me high on the cheekbone, my eye immediately began to water.
It didn’t slow me down. I went in, distracting him up high while I took out his knee with a swift side kick. He went down, but used it to tackle me at my waist. Hitting the floor with a huff of breath, I fought until I could gain my feet.
The fight continued for several minutes, and though I was holding my own, I felt Mack was taking it easy on me.
Agent McKenzie broke us up eventually, giving me tips on what I’d done so far. I listened through ringing ears, wiping blood off my knuckles. Unfortunately, it was my own blood.
After she was done speaking, Agent McKenzie had us go several more rounds before dismissing Mack for the day. Even though I was bleeding, bruised and exhausted, I felt good.
“The rest of this week we’ll work on two on one scenarios,” she told me as we took a break for lunch. “How are you feeling?”
“Beat up,” I told her with a small grin.
The rest of the week was more of the same. My body was on the point of collapse each day, but I knew each injury would make our story more credible. It was much easier to get bruised in a fight than to allow someone to torture me.
On the third week, Agent McKenzie made the announcement I’d been waiting for.
“On Wednesday, you’ll be moved to a cell, where you’ll be chained up. You’ll have no food and only a small amount of water. On Thursday, we’ll let your location leak, letting the information work its way up to Donovan. I don’t imagine it will be too long before he comes to get you.”
I swallowed hard. “What else?”
She smiled wryly. “We will inject you with Scopolamine.”
“Truth serum,” I whispered, my stomach dropping.
“Not exactly,” Agent McKenzie answered. “There really is no such thing. Scopolamine is known to cause retrograde amnesia. Having a small amount in your system will give your memory lapse story the credence it needs.”
“Will I forget my training?” I asked, nervous about this part of the plan.
“You shouldn’t, though I can’t answer that definitively. You won’t receive a full dose, we just want enough in your system to be traceable. More than likely, the last couple weeks will be a bit hazy.”
“This seems like a big risk,” I commented.
“One that has been deemed worth taking.”
I nodded, knowing I had no further argument.
Our last two days of training became even more intense, which was an impressive feat, considering what I’d been through so far. When Wednesday morning arrived, I ate breakfast and waited for my transport to arrive.
Agent McKenzie pulled a windowless van directly into the warehouse, having me climb into the back before driving me out of the area. I didn’t know where the building was they would be using as a cell, but I was sure it would be in a deserted area. My nerves were kicking around, though the only outward sign I gave of that was an arm wrapped around my stomach. After about 20 minutes, the road became rough and I knew we would be close to our destination.
Once the van stopped, Agent McKenzie appeared at the back, pulling the door open. The room we had pulled into was dark and musty; more than likely a basement. She led me silently down a hallway, where several cement cells were in a row, complete with iron bars. Stagnant water sat in corners and flickering bulbs spaced several feet apart were the only source of light.
“Homey,” I commented, attempting levity.
“Home sweet home,” Agent McKenzie answered, pointing through the open gate of a cell. “Make yourself comfortable.”
I sat on the ground. There was a bucket beside me, which would be my toilet. Gross.
Agent McKenzie made quick work of the chains. After studying me for a moment, she began unlacing my shoes, removing them and my socks. My bare feet hit the cold cement floor and I instantly shivered.
“Sorry,” she murmured.
Next, she scooped some sand off the floor and rubbed it through my hair and smudged it over my exposed skin. I understood I needed to look like I’d been here for months, but it also felt a bit ridiculous. Finished with that, she left momentarily to retrieve a metal cup filled with water.
“This is all you’ll have, so pace yourself, but make sure you drink it. I’ll inject you now with the Scopolamine, do you have any last questions before I do?”
“Will I be okay?” I asked in a small voice.
She placed a hand on my forearm, showing more emotion than the entire time we’d trained together.
“You’re smart, with good reflexes and a likeable face. You’ll be fine.”
Nodding, I watched as she readied the syringe before finding my vein.
“This has been mixed with a solution that should lessen the affects, but will still test positive. I’ll wait here for a while to see how you feel.”
As the drug made its way through my system, my eyes started to feel heavy, as if I’d been awake for more than a day straight. I was having a hard time keeping them open, or concentrating on performing the task of keeping them open. My natural response was to fight against the feeling, but then I’d get distracted by a flutter of dust in the pale light.
“Mia? How do you feel?”
“Mm,” I murmured. “Sleepy.”
My words came out slurred as if I was drunk, but there was nothing I could do to change that. From somewhere far away, I heard Agent McKenzie’s voice, but it wouldn’t mesh into a coherent thought. Allowing my head to drop, I settled in to wait. All I could do now, was wait.
Chapter 14
Time became a blur. I only woke for minutes at a time. How long had I been here? It could have been days. It could have been hours, or years.
Upon waking, I remembered there was something important for me to do, but before I could catch that thought, I was unconscious. I lost track of how many times I’d woken only to be dragged back under again.
Some amount of time later, I woke for longer. This time, I remembered I needed to drink water. With clumsy fingers, I picked up my water cup and sipped gingerly at the cool liquid. As my eyes focused on my hands, I realized there were dried patches of blood, cris-crossed marks up and down my arms. Agent McKenzie must have done that while I was knocked out. I appreciated not being awake for that bit.
As I continued to drift in and out of consciousness, I listened for any sound of activity in the corridor. My forehead rested against my knees, bare feet now numb to the cold.
Continuing to wait, knowing I wouldn’t be stuck here forever, my mind began to wander. Thoughts became intermixed with my dream world, until I wasn’t positive what was real any more.
To occupy my time, I tapped out the Morse code alphabet against my leg. When Agent McKenzie and I had discussed how I would get a message back to my precinct
, one of my options was to get in front of a CCTV camera and tap out a message. I’d have to make sure the camera got a full shot of my face, as the precinct would be running facial recognition software.
It wasn’t perfect, but anything else we came up with seemed to be too risky.
An infinite amount of time later, a noise intruded on my thoughts.
So faint I thought at first I had made it up, there was yelling. Minutes passed and it grew louder. I knew it was almost time. No backing out now.
There was scraping against the door, more yelling. Finally, the door pushed open, grinding against the floor. My head was still resting against my knees, my body sagging under the exhaustion. There was complete silence, though I felt the presence in the room.
I didn’t move, terrified to give myself away. Finally, what I’d been waiting to hear. Just a whisper of sound, a voice almost as tortured as I felt.
“Selena.”
Slowly, my head lifted and I allowed the pain to show on my face, in my eyes. As my gaze met my rescuer, I was shocked by the expression he wore.
There was no hard mask of evil. Instead, I was met with anguish, the kind of anguish that could only come from love.
Our eyes locked for several long moments, until I felt that unfamiliar heat begin to unfurl. I’d only come into contact with this man once, six months ago, yet he felt so familiar to me in that moment. Finally, he moved, kneeling before me and reaching for my cuffed wrists. I cringed away from him as if I were being struck.
“Shh, it’s all right, you’re safe now. They will never have you again.” Donovan spoke in gentle tones, making quick work of my restraints. His eyes flicked between my injuries, and I could see the fury beneath. Not bothering with asking permission, he scooped me into his arms and carried me out of my prison.
I tucked my head against his chest, keeping one eye on our surroundings as he took the hallways at a jog.
“Get a blanket. Meet me at the car.” He barked the order at the first man we passed, who was quick to comply. To the man beside the first, Donovan continued, “Give the all clear. Move out.”