Never Say Spy (33 page)

I struggled to open my eyes, driven by a sense of urgency I couldn’t identify.  My eyelids wouldn’t cooperate.  I managed to crack them partway open, and a blurred room spun around me.  Overcome by effort and vertigo, I let them fall closed again.

Several attempts later, I managed to focus briefly before my eyelids won the battle once more.  My mind slogged laboriously through memory.

I had to do something.  What was it?  It was terribly important.

I opened my eyes again.  Tied to a chair.  Trapped.  My pulse raced, and I painfully raised my hanging head.  The stiffened muscles of my neck screamed protest.  With an effort, I pulled myself out of my slumped position and sat up.  The room swam around me.

When I opened my eyes again, I was hanging halfway out of the chair, suspended by my aching wrists.  I dragged myself upright again, successfully keeping my eyes open this time.  The formless urgency resolved itself into the memory of my abduction.  I was still in my captor’s basement.  How long had I been here?

I strained my ears to hear over the hammering of my heart.  There was no sound from outside the room or above me.  What could have happened?  Had he abandoned me to die?  Or had he given me the wrong dosage, and I’d woken up sooner than he’d expected?

I shook my head, trying to clear the fog.  The fear seemed to help.  I wondered distantly how much adrenaline I’d need before it wiped out the sedative completely.

Sluggishly directing my mind back to my predicament, I tried to form a plan.  My phone was in my waist pouch, probably somewhere in the garage.  I knew I couldn’t break the nylon ties that held me.  I was in a basement, so screaming would be a waste of energy.

Giving in to blind panic, I yanked wildly at my bonds.  The chair jerked and scraped across the floor with my efforts.  The edges of the ties scored thin lines of blood around my wrists.

 When the futility of struggling sank in, I held myself still, gasping and trembling.

Think.

I drew a couple of deep breaths, trying to focus.

I leaned over and peered at the chair.  It was a regular wooden dining chair with arms.  A thought struck me and I gripped the arms and heaved my weight back and forth.  The chair swayed, ever so slightly.

Hope washed over me.  In the warehouse I’d been surrounded by enemies and tied to a steel chair.  This time I was unsupervised, and wooden chairs could break.

I jerked from side to side.  The ties cut deeper into my wrists, and I smothered a whimper of pain and panic.  Slumping in the chair, I worked to slow my racing heart and control my shallow rapid panting.  Belly breathe.  Stay focused.

Try another tactic.

I shuffled the chair closer to the concrete basement wall.  Hopping and twisting, I gradually turned it so my back was to the wall.  After a couple of false starts I managed to pitch my weight forward to stand teetering precariously on my feet with the chair legs off the floor. I flopped back down in the chair and gasped for breath while I planned my next move.

I backed up a little closer to the wall.  Balancing carefully on my feet again, I slammed backward against it.  The impact bruised my legs and back, throwing me sideways.  The chair wobbled crazily.  I twisted to maintain my balance and a cry escaped me when the nylon ties sliced deeper.

Stabilized in the chair once more, I shuddered violently and sucked in terrified breaths.  If I fell over onto the floor, I’d never get free.   I took another deep breath and tried to put aside the fear.  I’d never get free if I didn’t keep trying, either.

I gathered my courage and flung myself at the wall again.  Then again.  The chair was definitely starting to give.  The extra laxness in its joints allowed me to put more force behind my efforts.  Sweat trickled down my temples while my overworked muscles quivered uncontrollably.

I tried not to think about the noise I was making.  If my captor was still in the house, he could be on me in seconds.

I slammed desperately into the concrete again, and was rewarded with the crack of breaking wood.

Once more.  All my weight behind it.

The chair made a splintering sound and I thudded to the floor, pain jolting through me.  A couple of sobbing breaths escaped before I clamped down on control again.

Kicking and struggling, I managed to jerk the legs loose, my jeans protecting my ankles from the sharp edges of the ties.  I floundered awkwardly to my knees and knelt trembling for a few seconds.  Then I heaved gracelessly to my feet, staggering sideways in my hunched position.  My leverage was much better, and a few solid hits to the wall broke the arms loose from the chair back.

Gasping frantic relief, I yanked the broken wood through the bloodstained nylon ties.  Shaking from head to toe, I salvaged a chair leg as a weapon and stumbled for the door.

For a few long seconds, I stood panting as quietly as possible, listening.  Still no sound from above.  What if my captor was waiting silently outside the door?  I pressed my ear to it and heard only my pounding heart.

Ever so slowly, I turned the knob and tried to ease the door open.

It wouldn’t move.

I pushed a little harder, but nothing happened.  I stepped back and studied the door.  There was no lock.  It should open.

To hell with subtlety.  I threw my weight against the door, pain jolting through my back, my bruised shoulder screaming.

It might as well have been a solid wall.

Trapped!

I muffled a hysterical sob.  Take a deep breath.  Think.

I scanned the windowless room desperately.  Concrete floor.  Unfinished ceiling above, just the wooden joists of the main floor.  Two walls were concrete.  The remaining partitions were drywall.  Faint hope rose again.  I was used to dealing with drywall.  It may look strong, but it’s ridiculously easy to punch a hole in it.

Taking a deep breath, I kicked the wall, praying I didn’t hit a stud.  The drywall folded into a deep dent under my heavy hiking boot, and I kicked again to create a hole.  I froze again, listening.  Still nothing.

Wrapping my fingers around the broken edge, I yanked a piece off.  A couple more solid kicks and some pulling revealed standard sixteen-inch stud spacing.  Thank God.  I could fit through that.

Now the next step.  I rested my elbows on my knees, head swimming.  After a few moments, I hauled myself upright and kicked again to make a hole in the drywall on the outside of the wall.

I eased my head through, hoping it wouldn’t be the last thing I ever did.  I still hadn’t heard any movement in the rest of the house, so I had to assume I was alone.

The basement was dark.  My eyes seemed to take forever to adjust.  When they did, I discovered why the door wouldn’t open.  My captor had dragged a heavy bookcase in front of it.  Bastard.  I pulled back into the room and aimed a few more kicks at the wall.

A wave of vertigo washed over me, and I found myself slumped on my knees and elbows, my forehead mashed into the dust and chunks of broken drywall on the floor.  Shedding plaster crumbs, I struggled dizzily to my knees and squeezed out through the hole in the wall.  Huddled in the darkness, I strained my ears.

Still nothing.

Clutching my chair leg in shaking hands, I staggered as quickly as possible across the basement, making for the stairs.  The tiny, high window showed only a square of darkness.  How many hours had I been imprisoned?

A soft sound from the floor above triggered a fresh burst of adrenaline.  I froze.  Had I heard someone moving, or was it just the house settling as the outside air cooled?  I shot a wild glance back at the window.  I’d barely fit through.  And I was too weakened to pull myself up anyway.

I stood in quivering silence for a few moments, but heard nothing more.  Must have been my imagination.  I tottered to the base of the stairs, hoping my shaking legs would carry me up them.

I carefully stepped onto the first tread as close to the stringer as possible, trying to prevent squeaks.  As I gingerly transferred my weight to the step and straightened my knee, I fervently cursed my aging cartilage.  It sounded like somebody was enthusiastically crushing bubble wrap under my kneecap.

I rose slowly onto the next step, then the next, clutching the handrail for precarious balance.  I panted fear and exertion open-mouthed, trying to breathe as quietly as possible.  The crunching of my knees was horribly loud in the silence.

At last, I made it to the top of the stairs and trembled on the landing, elbows braced on my knees.  Should I go into the garage and see if I could find my phone to call for help, or just run for it?  Or I could put in a 911 call from the house phone, if I could find it…

Better to just get out.  I straightened and stepped cautiously into the dark hallway.

White-hot pain exploded in the back of my head and I crashed to the floor.  My arm was twisted excruciatingly up behind me as a knee ground into my back.  The familiar chill of a gun barrel crushed an expanding circle of pain into the base of my skull.

A hard voice grated next to my ear.  “Give me answers, and I might let you live.”

“…John?” I gasped.

“Aydan!”  The agonizing grip released as he scrambled off me.  “I’m sorry!  Are you all right?”

I rolled over slowly and struggled into sitting position.  “…Yeah…”

The dark floor seemed very far away, and I braced my hands against it, trying to regain perspective.

“Can you walk?”

“Yeah…”

He helped me to my feet and the floor turned slowly under me.  I focused all my concentration on staying upright.

I managed to stagger a couple of steps before Kane grated, “Dammit!”

He scooped me up without apparent effort.  My head spun nauseatingly while he carried me out of the house.

My feet touched the ground again beside his Expedition.  I sagged in his one-armed grip while he opened the passenger door.  His voice floated to my ears as if from a long distance.

“Stay with me, Aydan.  Talk to me.”

“Whaddaya wanna talk abou’?” I mumbled as he lifted me into the passenger seat.

When I dragged my eyes open again, he was driving one-handed, shaking my shoulder.  “Aydan!  Talk to me!  What happened?”

“’Nother Buzzy Funny,” I slurred.  “F… Fuzzy… Bunny.  Th… think I’m… agent.  Drugged.”  The inside of the Expedition whirled around me and I closed my eyes to shut it out.  “Ashosh… associates… They know…”

“They know what?” he demanded urgently.

“’Bout me…  Didn… Didn’ tell ‘em.”  I fought to stay coherent.

His voice was very far away.  “What didn’t you tell them?”

“’Bout… key…”

I struggled to open my eyes.  There was something important…

Brilliant light flashed in first one eye, then the other.  I groaned and tried to pull away.  Must escape.  I dragged my eyes open, blinded by afterimages.  A dark figure loomed over me as I forced my leaden limbs to struggle.  Strong hands closed on my shoulders.

 “Aydan, you’re safe.  Don’t fight, it’s all right.  You’re safe.”

Kane’s voice.  I sighed and let the darkness claim me.

The next time my eyes opened more easily and I lay still, taking in my surroundings.  I recognized the cubicle curtains.  Back in B Wing.  Déjà vu.

Kane smiled at me from the chair beside my bed.  “Welcome back.”

“Thanks, I think.”  I gingerly touched the back of my aching head.  “Jesus.  What did you hit me with?”

“Gun butt.  I’m sorry.  I didn’t expect you to be sneaking around in there.”

“It’s okay.  How did you find me?”

“We’ll talk later.”

I nodded, wincing as my bruised head moved against the pillow.  Debrief in a secure area, right.

Dr. Roth bustled into the cubicle.  “I’m glad to see you’re conscious.”

I gave her a rueful grin as I tenderly fingered my head.  “Sorry I can’t agree.”

Her mouth quirked, and she checked the readouts on the machines and the level of the I.V. bag.  Then she bent close, shining her small flashlight in each of my eyes.  “That’s better.”

I blinked away afterimages again.  “What happened?  Why did the drugs wear off and then come back and knock me out?  Is that going to happen again?”

The doctor gave Kane a severe look.  “Not unless somebody hits you in the head again.  You were probably able to overcome the effects of the drug initially with adrenaline and exertion.  Then the head injury combined with low blood sugar made you vulnerable and you slipped back under.”

She shook her head.  “I’m surprised you’re as alert as you are.  There’s still quite a high concentration of the drug in your bloodstream.”

I gave her a grin.  “That’s my rock star metabolism.  And I think the guy guessed my weight wrong.”

“Well, you’re not going to rock anywhere for a while.  Rest,” she commanded, and left.

I turned to Kane.  “Did you catch him?  Who was he?”

“Yes, we caught him.  You heard the doctor.  Rest.”

“Roger that.”  I let my eyelids drift shut on his smile.

The next time my eyes opened, Kane was gone and Spider sat beside me.

“Hey, Spider.”  I squinted at my watch.  “It’s four in the morning.  Don’t you guys ever sleep?”

He chuckled.  “I grabbed a couple of hours while Kane was sitting with you.  He’s sleeping now.”

“They don’t pay you guys enough.  I don’t know how much they pay you, but it can’t be enough.”

He smiled.  “It’s not about money.  It’s about keeping good people safe.  And making sure bad people can’t hurt anyone.”

“Ordinary people don’t know how lucky they are to have guys like you and Kane and the team working behind the scenes.”

He flushed.  “It’s probably better that way,” he said quietly.  “Go back to sleep.  The doctor says you should be okay to leave in the morning.”

“Thanks.”  I closed my eyes again, trying to hide my discomfort at being watched.  The drugs must be wearing off.  I hadn’t cared earlier.

By the time Kane reappeared at eight o’clock, I was antsy after several hours of fitful dozing.  When the doctor finally cleared me for takeoff, I breathed a sigh of relief.

I stood slowly, but there didn’t seem to be any lingering ill effects other than the sore place on the back of my head.  I stretched the kinks out of my muscles and followed Kane and Spider out to the Expedition.