by Carsen Taite
The van braked to a halt, and she heard the men inside clanking the lock on the cage that held her. Rough hands grabbed her and pulled her forward. She stayed in a crouch until she felt a gust of cool breeze and felt herself lifted in the air.
She had a split second to make a choice. Docile and disarming hadn’t worked so far. She didn’t have a clue where they were or what kind of opposition she was facing, but if she was going to try to escape, right now seemed like the perfect opportunity. She bent her knees, leaned back as far as she could, and swung both feet forward as hard as she could.
She heard a loud grunt before she hit the ground, flat on her back. She rolled away from the noise and struggled to get up, but with her hands still tied tight behind her, she couldn’t get purchase. She heard a deep voice yelling in Spanish asking what happened and another voice answered saying he was taking care of it. Next thing she knew, she was yanked to her feet and marched away.
A few minutes later, she heard the sound of a creaking door. The ground became level and the air smelled like hay. She listened carefully, but didn’t hear any distinct sounds other than the snips of conversation between the men and the sound of their breathing.
They came to a stop and a hand pushed down on her shoulder.
“Sit.”
He didn’t wait for her to comply, instead forcing her into a chair. It was cold and hard. She wondered if they were going to tie her to it. She’d read somewhere that you should try to relax if someone was tying you up—that doing so would put some slack in the bindings. She took a few deep breaths and willed herself to remain calm and loose, but not being able to see only fueled her anxiety.
Escape hadn’t worked, so she was back to plan one: engage the captors. She didn’t have any confidence in the strategy, but she was out of options. “I was telling you the truth before. I’m a reporter for a news show with excellent ratings. Whatever you want, I can help you get it.” She repeated her plea in Spanish and added, “I promise, I’m much more valuable to you alive.”
Their only response was to rip off her blindfold. She shook her head as her eyes adjusted to the light. Both of the men, still wearing ski masks, were standing in front of her, one was pointing a phone at her and the other was looking at a piece of paper. She took advantage of their preoccupation and soaked up as many details as she could about her surroundings.
She was seated on a metal chair at a card table in what appeared to be a barn. The floor was scattered with hay, but for the most part, the building appeared to be clean, and there was no sign of any equipment or animals. She estimated it had taken close to an hour to get here so they weren’t too far from the city, but if this property wasn’t occupied, the likelihood that anyone would come along and find her was remote. Her best strategy was to escape.
One of the men slammed his fist on the table, and she jumped in her chair. He slid the paper in front of her and pointed to the camera. “Read.”
She looked at the man with the phone and back down at the paper before she realized what he wanted her to do. He pulled out a knife and reached behind her to cut the restraints on her wrists. Slowly and cautiously, she brought her sore and swollen hands around in front of her. He jabbed a finger at the paper and repeated his earlier instruction. “Read.”
She picked up the paper and skimmed the words. She’d imagined it would be a ransom note and it was, with a twist. The statement was short and to the point.
My name is Lindsey Ryan, and I am a reporter for Spotlight America. This message is for Herschel Gellar. I am being held hostage and will be killed unless you release Arturo Vargas from custody and dismiss all charges against him and his brother, Sergio Vargas. You have twelve hours to comply or I will die. If you try to rescue me, I will die. I will be released as soon as Arturo is out and all charges have been dismissed.
Lindsey read the note three times until the words swam before her eyes, but only two stuck in her memory. Killed. Die. Who were they kidding? No one was going to unleash a cold-blooded drug lord in exchange for a reporter, no matter how popular she was. Her captors stood to gain nothing and she would lose everything.
“This isn’t going to work,” she said. “They won’t let him go in exchange for me. I know several high-powered lawyers. Let me contact them. You have a better chance of getting Arturo released and the charges dismissed by using the law against them. Let me help you. I will do everything in my power to secure his release.”
The man standing beside her picked up his gun and pointed it at her head. He took a step back but kept the weapon leveled on her. He waved a hand at the man with the phone and then barked the command at her again. “Read.”
Countless times, she’d stood before a camera and recited the facts, asked tough questions, and offered her opinions. She’d done it so often she rarely used notes anymore, preferring the spontaneity of extemporaneous speech and the realism it added to her stories. But this was different. This wasn’t someone else’s story for her to summarize and massage for the camera. This was her story, and deviating from the script could cost her her life. Suddenly, the mental logjam she’d experienced earlier when she’d been trying to think of things to add to her bucket list broke free, and she knew exactly what she wanted, exactly who she wanted.
Survival was imperative.
Lindsey held the paper with shaking hands and barely looked up as she read the words exactly as they were written on the page.
*
Dale took the exit Mary pointed out. “What next?”
“Turn right at the light up ahead.”
Dale looked at the road signs and then at Mary. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Yep, and no need to speculate.” She held up the phone. “They stopped moving and look where the red dot is.”
“Anyone care to clue me in?” Peyton said from the backseat.
“Mary and I were out here recently,” Dale said, a grim feeling setting in as she faced the fact Lindsey’s kidnapping might have been a carefully orchestrated maneuver. “The farm where we found your brother is out this way, and that’s where Lindsey is right now.”
“The property is up for sale, but it’s been on the market for a while so the likelihood of showings is pretty slim. We’d gotten a tip that Sergio was hiding out there, but we didn’t find any sign of him. Maybe the intel was right on the facts and wrong on the timing.”
“Okay, so we need a plan,” Mary said. “I’ve got a couple of high-powered rifles with scopes in my bag. If they’re in the barn, I might be able to get eyes on them from the attic at the house, but that means you two will need to be ready to come at them from the ground. Peyton, you up for this?”
“I’m carrying a pistol, but I don’t have any extra ammo. You have anything else in that bag for me?”
Dale listened to them discuss the plan, content to let them work out the details because she cared about only three things: get in, get Lindsey, and get out.
Twenty minutes later, they pulled off one of the roads that led to the north side of the house. Mary pointed at a grove of trees. “Park over there. We’ll go the rest of the way on foot.”
Dale swatted at a fly circling her head as they trudged through the woods. The last time she’d been here they’d had all the power of the task force at their disposal: heat sensors, snipers, flashbangs, and over a dozen agents, armed and ready. Today they were two agents and a lawyer. They didn’t know for sure how many men they were up against, and they didn’t know for sure where they were on the property.
Diego’s admonition to wait wasn’t completely without merit. The SWAT team would have the resources they didn’t, but common sense told her the longer they waited, the greater the risk. Lindsey’s life hung in the balance.
She didn’t know why Lindsey had been taken. It was possible Sergio’s men had spotted Lindsey at Sophia’s ranch that morning and concocted a way to use her journalistic skills to their advantage, but thugs didn’t reward utility. They’d discard her as soon as they we
re done.
Maybe they should wait, but right now they had the element of surprise, and she wasn’t willing to give that up in exchange for a few extra agents who had no personal stake in Lindsey’s safety.
They were close enough now that she could see the house ahead and the barn on the other side. A dark blue van was parked in front of the barn, and there were no other cars in sight. Mary motioned for them to huddle behind a large pecan tree. “Here’s where we part ways. You two wait here while I go into the house and see if I can get a visual. I’ll send you a text when I’ve got eyes on the inside.”
“We’ll go with you,” Dale said, although she was anxious to get to the barn. “If there’s anyone in there, we can help you clear it.”
“No,” Mary said. “If I run into trouble and have to fire, whoever’s in that barn will be out here the minute they hear gunshots. You need to be in place and ready.”
“I should be the one to go in the house,” Peyton said. “I don’t have a lot of experience storming a crime scene, but I can scope things out and report in.”
Mary held up an M24 rifle. “Did someone say scope? Trust me, I’m the one you want in that attic.”
“We need to get moving,” Dale said. She was done with talk and ready for action. Her mind was racing with crazy ideas about what Sergio and his goons might be doing to Lindsey, and all the planning in the world wasn’t going to make her safe if her rescuers got caught. They needed to execute.
Mary hunched low and ran toward the house. Dale watched while she worked the combination on the lockbox, thankful it hadn’t changed since they’d been here last. They waited three minutes, and then she and Peyton started moving along the edge of the house toward the barn. They were only a few feet away when Mary’s text came through.
L and 2 perps in the barn. I’ve got a clear shot for one. The other one is right next to L.
Dale typed back. Position?
Dead center of the room. L’s at a table.
Wait for my signal. Dale sighed as she typed the words. It could be worse. The good thing was she knew the layout of the barn and, if Mary could take out one of the men, that substantially improved their chances of getting Lindsey out alive.
She showed the texts to Peyton and they quickly hatched a plan. Peyton would bang on the shuttered window on the south side of the barn and then double back to the door. The second Peyton started making noise, Mary would take her shot and Dale would duck inside the door and take care of the other guy.
Lots of contingencies, but Dale knew in her heart they had to take the chance if they wanted to get Lindsey out alive. She motioned to Peyton and braced for the sound that would signal the start of their plan.
*
“I did what you asked,” Lindsey said. “Now what?”
Her question was met with silence. The lack of communication was almost more disconcerting than the guns, although they’d relaxed somewhat in that regard. The man who’d filmed her statement still carried his weapon, but the man standing next to her had propped his against the wall. More than once, she considered making a break for it. She visualized vaulting out of her chair and knocking the unarmed captor over, and then making long, fast strides to his gun. Six steps, maybe five if she pushed.
As if he could read her mind, he pulled out another zip tie and said, “Stand up. Hands behind you.”
This was her chance, but it was a huge risk. The other guy would likely mow her down before she was halfway there. If she thought there was any possibility they would ever let her go, she would make a different decision, but she knew deep down if she wanted a chance, she had to make one herself.
She stood slowly, with her hands gripping the edge of the table. She’d need all the momentum she could get. She was almost completely upright when she started to swing around, her fist clenched.
A loud crash followed by a louder boom rang in her ears. She looked across the room, toward the source of the noise, and the switch in her forward momentum almost made her lose her footing. The guy who’d filmed her statement was sprawled on the floor. She was struggling to process what happened when she heard a crash behind her and looked back to see the other guy had knocked over the chair in his dash for his weapon.
She took off after him and dove for his leg to slow his progress. He hit the floor, and she scrambled to keep from landing on top of him. The gun was so close. She had to get to it first. She pushed off the floor and started forward again, but iron hands gripped her from behind and held her in place. She watched in horror as the man on the floor inched his fingers toward the gun and she was powerless to stop him.
She heard someone yell, right behind her, “Don’t even think about it,” and the man on the ground looked at her and froze.
Lindsey recognized the voice, but wondered if the stress was causing her to hallucinate. She struggled against the grip of her captor, but the arms only held her tighter and the same voice whispered, soft and gentle, “Be still. I’ve got you.”
She watched as a woman she didn’t recognize ran over to the man on the floor and placed him in handcuffs. The second he was secure, the strong arms that held her spun her around and she was face-to-face with Dale.
CHAPTER TWENTY
The roar of the explosion rocked the vehicle and rousted Lindsey from sleep. They’d been driving all night, and despite her attempts to stay awake, she’d finally given in to exhaustion and grabbed a nap while sitting upright in the back of the Humvee.
Now she was wide-awake, but disoriented about time and place and what the hell had just happened. She started to get up, but strong hands pushed her back against the seat, and a voice yelled for her to stay put.
She obeyed the order for about a minute, but then she had to investigate the piercing screams and barked orders outside. She jumped out of the vehicle and walked around to the front. Armed soldiers were running around, their activity frenzied but focused, and Lindsey quickly identified the source of their distress.
The first Humvee in the caravan was in pieces, a fiery mass of wreckage. The second one was partly crushed, and the ground outside was strewn with dead and dying soldiers, some whole, some torn in pieces, scattered around the scene.
She’d seen horrible things. Starving and disease-ravaged children, beheadings, the aftermath of torture, but this was different from anything she’d ever experienced. She’d shared meals with these men and women, listened to their dreams, their gripes, their hopes and fears, day in and day out for the last few weeks. She’d been in the fourth vehicle in the caravan. One, two, three steps removed from a fiery death at the hands of an anonymous killer.
She struggled against the sluggish realization of just how close she’d come to meeting the same fate and got to work. She had a story to tell.
“Ma’am, my name is Glen, and I’m a paramedic. May I look at your arms?”
Lindsey blinked back to the present. She wasn’t on a dirt road in the Afghan countryside. She was sitting on a stretcher. She looked around. Hay on the floor. Boarded walls. She was in a barn. Black masks, gunfire, and the video—it all came flooding back. “Dale?”
“I’m right here.” A hand gripped hers. Dale was crouched on the ground next to her. She was still dressed in a suit, but she looked rumpled and her face was creased with concern.
The paramedic released her other hand, and Lindsey pushed against the stretcher, but Dale held her in place. “Hang on, tiger.” Dale addressed the man. “How is she?”
“She might have a mild case of shock. I’ll bandage her wrists. She’ll be fine, but she should get some rest. We can take her in just to be sure. Your call.”
“No hospital,” Lindsey said.
Dale nodded. “I’ll make sure she’s taken care of. Can you give us a minute?”
“Sure,” he said, “I’ll go get the kit.”
Lindsey offered silent thanks that Dale had sent him away, but it wasn’t as if his leaving gave them any privacy. The barn was teeming with agents, but she only cared about one.
She put her hands on either side of Dale’s face. “What about you? Are you okay?”
Dale smiled. “I am now. It’s been a crazy day.”
It had been a crazy day starting with her trip to Sophia Valencia’s ranch that morning. Who knew she’d wind up back in the country twice in the same day? Lindsey’s reporter brain kicked into overdrive. “Where are we? How did you find me so fast? Who were those men? They had me make a statement about Arturo and Sergio Vargas. It’s on one of their phones. Make sure you get it.”
“Don’t worry, Ms. Ryan. We’ll take care of it.”
Lindsey looked up at the woman who’d joined them. She was the one who’d handcuffed one of her captors. The woman extended her hand. “Peyton Davis. I’m a big fan. I’m sorry to interrupt, but I need Agent Nelson for a minute.”
Lindsey watched as they walked a few feet away and huddled in conversation. She couldn’t hear what they were saying, but exhaustion was beginning to settle in, and she found it harder and harder to care about anything other than finding a safe place to sleep off the nightmare she’d just endured. When Dale returned to her side and asked her if she needed anything, she knew exactly what she wanted.
“Take me home.”
*
Dale unlocked the door to her apartment, held it open, and watched while Lindsey walked through and looked around. “You pretty much saw the whole thing last time you were here.”
Lindsey leaned back against the kitchen counter. “I have a confession to make.”
“Is that so?”
“I followed you that night. To Peyton’s ranch. Alice and I kinda staked the place out.”
“I know. I found out last night.” Dale waited for Lindsey to put the pieces together. It didn’t take long.
“So, that’s why you were so angry?”
