CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
October 13—8 A.M.
Olde Town Arvada, Colorado
“You need to move, Alex.”
Alex opened her eyes. She wasn’t sure who had told her to move around, but just straightening her leg brought waves of pain. With force, she pushed herself to standing. She had to be ready for them when they came. She glanced at the basement vents. The light turned from halogen orange to yellow.
Was that daylight? Had she been here one day or two?
Not three days.
Surely, not three days. The silent pitch-black night continued in this room.
Feeling for the wall, she began stepping around the edge of the room. When her body loosened, she walked faster and then ran with her hand along the wall. As her body warmed, the tightness and pain began to ease. Slipping off her jacket, she went through a Sun Salutation yoga routine to stretch her whole body. She dropped to the ground to stretch.
She thought she knew pain. The sharp pain in her forearm was familiar, almost comforting. But the swollen, bruised sensation between her skin and her muscles was a whole other beast. It felt as if the space between her muscles and skin was filled with aching, swollen lumps.
She walked around the room another ten times. Ten was probably enough. She promised herself that she would repeat the routine tonight.
Dropping back to her sitting position, she ate another bite of the cherished Snickers bar. She never noticed all the textures and flavors in this candy. Captain Gordon loved these bars and sent them with people on missions. Troy used them when he trained for marathons. Snickers bar. She pushed the rest of the bar into its wrapper.
Only Troy would bring her a candy bar. He didn’t think of bringing water or a weapon. Troy knew that she didn’t really need those things. He brought her something she needed, something for her heart.
Her hand wrapped around the Mini-tool in her jacket pocket. Less than three inches when it was folded closed, the Mini-tool opened to seven inches of stainless steel, with a needle-nose pliers in the center. Alex folded the steel arms open in her hand and ran her finger across the well-used bottle opener. Touching the blade of the knife, she noticed the blade was very sharp. Troy had this tool when she met him in basic training. She had never seen him without his Mini-tool. Just holding it made her feel less alone. She folded the arms back in and tucked it into the pocket of her jeans.
She was loved.
She fell asleep with a smile on her face.
FFFFFF
October 13—10 A.M.
Buckley Air Force Base, Colorado
Patrick rubbed his eyes and then looked from face to face in the small conference room. Matthew, Troy, and Raz sat along one side of a table, while Ben and the British Intelligence Agent—what was his name?—sat on the other side. He hadn’t led a meeting like this in more than twenty years. He almost forgot how much he enjoyed leading competent, talented people. And Alex certainly surrounded herself with smart, talented people. He looked up as her Sergeant gave him a piece of paper. He nodded and set the sheet down.
“Let’s begin,” Patrick said. He waited for the men’s attention.
“Sorry I’m late.” Colonel Gordon came into the room. “Patrick, how are you?”
The Colonel held his hand out, which Patrick shook.
“Thank you for being here,” Colonel Gordon said. He sat next to the British Intelligence officer. “We are lucky to have someone of your experience to help us out. You won’t mind working on a few other cases while you’re here, would you?”
Patrick laughed.
Matthew and Troy looked at each other and then at Patrick. They were attending this meeting out of respect for Alex. They knew her father had been a General and was a hell of a poker player, but they knew next to nothing about his service record.
“First, what is your name?” Patrick asked the British Intelligence Officer.
“Sean Hudson, her Majesty’s Secret Service, MI-5, sir. It’s an honor to meet you, General Hargreaves.”
“Sean? Every British person I meet is either a Sean, John, Tom . . .”
“Alex said the same thing when I met her,” Sean said.
Patrick nodded. Alex knew it was a fake name, too.
“Thank you for coming,” Patrick said. “Anyone know where Trece and the White Boy are?”
“Sir,” Matthew said. “They are attending to a security issue in Los Angeles. They left right after the ceremony, and we . . .”
“They don’t know this is going on,” Patrick said. “That was wise. Troy?”
“Sir?”
“I apologize for keeping you inactive for so long. I’m wondering if there is anything you’d like to tell us.”
Troy flushed bright red. Matthew shot him a look.
“Matthew, you are an excellent leader. You’ll make a great General, if you’re interested. However, when you keep people like Troy inactive for too long, they end up acting on their own.”
“Troy?” Matthew turned in his chair to look at Troy.
“Um . . .”
“I have an Arvada police report about a mugging in old town Arvada. It says that Captain Olivas was . . . er . . . doing his civic duty.” Raz looked up from the piece of paper in his hand. “Your civic duty?”
“What did you expect me to do? Just sit on my hands while Alex sits in that awful room all by herself. Fuck,” Troy said. He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair. “I’m not cut out for this work.”
“Alexandra thought you were,” Patrick said. “And I second that. What did you do?”
“I went by the building. I followed Jesse to these basement vents. They are just at sidewalk level . . . maybe two inches high and eight inches long. They had razor wire on the outside and on the inside. One is covered by a new gutter drain. It’s probably not to code . . .” Troy looked up at Patrick, who nodded and smiled.
“And the other vent?”
“I cut the razor wire. I couldn’t talk to her because she said she was being monitored. She touched my fingers and told me to go.”
“Did you give her anything?” Raz asked.
“A Snickers bar and . . . my Leatherman Mini-tool. Oh, and a leather glove.”
“Outstanding Troy,” Patrick said. “Candy to give her hope and something for her to use. Well done. Now, don’t go back.”
“Yes, sir. I was jumped by those guys, by the way.”
“Also good to know.”
“Is she injured?” Raz asked.
“I could only see a flash of her blond hair. The room is very dark. She grunted like she does when she’s in pain. So, yeah, I think she’s injured.”
Matthew made a small noise, which he covered by coughing. Raz looked away from the table.
“We must stay focused on the issues at hand. I’m sorry, but our emotions won’t help her now.” Patrick looked from Raz to Matthew. “It’s hard for me as well.”
The men nodded.
“Sean, what have you come to tell us?” Patrick asked.
“We have an operative deep within this group. He’s been with Eleazar for almost two years. They are from the same neighborhood in Jerusalem. This man was in Abu Ghraib.”
“What does he report?” Patrick asked.
“They are following a standard protocol. They beat her up and will leave her alone for a few days. The room is set up for sensory deprivation, with some extra goodies.”
“Goodies?” Raz asked.
“The gutter drain Troy spoke of? They left her with only a gallon of water laced with LSD and laxatives. If she drinks the water, she will hallucinate and have diarrhea. She will know this, but . . .”
“She can hear the water in the drain,” Raz said. “That’s . . .”
“Torture, yes,” Sean said. “There is a high-end chef’s table directly above where Alex is being held. The room is not used very much, but there is a large dinner scheduled tonight.”
“We’ve tried to get a seat at that dinner, but so far
, we’ve been unable to,” Ben said.
“Our operative believes they will come for her tomorrow. They are instructed to follow a fairly standard torture plan.”
“Does he have any idea what they want?” Raz asked.
“No. That’s the strange thing. Eleazar is very vague about what they are after. He believes that he can break Alex. He’s confident he’ll be able to achieve his goals because she did what he asked her to do. We believe he needs her to do something, but we have no intel on what that might be.”
Sean looked at Ben, who shrugged.
“How did he get Alex to do what he asked her to do?” Matthew asked.
“It’s an assumption to believe that he did,” Patrick said. “Let’s get back to that in a moment.”
“Is Eleazar here?” Raz asked.
“Not yet. He is expected tomorrow,” Sean said.
“They may start working on her before he arrives?” Patrick asked.
“Yes, sir. Their orders are clear. Keep to the schedule. He will be there when he can.”
“It’s my opinion that he does not want information. He wants a compliant, controllable Alex,” Ben said.
“I agree,” Patrick said. “This is what I recommend. I’d like Troy, Trece, and the White Boy to collect Captain Jakkman and bring him back to Denver. I spoke to him about an hour ago. He is on his way to Rome. Sergeant? Can you arrange for Troy to collect Trece and the White Boy, and meet Captain Jakkman in Rome? I’d like them back here by tomorrow evening at the latest.”
“Yes, sir,” Alex’s Sergeant left the room.
“Zack Jakkman is alive?” Sean Hudson asked.
“No,” Patrick said. “Raz, tell me exactly what you saw when Alex left the hotel.”
“I wasn’t there when she got the call. I noticed that she had left her coffee and asked John about it. He said she had answered her phone. She told him that she had to go and that ‘he always says friend.’ I ran to the front of the hotel and saw her leaving by cab. Her eyes were saucers—dark and round. She held her right hand up to the window. I was forced back into the hotel by the CIA operative. There was a major threat against the hotel.”
“And was there?”
“Yes,” Ben said. “There was a credible bomb threat. As a safety measure, cell phones, electronic signal, Internet access, and telephone lines were automatically shut down. There was no way for Agent Rasmussen to contact the police or anyone to stop the cab.”
“They knew where she was staying. Do they know about John? Max?”
“No,” Sean said. “According to our operative, Eleazar believes he has murdered Zack Jakkman, Max Hargreaves, John Kelly, and Joseph Walter.”
“Captain Olivas?” Alex’s Sergeant poked his head inside the conference room door. “I have your travel arrangements. You will leave in ten minutes. Does that work?”
“Oh, thank God.” Troy hopped to his feet and exited the room.
“General, do you believe that Alex is under Eleazar’s control?” Colonel Gordon asked.
“Yes and no,” Patrick said. “She clearly did what he asked. She should have said only what he told her to say. Which was,” Patrick shifted through a few sheets of paper, “‘Sorry, I have to go,’ according to the cell phone transcript. The video record from the restaurant shows that she kissed John and told him that she loved him. She also would not have put her hand on the glass to Raz if she was completely under his control.”
“Are you certain, sir?” Matthew asked. “I mean no disrespect, but I think we all want to believe that Alex didn’t succumb to him. Yet, she’s in his control now.”
“Matthew, General Hargreaves is one of the world’s experts in psychological programming,” Ben said.
Matthew looked at Alex’s father in surprise. Patrick shrugged.
“It’s a long story,” Patrick said. “It’s my opinion that she let it happen. I cannot imagine what it would be like to watch your entire team killed before you. Then she lost her home, her friends were almost killed, her twin shot, her husband . . . It goes on and on. She knew Eleazar wanted her. I think she didn’t want anyone else to be hurt. She probably just wanted to get it over with.”
“She knew he’d torture her? Rape her? And just went along with it?” Matthew asked.
Patrick nodded. “When I look at the video, I see her saying good-bye to John. She had already arranged for him to go to Scotland, where she knew he’d be cared for. Yes, she knew what would happen. Now, Matthew, can you hear Jesse?”
“Not well,” he said. “I’m too skeptical.”
“I can,” Ben said.
Patrick raised his eyebrows at Ben and laughed, “Really?”
“I heard him in the tunnels. He told us where to go.”
“We need to remind Alex that they will blind her with the lights. I doubt we can get close again, as Troy did. She also needs to know that Eleazar is not here. If she can hold them off until he gets here, we will get somewhere. I wondered if we might send her that message.”
“Sir, you are talking about speaking with a dead person,” Raz said. “Isn’t that a little . . .”
“Alex believes she sees and talks to him. Why shouldn’t we? Now, how do we get his attention?”
“I’ll work on that, sir,” Matthew said. “I think I know a way.”
“Great. I’ll work with Ben, Raz, and Sean to see if we can come up with what Eleazar wants.”
Patrick watched Matthew leave the room. When the door closed, he turned to Ben.
“What do you have?”
FFF
“Are you all right?” Max asked.
He was walking down the hall, carrying Alex’s address book when he ran into Matthew. Matthew was standing in the hallway, with his head against the wall. He looked up when Max spoke and shook his head.
“Come on, man. Let’s get some coffee,” Max said.
They walked down the hall to Alex’s office. Max tilted his head sideways, and stood still for a moment. With a nod, he opened a cabinet and pulled out the coffee maker. He passed the pot to Matthew, who filled it at the water cooler. With a flick of his hand, Max turned on the coffee pot.
“How did you know that was there? You even found her secret stash of French coffee.”
“I just looked where I would have put it,” Max said. “It’s not true for all twins, but Alex and I have always been very close.”
“Is that why you can stay so calm?” Matthew asked.
“I guess. I look inside, to the place that Alex lives inside me, and I know that she’s all right . . . Asleep, I think.”
Matthew nodded.
“What’s wrong?” Max asked.
“What’s not?”
“Have some coffee. Alex can’t have coffee right now, so we should double up for her.”
Max poured Matthew a cup of coffee and went to Alex’s desk. He kicked a corner of the desk, and a hidden drawer popped opened.
“Whiskey?” Max held up a bottle of Red Breast Irish Whiskey.
Matthew laughed and nodded.
“Don’t tell her I showed you her private stash.” Max poured himself a cup of coffee and added some whiskey.
“Your Dad . . . He just sat there talking about his daughter getting tortured . . . I . . .”
Max nodded. “It’s just a reality for him. I think he’s prepared himself for the possibility since she begged him to help her become a Green Beret. He was . . . crazy . . . when you guys were in S.E.R.E. . . . Absolutely crazy.”
“I’m supposed to talk to Jesse,” Matthew said. “I don’t even know if I believe Jesse exists.”
“He’s right there.” Max pointed to the door. “Did you call for him?”
“Just before you came down the hall. Then I just felt stupid and hopeless.”
“Why did you need him?” Max asked.
“I’m supposed to tell him to tell Alex that they will try to blind her with the lights and that Eleazar isn’t here yet. She’s supposed to hold them off u
ntil he gets here, but . . . I mean, how can I ask Alex to . . .”
“Jesse, remind her about the slit glasses,” Max said.
Jesse nodded and disappeared.
“That’s taken care of. Is there a shooting range here?” Max asked.
“Two floors below us—why?”
“The spies will be sorting out what their real names are and what not for a couple hours. Why don’t we go shoot for a while? Blow off steam.”
Matthew nodded.
“Do you really shoot a forty-five?”
“Yeah, why?”
“Oh, nothing.”
F
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