by K. L. Nelson
The director looked at Skye and smiled. He was a patient man, and he sensed this was as far as the professor was going to be pushed on this day. He pressed a button on his desk and called for Hector.
“We will speak again, my dear,” he said.
In a few moments Skye was being led by the arm out of the office.
“Get your hand off me Hector!” she barked, jerking her arm away. She burst out of the room ahead of Hector, leading him down the hallway as he hurried to keep up with her.
“But we’re not going this way!” Hector said as he walked beside her. “If you want to go back to the holding cell you can, but if you would like me to show you to your room please follow me.” He finally got her attention.
Skye stopped. “My room?” she asked.
“I think you will find it much more accommodating than the cell,” Hector said.
She let out a sigh. “Fine, where is it?”
Skye followed Hector to another wing of the compound, where they entered a room with luxury appointments. It was unlike anything she’d ever seen. A leather chair sat in the corner beside a solid oak table. On one wall were a large fireplace and a bookcase featuring many great works of literature. The bay window opposite the fireplace reached all the way to the crown molding on the high ceiling, and was flanked by finely woven drapery tied to the wall with silken ropes. The view of the countryside was breathtaking.
In the middle of the room was a massive four-post bed with silk sheets. She tried not to show the longing on her face, but she couldn’t wait to snuggle down between those sheets and drift off to sleep. She was exhausted after the hellish night.
Skye saw a tiny camera in the corner near the ceiling. “I’m sure this room is heavily bugged,” she said as Hector stood by.
“Certainly not,” the man replied. “The entire house is swept weekly for listening devices.”
“Hmm. Well, okay. What if I need something? There’s no phone.”
Hector replied, “Just speak into the lamp.”
He left the room, locking the door from the outside. The room may have been nice, but Skye was a prisoner nonetheless. She went to the window and looked out, not to see anything but to think.
Later that day, Myna came in to see Skye. Her eye was swollen and purple. This time, she came with help. Hector and two other men came to provide the muscle. “Hmm,” Skye scoffed as they walked in, “it takes four of you?”
Ignoring the comment, Myna went to work measuring Skye. No one in the room had any use for conversation, beyond Myna’s terse commands so she could do her job: “Arms out…stand up straight…turn around please….” She wasn’t barking orders, just calmly going about her business.
Skye wondered what she was being measured for. “Just so you know, I look best in khaki,” she prodded. Myna ignored that too.
Skye didn’t blame her. She wondered if Myna was more a prisoner than an employee. She didn’t seem to have any love for anyone or anything. As far as Skye knew, Myna’s whole world was her job. There was a task to do, and she went to work. Then along comes a crazy red-headed Aussie and puts her in the hospital.
When the job was finished, Myna and the men went to leave.
“Myna,” Skye called before she was gone. The woman stopped at the door and turned to look at Skye with her one good eye. “I-I’m sorry about your eye…”
Myna paused for a moment. Then her countenance fell. She nodded humbly and walked out, closing the door behind her.
It made Skye feel worse than ever. She wondered what Myna’s story was. She wondered what everyone’s story was. What goes through the mind of a person who belongs to a secret crime organization? What did the hierarchy of The Pact look like? If there really were hundreds of thousands of members around the world as the director claimed, surely they can’t all be murderous thugs. Had they all taken the oath to kill? Did they all have the tattoo? Skye wondered if most of them were in fact just normal people who got a newsletter in the mail once a month and threw it in the trash.
There was something else that bothered her on an even deeper level. What if the director really was her biological father? What would that make of her heritage she thought so much about, even had mysterious dreams about? She liked the thought of being descended from Black Agnes. Were there in fact only murderous thieves in her family tree? The idea was not exactly inspiring.
Suddenly Skye had a thought that made her laugh. She may actually be in a position to find out the answers to all her questions. She chuckled as she thought about what kind of Empress Matriarch she would be. The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea. If Emmett was in her shoes, he would do it. What better opportunity to bring down The Pact?
Surely the director had thought of that. If the prophecy was of her, why would he put her in a position to do exactly what the prophecy said? Did he think wealth and power would consume her and thus cause her to join The Pact instead of destroy it? As much as she hated being there, Skye started to think she would get further by being a little more cooperative. She remembered the director saying he would speak with her again. The next time perhaps she would approach things a bit differently. She may even find out what had happened to Emmett.
Her heart ached every time she thought of Emmett. She wouldn’t be able to bear it if anything happened to him.
Just then a meal arrived. A young woman, accompanied by the usual entourage, carried the tray in and set it on the table for Skye without making eye contact. As she turned to leave, Skye got her attention.
“Oh miss,” she said.
The young woman stopped and turned her ear to Skye. The three thugs stood by to intervene if necessary.
“Thank you,” she said warmly.
The young lady turned and looked at Skye. Then she looked down and nodded much the same way Myna had. “You’re welcome,” she replied before leaving the room.
Her demeanor spoke volumes to Skye. She started thinking more and more about The Pact and what kind of organization it truly was. She began to wonder if there was a faction who acted as servants to the elites. There was one way to find out.
As she started eating, she realized she had never tasted anything like this food. The subtle complexity of flavors and textures awakened her taste buds as if for the first time. She savored every bite.
When she was satisfied, she went to the door at the far end of the room and opened it. She’d never seen a bathroom like this one. A large tile bathtub was appointed with antique brass fittings to match the granite sink. A frameless glass door led to a cave that was a shower. Resting on the counter were silk pajamas in her size, along with white towels. A white terrycloth robe hung from an antique hook beside the vanity. And the mirror on the wall was thankfully hung there, not built into the wall. She took comfort that she would not be watched in this room at least.
After a shower, she slipped between those silk sheets and snuggled down for a nap. She may be dead soon, but what a way to go.
“Emmett, where are you?” she sighed as she drifted off.
Chapter Twenty Five
At first Emmett Burke couldn’t remember when he’d felt this horribly sick. Then it hit him: chemical warfare training in the Navy. Suddenly the contents of his stomach came up violently and splashed into the water. “That’s it for calamari,” he swore under his breath. “Never again.”
The rock he was clinging to at the water’s edge didn’t feel much like a hotel pillow. Nor did the river feel like cotton sheets. He knew something was seriously wrong with this picture, but he couldn’t think about that at the moment. He couldn’t think about anything. He wasn’t even sure if he was still alive. Maybe this was his punishment for all his sins. He expected Jake Smithers, his Mormon buddy from the Navy, to appear at any moment and punch him in the face.
He started laughing out loud at the thought. Then he laughed even harder because it was funny that anything could make him laugh at a time like this, puking his guts out while clinging to a rock in the river.
Suddenly he stopped laughing because he realized how serious it was that someone had drugged him and thrown him in the river. Then even that was funny.
“You’re going to have to t-t-try a lot harder to kill ol’ Burkie!” he shouted into the air, slurring a bit. Then he descended into uncontrolled laughter again, followed by more vomiting. His head was pounding and spinning at the same time, and his stomach felt like it had been turned inside out. The slimy rock was his best friend at the moment. It was his link to the rest of the world, his solid foundation. He told himself he was going to piece things back together… if he could just get everything to hold still.
His first order of business was to keep his airway above water. He could do that. Just breathe. Movement would help eliminate the toxin from his body. He started exercising, not pushups or anything so ambitious. At first, lifting his finger was a major accomplishment. When he mastered his index finger lift, he moved on to other fingers. After a while he could lift his whole hand off the rock. In agony he lifted his foot out of the water, then the other.
After some time had passed, Emmett found the strength to pull himself out of the water a bit. Slowly he inched his way onto the bank. There was tall grass a bit further. It would provide cover while he gained his strength. He pressed on, pulling himself along the ground until he was concealed in the foliage. It felt good to be concealed. It was one less tactical concern.
He racked his brain trying to figure out how they had drugged him. They couldn’t have gotten to his food. It must have been through the ventilation duct leading to his room. But discipline told him that thinking about the unknowable was not productive. He had to get a message to the other agents that Skye had likely been abducted.
Soon he had the strength to sit up. He looked around to determine his location. He saw a bridge in the morning light. He was not on the bank of the river. It was actually a small island in the middle, formed from the sediment that collected downstream of a bridge pier. He would have to swim for the shore, but that would be no problem once he had some strength. They should know better than to try to kill a Navy SEAL by throwing him in the water.
He forced himself to his feet and tried with all his might to focus. It wasn’t long before he could balance. The effects of the drug were subsiding. He moved around some more to make sure he had the strength for the swim. Then he examined the river’s current and the shore line to choose the best route. They were all bad. He picked the least bad one and entered the water.
The swim brought Emmett back to his senses. When he made the shore, he knew he had to assess the situation further. He started thinking about how he ended up in this mess. Why had they gotten the jump on him so easily? On their first night in Lubeck he’s in the river and Skye is likely gone. He was starting to think Lubeck was no ordinary town. He was going to think twice before booking a room or eating out. And going back to the hotel was out of the question. He was in Pact Central.
What do you do if you find yourself in a strange city soaking wet in your pajamas, with no wallet and no phone? You smile. It’s surprising how much you can fit in when you act like nothing’s wrong. Emmett walked down the street smiling and nodding to everyone he saw. “Schonen tag!” he said with a wave. Avoiding surveillance cameras, he walked into a store and greeted the clerk behind the counter. In a few moments he was the proud owner of one very hot disposable phone. Down the street he entered a cathedral and called Dax.
“They’ve got Skye,” Emmett said.
“Burke, where are you?”
“A cathedral downtown, St. Jakobi,” he replied. He heard conversation on the other end while they looked up his location.
“Alright stay there. We’re five minutes out.”
Soon a black SUV pulled up in front of the cathedral. Emmett tossed the phone and got in.
“Have you located the professor yet?” Emmett asked.
“We have satellite footage of them taking both of you from the hotel last night,” Dax replied. “We tracked the van to a compound outside the city. We’re pretty sure she’s still alive. We’ll get her.”
“They saw us coming,” Emmett said.
“I know,” Dax replied. “I have Ted digging up everything he can on the city fathers. Maddox is getting hold of the embassy in Berlin. This could get messy.”
“If we wait for the wheels of government to start turning, Skye’s as good as gone,” Emmett observed.
“An international hostage situation is outside the purveyance of the Foreign Corrupt Practices Act and the FBI’s International Corruption Squads,” Dax explained. “I can only imagine the U.S. Ambassador telling the German Ambassador Lubeck is run by thugs trying to take over the world. The talks alone could take weeks. The German government would defer to local police to handle the hostage situation.”
“It’s probably the police holding her hostage. Dax we have to get her back tonight.”
“We will. But first you gotta get cleaned up. You smell like a fish.”
Dax rented a warehouse by the docks to stage the FBI operation. It was not much, but it gave them a place to plan. The owner was no friend of The Pact. As a lone wolf competitor, he’d been slapped with excessive fees and regulations over the years in an attempt to run him out of business. When Dax said he’d like to keep things quiet, the man was completely on board.
After cleaning up, Emmett joined the planning meeting. Angela, Rashad and several other agents from the task force were there. They stood around a temporary workstation set up in the corner of the dark warehouse.
“Emmett, you and I will be doing the legwork on the extraction,” Dax said as Emmett walked up. He referred to a satellite image of the area around the facility where Skye was being held. “We’ll parachute into this clearing on the southeast side of the compound. Sniper teams are already onsite. Rashad will be at the computer here in the warehouse. He’ll provide intel on enemy positions using the infrared imagery provided by satellite. That should come in handy in the infiltration. Once we’re inside the building, we’re on our own.”
Rashad punched some keys on the computer. “Here’s the blueprint from a recent remodel of the building.” It contained the entire floorplan of the structure.
“Do we know where they’re holding her?” Emmett asked.
“Sniper teams have spotted her on the third floor of the South wing, right here,” Dax answered, pointing at the image. “We think that’s where she’s being held. They’ve also given us an idea of the security staff. The place is heavily guarded so we’ll need to coordinate with the sniper teams and Rashad to neutralize the threats as they appear. Be advised they do have automatic weapons. Once the grounds are secure Alpha and Bravo teams will move into the building with us to help clear a path to the subject while Charlie team will continue to provide sniper cover from the perimeter. Expect heavy fire. We get in, get the professor, and get out. Angela will be waiting with the chopper at the drop zone to get everybody offsite. Any questions?”
Emmett looked closer at the building plans. “What’s this circular area in the center of the building?” he asked.
“The rotunda,” Rashad answered. “We’re not sure why it was left blank in the plans.”
“Pull up the satellite image of the building,” Emmett said.
Rashad brought up the image.
“Zoom in here.”
Rashad magnified the display on the dome over the rotunda.
“Look at the lines on the dome, how they arch across like the seams on a basketball,” Emmett said. “Traditional domes have lines that radiate out from the center.”
Rashad looked closer. “That dome is designed to retract!” he exclaimed.
Emmett and Dax looked at each other, both thinking the same thing.
“What are they hiding in there?”
***
Skye closed her eyes as Myna moved in closer. “Don’t move,” Myna said as she began to brush color on the professor’s eyelids. “Let’s just see how this looks.”
The
two women didn’t represent terror to each other quite as much as they had only hours before. True, Skye still was a captive and Myna’s eye still smarted. But somehow they had reached an understanding. Perhaps it was because they shared a similar fate. Skye realized Myna was herself a captive of sorts. Skye wasn’t sure how she had gotten mixed up with the director, but she sensed the woman was none too happy about it. Myna didn’t volunteer information, but she didn’t have to. The expression she seemed to carry almost permanently said everything Skye needed to know.
After working with her brushes for several minutes, Myna leaned back in her chair. “There,” she said with a sigh. “Take a look.”
When Skye opened her eyes and looked in the mirror, she almost fell off her chair. Her eyelids shimmered gold.
“It’s not my usual look,” she joked as she looked in the mirror.
“There is actual gold in the makeup,” Myna said as Skye gawked at her own face.
“I believe it,” she replied. It was the gaudiest thing she’d ever seen. Still, Myna had applied it expertly. It was blended perfectly. The woman had taken the corners to a point with eyeliner. She had also built up the lashes with mascara more than Skye thought possible. She felt like she could blow out a candle with a wink. Her amazing lashes complimented the gold eyeshadow very well.
“What do you call this look,” she asked, “Aphrodite, or Queen of the Nile?”
“Actually it’s called Empress Matriarch,” Myna replied.
Skye remembered her conversation with the director and sighed.
Myna jumped up. “You haven’t seen the best part!” She walked over to the wardrobe where she had hung a long garment bag. She unzipped it and pulled out the newly altered coronation robe. It was, in a word, fabulous.
“Myna did you make this?” Skye asked in amazement. “It’s gorgeous.”