Jacob consulted the computer on his desk. The screen was recessed into the desk so no huge contraption with its myriad of wires marred the aesthetics of the surface. He had a command center at his fingertips. He looked up at Clarence, then pressed a button on the phone that put Morgan on hold. "Jenny, get Morris Lovel in here, now," he ordered his secretary and went back to Morgan. "We're getting help" he told her.
Jacob didn't often speak to his secretary like that. He knew Jenny didn't take his commands personally. She'd been with him for years and they understood each other.
"Hurry," Morgan replied. Jacob could hear the anxiety in her voice.
While they waited the intermittent seconds for Lovel to arrive, they heard strange metallic sounds over the phone line.
"What is that noise?" Hart asked.
"I'm taking off the handcuffs." They heard several more taps of metal. "They're off.
"Remind me to ask you where you learned to do that," Hart said.
Meanwhile Jacob sat down and opened the topography program Lovel would need. The short man with a crew cut and bow tie came in. His shirt was starched stiff, white and tucked in the waist of his pressed jeans.
"Lovel, find me a place between Clay and Clarksburg, West Virginia, in the mountains where you'd have shelter and be able to set a bird on the ground without notice."
The thirty-something wizard slid into Jacob's chair. His fingers hesitated slightly over the keys until he got a feel for them, then they moved like lightning. He found several locations.
"Morgan, we've got five places. He could be at any of them or four hundred miles away in Kentucky, Tennessee, or the parking lot outside my door."
"I know it's a long shot, but I feel they didn't do that. They're still looking for me. They won't go that far away. The helicopter was just sitting here waiting for us, as if it knew Jack would take this route. It had to have a base. I assume they would return to it."
"Maybe you can help us with a better location of where you are," Jacob said.
"Can you find me?" she asked.
"How?"
"This phone. It's got a GPS. I see a map program on the menu."
Lovel opened several screens while Jacob talked. He watched the topography change and quadrants zoom in for greater detail. Lovel was already opening another program on Jacob's computer.
"What's the number?"
Morgan read it to him.
"Morgan, what are you planning to do?" Hart Lewiston spoke with tension in his voice.
"I'm going to find him."
"You can't," Hart shouted. "This is not your job. You're not equipped to do this. You could be killed."
She didn't speak for a second. "I believe my past experience makes me qualified," Morgan shot back.
" I have to agree with Hart," Jacob said. "We can get you out of there and find Jack."
"There isn't time," she shouted. Jacob remembered the determined child in the films he'd seen. No matter how many times she fell or made a mistake in her routine, she'd get up and do it again and again. She was exactly the kind of person Jacob would have wanted on his team.
"Jacob." Her voice contained a little less fire, but the determination was evident. "Jack put his life on the line to save mine. I'm not leaving here without trying to find him. Both you and Hart should understand that. I'm his only chance."
Her comments seemed to hit Hart as solidly as a missile. Color drained from his face, leaving it sallow and pale before it filled with color. Clarence put his hand on Lewiston's shoulder and the presidential candidate looked at him. "I'm afraid for her," he whispered.
"I understand," Clarence replied. "We'll get her out," he assured him.
Jacob looked at Lovel. "Too dense," he said. "We need more to find her."
"What was that?" Morgan asked.
"Give us some details, Morgan. Is there a lot going on where you are? Mountain climbers, hikers, campers?"
"We left the highway about ten miles in." Lovel moved the mouse to a point on the screen. "We drove for about half an hour before the first group of trucks showed up."
"First," Hart repeated. Lovel triangulated.
"How fast were you going?"
"About thirty miles an hour. We had to keep going around trees and bushes."
Lovel made an adjustment. "I found her," he whispered, glancing at the assembly of men behind him.
"What happened then?" Jacob tried to keep control. He could only imagine how he'd feel if Krysta were alone with people trying to kill her. There was no way of getting Hart out of the office. Jacob knew they wouldn't be able to drag him out either, even though the man was torturing himself with every word he heard.
"Then the trucks started to chase us." She related the details of the accident and the helicopter and how she'd jumped to the ground. "That's all except for the gunfire."
"Explain that," Jacob said, cutting Hart off, who was sitting forward in his chair.
"It came from the ground and was directed at the helicopter. I don't know who it could have been and I didn't stick around to find out. Was Jack working with someone else?"
Jacob looked at Clarence who shrugged.
"We don't know, Morgan, but it's possible. I'll give Forrest Washington a call."
"That's his name," she said. "I tried to remember what Jack had said, but the only name I could remember was yours."
"I've got something," Lovel whispered.
"It's all right. We're on it," Jacob tried to reassure her. "We've got something."
"What?" Morgan asked.
"I'm going to put Morris Lovel on. He can explain it."
"I can see you, ma'am," he began.
"You can?"
"As long as you keep the cell phone on, I'll be able to track your position." He paused. "As for a place you can put a helicopter, there's an old mine about ten miles north of you. The mine is closed, dangerous and posted with signs and a fence to keep out curiosity seekers. It would be ideal as a hideout."
"Do you have coordinates?" Morgan asked.
Lovel supplied them.
"All right, I'm on my way." The sound of the engine starting zoomed into the room. "I have to end this call. If you can find me, so can the bad guys."
"Wait," Lovel stopped her. "If you turn off the phone, how can you navigate?"
"Jack was clever enough to include a compass in the vehicle. Its battery operated, but no GPS."
"Keep us informed," Jacob said.
"Will do." She didn't immediately sever the call and Jacob left the line open.
"Hart," she said. He looked up. "We'll talk later. I promise."
"I'll be waiting," Hart said, but the connection had already been cut.
***
Jack opened his eyes. Absolute darkness. He could see nothing but inky blackness. His head hurt from the fists that had pounded against it in an attempt to get him to talk. He felt the dried blood caked on his face. The darkness was disorienting and cold. Jack's hands and ankles were shackled. From the feel of shards in his back, he was lying on hard ground. The residue of coal hung in the stale air. This had to be a mine, defunct, dangerous and out of the way. Despite his discomfort he wondered about Morgan. Had she reached safety? Maybe she would return to the camp and get Burton and Tilden to help her. Or she could call the CIA and let Washington know. He refused to think of her with a broken leg or arm lying somewhere hurt. Or the men who shot at them finding her.
He needed to get out of here. The next time his captors weren't going to be as physical. They tried to beat information out of him, for the sheer pleasure of the fight. That hadn't worked. When they were sure he knew nothing, that Morgan was the one with the answers, they'd thrown him into the mine shaft, assuming the fall would kill him. If it didn't, he'd die there from his injuries or from rats and small animals eating away at his flesh.
Jack sat up, holding his head. He thought of Morgan again and her migraine medication. His head needed more than her gentle pills could help. Blind stabs of light ricocheted in
his brain and behind his eyelids. He waited a moment for the pain to subside. The fall hadn't killed him, though the way he felt he almost wished it had. Every bone in his body protested. His muscles screamed and his head felt as if it was being detached from his body.
A moment later he tried to think of something other than the pain. He had to get the cuffs off. He could work without his hands, but with his ankles tied together there was no way he could avoid the death in store for him. And that he wanted to do more than nurse his headache. He needed something round, like a screwdriver or a handcuff key. He wasn't likely to find either in this dark mine. And at this point he didn't know which way was either up or out. But going somewhere other than where he was expected to be was desirable. Jack felt around him. He was sure there were no tools left from the times when the mine was a working enterprise. He found only dust, dirt and rock. Then Jack thought of nails. There would still be nails. If he could find one small enough, it would work. He felt for the wall. The metal bracelets clinked on his arms. Knowing he couldn't stand in complete darkness without falling, he held onto the rough and crumbling wall as he got to his feet.
Working his way along the wall, he found one of the support beams. Nails were used to hold them together, to mount brackets to hang lamps. Jack felt along the wood. A splinter nicked his finger and he snatched it away. Then, going back, he carefully edged his way along until he found the place where the lamp would have hung. The bracket was still there. He let out a sigh of relief.
Working with both hands, he slowly loosened the fixture. The nails were most probably rusted. He hoped so. That meant layers of metal would be gone or easily removed, making it fit into the hole, and Jack would be able to get the shackles from his arms and legs. He gritted his teeth as he worked. For a closed mine, the fixture had been securely attached, and it took all his strength to get it to loosen. With a little more work the bottom support pulled free. Jack was careful to keep the nails from falling to the floor. He found three and carefully slipped two of them into the front pocket of his jeans. The nails in the top of the fixture he left for some future handcuffed prisoner.
Sitting down, he kept the beam to his back and tried the nail in the middle of the handcuff that tied his feet to within six inches of each other. It was too large to fit into the slot, but he felt shavings fall into his hands. Pulling it out, he rubbed it against the coarse fabric of his jeans, using the seam at the side of his leg, and hoped this would dislodge the rust and leave him with something small enough to fit into the key slot.
It took several attempts. Jack's fingers burned from the generated heat and his leg felt numb at the spot where he'd rubbed it, but finally they were free. His hands required less work, as if working on his legs had taught him what he needed to know for his hands.
Scrambling to his feet, he kept contact with the beam. Listening, he tried to figure out which way would lead to the surface and light. He froze, instinctively crouching in place, hearing sound coming from behind him. He saw no light and wondered if some animal had crawled into the cave.
Jack waited several moments. He heard nothing further. He had to move soon. He didn't know how long he'd been in the cave or how long it would be before his captors decided to confirm his death. If there was a way out, it had to be in the direction he'd heard the noise. Waiting a moment longer, he listened for another movement. What happened to the animal? Had it come in and decided to retreat?
Jack move forward cautiously. Beam by beam, he made his way over uneven ground. The incline went up, reinforcing his belief that this was the way out.
Then he heard it again, the quick scurrying of something small and fast. He stopped.
"Jack." He heard the tentative whisper. "Jack, is that you?'' His heart thudded to a stop, then beat fast enough to drown out the sound of an on-coming train.
"Morgan!"
***
Who moved first wasn't important. Morgan found Jack as their two forms ran into each other in the darkness. They fell into the coal dust on the mine floor. She didn't think she'd really find him, but he was there, in her arms, holding her, kissing her. She hugged him, arched toward him, sealing her mouth to his as if she'd never been kissed before. He was solid, warm and alive. Tears gathered behind her closed eyes. Her hands raced over him, confirming that he was there, checking every part like a new mother checks a newborn, counting his fingers and toes.
"I was afraid you were dead," she said on a heavy breath when they separated.
Morgan had been afraid they'd kill him. When she'd broken contact with Jacob's office she'd thought it was a futile attempt. She didn't think fate would allow her to find him in this vast wilderness or that he would be alive when she did. Fate had never been her friend, but tonight fate was with her. And Jack was in her arms.
"We've got to get out of here," she whispered. "They're not far away."
Scrambling to their feet, Jack asked, "Which way?"
Morgan held his hand, refusing to break contact. She led them back the way she had come. She had a flashlight and used it to retrace her steps until they could see the cave's opening. Then she doused the light in case the men from the house returned.
"It's dark," Jack said.
"Yeah. I had to wait hours before I could get in here. They kept going in and out of the house. I saw them bring you out and throw you in the mine. I nearly screamed." Morgan looked at him in the semi-darkness. "You look terrible," she said. Her hand went toward his face, but he flinched and she stopped. "It must hurt."
"It does," he agreed.
"The vehicle is this way." She pointed to the right. The small structure which used to house a guard when this was an operating mine was lighted. Jack had been battered in there.
Morgan arrived in time to see two men carrying him from the structure to the mine. It had been daylight then and activity in and out of the small house was constant. Finally, when darkness fell she went in to get Jack.
Crouching close to the ground, Morgan circled away from the house. The ground had been cleared when the mine was worked, but Mother Nature had returned to claim her land. The trees and bushes were thick and hard as if she had indignantly set up a barrier against future poachers. Yet Morgan went directly through it.
They traveled in silence for almost a mile, the meager flashlight their only source of illumination. Morgan refused to think of any natural enemies like snakes and bears might be present. She didn't even know if they were indigenous to this part of the country. She was a city girl. She'd never lived in the country. Traveling through mountains, camping out, even girl scouting was something she had never done. But tonight she'd earned her merit badge. She'd gone in and brought Jack out. Not quite in a gun-toting blaze of glory, but she'd accomplished her goal. Her hand tightened in Jack's.
The SUV was hidden in a grove of trees that acted as a natural barrier. Morgan had enhanced it with branches that in the night hid the vehicle totally. When they reached it Jack asked, "How did you find me?''
"I called Jacob. He got somebody named Morris Lovel to help me," Morgan explained.
"I don't understand."
"I don't either, but because of the phone, Morris could find me and find other structures or vehicles in the area. We narrowed the possibilities down to this one and he gave me some directions to get here." She paused, thanking God Morris had been right. Morgan shuddered to think what they would have done to Jack if this had been the wrong location.
She climbed into the driver's seat. "We can't go far in the dark, but I'd feel better if we put a little distance between us and them." She hooked her thumb over her shoulder.
"They have a helicopter and a Jeep. They can find us if we use the lights. It's better to stay put until daylight."
"The highway is only five miles away." She pointed in the direction Morris had told her. "If we can't leave here, you should get some rest" She reached behind the console between them and pulled out a first-aid kit, then got out of the SUV and walked around to Jack's side. "Let me cl
ean the blood off your face."
Jack got out and sat on a dead tree lying on the ground. Part of it hung over a small body of water, forming a low bridge. The water wasn't a charted lake or stream, only a body that formed after a recent rain. Many ponds developed because of the high water content and the trees that liked to pull the moisture close to them.
Morgan opened the kit, and without even a moon in the sky for light, she poured water from a bottle onto a cloth. Carefully, she pressed it against his skin. The water was cold but Jack's skin was hot. The blood softened until it colored the cloth in huge red splotches. Mechanically, she worked, refusing to allow her mind to think that this was Jack, this was the man she'd fallen in love with, the one whom she might have lost tonight if she'd chosen the wrong direction.
Jack grabbed her hands. "It's all right," he said as if he could read her mind. "We'll get out of this."
Morgan waited a moment, staring at him in the darkness. She smiled slightly then went back to cleaning his swollen face. She took her time, being careful not to hurt him any further. When she finished, she emptied the remaining water from the bottle and slipped their trash into a plastic bag.
"Leave me now," Jack said.
Panic sliced through her at the thought of him leaving before she realized he needed to be alone.
Going to the SUV, she replaced the first-aid kit and dropped the plastic bag in the back of the van. Morgan stood there fidgeting with the bag, the blankets, camping gear, waiting, trying not to think of the possible outcomes this day could have had, but they crowded in on her, forcing her to face them, stare them down. Her heart thudded as fear threatened to overwhelm her.
Jack came up behind her. She could feel him, his warmth seeped into her and the weight of their situation pushed her shoulders down.
"I was never so afraid in my life," he said, "as I was when you went out that helicopter door."
Morgan worked her neck muscles in an attempt to swallow. Emotion at his words was no match for the note in his voice.
More Than Gold (Capitol Chronicles Book 3) Page 26