by Gray Gardner
“Your agents have told me that I don’t have a choice. So what’s with the pep talk?” she growled, standing in front of him and glaring over at him as he remained seated in the chair. She took a step back just to be safe.
“I’m on your team, Baylor,” he offered, admiring her even more for not punching him in the face or trying to run away from him.
“Fuck you,” muttered through her teeth, wiping the last remaining tear off of her cheek and continuing her staring battle with him.
“So, how can I convince you to help us?” Austin asked, aggravated that she still wasn’t convinced she could help them.
She looked out of the window. “You know what I want.”
She heard him sigh heavily as he shifted his weight and made the old hardwood floor creak as he stood and walked around her. She heard mumblings in the background and watched as rain sprinkled against the glass. She really just wanted her life to make sense. She knew they were probably keeping this information from her to protect her. Still, she wanted explanations.
Austin cleared his throat. “You know what we found at that house. Your accountant’s house, back then.”
“Nothing,” she replied, as the rain beat harder against the window panes.
“More than nothing,” he continued. “We’d been chattering on some unsecured lines, hoping to flush out some RPP members and get them to that house. They were one step ahead of us, though. They’d beaten us to it, tore it up, found nothing of course…and then they beat us to you.”
Burton frowned, deep in thought as Austin approached her. He leaned down and calmly said, “Think. Did you ever get home from school that day? You know which day I mean. Your first day back at school after meeting me in The Hamptons.”
“I can’t remember,” she softly said, studying her light brown tennis shoes. It all stopped suddenly when she got into the car after insulting at kid at school. Flynn. She tried, but her next memories were of being back in school, taking her spring classes.
“What’s the very last thing you can recall?”
“Watching your irreproachable ass climbing aboard Air Force One,” she smirked, raising her brow.
“Burton,” Ferguson muttered. Connor rubbed his neck as he waited patiently. Austin just stared her down.
She finally closed her eyes after a few seconds. This was a waste of time. She pretended she was floating over the scene like the hypnotist had shown her, anyway, breathing deeply.
She was back there again. The memory was vivid. “School ended and I was getting into the car with the security guys and I was so sick of Flynn that I told him to go and suck a big fat one.”
“Flynn later took her to the Spring Social,” Ferguson whispered to Connor, watching from the corner of the room. “His parents wouldn’t let him date her, though, because of her Jewish background.”
“She’s agnostic,” Connor frowned, trying to keep his voice as low as possible as he listened to Burton and the former President of the United States.
“I said background,” Ferguson emphasized. “And no she’s not. She goes to church…or, well, she used to…when we were together. She practiced Christianity.”
Connor shook his head and tried to get Ferguson out of his ear. He hated that he knew more about Baylor than he did. Jewish background? And since when did she go to church?
“What song was playing?” Austin asked, keeping his voice steady as he watched her.
“Tearing Up My Heart,” Burton replied, leaning her head against the cold window pane. She put her hands to her ears and held imaginary earbuds. “I used to love Justin Timberlake,” she confessed, though she refused to admit that she still had a thing for the now solo artist. The lyrics played in her head and when she reached the second stanza, she suddenly gasped and jerked around, looking up at Austin. Her breath was caught in her throat and her heart pounded as she pushed off of the window.
“Baylor?” he asked, seeing the sparkle in her green eyes, feeling overwhelmingly proud of her.
“I remember,” she stated, voice cracking.
Seven Days of Captivity
Baylor Burton, Age 18, London
I was totally infatuated with Justin Timberlake. I even fantasized so far as to actually believe that when he began the European tour the last weekend in November, he would fall madly in love with me and take me to the Winter Social at my school. Their kick off concert was in two days. As I rode home from school with my security guys, I contemplated several scenarios that would get me out of their scope and into that concert.
We pulled up to Aunt Nina’s house and climbed out of the large black vehicle they insisted I ride around town in, like I was some kind of important attaché or something. It was really humiliating. I turned up my music as we climbed the stone steps to the front door.
I looked up when I saw a black suit roll down the steps past me. He lay unconscious at the bottom of the stairs. Glancing back up I saw two men waving guns around, fighting off my security guys. Ripping off my earphones, I discovered that I was totally paralyzed as they all shouted and fired rounds from their pistols.
When the last of my security guards flipped over the side of the terrace, I finally took a step backwards. What was this? Then everything went black. A bag had been secured over my head and when I reached for it two large arms wrapped around me and lifted me from the steps. I kicked and tried to free my arms as I felt him running for a second. Then my knee banged against something cold and metal.
A getaway car. I slammed against the cold leather as I heard several voices around me. They spoke English, but not all of them were English. Then a blast drowned everything else out, and heat surrounded me momentarily. A car bomb. I jerked my head around and tried to pull the bag off again. There wasn’t any air and I fought in a panic. Something rammed into my head and the next thing I knew, I was face down on a cold, wet floor.
My head ached as I felt around and determined that the floor was old stone. Light shone in from a barred window about twenty feet above me. I pushed up to a sitting position and winced as I looked around. The room looked like some old castle dungeon, save the metal chair and aspirin sitting on top. I scooted over and took three, resting my head against the cool metal and waiting for the pain to stop so that I could better assess my situation.
About fifteen minutes later I was sticking my toes through the cold stone cracks in the worn masonry and scaling the wall to look out of the window. I groaned as I finally gripped the metal bars and walked up the wall to the opening. Cliffs and a spraying sea. I could have been anywhere on this God forsaken island country. Damn.
The bars wouldn’t budge as I pulled and yanked, and though I could fit a leg and an arm through, my big fat head and hip bone couldn’t quite make it. Sighing heavily, I contemplated how I could last in that room.
Seven days later I was still wondering as a man I came to know as Lukian dragged me out of the cell by my hair. He would question me again, and again, I just wouldn’t have the answers he wanted.
I closed my eyes and felt a single tear drop when I heard the click.
Then, another click. Several more followed as he finally screamed in frustration and threw the pistol out of his sweaty hands. In fact, sweat poured through every orifice on his body. I could see it through his black suit. He was nervous about something.
A rumbling came from outside and it sounded like the world was going to end. He pulled something out of his pocket and I knew that it would end—very soon. I had seen it in movies a hundred times. A black remote with a red blinking light.
He had a bomb.
I shrieked as he grabbed a fistful of my hair and yanked me behind him. I didn’t have a choice. If I lost my footing, he just dragged me along behind him. We snaked through halls and tunnels and as I begged for him to release me, I noticed the temperature dropping drastically. We were going down towards the water.
Sunlight blinded me as we emerged onto a terrace halfway down the cliffs. The water was closer but the bright reflection was from the wh
ite rocks of the cliffs. White cliffs? Where had I heard that before? Seen it? I suddenly felt pain as Lukian jerked my arms behind me and placed my hands in cuffs. I was beginning to wonder if we were going to proceed down the steps to a speedboat in the water when the rumbling grew deafening and my hair swooshed across my face.
He had a helicopter. Where were these freaks getting all of this money? That son of a bitch was not going to let me go. We were going to some far off place where he could find a new black widow and torture me some more. I began yanking backwards as the helicopter touched down on the big “H” underneath my saddle shoes. No way would I make this easy for him. He wrenched my arm forward so hard that my shoulder popped out of the socket. Then he kept pulling.
I was crying and screaming as he heaved me into the black helicopter. Where would we go now? I saw the “H” abscond and the cliffs surround us and something suddenly occurred to me. Of course. White cliffs. The White Cliffs of Dover! I’d recognize them anywhere, right on the Channel on the way to Calais. We were only about an hour out of London.
I knew where we were! It felt good just to know. Maybe someone else knew, too. I smiled in relief as the helicopter banked and I felt a force of air against my side.
At that moment I turned over my shoulder to see the malicious and terrified face of Lukian grow smaller. Then I jerked my face forward as the sea beneath me approached in seconds. I slapped against the surface and became totally disoriented as I wildly kicked around. So, he couldn’t shoot me. Now he would drown me.
My hands were restrained behind my back and I couldn’t find any air. Salty water rushed down my throat. I panicked as I kicked and kicked and didn’t move anywhere. I knew that I was going to die that day, but I didn’t think it would be like this.
The Memory with No Pulse
Langley, Present Day
Burton shook her head and looked around her. She was pressed so firmly against the window in the Hall of Fame that the glass had warmed to the temperature of her skin. Everyone in the room stood silently. She let out a breath and swallowed as she tried to comprehend the memory she’d just recalled.
Ferguson was looking at her sympathetically, almost affectionately. Austin couldn’t look at her as his mind raced with images of a sweet little girl being kidnapped and tortured by terrorists. And Connor? Well, she could only interpret that look as pity. She quickly turned her glance to the floor.
“I don’t remember anything after that,” she softly said, trying to slow her heartbeat before anyone else figured out how terrified she felt. She couldn’t bear to catch anyone’s eye, either.
Austin cleared his throat. “Ferguson can help you with the rest, I believe,” he said, standing taller. “We will leave you to it, then. I’m going to the Basement to brief Eubanks.”
He didn’t even finish. He left the room in a hurry, his minions in tow. That left Connor and Ferguson alone with her again in the large, square room. She finally realized that her regulated breathing was forced and she let the short sniffs start as she covered her eyes.
“Baylor.”
“How in the hell did I forget something like that?” she roared, removing her hand and letting the tears flow down her cheeks. She slammed her fists against Ferguson’s chest and gave him a look that made him want to jump out of the window. “How could you make me forget something like that?”
Then, to the surprise of them both, Connor spoke up.
“He was just trying to protect you.”
Burton wiped her pink cheeks and turned her head towards Connor, who was slowly walking towards her. “I was way past protection! I needed a savior!”
Connor glanced at Ferguson, who rubbed his neck in embarrassment, then turned his glance to Baylor. Sweet, cute, troubled Baylor Burton.
“Sweetheart, I think he was your savior.”
It was all becoming so clear to him, but he needed to hear it from Ferguson to be sure. His suspicions were clarified as Ferguson finally spoke.
“That rumbling you heard, Baylor. Yes, it was Lukian Berg’s helicopter, and it was the Royal Air Force’s approaching fleet.”
Burton frowned as she stepped back and sniffled. She only remembered one helicopter.
“We convinced the Lieutenant Colonel to let us use a few of their black hawks as soon as we discovered that you were in the abandoned castle.”
“But how did you know which castle, on which cliff, in which country?” Burton asked, as Connor stood behind her and placed his hands on her arms. He was curious as well.
Ferguson nodded and took a deep breath. “Yes, it would seem that we were clairvoyant. Had we not wasted two days on an empty house in Chesapeake Bay. We sort of traced you there.”
“How?” Burton asked, lowering her head but keeping her eyes on him. Please say with records from rentals that led to the suspicious terrorists who were using some shell company and not what she was suspecting.
“With a tracking device.”
“A tracking device?” she uttered. Connor felt her arm muscles tense. He stood behind her and held her tighter. She didn’t seem to notice.
“Yes, well, you know, we um, planted it underneath your skin—when you were passed out in The Hamptons.”
“You lo-jacked me?” she hollered, stepping towards him. Connor held her arms back as she pulled forward. He nodded for Ferguson to continue.
“It was just temporary!” he argued, closing his eyes and rubbing his head. It did sound bad. “Anyway, we discovered your whereabouts, secured transportation, and were ready to raid the place and take you back.”
Burton stopped pulling as he said this. She was angry and scared, but wanted to hear more. She waited as Ferguson began to pace.
“I had to get you back. The agents Dustin had assigned to you were dead when we got to your Aunt Nina’s house. The suburban was charred to a crisp and everyone thought you were dead. And then, the satellite came into position and the chip we planted activated. You weren’t sixty miles from us, in Dover. We planned, we activated, and we thought we were going to attack. As we approached, though I saw the most horrible thing I think I’ve ever seen.”
Burton and Connor leaned forward in anticipation.
Ferguson sighed heavily and cleared his throat before he continued. “I saw a black helicopter flying away and a little girl with her hands tied behind her back falling to the waves beneath us.”
Everyone took a breath.
“Immediately the other three RAF choppers were on Lukian. They shot him down with one missile and he and his pilot were lost to the sea. Meanwhile I got my pilot to take me to where you’d gone in. He was fighting the crosswinds and everything was shaking. He said it would be suicide if we didn’t get out of there. We had orders, Baylor, but I had to get you out for my own personal reasons.”
“You thought I held the information, not some diary,” Burton said coldly.
“No,” Ferguson replied, shaking his head earnestly. “No, I… Well you must know that it was because I cared for you. I harnessed myself up to a cord and dove into the sea. The water was like ice and the saltiness stung my eyes. I dove four or five times before I felt you brush against my leg. When I surfaced I noticed that you’d been smart and agile enough to work the cuffs from the back to the front of your body. And in one split second I had your arms over my head and my pilot had us in the air.”
Burton and Connor frowned as he paused. They were both dying to know what was going to happen.
“We spun and spun as we bounced on the waves, then, as Lukian’s helicopter was shot down, he hit the remote device and blasted the castle to bits. The force blew our chopper down and we dipped into the water one last time before he regained control and we were dangling in the air. As soon as we were back over the cliffs and over land I cut us free and we crashed to the hard ground. You were blue. You weren’t breathing. Your hand was broken, you had a head wound, your wrists were bleeding, your knees were bleeding. I checked for a pulse and that’s when I performed CPR.”
&
nbsp; Burton huffed and looked back at Connor over her shoulder, like she hadn’t heard correctly. No one said anything, so she glowered back at Ferguson. Then she turned her head to the side a little bit and narrowed her eyes. “CPR?”
“Yes,” Ferguson nodded, not quite meeting her eyes.
“I didn’t have a pulse?” she hollered, shaking Connor off of her shoulders and holding out her arms to Ferguson.
He shook his head. “No.”
“I had no pulse,” she continued, trying to catch his eye. So, she was dead. She had died and no one had bothered to let her have that damned memory?
“Yes,” he agreed, looking guilty.
She pressed her lips together and folded her hands behind her head. Connor grinned, since this was the way he always tried to calm himself down, too. She was thinking things over, which was good because she was processing.
“Continue,” she muttered, closing her eyes.
“You weren’t responding,” Ferguson said as his voice cracked. “I radioed in our position several times to the ground crew and kept trying to revive you, but you weren’t responding.”
“Why do you keep saying that?” she snapped.
He turned his back on her and bent his head down, holding it in his hand. “Because I stopped.”
Connor tried not to make any noise as he realized how horrible Ferguson felt and almost sympathized with him. As a captain he’d given up CPR on several of his peers during his tour in Afghanistan. It was for the survival of the many. He knew the pain and guilt it left. But how did Burton survive?
“How… I mean, you gave up after trying, but how did I survive?” she quietly asked.
Now Ferguson turned and was smiling at her. “Because, my darling, you are a survivor. I gave up, I was tired and angry and heartbroken…and I gave up. But you didn’t. Just as the ground crew pulled up and were running up towards us with a gurney, I took you in my arms one last time and hugged you in all of my guilt. And then it happened.”