An Unlikely Hero (1)

by Tierney James

  What about her family? Were they missing her? Could she get a message to them? Why hadn’t she caved in to Robert and gone to Tahoe? At least she’d be safe in the loving arms of her family. Tessa shook the dead weight of regret from her plan. Thoughts of those she loved would confuse what she needed to do to escape.

  Why had she been blindfolded a few minutes into the flight? Tessa could still remember the reassuring words of the man who saved her life as the helicopter had landed. “You’ll be okay, Mrs. Scott. I won’t let anything happen to you. You’re in a safe place. We have to secure the prisoner before we discuss your involvement.”

  She remembered reaching for the blindfold as she tried to push those strong hands away from her arms. Suddenly he’d grabbed both her hands in just one of his. His voice, calm and frosty, whispered in her ear. “Don’t make me tie you up, Mrs. Scott.” Tessa had stiffened with fear but nodded in defeat. “That’s a good girl. You’ve been through hell today. I promise I’ll make this all go away as soon as I can.”

  Should she trust him? Not likely. But hadn’t he saved her life just a few hours ago? Then the image of him unloading his gun into those injured men flooded fear into her reasoning process. She’d witnessed two murders. How could he be with Homeland Security? She wondered if that trucker survived the “cleanup crew” as the man named Chase had called them.

  The sound of a dead bolt retracting echoed in the room. Slowly, Tessa stood and backed against the wall. Were they coming to make the final clean up?

  In walked the larger than life, her protector, with a slight smile on his wide expressive mouth. His clothes were still dirty and torn from the earlier conflict. He had managed to remove the grime from his high cheekbones. His nose looked like it may have been broken at some time and a small faded scar lay above his right eyebrow. Tessa couldn’t decide if his short hair was black or just dark brown. But when he stepped into the light she saw that it was a little of both. Those wide set eyes were dark chocolate and took her in like a thirsty man in the desert. She felt exposed under that gaze as if he were reading her mind. He was over six foot. She’d compared him with her husband’s height earlier. There wasn’t a soft spot on him. It wasn’t hard to remember feeling him on top of her when they’d crashed onto the ground. The memory of the power in his arms as he’d pulled her to safety made Tessa blush now as her eyes examined him.

  “I’m Chase Hunter, Mrs. Scott.” He stood with his feet slightly apart as if inspecting the troops. His hands locked in front of him. “I apologize for keeping you here for so long.” He took a step forward but stopped when Tessa slid away from him. “I’m afraid we still have some unfinished business.” His smile, although meant to be disarming, only made Tessa shiver with fear.

  “What kind of business?” Tessa pulled back her shoulders as if that might look brave. “I want to go home!”

  “I’m afraid that’s not possible.” Chase dropped his locked hands and placed them on his hips. “We need some information.”

  Tessa nodded and moved toward him. “Okay.” Her voice soft and forgiving made Chase smile revealing straight white teeth.

  “Shall we?” He nodded toward the door.

  “Oh no!” Tessa moaned as she batted her eyes quickly.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “My contact lens! It fell out.”

  Chase dropped his hands from his hips and looked down at the concrete floor. With both hands Tessa grabbed his shirt and pulled him to her chest. The look of surprise in his eyes was followed by excruciating pain as Tessa rammed her knee into Chase’s groin. When he staggered to stay on his feet, she lifted the rickety chair and swung it into his arched back. With the sound of splintering wood came a curse as Chase fell to the floor. Quickly, Tessa darted out of the room and slammed the door shut, making sure it locked before turning to run up the now visible stairs. Grabbing a broken broom handle propped against the wall, Tessa clenched it tightly like a samurai’s sword.

  Cautiously, Tessa made her way up the dimly lit stairs. She heard the static of a walkie talkie then a man’s voice. Someone waited at the top of the stairs out of sight. Tessa laid down her broom stick on the landing that led up the next flight of stairs. She eased back behind a stack of boxes that created a dark corner.

  “Help! Chase has been hurt! Please, someone!” she screamed, then crouched a little lower behind the boxes. A second later a camouflage dressed man barreled down the steps to the rescue only to step on the broom stick handle sending his feet into the air and his head crashing against the concrete step. Tessa could see he was unconscious as she slipped out from her hideout. Retrieving the stick, Tessa rushed up the stairs only to stop and press her ear to the door. Nothing.

  Cracking open the steel door revealed light. Blessed light! Tessa pushed harder on the door and slipped her bruised and aching body into a hallway lined with windows. Distracted by the normal passage of traffic on the nearby street, she failed to notice the man coming through the doors at the end of the hall until his familiar East European voice startled her back to reality.

  “Well, what do we have here?” It was the man dressed in black from the helicopter. He didn’t try to approach her as he folded his arms across his chest. His eyes darted toward the basement doors looking for Chase. “Alone at last.” His voice sounded matter of fact.

  Tessa panicked. Turning her eyes toward the ground level windows, Tessa knew she had but one option. With all the strength she could gather, Tessa backed up and ran toward the windows, using the broom handle as a javelin. Upon impact the javelin propelled her backwards like a rubber ball. She hit the wall so hard the broom stick flew out of her hands only to be caught in midair by the man in black as he calmly approached.

  “Bullet proof,” he said looking down at her crude weapon, “and broomstick proof.” He smiled wickedly. “And what have you done with Captain Hunter?”

  Robert looked bewildered at his Blackberry, as if doing so would suddenly explain why Tessa wasn’t answering her phone. He wanted to let her know they had arrived safely at the lake and that the kids were just fine. Robert had looked forward to rubbing salt into Tessa’s super mom wounds all day. The kids wanted to tell her all about the boat and picnic and what a great time they were having even though she wasn’t there to weave her spell of magical bliss.

  Part of him wanted to say he was sorry too. Sorry for being such a jerk and insinuating her duties at home aligned with watching the grass grow. He felt exhaustion settling into his body and desperately wanted a nap. But the kids needed supervision down by the lake even if they were just skipping rocks. And what was he going to do for supper? Geeze! Why had he ticked Tessa off? This was all his fault but if he gave in now Tessa would gloat for the rest of his life.

  At that he decided he missed that beautiful smile and longed to hold her in his arms as she laughed and teased him. His heart thickened with regret as his eyes looked out at the lake. They could’ve sat out tonight and counted the stars. That always got her in the mood. The thought of her soft naked skin next to his started to make his clothes feel tight and uncomfortable.

  He opened the Blackberry one more time. Maybe he would just leave her a message saying the kids missed her.

  Agent Nicholas Zoric, former Serbian Nationalist, sat on the edge of an empty desk, cleaning his nails with a switchblade knife. He watched with one eye toward the wall of windows that enclosed Director Benjamin Clark’s temporary office. Dressed in a suit and tie, the director paced his generous office before Nicholas Zoric’s friend Chase Hunter. Chase sat in a chair looking up at his boss seemingly unconcerned at the verbal abuse being hurled at him. Nicholas carefully closed his knife and smiled over at Tessa Scott who was handcuffed to a well cushioned office chair. For the last ten minutes she had been eyeing her surroundings, looking for another means of escape, he guessed with great amusement.

  “What’s gotten into the boss?” Vernon Kemp stopped next to Nicholas and stared nervously into the office where Benjamin continued to bere
t the team leader at Enigma. “I’ve never seen him in such a rage, especially at Hunter.”

  It was true. Chase Hunter was the golden boy at Enigma, the secretive operational force under the protection of Home Land Security. Cloaked in mystery, only the president and Secretary Tobias Stewart, head of Home Land Security, knew the full extent of their operations. They filled a gap of missing intelligence desperately needed after 911.

  Teetering on misuse of the law, Enigma had been able to gather vital intelligence from not only within the U.S. but the world. Having the uncanny ability to fit almost any profile and assimilate into any population, Chase was the poster child of Enigma. The president’s complete trust in Chase’s operational force never wavered and gave him free reign when it came to national security. Only Tobias Stewart kept Chase from turning the law and intelligence gathering into a legal nightmare. The way to keep Chase in check was to put Benjamin Clark as his superior, the one man that Chase respected as much as the president.

  Vernon shoved his hands deep into the pockets of his ragged jeans. Although some said Vernon Kemp was probably the smartest man in the world when it came to computer technology and artificial intelligence, his appearance implied he was an over aged skateboarder who had dropped by to bum a few bucks from his friends. His hair, red and unruly, fell past his ears. Boyish freckles were evident across his small nose and rosy cheeks. His lopsided smile revealed a bottom row of crooked teeth. Although well into his twenties, Vernon looked like he just graduated from high school. The black glasses he occasionally pushed up on his nose gave Vernon a somewhat geeky look. It wasn’t until you looked into his hazel colored eyes that evidence of a shrewd, almost devilish manipulator materialized. The innocent gamer transformed into a storm trooper with a keyboard.

  With a Ph.D. from MIT in computer analysis and design at the age of twenty one, Vernon quickly came to the attention of the defense department. They hired him immediately to further their work in artificial intelligence. After developing software which would revolutionize the computer industry, Vernon’s work mysteriously disappeared at the Pentagon. Vernon quit his job and became an underground conspiracy theorist. Some of the power moguls were so angry at his leaving the Pentagon that a picture of Vernon in the crosshairs of one of their AK47s materialized on one of the conspiracy networks that Vernon liked to frequent.

  Just after President Buck Austin took office he instructed Benjamin Clark to recruit Vernon Kemp for his new secret agency, Enigma. A man like that needed to channel his talent toward helping the good guys especially if he had the Pentagon big shots in a stew. Vernon only came on board after meeting Chase Hunter and being told he could do whatever he wanted as long as it didn’t interfere with national security.

  “What’s the problem?” Vernon glanced down at the grim faced Serbian. The man in black, as usual, made him a little uneasy.

  When a rare smile broke across his thin, narrow face, Vernon’s eyebrows arched. “Chase got bested by a girl!” Nicholas Zoric chuckled.

  Vernon’s eyes widened. “By who?” The Serbian nodded toward the pitiful, ragged woman handcuffed to the chair across the room. Vernon saw the puny figure slouched in the chair with ripped clothing and dirty hair. Her face smudged with blood and sweat, she looked more like a discarded kitten than a saber toothed tiger that could best the great Captain Hunter. He looked around but saw no one else. “Her?”

  Nicholas Zoric nodded as he stood and continued to smile. “She’s my hero.”

  Vernon snickered his usual weasel laugh drawing Tessa’s angry glare. “Introduce me!” Usually Vernon became tongue tied around women. His shyness was legendary. His smooth operator persona evaporated into an awkward stutter when females tried to approach.

  Nicholas pushed Vernon toward the subdued prisoner. “Watch yourself. Her bark is definitely not as bad as her bite.”

  Benjamin Clark paced before Chase Hunter, livid at the day’s events. Two men down at the scene, a house shot up by unknown terrorists, a nuclear device at large, a cleanup near the Yuba River, and now a seemingly innocent woman involved.

  Chase started to stand. His back ached from the earlier attack by Tessa Scott.

  “Sit down!” Benjamin demanded with the tone of a base drum. Benjamin rarely raised his voice. His hawk-like eyes, narrow nose and stern expression commanded attention whenever he spoke. His soft, firm voice drew more respect than shouting. Chase eased himself back down into his wooded armchair, surprised at the anger his boss displayed. It wasn’t often that Benjamin could be read so easily.

  “Can you explain to me how a soccer mom came into possession of a nuclear device created by some obscure terrorist outfit, then managed to knock one unconscious so the two of you could escape?” Chase started to open his mouth when Benjamin held up a large leathery hand for silence. “Then there’s the little, tiny fact,” he held up his index finger and thumb measuring about an inch, “that she managed to trick, and overcome you so she could escape our holding cell!” Chase flinched at the pain he’d felt when Tessa had rammed her knee into his groin. “And dare I forget” he growled, “that she nearly killed one of your men with no more than a broomstick!”

  “How is he?” Chase interrupted with genuine concern.

  Benjamin stopped his pacing and leaned against his desk as he loosened his paisley tie. “Has a concussion. If he hadn’t been wearing his helmet the doctor said he’d be dead!” Benjamin crossed his arms and glared up at the ceiling as if searching for words. “Secretary Stewart wants some answers and fast!”

  Chase let the steam escape from Benjamin’s anger. He knew a cool head would prevail after the shock of the day’s events began to be absorbed. The rise and fall of Benjamin’s chest slowed to a steady rhythm as the silence of the room began to smother the fire of his temper. When Benjamin sighed, Chase knew it was safe to speak.

  “The doc fixed Jamaal up. He’s waiting downstairs to be interrogated.” Grasping the arm of the chair, Chase pushed himself up. A stiffness began to attack his bones. It had been a hell of a morning. The adrenalin rush prevented pain earlier, but now that order had returned to his world, Chase felt his age. “I’ll take Zoric with me.”

  Zoric and Chase shared a history neither talked about to others. Each knew the other had their back. Chase regretted that the men helping earlier in the day nearly lost their lives at the hands of the terrorists, but was grateful that Zoric had not been available for the job. Few got Chase’s respect and trust. Nicholas Zoric was one of them.

  Taking Zoric into an interrogation situation usually proved successful. His dark hollow looks made him seem more like a vampire than an American agent with Enigma. His cold bloodshot eyes showed no emotion. The scars across his cheek and neck hinted at a dangerous past. A thick, black mustache peppered with gray spoke of middle age unlike his straight black hair he pulled back into a ponytail that rested on his lean neck. Zoric wasn’t a big man, only five foot eleven compared to Chase’s six foot one frame.

  He had been an accomplished artist in Sarajevo before the war. Young, optimistic and talented, Nicholas Zoric married his childhood sweetheart and quickly started a family. The war took everything; his family, his talent, his reason to live. He became a cold blooded killer in the name of justice. Zoric became one of the walking dead of Serbia. Now, when he wasn’t on mission, he taught art classes at the university. His ability to inflict pain on the deserving proved a great asset to Enigma and they took advantage of that talent whenever it suited them.

  Nicholas Zoric marveled at how Vernon Kemp had suddenly emerged from his shy, awkward self into a babbling idiot as the pretty lady handcuffed to the chair drew him into a normal conversation. He’d never seen Vernon so relaxed around a woman. Zoric admitted even though Mrs. Scott was disheveled, the bruises, smudges and ripped clothing failed to hide a pretty woman. Those blue eyes swallowed a man’s common sense. Their intense attention to Vernon’s voice swayed even him, a lost soul.

  Zoric nudged Vernon’s shoulder with a fis
t. “Boss waitin’. Better come,” he said moving toward the glass wall where Benjamin and Chase watched with sour looks. “Now, Vernon.”

  Vernon said one more thing to Mrs. Scott. It sounded like some kind of promise. He passed Zoric as he shoved his hands back into his jean pockets. His whistling drowned out Zoric’s warning, but Vernon ambled into the glass office carefree and smiling.

  “What the hell were you doing?” Chase’s low controlled voice sent a disgruntled message.

  “Nothin’.” Vernon suddenly looked confused. Chase gave a side long glance at Mrs. Scott then back to him. “Oh. Tessa and I were just...”

  “Tessa?” Benjamin Clark interrupted as his strange grey eyes focused on Vernon with a kind of liquid fire consistency. “Tessa! Who gave you permission to fraternize with the prisoner?”

  Vernon blinked rapidly. “You’re right. I shouldn’t let people who humiliate us know we’re human.” Vernon’s habit of trivializing a reprimand annoyed Benjamin Clark’s ‘total control’ attitude. Just as Benjamin straightened to his full height and pulled back his shoulders, Chase stepped in front of Vernon.

  “Until we get this straightened out its best not to talk to Mrs. Scott.”

  Vernon shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and rolled his eyes disrespectfully. “Whatever, dude.” The pleasure he got from irritating Benjamin Clark would be put on hold. The thought of angering Chase was another matter entirely.

  The discussion quickly moved to strategy for extracting more information from Jamaal, the remaining terrorist. The four men had showed up at the Scott house to retrieve a bomb. Clearly they were not aware the vessel found in the backyard was a decoy. How had they known to look there? If that wasn’t the bomb where was it? Why had their equipment failed and given a false positive for radioactive matter?

  “The equipment didn’t fail. Just came from the lab. The readout rang true.” Vernon took out his glasses from his shirt pocket and began twirling them in his left hand. “Which means…?”