get in touch with me immediately.”
“Will do, boss.”
Nick rode the elevator up to his inner sanctum, as Neo referred to his new office. There was a bad feeling brewing in his gut about this case, and history dictated that he’d better trust his instincts or pay a steep price.
There were just too many unknowns to form an educated opinion on the case. What did a “walking man” have to do with the next terrorist strike? How did the warehouse shooters uncover John Lonedeer’s defection and learn about his rendezvous at the warehouse? The FBI classified all information concerning Lonedeer’s defection as top-secret.
Now Crow’s niece was kidnapped in the same general vicinity. Was it just a coincidence? Nick didn’t believe in coincidences. What really nagged him was the lack of a motive for her kidnapping. Was the crime preplanned or just a random motel room invasion? Were the terrorists involved somehow?
Nick flopped down on the sofa in his office. As usual, he was short on facts and long on unknowns. In his heyday, that necessitated fieldwork in the real world. Of course that was impossible now. Rance had tied his hands.
He brightened. Perhaps the recent information collected by the FBI and CIA concerning the threat from Lonedeer’s terrorist group had been misinterpreted. Maybe there weren’t any bona fide threats directed at any top-level government officials. The intended target could be a Tampa building, or an ocean freighter anchored in Tampa Bay, or one of the bridges at rush hour, or . . .
He massaged his pounding temples. Seemingly endless possibilities bombarded his mind. He closed his eyes. There wasn’t a damned thing he could do to protect any of them. His Orion Sector office insulated him from the world at a time when he needed to be out there working the case. Getting a feel for things. Running leads. Tracking terrorists and kidnappers. It’s what he did best.
At this point, all he could do was order extra government security for the U.S. Senators from Florida and the First Lady and trust that Neo and Crow would uncover enough facts to bring Blossom safely back home. Meanwhile, he’d just lay low in his office and wait for all hell to break loose.
Today was Tuesday. Nick wouldn’t have long to wait.
7
B
lossom awoke in total darkness. She tried to move from her sitting position, but she heard the rattle of a handcuff on her left wrist and stopped. She felt blindly for the handcuff with her right hand and found the opposite end attached to something metallic. Was it the footer of a bed? She traced the outline of a cool tube glazed with condensation but it provided no clue to the bigger picture.
Her lower back muscles ached and she discovered that staring into the inky black void made her stomach queasy. She closed her eyes and took slow deep breaths until her nausea passed.
She heard distant voices, but in the darkness she couldn’t pinpoint where they were coming from. She licked her cracked dry lips and moved her mouth in an attempt to speak.
“Jay?” she ventured nervously in a weak whisper.
The muffled conversations continued, but none were directed at her. Her back muscles knotted and cramped and she quickly arched her spine to quell the spasms. After several agonizing minutes, they finally loosened.
Where was she? A debilitating fog blanketed her mind, but with great effort she recalled a blurry image of Lonny poking her with a hypodermic needle as soon as they were inside their SUV – she couldn’t remember the make or color. She strained to squeeze more from her memory, but her mental block refused to budge. This was the first time she’d been conscious since that frightening Lonny moment. She hadn’t even come to when they had carried her into this – creepy dank place, wherever it was.
Blossom stiffened. A door handle turned and door hinges squeaked. She shrank back against the metal tubing as a spreading wedge of light spilled into the room and dispelled the
“Will do, boss.”
Nick rode the elevator up to his inner sanctum, as Neo referred to his new office. There was a bad feeling brewing in his gut about this case, and history dictated that he’d better trust his instincts or pay a steep price.
There were just too many unknowns to form an educated opinion on the case. What did a “walking man” have to do with the next terrorist strike? How did the warehouse shooters uncover John Lonedeer’s defection and learn about his rendezvous at the warehouse? The FBI classified all information concerning Lonedeer’s defection as top-secret.
Now Crow’s niece was kidnapped in the same general vicinity. Was it just a coincidence? Nick didn’t believe in coincidences. What really nagged him was the lack of a motive for her kidnapping. Was the crime preplanned or just a random motel room invasion? Were the terrorists involved somehow?
Nick flopped down on the sofa in his office. As usual, he was short on facts and long on unknowns. In his heyday, that necessitated fieldwork in the real world. Of course that was impossible now. Rance had tied his hands.
He brightened. Perhaps the recent information collected by the FBI and CIA concerning the threat from Lonedeer’s terrorist group had been misinterpreted. Maybe there weren’t any bona fide threats directed at any top-level government officials. The intended target could be a Tampa building, or an ocean freighter anchored in Tampa Bay, or one of the bridges at rush hour, or . . .
He massaged his pounding temples. Seemingly endless possibilities bombarded his mind. He closed his eyes. There wasn’t a damned thing he could do to protect any of them. His Orion Sector office insulated him from the world at a time when he needed to be out there working the case. Getting a feel for things. Running leads. Tracking terrorists and kidnappers. It’s what he did best.
At this point, all he could do was order extra government security for the U.S. Senators from Florida and the First Lady and trust that Neo and Crow would uncover enough facts to bring Blossom safely back home. Meanwhile, he’d just lay low in his office and wait for all hell to break loose.
Today was Tuesday. Nick wouldn’t have long to wait.
7
B
lossom awoke in total darkness. She tried to move from her sitting position, but she heard the rattle of a handcuff on her left wrist and stopped. She felt blindly for the handcuff with her right hand and found the opposite end attached to something metallic. Was it the footer of a bed? She traced the outline of a cool tube glazed with condensation but it provided no clue to the bigger picture.
Her lower back muscles ached and she discovered that staring into the inky black void made her stomach queasy. She closed her eyes and took slow deep breaths until her nausea passed.
She heard distant voices, but in the darkness she couldn’t pinpoint where they were coming from. She licked her cracked dry lips and moved her mouth in an attempt to speak.
“Jay?” she ventured nervously in a weak whisper.
The muffled conversations continued, but none were directed at her. Her back muscles knotted and cramped and she quickly arched her spine to quell the spasms. After several agonizing minutes, they finally loosened.
Where was she? A debilitating fog blanketed her mind, but with great effort she recalled a blurry image of Lonny poking her with a hypodermic needle as soon as they were inside their SUV – she couldn’t remember the make or color. She strained to squeeze more from her memory, but her mental block refused to budge. This was the first time she’d been conscious since that frightening Lonny moment. She hadn’t even come to when they had carried her into this – creepy dank place, wherever it was.
Blossom stiffened. A door handle turned and door hinges squeaked. She shrank back against the metal tubing as a spreading wedge of light spilled into the room and dispelled the