Deadlock (Uncommon Enemies: An Iniquus Romantic Suspense Mystery Thriller Book 3)

by Fiona Quinn

  “I have a pact to make with you,” Meg said as soon as her hand was back in his. “You won’t sugarcoat things for me, and be perfectly honest. And I’ll do the same for you.”

  “Okay. First test of the pact. You didn’t answer my question. Are you all right? Did they hurt you?” Meg probably understood what he was asking. She’d been taken out of his view for almost a half-hour, but he wasn’t going to say it out loud. He didn’t want to plant any seeds in her mind if she hadn’t already landed on that possibility.

  “No one touched me. I’ve been in here wringing my hands and feeling selfish.”

  “How’s that?”

  “I’m so glad you’re here with me. I should be wishing you weren’t—that you got away, that you stayed behind to help Randy. But I’m going to tell you the truth. I’m so grateful you’re here. I feel like I have a chance.”

  “You don’t just have a chance, Meg. You will get out of this. You will get home. You will go on with your life.”

  “Okay.” She didn’t sound convinced. “My emotions are pretty raw right now. I’m not very comfortable doing emotions in normal life. I prefer being in the rational part of my mind. Is it okay for us to talk? Can I ask you some questions?”

  “Let’s just keep the volume as low as possible. These guys don’t speak English, but Momo does.”

  “Have you seen Momo since we left the hotel?”

  “No, but that doesn’t mean he’s not here,” Rooster said, sending a glance over to the ghost.

  “How long do you think it will take before people start looking for us?”

  That answer depended entirely on Ahbou and if he survived the blast or not. If Ahbou survived and got help, he would tell someone that their group had been kidnapped and the direction that they’d taken out of there. If he didn’t survive, then it was Momo’s timetable that would dictate when the world at large became aware that there were blast survivors. There was also the off chance that Momo didn’t mean to tell anyone he had the scientists and that he had some evil-overlord plan where he needed scientific information. That might make sense when it came to people like Meg, who could help him interpret satellite images, but Rooster couldn’t imagine what Momo needed with an agronomist.

  “Don’t expect anything to happen fast,” Rooster answered. “This is going to be a long haul. Momo will make contact, and then the real work begins. I know you can’t imagine that this is true, but slow and steady wins the race. If they’re negotiating our release, time is one of the things that’s used as a tool. I know that’s not what you want to hear. But we only speak in truths, you and me. It would be good to know why they picked this group to bring out here, though.”

  “Explain the slow and steady wins the race bit.”

  “The terrorists are amped up right now and they will be for a while. It will take time for the hostiles to calm down and get rational. We call it a ‘cooling off period’. Once the hostiles calm down enough to clarify their motives, the rescue team will move ahead. Gather intel. Formulate a rescue. You don’t want authorities rushing in to bang their guns and end up saying we got ten of the twenty hostages home. You want all of the hostages to go home. That means even if the rescuers were hot on our trail, they’d lay out there in the field, figuring things out. Counting people, tracking guard duty, coming up with the most effective plan possible to get us out safely. And that takes days, in and of itself. But that’s only if the negotiations fail.”

  “If negotiations fail. What could make them fail?”

  Rooster was glad to hear her voice wasn’t emotional but pragmatic. She was gathering data and obtaining a clearer picture of their circumstances. “Too many to name. And not someplace I want your mind to wander. It’s best for everyone, safest for everyone, that there is a negotiated outcome. Going in guns blazing is the stuff of movies. Flying bullets and panic are a lethal combination. Like I said, slow and steady wins the race.”

  “That sounds like a motto.”

  “It is. I have it tattooed on my right butt cheek.”

  “You don’t either. I’ve seen your right butt cheek, I’ll remind you.”

  “I don’t need reminding. It’s at the front of my mind. And I plan to finish what Momo interrupted in the not-too-distant future.”

  They sat quietly after that. Rooster brushed his thumb over Meg’s hand, thinking how badly he wanted her in his arms.

  “Meg, there are going to be times, probably several times a day, when panic is going to move in. When you feel that happening, you have to put those feelings into a box. Panic burns energy, saps your ability to think and cope. Science, okay? Stay in that analytical part of your brain. When you panic, you excrete hormones. Adrenaline gets your heart racing. It burns glucose. Your body shoots out glycogen from its reservoirs. Without enough protein in your diet, your body is eating its muscle first, leaving the fat stores for later survival. Less muscle means less strength. Less strength can make a difference in the end. From a scientific point of view, what is the best way to be prepared for an opportunity?”

  It wasn’t how he’d normally speak to Meg, because he respected her mind. But this was his piece of the pie—the thing he knew best. One of the things he knew was that under stress and shock a brain needed to come to conclusions on its own—it would give her a sense of ownership. She would embrace the ideas. And he needed her to do just that.

  “To remain calm and thoughtful,” Meg replied.

  “Exactly. Panic is contagious. You know that from your studies of animal migration. When one animal senses a threat and responds by running, does each animal have to distinguish the same threat?”

  “No, they all start stampeding in the direction set by the animal who made the observation.”

  “When there is a stampede when you’re in the field, do you feel obliged to run with them or can you sit back and observe?”

  “Observe,” she said.

  “And why’s that?”

  “I’m not in that herd. They are a different species than I am.”

  “If an elephant herd is stampeding, the zebras would keep on munching grass?”

  “No, they’d run too.”

  “Why don’t you run with them?”

  “Because that wouldn’t save me, that would just endanger me. I would make other choices—climb a tree, get in the vehicle.”

  “Exactly my point. The people here are part of your herd. They are your group. We are being held by another group. The kidnappers know they are being hunted. Do you think their adrenaline is high too?”

  “I hadn’t thought about that, but yes. I mean, we know at least eleven of the kidnappers died last night. They probably feel less frightened than I do, since they have guns and I’m in a cage. But I get what you’re saying. They’re affected by adrenaline too. And that would have the same cognitive and physiological effects on them.”

  “As we stay here, most of the scientists will be panicking. They’ll be crying and moaning, screaming, combative. The kidnappers will be panicking—yelling, trying to intimidate, banging objects, brandishing weapons, just like animals would brandish their teeth or claws. Randy told me the story of when you came face to face with a lion. You’re here to tell the tale, while others in a similar situation are not. How did you survive it?”

  “I know lion behavior. That lion was scared for her cubs who had crossed my path. I positioned myself to not be a threat to her children.”

  “You stayed in your scientific brain. You analyzed the situation, adjusted as was required, and lived. That is exactly what you have to do now. You need to separate yourself from any group. You are not in the scientist herd. Nor are you aligned with the kidnappers. You are a thinking machine. A computer that analyses, predicts, and generates possible outcomes, and you pick the best one. For you.”

  “I’m aligned with you.” She was a brick wall, cemented into place.

  Rooster couldn’t help but smile both at the ferocity of her conviction, but also that that was how she felt. It was certa
inly how he felt about her. Nonetheless. “No, you’re not. No matter what happens to me, you will remain a scientific observer.”

  “So I’m not aligned with you, but you’re aligned with me? I know you are. I know you wouldn’t find a way out and leave me here. That’s inconceivable.”

  “I’m aligned with you. You’re not aligned with me.”

  “This is a stupid conversation. And not fair.” She snatched her hand away, and it felt like a punishment.

  “Be that as it may, it’s still the truth.”

  “What if I don’t agree to that?

  “Then you’ll end up losing and the kidnappers will win.”

  Meg sat silently with that thought. After a long moment, she moved her hand back to his. “I have to ask. Do you say that because you think things are going to go badly for you?”

  “I’m a nobody. They’ll keep their high-priced players on the board.”

  “You think this is about ransoms, then?”

  “If it’s about ransom, I have a shot. If it’s about terror, it’s a longer shot.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m working on a theory. I’ll share it with you once I have a little more information. But the quick and dirty answer is, I’m big, strong, and trained. That intimidates his gunmen. I’m not good for their morale. I’m betting I’m the only one handcuffed to the bars. They did that because they know I’m looking for a way out of this.”

  Meg’s hand moved up his wrist as far as her fingers could stretch.

  “It’s my other hand, Meg. If you have my belt on, I can get out of the handcuffs, no problem. The locks on the cells, they’re the first real obstacle.”

  “I have the belt. What’s the second issue?”

  “Where do we escape to? My last mission, they didn’t even bother to tie the victims to anything. They had no food, no water, no direction of travel. Even if they were fit and trained survivalists, there were no resources in that area. It would be like clinging to a piece of wood in the middle of the ocean. All you can do is hang on and hope for the best. From what I can tell, we’re nowhere near civilization. There may well be natural resources. But there are also dangers, as you know. But see, when I escape, I’ll have you to figure out how to make it to civilization. You’ll tell the lions I’m a good guy.”

  “That’s your aim—escape, not wait?”

  “Watch and wait and look for opportunities. In the army, we’re taught how to get through this. Goals are imperative. The first one, we already tried together. Escape.”

  “We failed.”

  “I think we got Ahbou out alive. I think he’s one of our assets. But right, the first moments of an abduction are the crucial moments. It’s important to take advantage of the chaos. Remember, our captors are humans with human reactions. Adrenaline hits them the way it hits us. Tunnel vision. Shaking hands. Problems thinking and processing. The more grounded you can stay, the better. Those who’ve been in battle have learned to deal with that level of chaos. It looked to me like these guys were well-trained but not battle-hardened. That’s information that might serve us well along the way.”

  “They taught us at the university that if there was a live shooter to run, barricade, and fight back, in that order. We tried the running, and you did the fighting. I’m thinking about the barricade. What if we’d just locked ourselves in the room?”

  “They were counting heads and looking for all of the scientists in the Key Initiative. You were on the top of their list. And had they overlooked you, had you hidden or barricaded, you would have been killed in the explosion.”

  “Instead, I’m here.”

  “Instead, you have a chance.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Meg

  Prison

  Momo had arrived. Meg knew it because she heard a warning yell, and then all the gunmen ran through the prison, checking that everything was as it should be. A guard was now standing at attention at the end of her hall. Meg could just make him out if she pressed her cheek against the bars. His sudden appearance meant she could no longer hold Rooster’s hand. As soon as she pulled her arm back through the bars, fear crept over her. She had thought she was starting to settle into this new reality and feel that though this would be a long road, she could walk it. Now she doubted her chances.

  Meg huddled in the far corner until the guard left. There was a commotion down the hall. One of the scientists was yelling, “But where are you taking me? What do you want?” He continued to call out his questions as he was taken farther and farther away, and Meg could no longer make out his words.

  The guard who had taken up position at the end of the hall was gone. She checked Abraham’s cell. He hadn’t moved. She scrambled back to the corner she shared with Rooster.

  “Is it okay for us to whisper to each other?”

  “I haven’t heard any guards’ boots. I think they might be on perimeter. Can you see anything out your window?”

  “Let me try.” She hadn’t even tried to look yet. That thought shocked her. She had looked up at the windows, seen that they were higher than her head, and that had been that. She had a lot to learn about surviving. There were bars on her window, and she could grasp them easily. She didn’t even need to stand on her toes. She certainly had the upper body strength, she hit the gym regularly, and she was a rock climber. She pulled herself into a chin up and looked around, then dropped back to the floor. She went to the other window and did the same.

  “We’re at the Eastern corner at the front of the building. From the north side, I can see that there’s another building just behind this one, sticking out a bit. I saw three guards on this building. Two in the front, one to the north. Momo and another guard are walking with Jared to the other building.”

  “Good report, soldier. Do you know where we are? Any idea at all?”

  “We drove northwest on a road for a long time. That had to be B144. Do you have any idea how long we did that?”

  “Around three hours or so.”

  “I’m reaching out my hand for you.” She waited to talk again until their fingers were laced.

  “Three hours, and then we were out in the bush for a few more hours,” he prompted.

  “I’d say we’re somewhere near Fairmont Mara Safari Club or the Conservancy. If we can find the river and follow it downstream, the club is in the elbow crook. The conservancy would be harder to find. Though there are Maasai in the area. They might help us. Or they might track us for pay. They wouldn’t necessarily pick our side. Not to suggest they’d be part of an act of kidnapping or terror, just that they might get handed a bogus story. And they’re not only some of the bravest people around, they are some of the best trackers. We’d be an easy find.”

  “All right. Good. I’m switching our conversation back to earlier when we were talking about army training and our first objective, escape. Here’s the next step—resist. Going back to the movies, you see guys who are getting the hell beaten out of them, and they keep repeating their name, rank, and serial number. That’s a prime way to get killed. Without medical help, small things become big things quickly. Infections are a big risk, for example.”

  Meg sent her gaze toward Abraham still in his pile in the corner. She wondered again if he was dead. No flies, she told herself. He’d be covered with flies within minutes of dying. She shook her head to clear those thoughts.

  “Don’t take your cues from anything you’ve seen on TV or read in books,” Rooster was saying.

  Meg wondered if she’d missed anything important when she was distracted.

  “Think like a scientist. You can play dumb. You can obfuscate. If they want you to do some work, do it. Slowly. But do it. Just try damned hard not to piss off the guy with the gun.”

  “Okay.”

  “I need to let go of your hand for a minute. I’m losing circulation with the cuffs, and I’ve gone numb.”

  Meg pulled her hand back with a frown. She heard the clang of metal against metal. She imagined he was trying to m
assage circulation back into his fingers.

  Then he began, “There was this guy, James Stockdale,” Rooster said, “who was held prisoner in Vietnam for almost eight years. He stayed alive because he kept his strong faith in a good outcome. He believed with every cell in his body that the experience was a gift that was there to serve him.”

  “That’s some pretty good self-hypnosis he had going there. Eight years?” Meg pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them.

  “Did Randy ever tell you about his teammate that was captured?”

  “We were supposed to meet up last year in New York. But he called at the last minute to tell me Lynx was kidnapped. I met her when she first joined the team and I really liked her. I know he worked to find her night and day. His communication with me became one word answers to my questions. Was he okay? Yes. Any news? No.” Meg rested her cheek on her knee. She was bone tired. And for the first time in her life, she knew what that term really meant. She was so exhausted that the marrow in her bones was begging for rest.

  “I was worried about him. It was like an obsession. He was going to get her back, one way or another. For a while, I thought it was because he had a thing for her, but he told me that she was their intelligence officer, or some such thing. ‘Puzzler,’ I think he called her, and then he said his girlfriend had broken up with him because he didn’t have time for her. He hoped I was more understanding. It was hard. I missed him. But there were a lot of times before when he was on missions or I was in the field, and we were out of communication.”

  “If you know that about the search, then you know that Strike Force is coming after Randy—they’ll be just as rabid. Panther Force will be coming after me that same way. And by extension, both forces will be coming after you. Family is everything to Iniquus.”