Extremities

by C A Devine

  ‘What?’ I looked up at him.

  ‘Get up off your pretty little arse and move!’ I pushed up out of my chair and hobbled after him. He flew down the corridor. I jogged gingerly to keep up. The suits strode behind us. McKenzie spun around, ‘Tweedledee and Tweedledum, pull the car around and pick up the body armour.’ Nobody moved. ‘Jason,’ he nodded to the older suit, ‘Michael,’ the younger. ‘Now!’ My hands shot to my ears on reflex.

  Jason hesitated before veering off. Michael followed, glancing back over his shoulder.

  McKenzie carried on down the corridor. I followed him. ‘Ten minutes ago he posted this,’ he handed me a further piece of paper. It was a satellite photo, complete with coordinates. ‘We think this is where he’s keeping her.’

  ‘You know where she is?’

  ‘He’s taunting us.’

  ‘Why don’t you go and get her?’

  ‘She’s on a US military base, 10 miles from here.’

  ‘US military? What, in Spain? We are still in Spain. Aren’t we?’

  ‘We are. You’d be surprised where you boys are.’

  ‘Why do they have her there?’

  ‘We’ll figure that out later. I need you to get us in.’

  ‘Me? Can’t you?’

  ‘I’d rather you started the ball rolling.’

  ‘That makes no sense, surely …’

  ‘Let’s just say, I have my reasons.’

  ‘You had a mole in your team, she couldn’t come in.’

  He frowned, grabbing my elbow and glancing behind him. He pulled me into a doorway. ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘You still haven’t plugged the leak?’

  ‘What else do you know?’

  ‘It’s all written down: the abduction in Aix-en-Provence, the cars, you and Cecile.’ He snorted again and shook his head. ‘And the escape at gunpoint after she was made … from a tip off.’ He looked away for a moment. Thinking maybe, making decisions?

  ‘Can you do it?’

  ‘There’s only one way to find out.’

  We banged through a pair of swing doors and into a parking garage. He stopped, closed his eyes and let out a breath, ‘At the bottom of his wall, the little wanker said, and I quote, let her be a lesson to you all.’ He opened his eyes and walked on.

  I called Dad from the car. Luckily I had gotten in the habit of calling him commissioner as a joke in the last couple of years, so at least I didn’t make a total ass of myself.

  I told him what I needed. He growled at me, asked what I was up to and told me to come home. Then he said he’d see what he could do. I mentioned the life or death. He called back before we reached the gate.

  We drove up to the checkpoint and I pulled out my ID, ‘Lieutenant Ryan, NYPD.’

  He handed back the badge and nodded to a car with MP marked on the side, ‘Those guys are waiting for you, Lieutenant.’

  A woman and a man stepped out and introduced themselves as Lieutenant Jones and Sergeant Mercer, respectively. After brief handshakes, the lieutenant took control, the sergeant stepping back behind her. My mind flashed with recognisable irritation. I held out the aerial photograph, ‘We believe a woman is being held captive in this room,’ I passed over the photo of Max.

  ‘What? Where did you get this?’ Jones asked.

  ‘She’s a British Intelligence agent. I take it you know what you are looking at?’ She nodded. ‘Then you know we don’t have much time.’

  She nodded again, ‘Follow us.’

  We got back in the car and sped after them. The siren blared as we flew through junctions. Cecile kept on their tail. The base was immense. Finally we screeched to a halt. A truck pulled up at the same time and a solider stepped out.

  ‘It should be an empty warehouse,’ Jones said approaching us. ‘It hasn’t been used in a few years; it’s scheduled for demolition.’

  The solider, in flak jacket with headphones around his neck, approached with an infrared gun in hand, ‘We’re seeing one heat signature inside.’ Heat meant she was alive. Well, someone was.

  ‘Okay, let’s get moving,’ Jones said, switching on a flashlight.

  We battered through the door, Jones first, into a pitch-black room. I was next. The light caught naked flesh, female. Jones swung the flashlight up to the face. It was Max. Her hair was cropped close to her head, just like the photos. Not shaven, sheered. Crusty scabs stuck up from where cuts on her scalp were healing. A lump jumped to my throat, I forced it down. Her wrists were bound together behind her. The rope hung from a chain on the ceiling. She was slumped forward, her mouth gagged with duct tape. She hadn’t stirred since we stepped in. But she was here, alive. It took everything I had not to run to her and wrap her up in my arms.

  We took one step at a time sweeping the flashlight back and forth looking for traps. I reached her first. I forced myself to just do the job. I laid a hand on her shoulder. She still didn’t react. I tapped her cheek, then reached to cut through the rope. That’s when I noticed the wire. ‘Fuck.’

  Her eyes snapped open, deer in headlights mode. She tugged at the ropes wriggling her upper body, kicking onto wobbly legs.

  ‘Max, no Max, it’s okay, shh, shh, you have to be still. Max please.’ I leaned my body against her and tried to hold her steady. She scuttled away from my touch, yanking the line. She was trembling, no focus or recognition in her eyes. Her father leapt to my side. I stuck out my hand to stop him, ‘The wire.’ He froze.

  Then Lieutenant Jones was beside us. ‘Everyone slowly back out of the room, now,’ she said it quietly. The soldiers moved with the efficiency of men used to obeying orders. I stayed where I was.

  ‘You too Ryan,’ Joe McKenzie said, not moving.

  ‘I’m staying.’

  ‘Look son, it’s not my place to question your feelings, but you’ve only known her a few days. She’s been my flesh and blood for thirty-two years. And I got her into this.’

  ‘Both of you,’ Jones said.

  ‘I’m her father. I’m the best one to try to keep her still.’

  Jones nodded, then grabbed my arm and dragged me from the room. Outside, she pulled out her radio and called for bomb disposal. Then she turned her attention to me. ‘If he’s her father, who are you? Her boyfriend?’ I didn’t respond. ‘I want to know what’s going on. Now!’

  I could see Jason on his cell further down the road. I told her what I knew. It didn’t matter. I was just winding up my story when a car pulled up, a uniform stepped out and everyone snapped to attention. I nodded over, ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Major Hudson, my boss.’

  He headed straight for Michael and assaulted him with a barrage of incomprehensible barking. Michael only nodded him to Jason. When the boss moved on, Cecile launched her own verbal attack – I was out of earshot – but Jason simply turned and walked away.

  I watched it on TV, in a van 300 yards away. An army bomb disposal team worked while Joe McKenzie, camouflaged in full flacks, held Max and whispered in her ear. A thunderstorm of emotion swirled around in me. Cecile stood next to me staring at the screen, biting her nails, shoving her hands in her pockets, then back into her mouth, muttering in French. It gave credence to the novel’s second big romance.

  ‘It’s a dud,’ a voice sounded over the speakers. I watched the bomb disposal officer nod to McKenzie, ‘Go.’

  He lifted her up in his huge arms. ‘I’ve got her, we’re coming out,’ his voice vibrated through the sound system. Michael and Jason headed in to meet them. They were out of the camera’s field of vision when the ground shook. I hit the side of the van, Cecile, the floor. A blanket of dust filled the camera screen, followed by silence. A secondary trigger.

  A voice shouted. ‘Is everyone alright? I want to hear names. Now!’ Chaos ensued. We dived out of the van. Grey white bodies were stumbling from the building. There was running and shouting, pushing and shoving. Sirens blared to life in the distance.

  When a semblance of calm settled, I realised, for a second t
ime, she had been snatched away from me.

  *

  Two hours later I was pacing in a sterile hospital corridor. The disinfectant burned my nostrils and I had to fight to stay in the present. Reliving my own trauma wasn’t going to help anyone now. It could have been any hospital except for the military uniforms sailing up and down the hall. They had spirited her away in a bus, Joe at her side. Cecile had dragged me back to the car. Jason and Michael scowled when I slid in.

  I had gotten them on to the base, but from the moment the major had turned up the dynamic had changed and I had been sidelined.

  Now I was wearing out the linoleum. They hadn’t let me see her. I needed to see her. I needed to see with my own eyes that she was alive.

  Jason and Michael – suspected moles if I wasn’t mistaken – strode through the swing doors from the inner sanctum, in their identical suits and ties, past the guard and down the hall in my direction.

  ‘I want to see her.’

  ‘No,’ Jason stepped in front of me. I was sick of this. I stepped forward in the direction of the doors. ‘You don’t get it, Mr NYPD. Elizabeth McKenzie is being held in connection with supplying information to terrorists.’

  ‘She was supplying information to you.’

  ‘Look, it’s not that simple.’ It was Michael looking all of twenty.

  ‘She’s been off the radar for the last two weeks and spent most of it with you. We need to know what that means.’

  ‘I want to see her, where is she?’ I sidestepped them and dived forward.

  Jason shoved a hand to my chest. I knocked his arm aside and took another step. He grabbed me in a headlock. ‘Are you in it up to your neck with Ariana too? Could you not keep your hands off the goods? I’ll get to the bottom of what you two are up to.’ Rage was building in me. ‘I don’t care if she is McKenzie’s daughter.’ I grabbed Jason’s arm and breathed in. I was planning to twist out on the exhale and knock him into next week, but Michael landed a blow on my healing shoulder, then a quick follow up on my thigh. I crumpled forward, tightening the headlock. Pain burned through my body. I was fighting for breath.

  ‘Let him go, I’ll deal with him.’ The men glanced at each other. ‘Now!’ McKenzie’s gruff booming voice snapped them to attention. Jason dropped his hold and I fell to my knees, gasping for air. I struggled to my feet as Joe McKenzie death-rayed them. They scurried away down the corridor.

  He was still covered in the grey dust, apart from his face which had been cleaned and the cuts treated. He didn’t speak till they were gone. But when he did his stern features softened, ‘Look son, you have to trust that I wouldn’t let anything else happen to my daughter.’

  ‘I want to see her.’

  ‘That’s not going to be possible.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’ I started towards the doors again.

  He stood his huge body in front of me, ‘You’ll see her soon, just not now. She’s sedated.’

  ‘I want to see how she is.’

  ‘The doctors say she will be fine.’ His voice was quiet, but I could still feel the vibrations through my feet. ‘I know it sounds old-fashioned and sexist. She’s told me as much often enough,’ he snorted a quick laugh, ‘but she’s my little girl, my only child, she’s my world.’ He blew out a sharp breath and looked far away over my shoulder, ‘You don’t have to be a genius to work out she was … mistreated.’ When he spoke again his voice was all business. ‘They need to know what she told them.’

  ‘What? So The Baron tortures her, and you interrogate her to find out what she said?’ I snapped. ‘She’s you daughter for God’s sake, doesn’t that mean anything?’

  ‘They need to know why she disappeared.’ He paused, still staring into the distance, ‘I am so sick and tired of working with these first name spooks. You and I, we work for organisations that may be far from perfect, but they have rules and discipline and training. These … ’ He turned back to me, ‘Why do you love her?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Yes, why?’

  It wasn’t something I had ever had to put into words before. I shrugged, ‘I just do.’

  ‘Not good enough.’

  ‘Because everything doesn’t feel hopeless when she’s there,’ I wasn’t sure where it had come from.

  ‘I meant it when I said you didn’t know her.’

  I shrugged, ‘I know enough.’

  ‘When you discover the real Elizabeth McKenzie, try not to judge her too harshly. This has been harder on her than you can ever imagine. And that was before,’ he gestured back up the corridor, ‘this.’ He looked at me, just looked me straight in the face, studying me for maybe thirty seconds. ‘Trust me, I won’t let anything else happen to her. Now, if you do love her, you’ll do as I say.’ He closed his eyes and for the first time his face betrayed his age. ‘You’ll go back to that boat of yours, stock up, head out to sea and enjoy the rest of your holiday.’

  ‘What?’ I stared at him, but he only nodded. Was he serious? ‘No, I’m not leaving her,’ I straightened up on my toes and stepped forward again.

  The hand was on my chest again, but his voice and face softened. ‘I never thought I’d say this about one of Lizzie’s men, but I actually quite like you, boy. So listen to me,’ he nodded as he spoke slowly and clearly, ‘I need you to trust me. I need you to trust that Lizzie’s welfare is at the very top of my priority list. And I need you to do as I say. Stock up, head out for that long trip and leave the rest to me. Okay?’ Again I just stared. ‘I’ve met your father, you know. We work with the NYPD a lot, especially in recent years. He’s a good man and I believe he has a good son. Like you said, I have a mole and I don’t know who I can trust right now. But I am trusting you, okay?’ His head was still nodding. ‘Okay?’ he said again.

  I nodded slowly, I wasn’t sure why.

  ‘So we have a deal?’ He was still staring me in the face, ‘Stay tonight, stock up for a long voyage and head out in the morning.’ He stuck his hand out. ‘Give me a chance to handle this, and if things change, I will call you. Now, do we have a deal?’ He grabbed my hand, stuck it in his, and pumped up and down, ‘Good.’

  He walked a couple of steps before turning back. ‘A 50-foot Island Packet?’ I nodded, numb, confused. ‘That’s a good ocean-going vessel. Did Lizzie ever tell you that when she was nineteen she pulled The Double? She sailed the Atlantic and the Pacific single-handed in one year. Nearly drove her dear mother demented.’

  By morning, of course, it all made sense.

  23

  Ashamed (Day 6)

  On day six, I found Max, curled on the floor of the cabin, heart-wrenching sobs heaving from her chest. I took a step towards her, but froze when her head whipped up and wide frightened eyes stared out of her tear-drenched face. She cowered back like a frightened animal. ‘It’s not fair,’ it was a feeble whine, ‘I need you. I need you to tell me it will all be okay,’ she sobbed. ‘I need you to hold me, and love me and …’

  That now-familiar stab of pain pierced my heart. ‘I know,’ I slumped down on the wooden floor, leaning my head back against the bunk. If I couldn’t touch her, I could at least be with her.

  ‘I feel so ashamed, of what I did, of what he did to me. And I’m so afraid that if I let you,’ she looked down at her hands and whispered, ‘it won’t feel like it did before.’ She sniffed and shook her head, ‘I hate it so much. It feels like he’s won.’

  ‘He hasn’t won. You’re here. And I’m here, no matter what.’ And I meant it. For maybe the first time in my life, I felt committed to someone. It was raw and nerve-racking and more than a little perplexing, but I didn’t want to run away from it. ‘I’m here … whenever. If that’s tomorrow, or if it’s six months from now, I’m here. Hell, I can’t go anywhere, anyway.’ I gestured around me and she spluttered out a laugh.

  She dragged the heels of her hands across her cheeks, wiping away her tears, then sniffed loud enough for us both to smile. She turned her body to sit cross-legged in front of me and looked up
and into my eyes, ‘He’s not going to win.’

  ‘He’s not,’ I nodded and stretched out my hand. She met it halfway.

  She linked her fingers through mine, running her thumb over my palm, electricity shocked through my body. If you spend days with someone, and all you want to do is touch them, but can’t, when they finally do reach out, the feeling is intense and sensual, and incredibly emotional. A lump surged to my throat; my eyes burned.

  She leaned forward and laid her head on my shoulder. I lifted my free hand and feathered fingers on the back of her neck; the smooth skin made my fingers tingle. I slid my other arm around her lower back; the curve of her hip burned its shape on my palm. I bent my head down and breathed her in, the mint from the shower gel, laundry soap from my t-shirt and her. The sound of her breaths, as they evened out, soothed me like a mantra. The taste of her when I laid a chaste kiss above her ear sent me spinning back to those heady days in Spain. I closed my eyes and luxuriated in the sensory overload.

  She lifted her head and eased her lips over mine. I breathed heat and spice as I nuzzled on her bottom lip. I leaned in further, working that sensual mouth open, probing with my tongue. The air backed up in my lungs. Desire fired through me. I dragged oxygen in through my nose, not wanting to break the connection just to breathe. I chased my hand up to her soft full breast. God, I wanted her. Her lips were hard and firm now and I felt their force as my tongue probed deeper. The blood was surging through my veins. I slid my hand down between her thighs.

  She flinched and scuttled back, away from my touch. ‘I’m sorry, I can’t, I didn’t mean to make you think, I didn’t mean.’

  ‘Shh, shh, it’s okay.’ I could see her trembling and cursed myself for being so stupid. ‘You didn’t make me anything. It’s okay, I shouldn’t have.’

  She nodded, ‘I don’t want … I don’t want you to think I’m just teasing you.’

  ‘Hey, don’t talk like that, we were just making out, okay?’