Connect the Dots

by Denise Robbins

  “Is this what happened to one of her detainees? In Armenia? Republic of Georgia?” Where else?

  Before he could throw up, the phone rang again. “Yeah.”

  “We have a problem.”

  Those were not the words he wanted to hear. “What do you mean?”

  “She did not go to Dulles International. She is at Langley Air Force Base.”

  “What?” His fear and temper spiked. “Is that where she landed when she went there?”

  “No.”

  “Where the hell is she going?” he yelled getting to his feet.

  “I don’t know. But, I don’t guess it’s home.” Waldo cleared his throat. “She is in the air.” Jake heard the crack in the older man’s voice. He was worried.

  “Is she headed home?”

  “No. Shit! She’s headed east.”

  That’s completely wrong! Jake’s stomach flipped and turned to liquid. “I’m headed to the airport. Keep me posted on her coordinates.”

  “Not without me!”

  “Waldo—” The older man cut him off.

  “She is mine.”

  Yeah, Jake supposed, she was.

  “And I’m the one who was a fighter pilot!”

  “Is that GPS system portable?”

  “Damn, right.”

  “Then I’ll meet you at the airport in thirty minutes or less.”

  “My plane is in Hangar W.”

  “I—” Once again, Waldo interrupted.

  “Trust me. You want this plane.”

  Whether it was the convincing sternness of his voice or the fact that Waldo had hung up, Jake knew he would be meeting him at Hangar W and they would be flying Waldo’s plane.

  FORTY-THREE

  Satisfied with her interrogation and what she learned, Charley stood, picked up her papers, and turned to leave.

  “Are we done?”

  Opening the door, she glanced back at Big Dick over her shoulder. “You are.”

  She walked out and shook Grayson’s hand. “Thank you.”

  Two military officers walked past them and into the room.

  “You bitch!”

  Charley wrinkled her nose at Grayson. “Do you think he was talking about me?”

  Her boss laughed.

  * * * *

  As Charley reached for the front door, she jumped when her hand encountered another. She looked up and froze, surprised to see Richard Miles, US Ambassador to Republic of Georgia. Kyle’s in-theatre boss. She blinked rapidly, her heart thudding against her ribs. Did Kyle only follow orders like Dick?

  “Charley.” He acknowledged her in his deep baritone voice.

  Pushing the question aside, she spoke. “Ambassador. Nice to see you again.”

  “I’m off to a meeting.”

  “Oh, yes sir.”

  He held the glass and metal door for her. “We’ll see each other soon.”

  Walking out the front doors of CIA headquarters ready to go home, Charley shivered and goose bumps invaded her flesh. Her car sat near the curb, but she did not see the driver. Where was he? With the palm of her hand, she rubbed at the hairs on her neck. She glanced around but other than Jimmy missing, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Hefting her bags higher on her shoulders, she descended the stairs to wait at the car for Jimmy.

  Rather than stand on the sidewalk with her heavy computer bag and wait, she tugged at the door handle in hopes of dropping her bags inside. It didn’t budge. Why would she think it would? Jimmy would not be so careless. Leaning one hip against the car, she tapped a foot with growing impatience, when a man approached her. He had been so stealthy in his movement, she nearly jumped out of her skin.

  “Do you have the time?”

  Charley glanced down at her watch and the man’s arms wrapped around her, squeezing her waist in a vice, cutting off her ability to suck in air.

  She kicked and screamed and that succeeded in the man slapping a hand over her mouth. She slammed the heel of her shoe into his shin, heard the man grunt in pain. When she aimed for the other shin, she missed.

  Elbows restrained, Charley couldn’t jab him or reach up and scratch his face, or grab her weapon tucked into her purse. All she could so was wiggle and struggle, try to draw someone’s attention. Why hadn’t anyone noticed or come to her rescue? She was on the street in broad daylight. Where was Jimmy?

  Oh, no, was he dead? Did this guy kill him just to get to her?

  She heard a door slide open, and another attacker dressed in black, all black, including a hood, grabbed her thrashing legs and jerked her into a white van.

  “What are you doing?” She screamed as soon as the hand was removed from her mouth. A black bag slid over her head, shutting out all light.

  Black hood, black hood. This was it! Whoever wanted her had her.

  “Let me go!”

  Firm hands shoved at her chest and she fell backwards, her bags slipping from her shoulders before she landed on hard metal. The pain jolted and shot through her from hip to head. The van shot forward, causing her to flail about and strike her head.

  “Ow!”

  “Why are you doing this?”

  Someone grabbed for her free legs, but she kicked and made contact. That didn’t seem to matter. He wrapped something around her ankles, tying them together. As she fought to get the mask off, someone with smaller hands pulled at her arms chicken-wing style and secured them behind her.

  “Who are you?”

  Her only answer was the heavy breathing of the man behind her.

  “Where are you taking me? Let me go!”

  Her questions and pleas went unheeded. Big hands hefted her to her feet and ripped at her shirt.

  “No!” No, no! They were going to rape her. Panicked, she panted for air.

  She heard the distinct snick of scissors followed by her skirt falling away. A rush of cold air washed over her. Once again, her attackers lifted her off her feet. Then they laid her flat on some kind of stiff board.

  “Why? Just tell me why?” she asked as tears slid down her cheeks.

  A sharp prick bit into her shoulder. Her world dulled, faded, and went black.

  FORTY-FOUR

  Ever since Waldo’s call, terror had gripped his heart and would not let go. Jake’s mind kept running through the black site prison, Kyle’s dead body, and the words of that reporter’s article on the black ninja CIA. So help him if anyone laid a finger on Charley. He would have no issue with breaking him apart, limb by painful limb.

  All he wanted was to get Charley back. Alive!

  Why was this happening? He asked himself as he turned a little too fast into the airport hangar area driving on two wheels. When he slowed, he landed on all four and barreled his way to Hangar W.

  Waldo waited by the door and waved him in. He parked and jumped out.

  “Where is she?” he demanded, pulling out his duffle and slamming the door behind him.

  “It has only been an hour. She is over the damn ocean.”

  Jake stopped short and glared at Waldo. He wanted to know more.

  “She is still headed east. I called a friend to see if he could get any information on which plane took off from Langley and where it might be headed.” Waldo shrugged. “I haven’t heard anything back.”

  Shit! Why hadn’t he thought of that? Tugging his cellular from his pocket, he hit speed dial and waited.

  “Hiya, handsome.”

  “Not now,” he bit out.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “A plane took off from Langley Air Force Base this afternoon about…” He checked his watch.

  “Three,” answered Waldo.

  “Three o’clock. I need to know what plane and its flight plan. I need it now.”

  “I’m on it.” He heard Ruby tapping keys in the background.

  “They got her,” he murmured, his heart tearing open as he said the words.

  “Charley?”

  “Yes.”

  “Don’t Jake. You do not give up. You know better
. Do you hear me?”

  His eyes shut and he willed the strength of Ruby’s conviction into himself. She was right. It hurt like hell. He inhaled and blew out the breath, let the knowledge that Charley was a trained professional calm him and focus. Could anyone be trained and ready for what happened at a black site? Stop it! Charley was tougher than she looked. She knew how to manipulate people through words. If anyone could stay alive, she could, if for no other reason than to say, “I told you so.”

  A faint smile slid across his lips. “Yeah, I hear ya.”

  “What else do you need?”

  “We need air clearance in about fifteen minutes. I believe we’re going international so get Mickey to pave the way for refuel stops and final landing.”

  “Where?”

  “If I knew that I wouldn’t be waiting for you to give me information on that plane,” he growled.

  “Got it. We?”

  Jake’s lip curled up. “Waldo Pepper.”

  Ruby gasped on the other end of the line. “Your hero?”

  “He will be if we all get there and back in one piece.”

  “I’ll call you right back.”

  His ear met dead air. Stuffing the phone back in his pocket, he slung his duffle over his shoulder, moved to the door of the hangar, and peered out.

  “Is that yours?” he asked in awe pointing at the gleaming white Gulfstream jet, the fastest mid-sized jet in the world, sitting in front of the hangar with a fuel truck pumping gas into her.

  “Yeah.” Jake looked at the older man and saw a beam of pride on his face.

  Jake whistled low, approaching the machine. The gas truck finished filling her up and pulled away. He caressed her nose and grinned.

  “She’s beautiful.”

  “Mmm. She is even better in the air.”

  “No doubt.” Jake had read all about the Gulfstream and envied Waldo. Walking around the jet, inspecting her, he met Waldo at the gangplank and made his way up the stairs. At the top, he followed Waldo and ducked into the passenger cabin where it was equipped with five executive style leather seats and tables. Furrowing his brow, he peered over at Waldo standing at the door to the cockpit.

  “A little overkill, don’t you think?”

  Waldo shook his head. “This is how she came equipped. Besides, I only care about her performance. Depending on the weather, passenger count, weight, and various other things, she will go over five thousand miles before needing to refuel.”

  Jake’s phone rang. Dropping his duffle, he fished his cellular out of his pocket and answered. “Yeah.”

  “Something is definitely hinky.”

  That got his attention. Jake shoved the phone closer to his ear. “Hinky, how?”

  “At first no one could seem to find a filed flight plan.”

  “What?” Fear prickled his spine.

  “Mickey applied some political pressure. I’ve got it. You ready?”

  Relief swamped his senses and he could not remember what Ruby asked.

  “Jake? Got a pen and paper?”

  His mind cleared and he waved his free hand in the air, indicating to Waldo that he needed something to write.

  “Okay. Shoot.”

  “Blackwater International flew a Gulfstream 5, registration N379P out of Langley at approximately three this afternoon.”

  “Wait! A non-governmental plane left Langley’s airfield? That can’t be right.”

  “Told you. Hinky.” No shit!

  Not hinky. A ghost. If the flight did not exist, then neither did its passengers.

  “However,” Ruby continued. “I did a quick search on them and found that they are a government contractor. Maybe that’s how they can do it.”

  “What do they do?”

  “More like what don’t they do. They do everything from training of military, security, and law enforcement, mobility and logistics, build weapons and vehicles, heck, they even do construction. They have this subsidiary called Raven Development that builds hangars, complexes, and secure barracks compounds.”

  Jake’s throat caught. “Secure barracks? Did you find out where?”

  “I didn’t do a detailed search. Their website lists Baghdad.”

  Overseas. “Fuck!” Jake stomped his anger. They had to be the assholes that built some of the black sites.

  “What?”

  “Listen up. Dig and dig deep. Find out everything you can on Blackwater and that damned subsidiary. When we get back, Charley is going to need every bit of information we can give her to nail those bastards.” If he didn’t kill them first.

  “You bet.”

  “Please tell me you got the rest of their flight route.”

  “Darlin’. Would you expect any less of me?”

  Jake chuckled. “Shoot.”

  “It’s also weird, but here it is. Refuel stop at Incirlik Air Base then to Tbilisi and onto Yerevan. Why stop in Tbilisi only to continue for another one hundred and ten miles? That big of a plane wouldn’t require another refuel so quickly.”

  No, it did not make sense. Unless they were dropping someone off or picking someone up.

  “Did they document how long they expected to be at each stop?”

  “Thirty minutes at Incirlik.”

  Jake heard Ruby flip pages. “It’s not here. How can they do that?”

  She did not voice the question for him. Ruby was frustrated and talking to herself.

  “I’ll try to get that.”

  “Ruby.” She did not answer. “Ruby.”

  “Huh?”

  “We’ve got to go. I need to know if that plane stays in Tbilisi or moves on, or even changes route.”

  “I’ll let you know.”

  “You’ll need Waldo’s call sign.”

  Waldo recited it for him.

  “Be safe.”

  “I always am darlin’.”

  Jake snapped the phone shut and faced Waldo.

  “We’re going to Incirlik Air Base, Turkey.”

  FORTY-FIVE

  Charley’s first conscious thought was that her head ached intolerably. When she took a deep breath, she sucked in a mouthful of material and almost gagged. Her eyes flew open but she could not see. Everything was black. She attempted to reach up but her arms would not move. Her hands were covered, she could only feel material, like encased in mittens. What was happening? Why couldn’t she hear anything? Where was she? And why was she so cold? She shivered.

  Then the answer flooded her memory. Someone had snatched her off the street, shoved her into a van, stripped, and whisked her away. What else? Why couldn’t she remember more? The prick. Drugged. Someone had drugged her. What had they done to her? Oh, no! She breathed slowly, trying to keep her stomach from revolting and closed her eyes, willed the images of those articles about black site prisoners out of her mind.

  Was she there yet? Had she arrived at whatever undisclosed location? No, no. If that were the case, she would be a prisoner in a cell and not tied down. Right? Where would they take her? Would they do to her what they did to Kyle? Frightened, her heart raced inside her chest.

  Okay. She could not see, hear, or feel anything. Whoever abducted her was using sensory deprivation on her. A torture technique, used to break a detainee, according to some fools. In reality, extended deprivation led to anxiety and hallucinations, which is why a detainee would agree to anything after a long enough time.

  Well, she would not let them win.

  All of a sudden, her stomach pitched like on a roller coaster ride. She was on a plane. Were they landing?

  “Hello. Can anyone hear me?” Even if they could, she could not hear them. “Are we landing at the final destination? Where is that?”

  She could not hear or see anyone moving, but she sensed a shift in air, a movement along her right side. She was not alone. Was it another kidnapping victim or a kidnapper?

  The plane touched down on a hard thud and she could feel the brakes attempting to grab hold. Then there was movement. Someone removed the restraints
on her legs and when she went to kick out, she found they only went so far. Her legs were shackled.

  Before she could tell what was happening, gloved hands picked her up under her arms and around her calves and they lifted her. She felt a blanket thrown across her torso as they carried her.

  “Let me go! You have no right!” She struggled and received a slap across the belly for it, knocking the wind out of her.

  The people carrying her hustled to wherever because she bounced around in the movement. Again, the air changed around her. It seemed even chillier. The bouncing stopped. The blanket slid away and the gloved hands on her arms held her in a firm grip while her feet touched cold floor. She was standing. The shackles at her ankles were undone. Charley wanted to sigh with relief.

  Someone removed the hood from her head and the headphones that had blocked her hearing. Now, she heard loud music. The fluorescent light blinded her and she squinted for a second or two until her eyes adjusted. When they did, she saw four hooded men standing around her. She went to swing out, forgetting that one of the kidnappers still held them. Out of the corner of her eye, Charley noticed a table with something orange on it and a camera. One of the men picked up the camera and made a hand gesture. The next thing she knew, more hands touched her and pointed at her and the camera’s flash went off, over and over again.

  Charley shut her eyes and willed the scenario to end quickly. “It’s just pictures,” she said aloud. It would not hurt her. They would not break her.

  Once the pictures were finished, the ninja guards dressed her in the orange jumpsuit, the same kind she had seen on detainees she had debriefed and interrogated. This was her worst nightmare come true and she did not even know why.

  No time to concentrate on that question, the guards re-shackled her legs and hustled her physically from that room, down a hall, past other hooded guards, through a door and down five sets of stairs then down another hall laden with closed steel doors. There, the four silent guards deposited her in a windowless room, hooked her leg shackles to a hook in the wall, and without uttering a word, shut and locked the stainless steel door behind them.

  Trapped!

  In one corner of the cold, dreary cell sat a stainless steel toilet and basin. Opposite it lay a mattress on the cement floor with one army green blanket on top. Wrapping her arms around herself, Charley took in what little surroundings she had. On two walls, video cameras were mounted. Next to the closed door sat a bottle of water. She would love a drink of water, but the thought of someone watching her pee afterwards made her lose the taste for it. The pictures had been enough exposure.