The officer appeared to assess his threat potential. He indicated a spot slightly to the right of where Ethan was standing.
“You can wait there, sir.”
Ethan shifted to the designated spot and craned his neck to watch for Asia in the concourse behind the checkpoint. He checked his watch—9:10 p.m.—and he heard the call for boarding Delta Flight 1754 for Chicago at Gate 25. Shit! He started to pace. The guard turned to glare at him, but he couldn’t stop. He just tightened his circle, a tiger in a very small cage.
Then he saw her—and, God, she was gorgeous! She’d bought new clothes, expensive ones—his sister would approve—and she looked sleek, sophisticated, and, oh, hell, yes, sexy. She was looking for him with an expression of intensity and single-minded focus on her face that he’d never seen before. He suddenly realized it wasn’t the clothes or the expression, but the woman that had changed in the few weeks he had known her. This was the true Asia Burdette that was coming to him, the full and complete version. God, how he wanted her to stay.
He called her name. Her head turned, and her shocked expression nearly stole his nerve. Then things began to unfold with frightening speed.
As Asia neared the security gate from the other side, two men closed on her from behind. They moved in tandem, with military precision, and they looked . . . familiar. Shit. Ethan shouted a warning, just as a heavy hand landed on his own shoulder. He spun, saw Claussen’s face, and took a swing. The old man went down easily, but they had drawn the attention of the security guard. The guard took a step, grabbed for Ethan and missed. He heard the man curse and call for backup as Ethan vaulted the simple metal barrier that stood between him and the North Terminal concourse.
By now, the security checkpoint was in an uproar. Weapons sprang from their holsters, citizens dove for cover, whistles blew, alarms blared. Ethan searched the scattering crowd for Asia and the two goons, who hadn’t made it far. She fought and screamed as the two caught her from either side. She slipped her arm out of one attacker’s ham-fisted grip and used her elbow to strike the man’s chest, her fist to hammer at the man’s groin. Her delaying tactics gave at least one security guard time to close in on the group. Ethan reached them at the same time and hooked an elbow around the neck of one of the men to pry him away from Asia’s side. The man countered with an elbow to his ribs—damn it, the same fucking ribs he broke before—and the two of them crashed painfully to the floor.
“All right, hold it right there! Don’t move!”
Ethan looked up and saw only the blue steel barrel of a police-issue Smith and Wesson. He didn’t move, even though the guy he’d pulled off Asia was tangled uncomfortably beneath him and growling in his ear.
“Get up. Slowly.” The command came from the uniform holding the gun. “Keep your hands where I can see them.” This guard wasn’t the same one Ethan had spoken to earlier. There seemed to be an unlimited number of uniforms of all types surrounding them now.
He rolled to his feet and stood, pressing a hand to his side, where a sharp pain bloomed over his battered ribs. Asia took a step in his direction, but another guard had her in handcuffs and yanked her back. He felt hands jerking his arms behind his back, placing cuffs on his own wrists, but all his attention was on Asia.
“Are you okay?”
She smiled tensely. “I’m fine. Think I’m going to miss my flight, though.”
He grinned. “That was the plan.”
The humorless Transportation Security Administration officer on duty when all hell broke out at the North Terminal B security checkpoint strode up to take charge of the situation. From the shade of red on his face, the big man hadn’t appreciated being given the slip so easily. He glared at Ethan as if he would gladly kill him, but he spoke to his staff instead.
“Take these individuals to the Security Section and sit their butts in isolation until the Chief gets someone from the VIPR team in here.”
“But, sir, that’s my girlfriend,” Ethan protested. “I was only trying to protect her. Those guys were attacking her. I saw them from where I was waiting for her.”
The guard turned to him. “Shut the fuck up. Those security gates are there for a reason. For all I know you’re a fucking terrorist. You’re all fucking terrorists, as far as I’m concerned. Anyway, you’re in custody now, and we’ll just let the big boys sort your asses out.”
The Security Section at the Syracuse airport was a cramped and cluttered open space, so the “isolation” that had been ordered consisted of seating each of the combatants at a separate desk with a different sour-faced guard and making sure none of us talked to any of the others. While we waited for Security Chief Al Varinski to call in the TSA/Visual Intermodal Protection and Response team from wherever, the staff members who worked at the desks started with the paperwork and a rash of stupid questions.
The questions were the basic ones—name, address, origin, destination. And although I was already scared shitless, I realized this was the easy part. The more difficult interrogation would come later. Ethan’s outburst had already given me a clue to the story he’d be telling. I planned to back it up as best I could, just adding some bullshit about a trip to Santa Fe. Hearing the page. Going to meet him. Being attacked by two unknown assailants. I wasn’t planning on telling anyone anything about our history with the two thugs—like they would believe me if I did.
The real question was what had happened to Claussen. I hadn’t seen him since Ethan had punched him in the mouth, just before the two guys had grabbed me. How had he managed to escape being scooped up with the rest of us?
When my clerk was done with me I turned to glance at Ethan. He was watching me from where he sat two desks over, one booted ankle resting across his knee. His lips curved upward in a tight smile, and I tried to smile back at him.
“I’m sorry,” I mouthed silently.
He shook his head. “I love you,” he mouthed back.
I couldn’t imagine going through this without him, but just looking at him wasn’t nearly enough. I needed to touch him, to feel the warmth of his hand in mine or his arm around my shoulders. I needed to hear him say it was going to be okay, even if I knew it wasn’t. If they separated us for good before I got any of that, I wasn’t sure I could handle it.
But, of course, that’s just the kind of test fate had in mind for me, and sooner, rather than later. The outer door to the Security Section banged open, and Security Chief Varinski swept in with two other officers—and Arthur Claussen. They came to a halt in front of me, and my heart suddenly started misfiring in my chest.
Varinski, a balding pipsqueak of a man who was all uniform and no balls, spoke to the clerk processing my paperwork. “The woman is being released into this gentleman’s custody. He has all the requisite paperwork.”
“I don’t think—” I began.
“What? No!” Ethan shouted from across the room.
“Restrain him.” Varinski waved a hand in Ethan’s direction. “I’ve had just about enough of this bullshit.”
As guards rushed to hold Ethan in his seat, Claussen just smiled and spread his hands. “You see, Chief? This is what I’ve been dealing with. Between her delusional behavior and his violent tendencies I’ve had my hands full!”
Varinski nodded. “I can see that. Good thing you finally caught up with those two.”
“Excuse me, just what does that paperwork say?” I craned my neck to see.
The clerk looked up at me with a strange mixture of surprise and sympathy. Then she smiled.
“Now don’t you worry about that, honey. They’re going to take good care of you.”
Cold fear coiled like a snake in my belly, and one look at Claussen’s face confirmed what I suspected. I reached across the desk and snatched the papers from under the clerk’s pen. I had time to read the words “Orders to Commit . . .” and “. . . mental incompetence . . .” before the papers were snatched back and a guard had his heavy hands on my shoulders, pressing me into the chair.
“You
fucking bastard,” I spat at Claussen.
“Now, Asia, that is hardly a reasonable tone of voice.”
“I’d say it’s an entirely reasonable reaction to being kidnapped.” My voice had gone deadly quiet. “I’m no more insane than you are, but of course you’re the one with the credentials.” I turned my head to Varinski. “He’s not my doctor. You can look up the records. Up until a month ago I was seeing Dr. Ethan Roberts in Nashville, Tennessee—the man you happen to have in custody.”
Varinski actually looked confused for a moment.
Claussen laughed. “Oh, yes, that’s part of her delusion. Roberts was under treatment himself in my clinic for a time. That’s where they met. A sad case.”
“Check the records!” I sat forward in my seat.
“Quiet!” Varinski looked at Claussen. “Doctor?”
“I have the files right here, Chief, if you’d like to look at them.” He shrugged. “It might take some time.”
“That won’t be necessary. Roberts says himself he’s her boyfriend.” The little man had made up his mind, but he asked for confirmation anyway. “And you really think he’s a threat to security here at the airport, Doctor?”
“Oh, yes. He is positively a risk. He’ll have to be processed through the legal system before I can continue his therapy. Regrettably.”
My fear had hardened and compressed into a diamond of sharp-edged fury now. “The only one at risk from Ethan is you, Claussen. He was here to save me from you. He didn’t trust you, and now I see why. You were working with those thugs all along, weren’t you?” I had hurt Ethan for nothing. My heart twisted in my chest. “God, I was such an idiot.”
Claussen’s eyes narrowed. “Now you really are babbling, my dear. Are you sure you’re feeling all right?” He turned to the clerk. “All done with that paperwork?”
The woman pulled out a stamp and hit a few pages with it. Then she handed the sheets to Claussen. “There you go, sir.”
Guards took up position on either side of me, and I was forced to stand. My heart was keeping up a pounding protest in my chest, as if my blood had thickened past the point of movement in my veins. Ethan struggled in his seat against the hold of his guards, called my name even as I reached out a hand to him. Then I screamed “No!” and tried to run. Trapped like a fly in a web, I felt my feet leave the floor as multiple pairs of hands grabbed me and held me still. There was a sting at my neck. Then everything went black.
“Asia!”
Ethan fought his way out of the chair, elbows pivoting to bash the ribs of the guards holding him at either side. The grip released on his left, and he wrenched his arm free. He twisted and brought his fist up to strike under the man’s chin on his right and managed three steps before he was tackled and slammed to the carpet-covered concrete floor. The wrists that had been handcuffed in front of him were repositioned behind him, the cuffs were tightened to grind into his bones, and his shoulders were torqued nearly out of their sockets as he was jerked roughly to his feet and pushed back into his chair.
The guard he’d eluded before loomed over him. “If the VIPR guys weren’t due here in five minutes, I’d kick your fucking ass but good. Sit there and don’t move or I’ll do it anyway.”
Ethan could taste blood and one cheek burned where his face had met the carpet, but all he could think about was the terror in Asia’s eyes as the man he’d once called friend took her away. His chest tightened, and he had to force himself to breathe. Claussen had Asia now with all the weight of legality behind him. He no longer had to go through the elaborate pretense of spiriting her away to some location where no one knew her before grabbing her and throwing her in the back of a van. What would happen to Asia once Claussen had her was a question Ethan hadn’t allowed himself to ask before. Now the question filled his mind.
That day at the clinic, a simple medical procedure had triggered memories of abuse and humiliation, leaving her emotionally exhausted and vulnerable. She’d survived it because he’d been there. How long could she survive being probed and prodded at some isolated lab, alone? Asia was strong, she’d been through much worse, but . . .
Ethan saw her face that night after they’d left the clinic, wet with her tears; he felt her hair, so soft in his hands as he cradled her head to his chest, and he ached for her. He would never forgive himself for letting her be hurt this way. Every muscle in his body clenched in frustration. He had to find a way to get to her.
The door to the outer office swung open again, and hope flared briefly in Ethan’s heart. But it wasn’t Claussen returning with Asia. From Varinski’s reaction, the mismatched pair in bureaucratic-standard black suits was the help he’d been waiting for from the Transportation Security Administration’s special investigation team.
Ethan thought the male partner of the team certainly looked the part—close-cropped black hair, tall and muscular and with the kind of easy grace in his movement that meant athletic training, or street-fighting experience, or both. His dark-skinned female partner, on the other hand, was as tiny as he was tall, coming only to his shoulder and weighing maybe just over a hundred pounds. She did look as wired as a Jack Russell terrier, though.
The woman stopped in front of the Security Chief and gave him the once-over. “Chief Varinski? I’m Cheryl Kopic, from the Syracuse FBI office. This is my partner, Frank Martin.” She offered credentials for inspection.
Varinski studied the badges and frowned. “We were expecting Tom Carver from VIPR.”
“Yeah, Carver called us and asked us to pick this guy up,” Martin said. “We have an interstate warrant out on him. That okay with you?”
The TSA chief shrugged. “I don’t give a shit who takes him as long as you got the paperwork straight. That’s him over in the corner. He don’t like to play nice.”
Varinski pointed in his direction and the three of them frowned. Ethan stared back evenly. He didn’t know how he was going to do it, but he had to convince these people to help him.
It took a few minutes for the required paperwork to be signed. Then the Security Chief nodded at Ethan’s guards and they got him to his feet.
Agent Kopic stepped closer and nodded. “Okay, Chief, we’ll take it from here. Thanks for holding onto him for us.”
Varinski scowled at what was soon to be his ex-prisoner. “No problem. You’re sure you can handle him with just the two of you?”
Martin grinned. “Oh, yeah. She’s tougher than she looks, you know.”
“Oh, a real ball-buster, huh?” Varinski barked out a laugh.
Kopic glanced at him, and the corners of her mouth lifted. “You wouldn’t want to find out, Chief.” She took Ethan’s arm and steered him toward the door. Ethan wasn’t inclined to argue with her—he could feel the energy coming off her—and, besides, he wanted the agent on his side.
Her partner nodded at Varinski on his way out. “We’ll send you a copy of the full report in a couple of weeks.”
The three of them moved silently and quickly through a series of little-used service corridors that led them out into the employee section of the garage. Ethan gave a thought to his Baby, abandoned in a short-term parking slot and no doubt slated for towing in a few hours. Then he was hustled into the backseat of a black Ford Explorer with tinted windows and the time for thinking of anything but what was going to happen next was over.
The man slid in behind the driver’s seat and started up the engine. His partner got in beside Ethan and winked at him.
“Just give us a minute to get out of this garage and away from any security cams and then we’ll get those handcuffs off you, sweets.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
I woke up with my head on fire and my mouth full of sawdust. When I opened my eyes, I panicked, believing I was blind, but it was only that the darkness was complete, smothering any hope of sight. The least movement brought on a wave of dizzy nausea, so I stopped moving, waiting until the cot I was lying on decided to obey the laws of gravity.
I dozed off and woke
again, I don’t know how much later. By then the dizziness was tolerable, and I could sit up, though my head still pounded and every muscle was stiff and sore. I must have been on that cot for hours, trying to sleep off the effect of the drug Claussen had given me. My stomach was empty, and I needed a bathroom—badly. Jesus, just how long had I been here? And where, exactly, was here?
Somewhere, a control switch was thrown, and light panels in the ceiling began to glow dimly, illuminating my eight-by-twelve cell—plain, gray cement walls; smooth, gray cement floor. The cell was equipped with a stainless steel sink and toilet, a television screen recessed into the wall behind a heavy plastic protective cover, a few magazines and a remote on a shelf cut into the wall below the TV. It had a door with a wired-glass window slot like an old school room but no windows.
My heart began to beat with slow-metered dread. I clamped down on my reaction. It was too soon to panic. Wait and see what Claussen wants.
I focused on simple things. I stood up, fought the dizziness and the lingering nausea, made my way to the toilet and used it. I splashed tepid tap water over my face and felt a little better. I ran both hands through my hair, fingers combing through the tangles and fluffing up the flattened, shapeless mess it had become. Then a control was touched again somewhere, and the lights grew brighter. I peered at my reflection in a doll-sized mirror above the sink, and it showed me the truth. My eyes were still shadowed with fear, my skin the same gray as the walls of my cell.
I went to the TV and the shelf underneath. The magazines were ancient and of no interest—People, Ladies Home Journal, Good Housekeeping. I tried the remote. The TV came on readily enough, but this wasn’t your everyday cable. No news channels, no local channels. No channels at all. Some old movies, some cartoons, reruns of I Love Lucy. It was like I’d landed in the Twilight Zone version of an old folks’ home. Despite the frothy nature of the selections, the offerings did nothing to ease my fear about this place. I released a soulless laugh and turned off the set.
Unchained Memory (The Interstellar Rescue Series Book 1) Page 30