Taken Hostage

by Jordyn Redwood

  * * *

  On the morning of day four they were awakened by the sound of a police baton banging on the cell bars. Colby jolted up, launched out of bed and landed on his feet with his fists raised by his face, ready for battle, before his mind reoriented him to the current state of their affairs. He turned to his right, where Regan’s cot was, and she was sitting bolt upright with her covers pulled up to her chin even though she’d slept in the jeans and flannel shirt they’d been taken in. Brian had rolled out of bed and was slowly coming up off the floor with his hands raised.

  This can’t be good.

  One thing Colby had learned from serving in the military was that it meant bad things for hostages the more men there were who brandished weapons of lethal force. Colby stood between his and Regan’s cots. Two men they were familiar with—Baldy and Green Eyes as Regan called them. The third man—crew-cut blond hair and light brown eyes—Colby labeled Ice Man for the unwavering glare in his eyes. The men held nothing—no food or water. Strike that. They did hold mean, angry, condescending looks.

  “Hands up!” Ice Man yelled.

  Colby and Regan raised their hands. Regan looked bleary-eyed, even with the adrenaline-laced start to their morning. Not enough sleep? Checking out mentally? Giving up? None of these was good.

  When Ice Man approached Regan and Colby, he took the muzzle of his gun and pressed it into Colby’s chest. “Take three steps to the side.”

  A cool sweat broke out on Colby’s forehead, belying the toughness he wanted to portray. Every instinct fired flaming-red warning flags. Physically separating him from Regan meant they were going to hurt her and didn’t want him to interfere.

  That wasn’t going to happen.

  “I said step aside!” Ice Man shoved the weapon hard into Colby’s chest, causing him to take a step backward to keep his balance. Colby complied with the request. The angrier the hostage-taker became, the more brutal his retaliation would be.

  Ice Man stepped directly in front of Regan. Baldy and Green Eyes held weapons trained on Colby and Brian.

  Ice Man placed his face a few inches from Regan’s. “You didn’t give us what we asked for.”

  Regan inhaled deeply.

  Buying time? Collecting her thoughts? Colby held his breath. What was she going to say?

  “I gave you polio. That’s what you asked for,” Regan said.

  “Tests have confirmed that you gave us regular polio. What did you do—raid someone’s stock virus? Where is your modified virus?”

  “Somewhere safe.”

  Ice Man leaned back and backhanded Regan across the face.

  Colby’s vision washed white and he launched himself into the air, one arm arcing over his head, coming down and grabbing the man around the neck, forcing Ice Man’s face into the concrete.

  In the next split second Baldy and Green Eyes pounced, pulling Colby off Ice Man and throwing him into the cell bars. Ice Man scrambled to his feet, patting the floor for his sidearm that had been knocked loose during the tackle. Baldy and Green Eyes grabbed Colby, one at each arm, and held him tight against the bars.

  Ice Man pawed at his nose with the back of his hand and wiped the blood away. His chest heaved. “No food or water for little Olivia today.”

  Colby leaned his head against the bars. He couldn’t bear to look at Regan’s face, knowing his actions to protect her were going to cause her daughter harm. This dynamic he and Regan were in was constantly changing. Every move on the chessboard convinced Colby that these weren’t some two-bit criminals hoping to score a virus.

  They were seasoned military men bent on obtaining a weapon of mass destruction. If Colby’s assumption were true, then keeping all the hostages alive meant little to them. They were all merely to be used as leverage against one other.

  Regan neared Ice Man. Her eyes narrowed. “Having the modified polio virus won’t help us here. Whatever happened in my old lab was generations before that cure was developed. If you want me to try and replicate the work I did in that lab, then you have to let me go get my old journals.”

  Ice Man stepped away from her, a small stream of blood still trickling from his nose. He threw his hands up in the air. “What kind of fool do you take me for? How hard can this be? You’ve done it once—you can do it again.”

  “It not that easy and it’s more likely than not that I won’t be able to replicate what happened even with my notes. Sometimes we don’t always understand what happens in a petri dish. Science is not so clear-cut and experimental results can’t always be repeated.”

  The man clenched his teeth. “Where. Are. These. Notes.”

  “In a safe-deposit box at a bank close to where I live.”

  The man paced in a circle, weighing the decision in his mind. In these moments Colby wished he knew the inner workings of Regan’s mind better. Did these notes exist? And if they did, did she actually need them for her work? Or was this a ruse? Was she developing some elaborate escape plan in her mind?

  “Fine. We’ll take you to this bank.”

  “You’ll need to take me back to my house so that I can get the key,” Regan said.

  “That’s not going to happen. You’ll tell us where the key is and we’ll secure it by other means.”

  “Fine.” Regan crossed her arms over her chest. “The sooner we go, the sooner I can get started.”

  The men’s arms grew tired of holding Colby and they lessened the pressure pinning him against the bars.

  Ice Man, still zeroed in on Regan, sniffed hard. “This is how this is going to work. Olivia will stay here under our gentle, loving care. If you don’t return with these notes from the bank, we’re killing the three of you, packing everything up and leaving Olivia here to die scared and alone from starvation.”

  Regan nodded. “Understood.”

  “We take you and your friend.” Ice Man nodded Colby’s direction. “He seems emotionally invested in your well-being. If either of you make an attempt to escape while we’re on our little field trip then it will be one bullet in the other person’s head. Is that understood?”

  Regan kept her gaze steady. “It is.”

  “Then we seem to have reached an agreement.”

  Ice Man waved his hand and all three men vacated the cell, the door clanging like a sharp nail down Colby’s spine. He walked to Regan who’d plopped herself back on her cot. The imprint of the attacker’s hand remained red against her cheek.

  He sat next to her, and she leaned against him. “I don’t blame you for what’s going to happen to Olivia.”

  Colby’s throat ached. There had to be something that he could do. In the military he’d never been at anyone else’s mercy. It was a position he didn’t like to be subjugated to. “I just couldn’t stand to see anyone hurt you. I should have stayed put. I just...couldn’t.”

  Regan rested her hand on his leg, and he pulled her closer with his hand on her shoulder. If he and Regan weren’t locked in a cage and her daughter under threat of death, there was a lot that could feel right about this moment. The two of them together—one against the world and all its craziness.

  Maybe there would be a time like that for them. When this was all over. Right now, it was hard to see a time past this situation. If a time like that ever came, would she need him after this? Want him after this? Because a shift was happening in his heart. A physical movement he hadn’t felt in a long time. And he was finding it hard to think of life without her in it.

  Brian took a few steps and stood in front of them. “Do these journals exist? Or was this a play to just get out of here?”

  “They exist. And they contain the information I said they do.”

  “Good. All you need to do is hold up your end of the bargain and we can all get out of here.”

  Bargain? Colby narrowed his eyes. Was Brian truly a hostage
?

  Or was he a mole?

  * * *

  Regan felt the gun between her shoulder blades shove her forward through the door into the yard. Of course, there were everyone’s theories about prison and what it felt like to lose freedom and then there was actually living it. People could theorize ad nauseam about what something felt like, but until it was lived through, experienced fully in the flesh, then all they were merely doing was offering sympathy.

  She crossed the yard to a patch of sun near the fence line and sat. Colby followed, taking a seat next to her on the grass.

  It was the first time the two of them had been alone outside together. Their guard seemed disinterested in their conversation—maintaining his distance by keeping his watch at the door.

  There was so much to talk about, but where to start?

  “How’s your face?” Colby asked.

  Regan rubbed the remnants of the slap with light fingers. The skin was sore, raw. A feeling she thought she’d never have to revisit again once her ex-husband was out of her life. “Nothing that won’t heal. Probably won’t even leave a mark.”

  At least not physically.

  “Tell me about Brian.”

  Colby’s words were definitive. Not a question, but an assumption that she knew a lot when really Brian was a mystery to her. She’d even say she heard a tinge of jealousy marking those words. “What do you want to know?”

  “Everything.”

  “Why?”

  Colby raked his fingers through the sparse grass. “I think he’s with them...not with us. Or not a prisoner like we are.”

  Regan’s eyes widened slightly, but then she nodded. What Colby said was a reasonable deduction and she’d had her own suspicions, as well. The needle mark and his injuries seemed contrived. Not that they weren’t real—just conveniently placed. Why was he never in the yard with them? The confrontation this morning hadn’t seemed to surprise him much, and he wasn’t targeted like Colby was. Did they not think he’d defend Regan just as much as Colby? If he wasn’t with the hostage-takers, then why hadn’t they made him take three steps to the side? Or have more men available to physically restrain him, as well, should he become unhinged? Who else could run the scientific tests to confirm the polio she’d given them wasn’t her cure if not Brian?

  “I get why you think that, but it also would be hard for me to believe.”

  “An enemy doesn’t have to be big and brawny to be a threat. Sometimes the skinny, smart ones can be the biggest danger around.” He turned, caught her gaze and winked.

  Regan laughed. Heat flamed her cheeks and she hoped the redness wasn’t visible in the light. How could she laugh, considering their circumstances? Regardless, it felt good. A lightness spread through her that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Laughing with a man was something she hadn’t done in a long time. Did he really mean her with his statement? A gentle teasing? And who was she a danger to? His state of mind?

  Whatever it was he’d meant, it felt good—natural, despite their circumstances. And if something could feel so normal under duress, what would it be like when this stress didn’t exist? What would a carefree relationship feel like with Colby?

  Regan placed her elbows on her thighs. “Brian was a doctoral candidate for microbiology when I first met him. He was extremely smart. Smarter than me, probably.”

  “That’s pretty smart.”

  She nudged Colby with her shoulder. “Stop it. I can’t tell if you’re being serious or joking.”

  “Isn’t the fun in the mystery?”

  “We have enough mystery, wouldn’t you say?” Regan asked.

  Colby nodded. “Agreed.” His voice lowered. “We need to be serious about this, but it does feel good to laugh a bit. You’re really giving our kidnappers some grief and they don’t like it very much.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Hello. Should we discuss the drop-off and you disobeying every order they gave you and every instruction I gave you? You could lead a master-level class on how to aggravate your hostage-taker 101.”

  “Fine, I’ll give you that.” Something clicked in Regan’s mind. “You know, that’s what unnerved me about Brian when we worked together.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He was always...I don’t know...pushing the limits, but not in a good way. A safe way.”

  “Like you do?” His words were sincere. She smiled.

  “I mean ethical boundaries. Obviously it’s true I was manipulating a virus to do and be something it wasn’t designed to do, but Brian was interested in mixing things together that had potential, on paper, to be extremely lethal.”

  “Which leads me to believe he’s not the hostage they’re trying to convince us he is. What happened to Brian after the accident?”

  “I know it was hard for him to find another job. Maybe that’s why he has his own lab on his property.”

  “Why was it hard for him to find work?”

  Regan leaned her head against the fence. Why did her past have to feel so tainted? There were few things she could look back on and celebrate. Her marriage had been a disaster. Her first ventures into her work had likely been responsible for the deaths of three people. Now everyone involved with her was suffering. Innocent people like Colby.

  Lord, remind me of the blessings. For Olivia. For Colby. For the work I can do against cancer that will save lives.

  “I didn’t write Brian any letters of recommendation,” Regan said.

  “For the reasons you mentioned. You thought he would go on and do dangerous work?”

  “For lots of reasons. He wasn’t good at working for someone—or maybe he didn’t like working for a woman. I don’t know. He was constantly defiant. Tried to rework my protocols without my permission. He’d run his own experiments on the side to try and outpace me. Maybe prove he could get to the desired end before me. In science, it’s good to have a certain amount of bravado. Particularly being a woman in this field, but you also need some humility because I’ve been wrong more than I’ve been right on the road to this cure. And if you can’t learn from failure then you shouldn’t do this work.”

  “And that’s what you would say about Brian? He lacked humility? Couldn’t learn from failure?”

  “I’m saying that not only did he want to cross over many ethical lines, but he couldn’t see the consequences of doing so. They didn’t matter to him.”

  Regan swallowed hard. Not only were they caged, but her thoughts were beginning to align with Colby’s. They were caged without defenses with a lion. And that lion wasn’t the hostage-takers who wielded the weapons—it was Brian.

  Had to be.

  “You’re not telling me anything I haven’t thought already. I think we act like he’s one of us. We still take care of him. Look out for his interests, but know as soon as we turn around that he’s sharpening his sword behind us,” Colby said.

  “Which means we need our own game plan.”

  Regan scanned the side of the structure. If only they had more access to the building. It looked to be three stories high. Most of the windows were closed and covered.

  All except one.

  Regan narrowed her eyes. Was she seeing what she thought? She nudged Colby’s shoulder, not wanting to point to draw the guard’s attention.

  “Do you see it?” she asked. “Fluttering outside the building?”

  Colby shielded his eyes from the sun. “A scarf. Pink?”

  Tears flowed down Regan’s face. “Yes. It’s Olivia’s. A gift from me on her last birthday.”

  “A signal?” Colby asked.

  Whatever it was, it was proof Olivia had been there at some point and was hopefully still there, relatively safe and sound.

  Hope spread through Regan’s chest. Just getting an indication that Olivia was ther
e was relief. The hostage-takers had every reason to keep Olivia alive if they continued to want Regan to cooperate. What would be the benefit of lying about it?

  Lord, keep my daughter safe. Help Colby and me figure a way out of this that doesn’t put our lives at risk. Help us to find a way.

  Colby seemed to sense her thoughts. “We’re two smart people. We have all the skills we need to come out of this alive. We just need to find the right path.”

  That was the trouble with paths. They could be straight and well-lit, but they could also be narrow, winding and dark.

  Thus far, they seemed to be walking the treacherous route.

  THIRTEEN

  It was morning—day five of Regan’s relentless nightmare. She stood in front of the mirror and looked at the image in front of her. The hostage-takers had trolled through her house to get everything she’d needed.

  On the counter in front of her were her hair dryer, hairbrush and makeup case. Behind her on a rack were several outfits to pick from. What was strange was the combination they had picked. The three outfits were all ones she’d worn to press conferences about her cure. Did they not want to make a mistake in putting something together that she would never wear? Something that didn’t look like her? Or had they been stalking her over these last six months and that was what had drawn their eye because it was familiar from watching those press conference tapes over and over in an effort to learn everything about her?

  The clothes of her trade felt foreign to her. Pressed pants. Silk shirts. She fingered the empty space where her stethoscope usually fell. Having something stripped away and then given back felt strange.

  Baldy and Green Eyes had come into their cell early that morning and insisted that she and Colby take showers. She’d guessed it would give them away to look too disheveled getting into her bank box. The door to the bathroom locked, which provided her comfort even though Baldy remained outside. Oftentimes, she was given only a few minutes in the bathroom and she’d not been allowed to lock the door. This time she was given thirty minutes to shower, dress and look presentable.