by Nancy Madore
Thinking about BEACON had a soothing effect on Nadia, and she allowed her mind to linger on the thing she was most proud of in her life. BEACON had helped thousands of people—and it would help her now. She felt a surge of confidence that defied all negative thoughts. Sure, she’d used her parents’ connections to get where she was, but then again, by the time she founded BEACON she’d established almost as many of her own. She’d attended charity events with her mother all her life, alternately working in the field alongside her father. Compounding her experience with an MBA, it seemed a natural progression for Nadia to go from volunteer to director. She had planned to only act as a broker at first, maintaining just enough control to ensure that the contributions reached their intended destinations. She’d intended to keep BEACON small, private and independent, but she was simply too good at what she did. The assistance she was able to bring to disaster victims impressed everyone who encountered her in the field, and after her work in the 2004 earthquake in India, she gained national acclaim. Money came pouring in and even the UN’s disaster relief commission, UNDRO, wanted to add her to their call list. Community organizations like CERT—the first responders in most disasters—quickly followed suit, and with the extra funding and support these organizations brought, Nadia had no choice but to become an official nonprofit organization, with a plush office in Manhattan and several assistants to help her manage it all.
But along with the acclaim there were bound to be criticisms as well. In times of disaster, one often had to make concessions, many times choosing between the lesser of two evils. In her obsession to help the people of India, for instance—a passion of hers since her involvement in that catastrophic earthquake of 2004—Nadia joined forces with an organization that turned out to have some rather dubious connections to extremist groups out of Pakistan. She’d taken a considerable amount of heat for it too, even though BEACON was only one of several charities involved. It seemed unlikely that BEACON would be the one singled out for that incident.
These thoughts were interrupted by the sudden slowing of the vehicle, which jerked Nadia abruptly back to the present. And once again she became painfully aware of her too-small confinement and concluded that she was, in fact, inside the dreaded garbage container, where they could easily bury her alive if they wanted to. She recalled the unflinching determination of her captor. His cold, calculated method of subduing and removing her from her building sent chills down her spine.
These thoughts opened the door to a host of other thoughts that Nadia had been desperately trying to avoid. Now, distracted by the alternately slowing and turning of the vehicle—which gave her hope that they were nearing their destination even as it raised new fears about what would happen to her when they did—her thoughts became scattered, rushing, and quickly spinning out of control. One, in particular, kept pushing its way to the forefront of her mind, forceful and commanding, challenging her to deny that—regardless of their reasons for abducting her—the kidnappers were far too competent to show their faces if they intended to let her live. They were going to kill her.
And in that moment Nadia realized why she’d been so actively avoiding this thought, even as the panic rose up in her all over again. It spread quickly this time, too formidable to stop. Every breath was becoming a struggle. The pain of confinement was unbearable. She could feel her fingers and toes going numb. The space seemed to be getting even smaller. Each time the vehicle slowed she felt a spark of hope, but then all hope was dashed again when the car simply turned and slowly crept on. She was sure she would suffocate before they got her out. The garbage can would be her casket. Nadia burst into tears, giving in to her despair. But the release—muffled and constrained as it was—offered very little comfort before demanding its deadly price. She instantly stopped, realizing her mistake, but it was too late. Her nostrils were now congested, obstructing her only remaining passageway for air. The realization that she really was going to die put her in a temporary state of shock.
Had the vehicle stopped? Yes—either Nadia was hallucinating from lack of oxygen or it really stopped this time. She could no longer hear the engine running. Hope sparked again.
Car doors opened and closed, but it was all happening much too slowly. Nadia heard the pop of a latch—like that of van door—but there was yet another pause before she felt the container she was in being hauled out of the vehicle. Each action seemed to be stretched out indefinitely. Nadia’s lungs ached from the lack of oxygen, but somehow her heart kept up its frantic pace. She could feel it hammering in her temples, and wondered if it was possible for a heart to explode. Instinctively she kept trying to breathe. Her body jerked wildly against the walls of the container as the world seemed to spin all around her. She was vaguely conscious of being turned upside down.
Then suddenly—and quite unceremoniously—Nadia was dumped out onto the ground like so much garbage.
Chapter 3
The fading brilliance of the afternoon sun was blinding to Nadia’s light-deprived eyes. She continued to struggle until someone finally tore the tape from her lips and removed the gag from her mouth. She gasped loudly, taking long, convulsive breaths in an effort to get as much oxygen into her lungs as possible. She tried to sit up, blinking frantically in order to regain her sight. Although she’d been released from the container her movements were still restricted, and she realized that her wrists were bound and her ankles connected by a chain. She managed, with effort, to sit up on her knees. As her vision gradually returned, she perceived three figures looming over her. A small, involuntary cry escaped her lips as they came into focus.
Her kidnappers’ faces were now hidden behind dark, ominous-looking masks that fit over their heads like helmets. All three masks were the same. They had the formidable aspects of ancient warriors—possibly Greek, or Middle-Eastern. Small circles had been carved into each of their foreheads to give the impression of curls creeping out from beneath the helmets, and more of the circles were carved on their elongated chins to look like beards. The eyes were cut out, as were the nostrils beneath the long, imperious noses. There was a small hole in the center of each grim-looking mouth.
Nadia stared up at the masked men in bewilderment. Were the masks indicative of something or simply to hide their faces? The first option was too terrifying to contemplate, so Nadia focused on the latter, which suggested to her hopeful mind that they intended to keep her alive after all. Yet they had to realize that she’d already gotten a good look at them—especially the first one—back in the restroom. She was certain she could identify him in a line up. Did they think she wouldn’t remember?
There was no point in conjecture. She looked around anxiously. They were in the middle of what appeared to be an abandoned field. Off in the distance she could see trees and even farther off, mountains. She had no idea how long she’d been unconscious in the car, but she didn’t think they could have traveled very far from Manhattan. And yet there was no sign of the city in any direction. Her gaze returned to the men. They were all around the same height—somewhere between five-ten and six feet tall, she estimated. They were lean and healthy looking, and all of them had that same, superior manner as the first one. Or maybe it was the masks. Nadia recognized the man who attacked her by his cold, blue eyes, which were glaring at her from the holes in his mask. The other two were harder to distinguish between, as both had dark skin and brown eyes. They had removed the janitors’ uniforms and now wore casual shirts and jeans.
The silence was disconcerting. Nadia had expected comments, taunts or perhaps even interrogations. They stood silent, staring at her, as if they were waiting for her to speak. She began to tremble as she searched for the right words.
“Please…,” she began, coughing reflexively from the effort to talk after her ordeal. “I…have money,” she choked out. “And I will cooperate.”
“If you speak again, for any reason, your mouth will be filled and taped shut like before,” said the man with the piercing blue eyes. His cold, matter of fact
tone left no doubt in her mind that he would do exactly as he threatened.
Nadia stared at him, stunned. He merely stood there, indifferent, watching her. She looked at the others. From behind their masks they seemed just as indifferent. She wondered what she should do. This was unexpected and jarring. She had thought that once they reached their destination she would find out what was happening. Why all the mystery? And why were they waiting out here in this clearing? It was a struggle not to demand answers, but Nadia kept quiet, mentally cursing the tears of frustration that spontaneously slipped down her cheeks. At all costs she wanted to avoid having her mouth taped again. And too, she didn’t want to give them the satisfaction of seeing her cry. She tried to maneuver her body into a more comfortable sitting position. She was trembling violently now. Though her hands and feet were bound, she was able to straighten her limbs enough to relieve some of the pressure in her aching joints. She was far from comfortable but she was afraid to move too much lest they put her back in the container, which had been tossed to one side and which was, in fact, the container used for garbage, just as she guessed.
She silently wept, keeping her head down and staring miserably at the ground. The men appeared to be waiting for something. She wondered what it was. Her trembling didn’t let up, and though jarring it was also mildly distracting. She could feel herself slowly disconnecting, as if the vibrations were actually shaking her loose from herself.
Eventually there came a low rumbling from off in the distance. Nadia turned toward the sound but she knew before she spotted it that it was the sound of an airplane approaching. She watched in a kind of stupor, realizing that this was bigger than anything she had imagined. A small hope arose in her that surely they would not go to all this trouble if they intended to kill her. But where were they taking her?
The jet decelerated rapidly once it touched down, and then it seemed an eternity before it finally crept to a stop within a few yards of where they stood. It was a large private jet—much bigger than what was necessary for the four of them. A compartment beneath the cabin door popped open and a long, metal contraption emerged, slowly unfolding as it lowered itself to the ground. Within seconds it was transformed into a full set of stairs, complete with handrails on either side. The moment the stairs touched the ground the cabin door popped open and the kidnappers sprang into action. The first man stood at the bottom of the stairs while the other two approached Nadia, one on each side, and jerked her up by her arms. With her feet chained together, Nadia was obliged to take very small steps, but the two men held her steady and led her up the stairs. Nadia went along quietly until they reached the top, and then something inside her revolted. She stopped, surprising even herself with the force of her resistance, and twisted herself free from her two shocked captors. Turning, she now came up against the increasingly familiar icy blue stare of the man who seemed to her the most malevolent of the three. Somehow she stood her ground, glaring back at him with a mixture of terror and defiance as she actually considered kicking him down the steps. Some impulse was overriding her common sense, insisting that it would be better to die there in that field than to get on the jet and be taken even further from home. But the impulse passed almost as quickly as it occurred. Nadia didn’t want to die. Besides, she couldn’t kick with her feet tied together and the men on either side of her were already swinging her back around. They urged her forward more forcefully this time and, if that weren’t enough, strong hands from behind suddenly grasped her by the waist and lifted her effortlessly over the threshold and into the craft. Even once they were inside, the men kept relentlessly ushering her on, practically dragging her to a seat in the front row. Before there was time for further resistance Nadia was firmly strapped in, and then the chain connecting her feet was bolted to the seat. The plane door slammed shut with the force of a gunshot. The utter hopelessness of her situation sunk in, and Nadia surrendered to the despair that had been stalking her since she first came to in their vehicle.
Her kidnappers, meanwhile, were taking their seats and buckling themselves in. The two darker men sat behind Nadia while ‘blue eyes,’—as Nadia couldn’t help thinking of him—sat in the same row as her, across the aisle. He sat sideways in his seat so he could watch her. He said something to the pilot and shortly afterwards the plane began to move, slowly at first, and then picking up speed until she felt the dizzying sensation of being lifted and carried off into the afternoon sky.
The disturbingly callous blue eyes never seemed to stray from her face. The ancient mask made them appear like something inhuman, a mystical force out of a science fiction horror film. Nadia had to remind herself that the man behind the mask was, in fact, human, regardless of how he appeared. He was just a man, with a man’s limitations. It would help to remember this. ‘Blue eyes’ and his comrades also had weaknesses. Her life might depend on finding out what they were.
She realized now that this was not a simple kidnapping for a negotiated ransom. If that were the case, she would have been kept somewhere relatively close to home. This was something much bigger. But what, then, was happening, and why? And should she simply continue to acquiesce in silence? Yet what choice did she have? There hadn’t been a single opportunity when she’d felt there was anything to gain by fighting them (other than when she was first accosted in the bathroom, but that was water under the bridge now and she had no desire to dredge it up again). She felt an overwhelming urge to do something—but what? At the moment, there was nothing she could do. She would simply have to wait. She couldn’t afford to make another foolish mistake, and she didn’t want to bring needless suffering onto herself either. Resistance would bring further restraint or, worse, injury or death. She was pretty sure they wanted her alive—for the moment—considering all the trouble they were going to, but they could easily hurt her if they wanted to. She would avoid that at all costs. And too, she didn’t want to alert them to be on their guard with her. She would need the element of surprise when she finally found her moment.
Nadia wondered why they were so adamant about not letting her speak. In fact, she couldn’t help noticing how alert and wary they had been ever since they released her from the container. She found it rather disconcerting—and odd, given her current state. What did they have to be wary of? She’d have to be the bionic woman to pose any threat to them. She recalled how quickly and cautiously Blue Eyes connected the chain to her seat and then immediately withdrew, almost as if he was afraid of her. It seemed impossible and yet, she was suddenly certain of it. What did it mean? She felt she was missing something important and sighed, frustrated.
Her only hope was to outwit them at some point. She was no bionic woman, but she was smart. She would watch them just as closely as they were watching her.
But this proved harder than it seemed. To look at them was to meet those hostile stares head on. Nadia had no mask to hide behind. Even not to look at them; she could still feel their eyes upon her, steady and oppressive, like heavy blankets on a stiflingly hot day. Why were they watching her so closely?
Stealing surreptitious glances in Blue Eyes’ direction, Nadia was struck once again with the impression that he wasn’t the typical kidnapper. She noticed that his hands, though strong and well defined, were smooth, and his fingernails were clean and neatly trimmed. This suggested that his strength came from working out, not from working. His clothing was simple and casual, but Nadia could tell that it was expensive. But it was his dark, disdainful gaze that was most disconcerting. Whenever her eyes met his, Nadia was always the first to look away.
The only opportunity Nadia had to observe Blue Eyes freely was when he turned, occasionally, to speak to the pilot in the cockpit. He spoke in a low voice, and though she strained to hear, Nadia couldn’t make out what he was saying over the engines.
As the hours passed and the afternoon wore away, Nadia wondered if she was being taken out of the country. Her initial terror was spent, leaving her too weak to summon further feelings of panic. The trembling had s
ubsided and she felt strangely detached. She was relatively comfortable for the moment, so she forced herself to rest in the peculiar calm before the storm and save her energy for whatever came next.
Nadia closed her eyes in order to block out the image of the harassing blue stare. She wished her kidnappers would speak to her. An interrogation would be preferable to the unending silence. She couldn’t help acknowledging how proficient these men were at what they did. This was a well-planned venture. Even the timing couldn’t have been better. Although it wasn’t much of a feat to find Nadia in her office on a Friday afternoon, as far as everyone else was concerned the office was closed and she was on vacation for two weeks. She wouldn’t be missed for a while. Everyone, including her father, thought she was spending a long weekend with Joe. But Joe was gone. The thought of Joe brought Nadia up short. Odd that this was the first time she thought of him, and yet it seemed to put things in perspective. She’d faced trauma and near death without giving him a passing thought. Weren’t you supposed to think about the one you loved most in your final moments? Somehow Joe had ceased to matter, except in how he might affect the final outcome of her current situation. All their breakup meant now was that no one would miss Nadia. She had distanced herself from everyone in an effort to avoid telling them about the breakup, which would make it all the harder for anyone to become suspicious when she didn’t answer her phone or turn up for any events.
Why, oh why, hadn’t she at least told her father about Joe? If she had, he would have been checking in with her periodically. In fact, he probably would have talked her into spending the weekend with him instead of waiting until Tuesday to join him on the island. Nadia imagined her father, sitting on the porch of his house in the Hamptons, staring peacefully out at the ocean while sipping an extra dry martini packed with olives. She could have been there with him, instead of here on this plane. She was filled with regret, and suddenly angry with Joe. Thinking he might change his mind, she’d avoided telling her father about the incident, knowing that he would not be as forgiving as she was. And maybe she knew that her father was right. She tried to picture Joe’s face in her mind but the effort exhausted her. She dozed restlessly in her seat. When she woke up, a new, more immediate problem arose. She had to use the bathroom.