by S. T. Boston
“Thank you, Liza,” Hill said with a tiny smile over her loyalty to him and this administration. She'd overlooked the fact that he hadn't wanted to re-instigate the program either, and ended up having his hand forced by congress. “However, regardless of what happened in the past, we need to work the problem we have now. What's happening in the Pacific?”
“Both US and Russian fleets are at a standoff, separated by a hundred miles of ocean. Our navy is on an 'engage only if engaged' order; we don't want to be the first ones to fire and start a third world war. We were trying to open a channel of negotiations with the Russian President, but this latest turn of events has halted our attempts. We believe they're going to be live and nuke ready an hour or so either side of us. We're monitoring their news channels and we do know the Russian government has condemned the attack on Japan.”
“Let's hope it's the right side of that hour then,” he said, trying to hide the nervous tension in his voice. He was about to speak again when an urgent knock came from the thickly-framed glass door to the conference room. President Hill experienced a pang of nervous energy as he beckoned to the young, fresh-faced communications operative waiting outside; whatever news he was bringing must be extremely important.
“Sir,” the young African American male began, his wide, dark eyes nervously surveying the country's leaders. “We have an incoming call from the Dae Wonsu – the North Korean Army's Grand Marshal. He's requesting immediate talks with you, sir.”
“You'd best put him through then,” President Hill replied, not quite sure where this turn of events would take them.
Chapter 31
Lucie wasn't certain how long she'd been hiding in the band-saw pit. The guy who'd pursued her from the cottage had stood on the seam of the plywood cover, and she'd been certain he would look down and tear the sheet away, exposing her hidey-hole, but he didn't. He'd come so close, been no more than five feet from her position when he'd suddenly moved away. Lucie listened to his footsteps pacing the building for a second time before the window creaked again when he left. Time had no meaning down among the wood chippings and creepy-crawlies – the sound of the window could have been just five minutes ago, or it could have been five hours; she really didn't know. She'd stopped noticing the scurry of arachnids and bugs which occasionally kissed her skin or disturbed her hair, behaving like tiny invisible fingers.
In the darkness of the pit the one thing she did feel were the warm tears which streamed from her eyes and touched her chilled skin. They came almost rhythmically, like a constant drip from a leaking tap. Sam was either dead or taken, and she hadn't even had a chance to tell him he was going to be a father. Now she suspected it was a job he might never have the privilege of fulfilling, and it filled her with as much intense sadness as the thought of losing him herself. She'd known Sam for most of her life, knew what a wonderful person he was, but it seemed increasingly likely their child would never have a single memory of the man Sam had been to hold dear.
A distant voice, carried on the slight breeze outside drew her attention away from her grief, and when she focused, it came a second time, from somewhere closer. “Lucie!”
She stirred in the pit, her bones and joints protesting the movement.
“Sam! Lucie!”
Closer again this time, and Lucie recognised the voice – it was Adam, he'd made it back from London and gone to the cottage. She knew there was a strong chance the small team of men who'd attacked her and Sam were still close by, watching and waiting to snatch Adam and Oriyanna. She had to warn them. Driven on by fear of losing the only other person she loved, Lucie threw the cover from the pit and clambered out, frantically brushing herself down, fully alert now and recalling all the nasties which had shared the space with her. She combed her fingers frantically through her hair, almost certain any number of spiders had set up home.
“Lucie!”
Adam's voice was closer again, and she could hear panic in his tone. She dashed across the mill, noticing for the first time just how much her feet hurt after the mad dash across the gravel and rough concrete.
Lucie clawed open the old window frame, more of the paint flaking away under her fingers as it moved reluctantly. The freshness of the air was wonderful as she painfully hopped down into the rear yard. The day had turned cloudy, a light mizzle drifting on the breeze which made her shiver and realise how cold she was.
“Lucie!”
She wanted to call out, but she was afraid, afraid that as soon as she did the massive guy who'd held her hair so cruelly would spring from behind one of the old wood piles and snatch her. Instead, she hobbled to the end of the building, taking the same route she'd used earlier. Peering around the corner, and scanning the building toward the cottage she could see her brother. He was standing by the mottled concrete gate posts, frantically searching up and down the road, and then he saw her.
* * *
Adam was frantic, he'd known something was amiss as the second he'd swung the RX7 into the gravel drive. The front door to the cottage was open. Rushing inside, he'd located the body of an unknown male in the bedroom. There was a large amount of blood in the lounge, near the internal door which led to the hall. More worryingly, both Lucie and Sam were missing. The presence of a dead body offered him a little hope that they'd won whatever battle had gone down in his absence and fled – but to where? When Oriyanna and Taulass returned from the outbuildings wearing similar worried expressions, he knew it was more likely they'd put up a fight and either been killed or taken. While it appeared that they'd managed to take one down in the process, he took no comfort in that thought.
Not wanting to give up hope that Sam and Lucie had fled, Adam rushed to the front door, calling their names, hoping if they were close by they'd know it was safe to come out – or was it? Could the ones who'd done this still be nearby? He was certain the team who'd carried out this attack would want Oriyanna and himself just as much, and with the added bonus of Taulass – or 'T' as Oriyanna called him, much to Taulass' disgust – they were practically sitting ducks.
Sliding past the Mazda he reached the end of the drive and scanned the road, calling his sister's name, and Sam's, over and over. Then he spotted Lucie from a distance, at the far end of the old mill building, wearing nothing but a dressing gown. Hope sprang in his gut and he rushed toward her, expecting to see Sam's grinning face join her at any moment, but it didn't. When he drew closer he noticed how painfully she was walking, limping on both feet to try and reach him quickly. When they were close enough she threw her arms around him and clung tightly, seeking comfort.
“What happened here?” he demanded, already knowing the answer, but wanting to hear it all the same. He held Lucie at arm's length, breaking her embrace and staring down into her teary brown eyes.
Lucie sniffled slightly. “They came not— not long— after you left. I was in—in the bath. They've taken Sam. He put up—up enough of a fight to— to give me a chance.”
Adam took her back into his arms and wrapped her in a reassuring hug, for what it was worth, and silently thanked Sam for his selfless act. He would either grieve for his friend or attempt to work out a rescue plan later, but for now Lucie was alive and that counted for something. 'Thank heaven for small mercies,' his grandmother had always said when he was a boy. There was a certain amount of irony to that statement now, and it made him smile. He broke away from Lucie and took her by the hand. “I think they're gone now, but I'm not taking any chances. We need to leave here ASAP. Get dressed and grab anything you might need.”
“I was going to say the same,” Lucie croaked, managing to pull herself together a bit. The mizzle was fast turning to a thick drizzle that would no doubt be a downpour in the next hour, and she was keen to get into some warmer clothing before she caught a chill. “Did you find what you were after in London?” she asked as they stepped into the cottage.
“We did,” Adam replied, striding into the lounge. “And we found a little more than we bargained for, too.” Taulass w
ho was searching a dresser drawer frantically with Oriyanna, and he turned around and smiled warmly. “This is Taulass.”
Holding the warm smile Taulass spoke. “You found her then. What about Sam?”
“It would seem they've taken him,” Adam replied glumly, and the words started Lucie sobbing again. “I think we're going to have to work a rescue plan into our overall plan,” he added, feeling completely beaten by the situation. “What are you guys looking for?”
“Pens and paper,” Taulass replied, returning his attention to the task at hand. “I need to work the math to reprogram the hub, and I need to get it all written down so that when we bring it back I can re program the computer swiftly. Once they pick up that craft, we're in a time-sensitive situation. Now they have Sam, they'll be expecting us even more than before.”
Like we aren't already in a time-sensitive situation, thought Adam. “It's not safe here, we need to relocate,” he said.
Oriyanna placed a faded old blue tin box, , back in the drawer and crossed the room. Adam felt sure his grandfather had used the box for storing rubber bands in, many years before. “Sam won't be dead,” she reassured Lucie with a warm smile. “They went to far too much trouble to think they would have killed him. They'll be taking him to the Arkus 2, and it's highly likely they'll be relying on human transport. Although massive, there are no shuttle craft on Arkus 2 that I'm aware of. If he's that desperate to get his hands on us, we might have more time than we thought. It must be an eighteen or nineteen-hour trip door-to-door, as you say. Just how long ago did it happen?”
Lucie wiped her eyes with the backs of both hands and sniffed loudly before she spoke. “I have no idea, it wasn't long after you guys left, so maybe four hours… six at the most. I completely lost track of time.
“So that gives us thirteen hours or more before they reach Peru,” Oriyanna summarised, talking more to herself than anyone in particular.
“You think we can get him back?” Lucie asked, making no attempt to hide the hope in her voice.
“We need to get to that ship, Lucie,” said Taulass, giving up his search of the drawer. “I believe we have a plan regarding how to do that and if it works, of course we will try to get Sam back. But it will take some time to work out the details. I'll let the others explain it to you; we have no time to waste, especially after what just happened in Tokyo.”
Lucie stared at Adam in confusion. “What just happened in Tokyo? And what the hell does that have to do with us?”
“I'll tell you in a minute, but first we need to get out of here. I don't think they're coming back, but I'm not willing to risk it. We'll head to the Barge Inn – they always used to have a room or two for guests to rent, and we can haul up there until Taulass has figured out what he needs to figure out.”
“Lucky for you guys, I am a genius,” Taulass grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “I just hope I can get hold of a notepad or something – I have a lot to do if this thing is going to work.”
Chapter 32
Roughly seven hundred miles south west of the Cornish coast, and just before the pilot began a steady descent through Portuguese airspace for their refuelling stop, the Gulfstream broke free of the thick blanket of cloud which covered half of northern Europe. The cloud base had been so thick, it seemed as if they were rushing across a snow-covered Arctic. It was certainly impossible to tell that they'd been jetting over towns and fields, followed by the Bay of Biscay and then northern Spain.
Inside the fuselage, in the plush passenger lounge, Namtar sat watching Sam Becker with interest, rolling a black disc about the size of a guitar plectrum over the backs of his knuckles. First one way, then the other, repeatedly. He never looked down to check his dexterity, the movement was fluid, natural and consistent.
Since leaving the old RAF base at Netheravon, he'd kept Becker sedated. The Gift had cut the time that the ketamine in the tranq-darts was active by a good half of its normal knock-out period. As such, Namtar had plugged Becker twice more since take off, and he would no doubt be coming around again soon. This time, Namtar was going to allow him to stay wake, but not for long. He had a gift for him… well, more of an anti-gift really – a little something that would strip his healing powers away, an ability he should never have had in the first place. Then if Becker thought about trying any heroics, he'd be a damn sight easier to take down and deal with.
“If he tries anything else,” Croaker grumbled, “I'll kill that motherfucker myself.” He was sitting in the seat opposite Namtar. Sam was on the opposite side of the aisle, lying across the large grey leather seats, his head pushed hard against the side of the fuselage, beneath an oval window with the blind pulled down. He was a smidgen too tall to fit neatly and as such his legs hung out into the aisle. He was held in place by the lap belts of both seats. One over his torso, the other his knees. Sam's hands were cuffed and zip tied behind his back and his legs were fixed together with both Velcro limb restraints and large, thick plastic zip ties, one at the top of his chunky calf muscles and a second at his ankles.
Each set of seats was separated by a beautifully polished mahogany table which was fixed to the floor of the cabin, allowing four passengers to face one another, and conduct business meetings and conference calls from the air. Upon reaching the jet Croaker had used the first aid kit on board to fashion a dressing for his ruined eye and nose. The bandage was fixed diagonally over his head, and resembled a skull cap which had slid off at an angle. “He took my fucking eye out!” he added, sounding pissed, before knocking back a cocktail of Ibuprofen and Paracetamol.
“Stop being so pathetic,” Namtar snapped. “Maybe if you hadn't been leering at his wife so much, he'd have left you with two good eyes. Besides, you're in a better position than your two colleagues. Peltz will be turning in his grave – well, I doubt he'll ever actually get one to be honest, but you know what I mean – if he knew you were being such a… what is it the Americans say? That's right – a pussy.”
Sam released a small groan of discomfort and they both watched as his head lolled from side-to-side, at the same time as his legs began to move. Namtar got up from his seat and slid in between the table and the seats Sam was secured to. The whole cabin was built for comfort, not like a commercial airliner, but Namtar still had to crouch a little to stop from knocking his head on the top of the fuselage. Reaching down he used a thumb to open Sam's right eye, and as he did the pupil dilated and Sam tried to blink. “I think he will be back with us very soon,” Namtar grinned, glancing at the last remaining member of his team.
“Is it going to hurt?” Croaker asked, a flicker of hope flashing in his one remaining eye.
“It's not pleasant, I know that much.” He reached down and slapped Sam across the face a few times, further rousing him from the drug-induced sleep.
* * *
Sam's mind was dark, an abyss-like pool that he'd been submerged in for longer than he could recall. On two occasions, he'd been certain he was about to break free but as he'd felt himself rising to the surface he'd been plunged right back in again, sinking to the bottom and fearing he would be unable to ever break free. This time he felt closer than ever, and as he experienced the welcome pain and numbness of his body once again, the perpetual darkness was stripped away in bright, eye-assaulting light. This happened for only the briefest of moments and then it was gone, leaving dazzling red and green sparks dancing behind his eyelids.
Someone was slapping his face now – too hard for it to be Adam, or Lucie. He suffered a wash of nauseous confusion as his drugged brain tried to remember what had happened, and just where he was.
“Time to wake up, Mr. Becker,” he heard a male voice say. It was a voice he knew – Namtar.
“Yeah, and maybe when he's done with you, and you can't heal quite so good, I'll cleave your fucking eye out,” said another voice. The mention of the eye was the trigger which caused his struggling synapsis to fire. The events back at the cottage flashed though his mind, like a movie on fast forward. What had
happened to Lucie? The last time he'd seen her she was fleeing out the door, and he'd watched Namtar go after her.
Sam struggled to get his eyes open, blinking slowly and deliberately, giving himself time to adjust. He quickly processed the fact that he was on an aircraft, and he had a strong suspicion he was the only captive, which meant either Lucie had escaped, or she was dead. The thought filled him with cold fear, a fear he would quickly need to stifle so he could focus on the situation at hand. Craning his stiff neck forward, he saw the guy whose eye he'd put the cuff blade though. The eye was bandaged up and the guy looked about as pissed off as a person could. Namtar was standing beside him, looking impossibly tall. “Look on the bright side,” Sam croaked. “If things don't work out for you here, you can always get a job as a pirate at Disney World.”
“Fuck you,” the guy jeered. “I'm just sorry your little wifey got away, or me 'n her, we'd have had some fun. Might have even let ya watch.” A perverse smile turned up the corners of his mouth, revealing off-white teeth.
Sam felt two emotions instantly from his retort; immense relief, and a burning desire to cut the guy's cock off and choke him to death with it. If it was big enough to choke him, that is, which Sam doubted. Didn't matter though, he'd quite easily finish the job by pulverising his head until he was so smashed up, he couldn't draw breath. For now though, the only thing he could do was ignore the statement. He turned his attention to Namtar. “I don't suppose you're here to take these cuffs and restraints off and give me a club sandwich.”
Namtar smiled, and Sam watched him produce a flat, disc-like object from between his right thumb and forefinger. “No, not even close,” he smiled. “It has been very clear from the moment you evaded us in France that you were a liability—”
“Your brother,” Sam cut in. “You missed the part where I killed your brother.” He managed a smile and saw a flicker of rage ignite in Namtar's cold eyes.