by David Archer
Twenty minutes later, freshly fed but still not back to full strength, he started thinking clearly again. He couldn’t let himself be seen in broad daylight, that was too dangerous. He needed to wait and rest through the day, so he trotted further into the brush. It was thick enough here, outside the urban areas and the military installations, to be called jungle again. He found a tree and climbed it quickly, then twisted some branches together to make a hammock. When he was sure it wouldn’t come apart, he lay down in his spongy bed and let himself drift off to sleep.
When nightfall came again, he slipped down out of the tree and made his way toward the base. He had tried to think of who he could trust for months, and finally decided on his buddies from the gym. Dave and Danny, they were both good guys. They’d certainly be willing to help him, if he was able to convince them he wasn’t crazy.
As he slipped past the sentries onto the base, he realized that being naked wasn’t going to help him make the best impression. He spotted the laundromat he had used himself more than once, then watched and waited until he saw another soldier carry the first of several laundry bags from his car to the washing machines. He bolted quickly to the car and snatched up one of the bags, then vanished behind the building. He was in luck; there was a pair of jeans in there that were just big enough to go around his waist, even if his ankles did stick out a couple of inches. He pulled on a shirt, then decided not to worry about shoes. He abandoned the rest of the bag and made his way toward the gym.
Hopefully, Dave or Danny would be there. He still couldn’t hurry inside to talk to them, but he could watch until they were ready to leave. That would be his chance, and he knew he would have to work hard to convince them to help him. Still, there was no one else he felt he could trust that far.
“He’s got to be here somewhere,” said a voice some distance away. He recognized that voice. It was one of the men who had guarded him at times, while he was held prisoner in that godforsaken building. He peeked around the corner of a building and saw him, and then realized that there were five others with him, all of them dressed in those black suits they wore. Somehow, they had figured out that he had gotten onto that plane, that he would be back on Donovan Range, and they were looking for him.
Even worse, they were coming directly toward where he was hiding. Now, as he heard those guards getting closer, he knew his chances were growing thinner all the time.
He bolted, but even as he ran, putting as much distance as he could between himself and the men who suddenly broke into pursuit, his breath was hitching and his heart was racing. His feet were blurs in the night, but he was hungry again, still not up to full strength, and the guards were getting closer. He could see an alleyway up ahead, and he knew that if he could make it that far, then he might find a place that would give him shelter.
Unfortunately, the guards who were chasing him knew that, too.
Suddenly, just as he was about to dive behind a dumpster, he heard the gunshots behind him, at least three guns firing simultaneously. He was shoved forward, three white hot spots flaring in his back as he fell face down onto the concrete, his entire body going numb as heat flowed from and down his back, down his sides to spread out in a pool about him.
The world spun and then turned gray, the darkness seeping in from the corner of his eyes to leave the world black.
* * *
Noah paced the living room, trying not to think of Nancy McRae's eyes locked on him as he listened to Marco on the phone. Under the circumstances, he couldn't really blame the woman for trying to pick up any information she could get, especially considering what had happened to her son.
"Got it, Marco. Send your findings to Renée, and I'll find you at the OC in a bit. And tell Sarah to come out to the McRaes' place. I’m going to need a ride."
"What's going on?" Mrs. McRae asked as Noah put away his phone. "What did they find?"
Noah pursed his lips. "You were apparently correct about Mark Crawford not being involved. Unfortunately, he was found dead. Someone apparently killed him, probably to get access to his cell phone."
"Oh, my God," Nancy breathed out. "Does that mean Danny is likely to be dead, as well?"
"We don’t know that,” Noah said, “and so we continue to act on the assumption that he’s alive."
"But what if he’s dead?" she said shakily. “What if it’s already too late?”
“Then we will find the people responsible, and bring them to justice. Ms. McRae, don’t give up hope yet. I have to get back to my operations center, but I’ll be in touch.”
Noah started toward the door, but the shrill ringing of the telephone suddenly made him stop. He quickly waved away Private Lee, then hit the button on the phone monitoring equipment and slipped the earphones into place just before he nodded to Ms. McRae. "Talk calmly,” he said, “keep them on the line as long as possible, and ask for proof that your son is alive."
Nancy nodded, swallowing hard, and then she let out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding. Once she steadied herself, she reached for the phone and answered it.
"Hello?"
"Mrs. McRae?"
“Yes,” she said. “This is Nancy McRae.”
Noah nodded as he kept his eyes on the screen, watching the recording and the tracking of the call that was progressing slowly, but steadily.
"We have your son. We know you have the FBI there with you. They won't be able to help you. The only thing you can do to save your son is to follow the instructions I’m going to give you. Is that clear?"
"Yes," Nancy said. “But…”
Noah's eyes narrowed as the seconds ticked by, but there was no location on the screen yet. It should only take a few seconds to determine where the call was coming from, unless they were somehow masking that information.
“Do not interrupt,” the caller said.
"But, please, can I speak to him? I just need to know…"
"You are in no position to make demands, Mrs. McRae."
"But I need to know he's alive! Can’t you do at least that for me?"
She was getting upset, naturally. Noah watched her in silence, but kept glancing back at the screen and hoping for GPS coordinates that would take them directly to the kidnappers. He was listening intently to the conversation.
There were voices in the background, and then a young man's voice, clearly in pain, sounded from the other end of the line.
"Hello?"
"Danny?"
"Mom? Is that you?"
"Danny, where are you?!"
He never got the chance to answer. The sound of struggling came through the phone, and then they heard the kidnapper's voice once more.
"You've got your proof. Now, here’s what you do. You tell that FBI agent that any attempt to locate your son will result in his death. He’s going to be helping us with a project that is very important, and we cannot afford any interference. You get them to back off, or Danny will not survive. We will keep in touch."
“But, how will I know…”
The line went suddenly silent, and then they heard the beeping that indicated an open circuit. Nancy fell back into her chair, her face an absolute study of grief and anguish.
* * *
Renée had gone directly to the lab to begin preparing for whatever evidence might be coming in, and it was while she was still setting up that they heard about Crawford’s body being found. Doctor Emerson was sent to the scene, but they already had the items Marco and Neil had collected from in front of the McRae house.
She slipped on a pair of rubber gloves and put a mask over her face, then took the cigarette butt out of the evidence bag and began cutting small sections from it. These went into a solution that would help her to recover any DNA evidence that might be present, just in case the butt had been tossed down by the kidnapper while Danny was being snatched.
"Should I be scared?" Neil asked, walking into the lab and seeing her seemingly prepared to handle chemicals from some kind of biological warfare.
; "Only if you think about how many people die from smoking every year," Renée said, looking up at him.
Neil grinned, glancing at the cigarette butt. “Good thing it’s not lit,” he said.
“Yes, but smoking may end up being bad luck for whoever took Danny McRae. If that’s who tossed this cigarette butt out, the odds are good that I’ll pull enough DNA samples to connect him to the crime."
Neil waited until she had done whatever she was doing with the cigarette butt, then followed her over to where she began examining tire track images side-by-side on a computer monitor. “Any luck?” he asked.
“Not just yet,” she replied. “Of course, this is purely academic. We already know the kidnappers were driving Crawford’s car, so I’m just trying to match tires so that we can confirm that suspicion once the vehicle is located.”
Neil stood back and watched her for a few moments, then turned around and left the lab. Noah had told him to try to get any information he could about the mystery compound to the south, and Neil had been scanning through satellite and other types of aerial photography, trying to spot any new anomalies that might shed some light on what was going on down there. He had needed a break for a moment, which prompted his trip to the lab, but it was time to get back to work.
Two hours later, he was still looking at images. A couple of them had caught his eye, including one that seemed to show one of the oval “spaceships” more than forty miles away from the location of the compound. It seemed to be in flight at the time, probably skimming just above treetop level. Neil had saved that one to show Noah when he returned, and then started studying radar tracking records for the past couple of months. So far, he had not found a single radar result that could match up to one of the craft. Whether that was because they stayed low, or simply because they were made of a material that didn’t reflect radar signals, he didn’t know.
Noah arrived as he was finishing his radar studies, and barely even grunted when he was shown the few images Neil had found. Only the one that seemed to show the craft skimming over the treetops was truly interesting, but it was also grainy enough that even Neil admitted he couldn’t be certain what he was seeing.
“Let that go and come with me,” Noah said as he turned and headed toward the lab. He stopped along the way at the coffee machine and filled two cups, then continued. Renée looked up when he entered, and her eyes zeroed in on the coffee cups.
"Noah!" she cried happily. "Please tell me one of those is for me!"
"That depends on what you have for me," Noah replied.Noah walked over and stood beside Renée as she replied. “I just got the DNA results, and ran it through the military database.” She turned to the computer and tapped the keyboard for a moment. “Unfortunately, it was apparently one of Mr. McRae’s. His DNA came back as a match.”
Noah nodded and then glanced at the cigarette butt. Frowning, he approached the Petri dish, looking at it closely.
"Noah?" Renée said, cocking her head.
"Boss?" Neil said.
Noah didn't answer, but turned to Neil. “I want you to get me the number to the McRae house,” he said.
* * *
Private Lee, the MP who had been assigned to assist Noah and his team, was sitting at the phone monitoring computer. She had been alone in the room for quite some time, drumming her fingers on the surface of the desk in an unconscious wish to break the silence that had reigned throughout. If she had something to do, then perhaps this waiting wouldn't have been so tedious, but, on the other hand, she didn't have that much choice in the matter. They all had their responsibilities and, for now, this was hers.
Then again, her responsibilities didn't include getting cramps from sitting in an uncomfortable chair for hours on end. Deciding that stretching her legs for a few minutes wouldn't hurt anybody, she stood up and started pacing the room. Her gaze took in the photos over the mantelpiece and shelves, and she noticed details now that she had her chance to examine things further. There weren't that many of them, and in most of them it was just the mother and the son. Even so, she got the impression they were very happy; their smiles were bright and open.
A sound caught her ears and she looked around. It sounded for all the world like a sob, like somebody crying in the next room. A second sob erased all doubt from her mind, and she turned toward the source of the sound. She opened the door slowly, silently, and wasn't surprised to see Nancy McRae standing at the kitchen counter. She had her back to the doorway and her head was bowed, but it was rather obvious that she was crying.
Before she thought about what she was doing, Lee knocked on the door gently to let Ms. McRae know that she was there, and the woman turned quickly to face her.
Nancy McRae quickly wiped away the tears on her cheeks. “Ms. Lee, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for you to see me like…”
“It’s not a problem, ma’am,” Lee said. “I heard something and just wanted to check and make sure you’re okay.
Nancy rolled her eyes. “I suppose I’m as okay as I can be,” she said. “I don’t guess there’s been any news?”
“No, ma’am, nothing yet.”
Nancy looked away again, disappointment written all over her features. “I see,” she said. “Was there something you needed?”
Lee looked at her for a moment. “Some coffee might be nice,” she said, “but only if you might care to join me in a cup.”
Nancy looked at her for a couple of seconds, then rewarded her with a soft smile of her own. The young woman had obviously suggested the idea for her benefit.
“Sure,” she said. “Come on, I’ll make us a pot.”
Lee nodded and stepped into the room, then stood beside Nancy as she set up the coffee. They stood there in silence as it percolated, then poured a couple of cups and took them to the table.
Nancy took a sip and then looked at the private. "Thank you," she said softly. “I suppose I needed a distraction.”
"Nothing to thank me for," Lee replied. “I think I needed the coffee more. What happened to Mr. McRae? Did he leave?”
“He was tired,” Nancy said. “He went upstairs to lie down for a bit. This has been hard on him, too, of course.”
“I suppose so. I got the impression he thought the FBI agents might be a little rough on you.”
“Oh, that’s just the way he is,” Nancy said. “Thomas is my late husband’s eldest brother. He’s always been the protective sort, it’s just natural for him.”
Lee looked at her for a moment, then reached over and laid a hand on her arm. “I know you’re going through things I could never imagine,” she said, “but I really get the feeling that Agent Wolf is quite capable. I think they’ll find your son and bring him home.”
“God, I hope so,” Nancy said. “You know, I’ve spent most of my adult life around the army, and I thought I had seen just about everything. This, though? There’s nothing that can prepare you for something like this.”
“Of course not,” Lee said. “And I can’t imagine ever wanting to be prepared for this sort of thing.”
She smiled weakly, seeing her point. "Have you... worked on very many cases like this before?"
Lee smiled back. "Would you believe me if I said this is my first one?"
Nancy looked at her in surprise. "Really? How old are you?"
"I’m twenty-two, ma'am."
Nancy regarded the young woman curiously. “And what led you into this line of work?”
"Well it was something I always wanted to do," Lee replied. "I was going to study law enforcement in college, but I couldn’t afford the tuition. The army gave me the training for free, and pays me while I learn."
The shrill sound of the phone rang through the air, making both women jump. Lee jumped up quickly and hurried back to the monitoring computer.
"I'll deal with the equipment,” she said. “Don't answer before I give you the okay."
"All right," Nancy said, following her back to the living room. Without wasting any more time, Lee was back on th
e chair in a second and, once she had made sure everything was in order, nodded for Nancy to go ahead and answer the phone.
“Hello?”
"Ms. McRae, this is Noah Wolf. I need to speak to Private Lee."
Lee blinked in surprise and exchanged a glance with Ms. McRae.
“I’m here, Agent Wolf,” she said. “What can I do for you, sir?”
There was a pause for a few moments. "Is Thomas McRae still in the house?"
Lee felt a shiver go down her spine. "Yes."
Another pause. "I have reason to believe the old man may know more about Danny’s disappearance than he’s let on. Wait there for Jenny and Marco. They're already on their way there. Is that clear?"
"Yes, sir."
The other line went dead, indicating that Noah had already hung up. At that moment, Thomas McRae came down the stairs, a deep frown creasing his elderly features. Lee looked up at him and got the impression that he almost looked suspicious.
"What's going on?" he said. "Was that the kidnappers?"
Lee put a smile on her face and acted slightly embarrassed. "No, sir, and I’m sorry about that. I had forgotten to give Agent Wolf my cell phone number. He needed to ask me a question, and that was the only way to contact me."
The man looked at her, a hint of doubt in his face. "And what did he want?"
"To inform me that he's sending someone to back me up."
"Back you up?" the man said gruffly. “Hold your hand, you mean?”
Nancy scowled at him. “Thomas,” she said, “don’t be so rude.”
"No, he's probably right," Lee said, disarmingly. "It comes along with working with the FBI. I think they have a low opinion of MPs, like we aren’t really any kind of police officers at all." She pretended to laugh at her own joke, wincing at how fake it sounded. "I really am sorry. It won't happen again, I'll make sure he has my number from now on."
"You'd better," McRae said, still staring at her as if she was an idiot, and then he turned to his sister-in-law. "I'm going outside to have a cigarette."
Lee thought about how Noah had asked if the old man was there, and acted on impulse. "Actually, sir, it would probably be best if you stayed in here," she said.
