Unconditional

by Holly Copella

  Chapter Thirty-four

  Indy slowly woke to complete darkness and a feeling of dizzying disorientation. She had no idea where she was, since it was so dark. Her head was still spinning and thumping with tremendous pain as if she’d been--? Horror swept over her along with the shocking realization of what had happened back at the funeral home. She immediately thrust her palms upward, connecting with a firm surface covered in a satin lining. As she felt around the small, enclosed area, panic overtook her. She was locked inside a casket! Indy pounded the inside lid with her palms while screaming hysterically.

  On the outside, the casket was secured on a retractable gurney, which was elevated only a few feet from the floor of the oddly bland looking room. The room was filled with several crates of varying sizes and a loud humming sound was almost deafening. Despite the loud humming, thumping was heard from within the vibrating casket along with Indy's muffled screams. Unfortunately, there was no one around to hear her faint cries or witness the vibrating death container. The casket became still and all sounds within it subsided. A loud bang suddenly rocked the casket. A second bang immediately followed. The casket toppled over and struck the floor with a tremendous crash, breaking the lid seal. With the third bang, the casket lid flew open. Indy rolled out of the casket and sprang to her feet in attack position. Despite her dizziness and the blood streaking the side of her face from her temple laceration, she was prepared for a fight. She looked around the crate filled holding room and listened to the familiar humming sound. Her expression suddenly dropped with the knowledge of where she was. She was in the cargo hold of a plane!

  Realizing she was alone within the cargo hold, she relaxed her defensive position, tenderly touched her bloodied head, and looked around to assess her situation, which obviously wasn’t good. How could she be in the cargo hold of a plane? How was that even possible? Who had her? Where were they taking her? Her gaze fell upon two other caskets within the enclosure. One of the caskets had the familiar, bloody handprint on the lid.

  “Margo,” Indy gasped softly.

  She looked around the cargo hold interior, saw some discarded tools, and grabbed a crowbar. She returned to the casket and, with much effort, pried the lid open. As she opened the lid, Indy's expression dropped at the sight of Margo's motionless body. Margo suddenly cried out and sprayed something in Indy's face. Indy jumped back with a startled scream and touched the liquid on her face as Margo sat up. Margo stared at Indy with alarm and gasped, placing her hand to her mouth. Indy wiped the liquid from her face with bewilderment and looked at Margo.

  “What the hell is that?”

  “Breath freshener,” Margo replied while attempting to relax from her harrowing ordeal. “Sorry, I thought you were the bastard who nabbed me.”

  Indy helped Margo from the casket. Her friend nearly collapsed to the floor and clutched her own bleeding head. She knew how her friend felt.

  “Who nabbed you?” Indy asked while keeping her friend from falling.

  Margo slowly shook her head while glancing around then looked back at Indy. “I didn't see him. He got me inside my car as I was leaving your house,” she announced and again looked around. “Where the hell are we?”

  “Your guess is as good as mine.”

  Margo continued to look around and appeared bewildered. She looked back at Indy with surprise. “Are we in a plane?” she suddenly gasped.

  “Unfortunately, yes. I don't know how long I was out,” Indy informed her and leaned against the casket. “Which means we could be anywhere.”

  “I was tied up in some sort of basement for what seemed like hours after they nabbed me,” Margo said while frowning her annoyance. “Whoever took me kept me sedated and blindfolded. I could feel them sticking me with a needle.”

  “Roman and I didn't find you until morning,” Indy informed her. “You were in that basement nearly eight hours.”

  Margo glanced at her watch. “It’s one o’clock,” she announced while insecurely rubbing her wrist.

  “So that means it’s been eight hours since we first found you at the funeral home,” Indy remarked. “That’s not good. We literally could be anywhere in the world right now.”

  Margo stared at Indy and appeared tense by her own realization. “You said you and Roman found me,” she announced with concern. “Where's Roman?”

  Indy frowned, ran her fingers through her hair partly matted with dried blood, and slowly looked down. Although the details were fuzzy, she knew the outcome.

  “They shot him,” Indy replied softly then finally met Margo’s gaze while fighting her tears. “I don't think he made it. Even if he survived, I doubt they would have let him live.”

  Margo stared at Indy with horror and possible disbelief. Her look hardened into something hateful. “We need to be ready for these bastards.”

  “They have a private plane, which means they have money,” Indy informed her while frantically searching for the best explanation to their situation. “If they have money, that means they have some pretty serious firepower.”

  “If they shot a police officer, we're expendable too,” Margo remarked in a stern tone as her anger continued to rise. “Remember who your father is, Indy. If we’re going to survive, you need to become him and fast.”

  They heard pounding and screaming from the third casket, startling them. Both women lunged for the casket. Indy pried the lid open with the crowbar while Margo pulled on the lid in an attempt to help. The lid flew open to reveal the frightened and slightly battered Liz. Her hair was also matted with blood, obviously having been knocked out as well. She looked at both women while gasping.

  “What happened?” Liz suddenly asked.

  “Liz?” Indy gasped while attempting to make sense of their situation. She stared at her father’s girlfriend a moment then a horrible realization suddenly hit her and her expression dropped. “I think I know why they kept us alive, and I think I know where they're taking us.”

  “You do?” Margo cried out. “Where?”

  “Santiago's compound.”

  “Santiago? Who's Santiago?” Margo demanded.

  Liz appeared horrified while staring at them with disbelief then struggled to get out of the casket. “That corrupt nationalist Flynn captured?”

  Indy and Margo helped Liz out of the casket and to her feet. She seemed slightly unstable and clutched her head. Her concern for her own welfare quickly dissipated.

  “But he's incarcerated,” Liz informed them. “Flynn said they had him at some secret holding facility.”

  “And his men intend to use us to get him back,” Indy announced while frowning.

  “Flynn will save us, I know he will,” Liz informed them while wrenching her fingers together. “It’s what he does. That’s what he does, right?” She no longer sounded convinced.

  “He'll try, but these aren't the sort of people who keep their promises,” Indy remarked while feeling the pressure of the situation. “My father knows that.”

  There was an awkward silence among the three. It wasn’t the reassurance either wanted to hear.

  “What do we do?” Margo finally asked.

  Indy inhaled deeply and stared at both women. “We need a really good plan.”

  Margo stared at Indy’s expression and appeared concerned. “There’s something else, isn’t there?” she suddenly asked. “What aren't you telling us?”

  Indy ignored the question and began a frantic search of the cargo hold for any other weapon besides the crowbar. She approached the open toolbox and routed through it. Margo and Liz quickly joined her, the strain of concern clearly on their faces. Indy hesitated while staring into the toolbox. She picked up a utility knife, staring at it only a moment, and then removed a roll of electrical tape.

  “Indy,” Margo announced with concern in her voice. “What aren’t you telling us? We have a right to know.”

  Indy inhaled deeply and glanced back at her friend. She didn’t know what to say to her. Margo stared at the look on Indy’s f
ace. Her expression shattered.

  “They're going to kill me first, aren't they?” Margo suddenly gasped.

  Indy didn’t respond and returned her attention to the toolbox before her. Margo stared a moment longer in silence and seemed to come to her own conclusion.

  “That's why they nabbed me,” Margo cried out, still unable to move. “They’re going to kill me to show your father how serious they are.”

  Liz stared at both women with the same look of horror. Her expression matched Margo’s terrified look. “Then I'm next.”

  Indy spun to face them with a stern, determined look. “That won't happen. We're going to stop it,” she announced, although she was having a tough time convincing herself of that. “We have a crowbar we can use to defend ourselves, but we need to find some better weapons.”

  “You’re telling us they have automatic weapons, and you intend to fight them with a crowbar?” Margo suddenly demanded. “We’ll be ripped to shreds!”

  Indy spun to face Margo with a stern and determined look on her face.

  “We don’t have a lot of options,” Indy boldly informed her. “Running, hiding, and fighting. That’s it.”

  “Well,” Margo announced with a sigh, “there’s certainly no place to run.”

  “Can’t exactly hide either,” Liz muttered.

  “Exactly,” Indy replied. “So we have no choice. We have to fight.”

  “Do you have a plan?” Margo asked, appearing fearful while rubbing her chilled arms.

  Indy reluctantly nodded. “Yeah, I have a plan,” she replied. “But you’re not going to like it.”

  †

  The large, private plane landed on the moderately overgrown airstrip at the abandoned airfield. Once the plane was at a complete stop, ten heavily armed men gathered around the cargo ramp and watched it lower. They had their assault rifles leveled and prepared to fire. The cargo area was quiet and void of life. All ten men stormed into the cargo hold and remained at the ready. Two men approached the three closed caskets, now returned to their upright position, and opened each. All three were empty. One of the men indicated for the others to scatter and search the cargo hold. Indy silently dropped down behind them into a crouched position with a metal pole clutched in her hands. As they turned, she straightened and fiercely struck them with the pole, displaying amazing skill and precision with each hit. She successfully disarmed four men before a fifth grabbed her from behind. Indy rammed her elbow into his ribs and flipped him over her shoulder. She struck two more men before several surrounded her with their assault rifles aimed. Indy clung to her pole and stared at the armed men. It had been a brave battle, even if she knew she had no chance of winning. She frowned and dropped her pole in surrender.

  “Find the other two,” the undisputed leader ordered the remaining guards.

  As the men scattered to search the cargo hold, two armed men pushed Margo and Liz up the ramp and back into the plane. Both women eyed Indy with looks of shame, having been caught and ruining the plan.

  “We found these two fleeing the scene,” one of the guards announced.

  The leader eyed the two women then looked back at Indy and grinned in an almost approving manner.

  “Nice diversion,” he announced and held back his chuckle. “You've already figured out we can't risk killing you, so you thought you’d arrange for your friends’ escape. That was rather smart…and a little dumb.”

  He then nodded to the guard standing alongside Margo. The guard punched Margo in the face, knocking her to the metal, cargo floor. She clutched her cheek and writhed in agony. Indy’s body twitched in reaction as she stared at her injured friend. She refrained from screaming like a hysterical woman, although she wanted to run to Margo’s side and comfort her. It was, after all, her fault her friend was involved.

  The leader stared into Indy’s eyes and grinned slyly. “Try that again, and your friends will suffer greatly. Do we understand one another?”

  Indy cast a look at Margo as she slowly moved to her knees while clutching her reddened cheek. Indy looked back at the man standing before her, frowned, and nodded. She understood his position and disregard for Margo and Liz’s lives. It was a calculated risk to save her friends, especially since she knew she was worth more to them alive at the moment. They were counting on her father doing anything in his power to save his daughter, including sacrificing himself. They thought they were so smart. What they didn’t count on was Indy’s willingness to sacrifice her own life for her father’s…and that would be their downfall.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  What remained of Santiago’s intact compound was little more than part of the mansion, resembling a medieval castle after surviving a lengthy battle. The entire jungle setting surrounding the standing structure and piles of rubble was peaceful in the evening setting. Several American soldiers patrolled the exterior of what remained of the intact building. There were several lights on within the building and a few temporary generators kept the exterior well-lit for the soldiers standing guard. The brief sound of parting air was barely heard. One of the soldiers gasped, clutched his bleeding neck, and fell to the ground. As another soldier ran to aid him, he was silently struck down as well.

  Flynn and Jackson were within the massive dining room, sitting at the lavish, carved table with enough seating for a gathering of twenty. The table was loaded with scorched document boxes and stacks of singed papers. Each man sifted through boxes filled with equally charred papers. Some crumbled in their hands, leaving both men disgusted and frustrated with their current assignment. Flynn stretched his back with a groan.

  “All things being equal, I'd rather be storming the trenches than sifting through this crap,” Flynn remarked.

  Jackson allowed his temple to fall against his fist while holding up his head. “We only have one hundred and six boxes to go,” he muttered.

  Flynn groaned, placed his hands behind his neck, and stared up at the mural painted on the cathedral ceiling high above them. “I wish Harlan were here.”

  “Why would you want to punish him?” Jackson asked while lifting his head and looking at his commander. “He'd be more miserable than you.” He looked back at the stack of papers in front of him. He then muttered, “You’re bad enough.”

  “Yeah, but then he'd blow the place up and we could all go home,” Flynn announced as he leaned forward over his mound of charred papers. He sank into thought and appeared distant. “Maybe I should call Indy and make sure everything is okay.”

  “You left two messages,” Jackson replied without looking at him. “She'll call you back.”

  Flynn groaned and stared at the papers without touching them. “I shouldn't have left them.”

  “They're fine, Flynn.”

  “I know, it's just--” he again leaned back and sighed softly. “I'm tired of leaving my little girl. My entire life has been a series of ‘hello’ and ‘goodbyes’. Maybe I'm just getting old.”

  Jackson looked at Flynn and appeared curious. “Are you thinking about retiring?”

  “Maybe,” he replied with a sigh then frowned. “No. I couldn't do that to you and Nate. If you got killed on some botched mission, I'd never forgive myself.”

  Jackson sat up straight in his chair and stared his commander in the eyes. “You're forgetting something, Flynn.”

  “What's that?”

  “You go, we go,” Jackson replied. “Nate and I would never survive another commander. We barely survived you.” He casually shrugged. “Besides, if Harlan can't return to active duty, it just won't be the same.”

  Flynn sank into thought and reluctantly nodded. “I've been thinking about that a lot too.”

  Nate hurried into the room with his assault rifle cradled in his arms like a cherished baby. He appeared out of breath and moderately annoyed.

  “Security isn't answering,” Nate announced gruffly.

  Both men seated at the table became alert and straightened while staring at the intimidating man.

  �
��Which ones?” Flynn demanded.

  “All of them.”

  Both men jumped up from their seats and grabbed their nearby assault rifles. They cocked the rifles with added vigor.

  Flynn’s expression turned stern. “Let's treat this as a situation, boys,” he announced.

  All three armed men hurried from the room.

  †

  Indy was tied to an elegant, wooden chair in the stunning, massive wine cellar. Despite having been tied and blindfolded for her arrival, she was almost certain they had brought her to the compound her father and his team had seized on their last mission. Or, in Harlan’s case, the compound he blew up. She could still smell the charred remains, and the surrounding area had that humid, vegetation smell, indicating a jungle setting. If she was at Santiago’s compound, there was the distinct possibility her father, Jackson, and Nate were close to where they were holding her captive. The thought of her father and his remaining team being close by was both comforting and terrifying. She looked around the wine cellar to familiarize herself with her surroundings. If she hadn’t been concerned for her situation and the welfare of those she loved, she’d be impressed by the massive wine cellar. It was made of stone, like some medieval dungeon. There were huge, wooden kegs as well as thousands of bottles of wine stacked neatly in tiny slots.

  The wine cellar’s layout was important, since she knew there would be only one way in and out with a very thick, heavy door. A rescue would come with a steep price to anyone attempting to save her. The wine cellar’s only saving grace was ample places to dodge flying bullets. She knew her situation was bad, but she couldn’t stop thinking about Margo and Liz. They would be the ones who would suffer first as means to get her father’s attention. If a rescue did come for her, she worried for the safety of her father and the team she loved dearly. That left only one option in Indy’s mind. She’d need to save herself and give the others a fighting chance. Indy glared at the two, armed guards, Hugo and Miles, who stood before her. She couldn’t deny, by the pang in her stomach and the pounding of her heart, that she was frightened, but the thought of the others dying allowed her anger to take control. She’d spent enough time in the company of some of the military’s finest bad asses that some of it was bound to rub off on her. Her look hardened and her eyes narrowed as the Stryker in her surfaced.