“Where are my friends?” she demanded.
“They're safe--for now, but if you attempt to escape, we will see that they suffer before we kill them,” Hugo, the obvious, self-proclaimed leader of the two, informed her. “We need you alive. We don't need them at all.” His smirk mocked her. “Remember that.”
She would be sure to remember that. She would also remember to kill him first, if given the opportunity. Indy hadn’t realized she was staring at him until his eyes narrowed while staring back at her. It wasn’t that he feared her, but she could tell he didn’t like the way she stared at him without cowering. Hugo left the wine cellar without another word. Miles removed a bottle of wine from the nearby rack, looked at the label, grinned his approval, and opened it with his teeth. Indy cast her attention upon the brawny man and watched him closely. He was the ‘Nate’ of Santiago’s group. She wondered if the all-brawn man shared Nate’s special brand of intellect as well. Nate wasn’t easily fooled, but he could be talked in circles. The intercom crackled, startling her.
“Good evening, Commander Flynn,” Hugo’s voice announced over the intercom. “As you are aware, you have something we want. Well, now we have something you want.”
Miles moved behind Indy, placed a semiautomatic to her temple, and grinned while indicating the camera on the table directly in front of her.
“Smile for the camera, sweetheart,” Miles announced.
†
Nate hurried into the massive, two-story library through the glass patio doors and joined Jackson and Flynn, who stared at a television screen mounted on the wall near the tall rows of bookcases. A close-up image revealed Indy tied to the chair with the gun to her temple. The scenery behind her was successfully blocked, preventing them from seeing where she was being held. Flynn stared at his daughter with a gun to her head and sneered with silent rage. Jackson just stared with his mouth hanging open.
“Oh, shit,” Jackson gasped.
“But wait, there's more,” Hugo’s voice announced over the intercom.
The image switched to similar scenes with Margo and Liz. Both were tied in locations unknown while men held guns to their heads as well.
“Now that I have you attention, I'd like to initiate an exchange,” Hugo announced. “You give us Santiago, and we return these lovely, young ladies with all their body parts intact.” There was an effective pause, indicating Hugo was pleased with himself. “You have two hours to liberate him from that warship posing as a freighter sitting off the coast. If he's not delivered to us in two hours, we'll slit this lovely creature's throat.”
All three stared at Margo on the screen. Margo’s assailant pulled her head back by her hair and placed a large, military knife against her throat. Margo was seen gasping even though there was no volume to their video feed from her location.
“Then, in another two hours, we move on to the next lovely young lady,” Hugo announced. “If you still don't return our captive leader, we'll move on to your attractive, young daughter.” Hugo was heard chuckling softly. “But don't fear, Commander Flynn, we won't kill her right away. We'll slowly torture her hourly until you turn over Santiago.” There was another pause. “As a friendly reminder, if you or your men attempt to rescue any of these women, we'll kill one to make our point. You have two hours.” Hugo was heard chuckling. “Let the games begin.”
The television screen went blank. Flynn stared at the screen with a look of mayhem on his hardened face. Jackson and Nate stared at Flynn with a concern neither usually displayed. This wasn’t just some mission; it was personal.
“What do we do, Flynn?” Nate finally asked.
Flynn didn’t even bother looking at his men. His eyes remained glued on the blank television screen. “Nate, take the jeep to the coast and contact the ship,” he announced in a firm, low tone. “Don't tell them their demands.”
“Then what?”
Flynn turned to face Nate and raised his brows. “You're going to bust Santiago out of the brig.”
Nate appeared at a loss for words but refrained from groaning. “That won't be easy.”
“You have less than two hours. Do it.”
Nate uncertainly nodded and hurried from the library. Flynn spun to face Jackson with a nearly chilling look.
“You're doing some recon, Jackson,” Flynn boldly announced. “I want you to locate my daughter, Margo, and Liz.”
“But he said--”
“You find them and report their location,” Flynn ordered. “If Nate isn't back in two hours with Santiago, we'll need to initiate a rescue.”
“There are only two of us and three hostages being held in separate locations,” Jackson reminded and appeared concerned. “Who do we sacrifice?”
Flynn’s expression turned cold. “My daughter.”
Jackson appeared horrified. “Flynn--?”
“I trained her well,” Flynn launched back. “She knows the score. If they intend to kill Margo, you can bet she's already working on her own rescue. She's also the last one they'll kill.” Flynn straightened proudly and stared at his friend. “We’ll have more time to bargain for her life if she fails at her own rescue.”
Chapter Thirty-six
One hour had passed since the demands were made for the women’s safe release. Flynn paced the library while subconsciously fiddling with his semiautomatic. His mind was obviously on some plan to save the women, including his daughter, but the strain was starting to show. Jackson silently slipped in through the main door. Flynn spun with his gun aimed, prepared to shoot, saw it was just Jackson, and relaxed his grip on the trigger while lowering the gun. Despite Flynn’s hostile reaction, Jackson never flinched. He was apparently used to having his comrades aim guns at him as a standard greeting.
“They're holding Liz in the lounge closest to the remains of the west wing,” Jackson informed him without awaiting a demand for an update. “Margo is being held in the gatehouse.” He drew a deep, concerned breath. “I couldn't find Indy. Each of the locations has a guard inside with them and one posted outside. We're looking at ten guards patrolling the estate grounds, and I'm guessing another ten inside as well.”
Flynn glanced at his watch and then the clock on the wall. “We'll give Nate another thirty minutes to give us a progress report before taking our rescue positions.”
“I could go back out and look for Indy,” Jackson offered while fidgeting. “If I can find her--”
Flynn glared at Jackson. “No, you’ll wait here until it’s time. Each time you sneak around outside, we’re risking the life of a hostage.” He drew a deep breath and attempted to relax. “Indy will be fine. We can’t worry about her, or it’s going to distract from our mission to free the others. Am I clear?”
Jackson frowned and nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
†
Indy remained tied to the chair in the wine cellar while watching Miles drink the expensive wine directly from the bottle in an unrefined manner. He allowed large portions of the white wine to run down his chin and onto his shirt. She couldn’t imagine any man under her father’s command ever behaving in such a barbaric manner. She obviously wasn’t going to be able to appeal to his human side, since he didn’t seem to have one. She mentally searched for another approach to engage the despicable man. Indy watched him closely, although he didn’t seem to care that she stared and never bothered to look back at her.
“Are you afraid of dying?” she questioned the man while showing little emotion.
Miles glanced at her and appeared humored by the irony of the question. “You're closer to it than I am.”
Indy maintained her composure and kept from flinching, even though her body wanted to react in a ‘damsel in distress’ sort of way. “Not from where I'm sitting.”
Miles stared at her with bewilderment. She’d successfully piqued his curiosity. He smirked as he casually approached her and leaned closer to eye level with her.
“Where you're sitting, it's probably not a wise idea to piss me off,” he announced in an
almost mocking tone. He suddenly grinned, sending a chill down her spine. “I'm not allowed to kill you, but that leaves a whole lot of wiggle room.”
Indy pushed her fears aside and mustered every ounce of strength she could to confront the large man. “Oh?” she asked while cleverly raising her brows. “Exactly what sort of wiggling did you have in mind?”
Miles stared at her a moment, as if surprised by her somewhat come-hither comment, and then grinned lustfully. “You're just begging for it, aren't you?”
“You’ve misjudged me,” Indy announced with a slight hiss to her tone. Her eyes suddenly narrowed as she moved her face slightly closer to his face. A twisted smile crossed her lips. “I'll send you crying home to your mommy.”
Miles appeared surprised by her comment and possibly the tone then laughed. Without warning, he grabbed her by the back on the neck and kissed her roughly on the mouth. Indy returned the aggressive kiss, which instinctively brought him a step closer to her as he reached for her breast. Indy suddenly kicked him in the groin, causing him to stumble backward while clutching himself with surprise and in moderate agony. Despite that he didn’t go down, that split second was all Indy needed. She tossed her ropes aside along with the utility knife blade still attached to the electrical tape and leaped to her feet. Miles realized she was free from her ropes and reached for his holstered weapon. Indy spun into a high, roundhouse kick and struck him in the face. He was thrown to the floor and seemed momentarily stunned or rendered unconscious. She grabbed the discarded gun and aimed it at the motionless man.
Indy heard the click of the wine cellar door being unlocked. She spun around with the gun aimed as the door opened. A man in black combat fatigues rolled through the doorway and aimed a gun at her from his crouched position on the floor. Indy tightened her finger on the trigger then saw the familiar face. It was Harlan! She gasped with surprise and lowered her gun.
“Harlan?”
Harlan straightened while assessing the surrounding area then appeared relieved while lowering his gun as he approached her.
“Are you okay?” he asked gently.
Indy groaned with relief, threw her arms around his neck, and clung to him. “I'm so glad to see you!” She pulled away and stared at him with surprise. “How did you get here?”
“I commandeered a plane.”
“You stole a plane?”
“No, I commandeered a plane,” he reaffirmed his actions. “Big difference. When I found Roman at the funeral home--”
“Roman’s alive?” she suddenly gasped.
“A little tenderized, but he’s going to be fine,” Harlan replied. “When Roman told me what happened, I knew who had you and why.”
“You did? But how--?” It then dawned on her. She tensed slightly. “You got your memory back.”
Harlan appeared slightly tense by her comment and looked away with possible embarrassment. “I'm going to need time to work on my apology, but that'll have to wait.” He looked back at her, straightened proudly, and resumed combat mode. “We have twenty minutes to save Margo, but I'll need your help.”
Miles attempted to stand from his position behind Indy. Before Indy even realized the man had woken, Harlan threw his knife at the man and struck him in the throat. Miles collapsed to the floor as blood seeped from his neck wound. Harlan walked past Indy, casually removed his knife from the dead man’s neck, and wiped the blood on Miles’ shirt. Harlan straightened and turned to face Indy. She stared at the dead man with surprise then looked back at Harlan, almost unable to speak.
“Do you have a plan?” Indy questioned as her voice crackled slightly.
“Oh, I have a plan,” Harlan replied, “but it’s going to require some explosives.”
Indy’s expression dropped.
Chapter Thirty-seven
Flynn paced the library while flexing his hand on the grip of his semiautomatic. His expression conveyed nearly every emotion possible. He had the look of an emotionally unstable man, who was contemplating ways of slowly torturing a man to death. Jackson watched his commander with silent concern. They’d never been in this sort of position before. It was never personal, and that made it frightening. They were coming down to the kidnapper’s final deadline, and it would soon be time to act, setting forth a plan that would likely end unhappily for someone. Flynn looked at his watch, held his breath, and then nodded Jackson toward the terrace doors. Both men grabbed their assault rifles with purpose and headed for the glass doors.
The television suddenly came to life, interrupting their departure. Both stopped and stared at the screen. Had Nate been captured? Did something change the dynamics of their rescue attempt or even the prisoner exchange? Had Indy gotten herself killed in an attempt to rescue herself? The agony of awaiting an answer didn’t last very long. The image on the screen was that of an unidentified, hooded man, tied and dangling by a rope wrapped securely around his body. Beyond the ropes binding the man, it was obvious he was dressed in the standard, orange prisoner jumpsuit used by the covert ship anchored in the ocean. There was only one person it could be beyond the black hood. Santiago!
“Greetings,” came Harlan’s familiar voice.
Jackson and Flynn’s expressions dropped to the sound of their comrade’s voice. His was the last voice they’d expected to hear at the compound. They briefly exchanged stunned looks then returned their attention back to the monitor on the wall.
“If I may direct your attention to the nearest television monitor, I'd like to introduce your long anticipated comrade,” Harlan announced in a calm, confident tone. “Sorry he was a little late to the party, but he was being fitted for the latest fashion in vest bombs.”
The camera zoomed in for a close-up of the vest bomb with a counter counting down from twenty minutes. The camera widened its angle to reveal the man dangling from the watchtower at the far end of the remaining compound.
“I've played your game by your rules. Here's your man,” Harlan announced over the monitor. “Now we're playing my game by my rules. In less than twenty minutes, the bomb goes boom.” The hint of humor could be heard in Harlan’s voice. “The vest bomb is also rigged with a wireless remote. If anyone attempts to reach him, the bomb goes boom. If any of the captive women are harmed, the bomb goes…well, you know how this works.” There was a moment of effective silence. “You have less than twenty minutes to release the captive woman, Margo. If she's released unharmed, the bomb counter stops. The remote will then be handed over in exchange for the remaining two hostages. You have eighteen minutes to abide by my terms. Good day.”
The television screen went dead. Flynn and Jackson stared at the blank screen only a moment then exchanged looks.
“That son-of-a-bitch! He has Indy,” Flynn exclaimed, expressing relief for the first time. A nervous chuckle escaped his throat as he subconsciously rubbed his bald head.
“Are you sure?”
“Trust me, he would have asked for Indy's release first,” Flynn announced with renewed enthusiasm. “You go after Margo. I'm going for Liz.”
Jackson nodded while sharing Flynn’s confidence in their rescue operation. Both men hurried from the library with their assault rifles in hand.
†
Jackson ran alongside the stone wall near the gatehouse door while remaining low to the ground and nearly invisible in the dim lighting. He stopped not far from the gatehouse door and touched the device in his ear.
“I'm in place,” he announced softly.
“So am I,” Flynn responded through Jackson’s earpiece. “On three. One…two…three!”
Jackson was about to leap out when the gatehouse door opened. He stopped and remained hidden. A guard appeared first. Another guard followed him with Margo, whose hands were tied before her. Jackson slung his assault rifle over his shoulder and silently leaped out from the bushes behind the man holding Margo. Before either man heard a sound, Jackson lunged for the man alongside Margo and stabbed him in the neck. Margo jumped with surprise. As the guard in fro
nt turned, Jackson knocked Margo to the ground. She fell alongside the dead man with the knife sticking out of his bleeding neck. Margo stared at the knife in the man’s throat with a look of horror clearly across her face. Jackson kicked the remaining guard in the chest. He was thrown back several steps, dropping his assault rifle. The guard leaped for Jackson and tackled him harshly into the nearby wall. Jackson appeared momentarily stunned from the impact against the stone. The guard grabbed Jackson around the neck from behind and attempted to break his neck. Jackson rammed his elbow repeatedly into the guard's ribs to loosen his grip.
The guard released him and removed his semiautomatic from his holster. Jackson turned, saw the gun aimed at him, and appeared alarmed. The sound of rapid gunfire from an assault rifle broke the silence. Bullets struck the ground near them. Both turned to see Margo with the assault rifle rapidly firing uncontrolled rounds as she was thrown backward from the recoil. The guard turned his gun on Margo. The uncontrolled rounds struck the guard as his body jolted and jerked. Jackson gasped and shielded himself from the uncontrolled burst of gunfire. Margo was thrown to the ground as the guard fell dead. Jackson patted his body for bullet holes, appeared relieved, and then hurried to Margo’s fallen side. He took the rifle from her hand and pulled her into a sitting position. The ropes that once bound her wrists hung from her left wrist, bloodied from the knife she’d pulled from the dead man’s neck to cut her bindings.
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