She had to keep her wits. Certainly, by now, the airport knew the chopper had been stolen and the FAA would have them on radar.
No, that’s why he’s been flying so low since we left the city, she realized with another shot of panic. This man was no fool. But there must be something she could do. There must be.
Chapter Sixteen
Oh God, now what was Fox up to?
Brianna stiffened in her seat as she watched him. With his left hand on the control stick, he appeared to be fumbling with something in his lap. She waited, her senses on alert. Did he have a gun? Did he have a knife? Before she had another thought, his right arm swung around toward her. She felt a sharp sting in her thigh, and a sudden throb pulsated through her leg muscle.
When he pulled his hand back, she saw the hypodermic needle in his fingers.
“Now the fun begins,” he said, turning back to the controls. “You’ll feel a little woozy in a few minutes.” She heard him chuckle. “Enjoy it, bitch. I’ve injected you with a lethal injection.” She heard him laugh that maniacal laugh, and already her senses were being affected.
She tried to move her legs but found they felt leaden. Her throat felt dry and her eyes were getting heavy. She fought the feeling of lightheadedness, then she couldn’t feel at all.
THE POUNDING WOKE her up. Her eyelids fluttered open. Darkness. What was that smell? Mothballs? Or a pine-smelling disinfectant? She tried to lift her head, but her head felt as heavy as a bowling ball and pain zigzagged across her brain.
Where was she? What happened? Then she remembered.
Her heart thudded as she tried to get her bearings. They weren’t in the chopper. Her face was pressed against scratchy wool. A blanket. She was lying facedown on a cot.
She forced herself to try and turn over, but she couldn’t move her body. Her head turned slightly and she tried to stare into the shadows. Gradually her pupils became accustomed to the lack of light. She blinked, forcing her brain to discern the shadowed objects in front of her.
Logs. The walls were logs. She glanced down at the floor, ignoring the shot of pain riveting her head at the mere motion. Bare plank lumber. She was in a log cabin. She tried to move her fingers and hands, but they were numb. She had feeling in her arms. Thank God, she wasn’t tied up. She must try to escape.
Hope swelled in her chest. Her mind was clearing, then she wondered, where was Fox? Was he watching her from a dark corner, or maybe with a hidden camera? Why else wouldn’t he tie her up and leave if she could escape?
Maybe he wanted her to try to run away. Yes, that was it. He was playing with her, like a cat with an injured bird.
An anger of which she never thought herself capable built inside her. No, don’t lose control, Brianna. Think. Anger will only cloud your logic and give Fox the advantage.
She had to figure out where she was and what was going on before she dare escape. Was it dark outside or were the windows covered? She didn’t want to lift herself from the cot in case he had her under surveillance.
She couldn’t hear anything. But he was nearby. She could sense him. She tried to wiggle her fingers again but her arms and legs felt so heavy. Yes, she’d been drugged. More than likely he’d give her another shot once he found her conscious.
Her only chance was not to let on that she was awake. Maybe when he came to give her another shot she could startle him and have the advantage. Just a few seconds, then one well-placed punch at his eyes or his larynx.
What had her instructor told her at her self-defense course? A sudden upward thrust with the heel of her hand directly at an assailant’s nose could drive his nose bone into his brain.
Yes, she could do it. She must do it.
She lay there for what seemed like hours, forcing herself to remain awake. She flexed and pointed her fingers and toes, anything to start her circulation flowing and reduce the effect of the drug. Feeling was gradually returning in her legs and arms, and her fingers and hands tingled. A surge of hope and success elated her. Keep positive. You can do this.
“I see you’re awake and ready to play again,” Fox said menacingly.
She froze. The voice seemed to be coming from overhead. She remained still, refusing to show fear although her heart beat a wild tattoo in her chest.
Minutes passed. Why didn’t he say something else? The minutes dragged on. Was he testing to see if she’d really been awake?
No, he liked playing games. Even if he had a camera on her, he had no idea how the drug had affected her. If she remained still, in time he’d have to physically check her vital signs. And when he did, she would make her move. That is, if he didn’t kill her first.
But her professional guess was that he was bent on mentally torturing her. He’d proven that by the very first photographs he’d delivered to her. He didn’t want her dead. Not yet, anyway.
They played the waiting game as minutes turned into what felt like hours. She had no idea how long. But she didn’t care. Each minute would gain her time to recover from the drug.
What did prisoners of war do when they were being mentally tortured? Mathematics. Yes, that was it. They did numerical calculations in their heads to keep from thinking of where they were and what was happening to them. No. She’d think of Mike. She smiled to herself as she evoked the image of Mike’s handsome face in her mind. Her throat tightened at the thought that she might never see him again.
The sound of a hinge creaked and the door opened. Facedown on the cot, her face was slightly turned toward the sound. Through lowered lids, she waited, watching through her lashes as the door opened then closed. She could see daylight. Then a flashlight beam swayed as footfalls lumbered toward her. He was making no attempt to be quiet.
She kept her shallow breaths even and steady. Food smells, garlic or onion, and Italian spices grew stronger as he came near. He reached out as if to take her pulse. She waited, her nerves tensed. When his fingers touched her left wrist, she drew herself up. Brandishing her right fist directly at him, she poked her fingernails at his eyes.
“Ugh!” he yelled, staggering back. The flashlight fell from his hand and danced across the floor.
Brianna lunged for the light. Her fingers gripped the handle as he hurtled himself at her like a wild man. Her fingers clenched the light’s long handle, then she wielded it like a baseball bat, aiming at his larynx.
But he pivoted just in time, and she missed. When he lunged for her again, she spun around and thrust her size seven boot square into his groin.
She heard his low growl of pain, and she was filled with triumph as he stumbled to the floor. She wanted to bolt, but she forced herself to pound the flashlight on top of his head as hard as she could. He groaned again when the flashlight struck his skull.
Brianna flung the door open and made a mad dash across the small room toward the porch. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, forcing her heavy legs to move. She definitely wasn’t herself. Throwing open the front door, she dived off the porch, stumbling to the ground. She rolled several times until she forced herself to her feet, then hobbled toward the woods.
Damn, her body felt leaden. She must get away. Dragging herself through the dense brush and trees, she refused to look back. How long she staggered, she had no idea. When she stopped to gulp air into her lungs, she gripped the trunk of a huge pine to prop herself up.
She waited, listening. So far, she was lucky. But the blow she’d given him would only stun him. She had only minutes to get a head start. But that would be enough.
By the slant of the sun, it would be dark soon. She couldn’t rest. She had to keep going.
But where could she go? She was surrounded by thick woods.
If there had been a road by the cabin, she’d missed seeing it. Where was the helicopter? Had he parked it in a nearby clearing or on a road somewhere?
She had to get away. She raced through the pines and patches of tall ferns, when she realized that she had to get her bearings. If she didn’t, she’d be running in circles a
nd she’d end up back at the cabin with Fox.
Is that why Fox wasn’t chasing her? He knew she’d circle back. Was this another one of his games?
Think, Brianna. Think.
Her hands were damp and sticky with pine pitch from a tree trunk. Her fingernails were jagged, filled with moss and lichen.
Moss and lichen. A feeling of elation filled her. Moss and lichen grew thickest on the north side of objects. She glanced at the tree trunks ahead to get her sense of direction. She was facing south. Gazing up at the treetops, she tried to judge the sun’s slant. But instead of shining over her right shoulder, the sun was at the nine o’clock position over her left shoulder. It wasn’t dusk. It was morning! She must have been knocked out all night.
She’d have hours of daylight to chart a straight course. She remembered something from her childhood when she visited her aunt Nora and the Judge at their family estate. If you’re ever lost in the woods, walk around the right side of one tree, then the left side on the one ahead of it. Yes, she’d walk in one direction.
Maybe she’d come across a road, a farmhouse, or hear a noise.
Or…spot a plane. Maybe, just maybe, Mike would find her. This seemed too good to be true. Tears of hope stung her eyes and she fought to keep going through the woods.
BAILEY LOOKED UP from the console where she had been tracking the Tiger helicopter’s beam on Skywalker—the satellite tracking station—when Liam came through the door of the war room.
“Any sign of them?” he asked her.
She took off her headset and shook her head. “Not yet.” She almost choked on the words. Never before had a mission taken on such a close-to-home feel. But in the short few days since she’d known Brianna, she’d felt a bond with Mike’s ex-wife that was almost as close as a sister. Bailey fought back the unusual burst of sentiment. A mission was no place for emotion. She put her headset over her ears and scanned the screen. “I was sounding off Skywalker tracking the Tiger when I suddenly lost the signal. Still no luck.” She looked back at Liam. “I’m afraid Fox has landed. If he’s behind any one of those mountain peaks, I won’t have much luck picking up the Tiger’s signal.”
“Fox may be able to fly the Tiger, but he sure as hell doesn’t understand all of Mike’s technology. Fox won’t know enough to turn everything off. Even when the copter is down, the sensors run off the batteries.”
“What is Mike’s 10-20?”
“He’s here,” Bailey answered, pointing to the last known coordinates on the map of the Adirondack area that Mike had given her when he’d checked in ten minutes ago.
“He told me he was zeroing in on the last known location of the Tiger,” she added, forcing a neutrality into her voice.
“How’s he holding out?” Liam’s gaze remained on the screen.
“Like a rock. You know Mike.” She turned and looked up into Liam’s chiseled features. Her heart went out to him. She knew that he blamed himself for Fox stealing the Tiger and kidnapping Brianna. All the while they had tried to track Fox’s erratic flight patterns through the mountains, Liam had remained uncommonly quiet. Usually under tense conditions, his quick wit and sense of humor were welcome stress relievers. Now, only the tight clench of his jaw gave any sign to his feelings.
“Don’t beat yourself up, Liam. It’s not your fault that we didn’t know about Fox working for airport security.”
“If I had checked to find out what companies were clients of Spender, I would have known that Fox had access to the airport.” He swore. “Damn. Fox had an office there!”
“No one can be expected to cover all the bases in such a short time, Liam.” Bailey shook her head. “Two more days and we could have told Mike how much lint Fox had in his belly button.”
Liam chuckled. “God, you sounded just like your dad.”
“Thanks.” She lifted her chin. “There’s something else Dad used to say. A man can only be expected to do his best with the facts at hand.”
“Ah, maybe that’s how your old man told you, but the way I heard him tell it, it was a bit less sanitary.”
She laughed, feeling glad to see Liam smiling again.
“I’m going to call Mike,” Liam said finally, picking up the console speaker. He pressed the button down. “Mother Hen to Ranger N206. Mother Hen to Ranger N206. Come on back.”
Over the airwaves, the high-pitched whine of the Bell Ranger helicopter’s turbine engines hummed in the background. “Ranger N206 to Mother Hen. What’s up?” Mike said.
“I was wondering if you thought the Tiger might be between Mother Hen and your 10-20?” Liam asked. “Want me to come up there and help?”
“Negative, Mother Hen. I think the Tiger slipped past my 10-6 before I was able to reach its coordinates. The Tiger can hit to two hundred ten knots, don’t forget. The Ranger I’m flying maxes at a hundred twenty. Anything new from Skywalker?”
“Negative.”
“Have Mother Hen use a crossing pattern, west to east. Then walk the beam north.” Mike ordered.
“Roger.” Liam paused. “What’s your 10-20 look like?”
“Extremely dense woods. From the forest ranger’s report, there aren’t any cabins around the region where we last received a signal. My guess from the speed and direction of the Tiger’s flight path is that the Tiger continued through the Catskills heading toward the Adirondacks. My hunch is that he’s landed there somewhere.” Mike lifted the cyclic control stick, and the Ranger copter lifted over the treetops. “Mother Hen, I want you to call all the air-fields, small airports, both private and commercial, that are fifty miles each side of the Tiger’s last known flight path. Ask them if there were any visual sightings of the Tiger or if anyone heard it. Give them a description. After all, the Tiger looks military and would get attention if anyone saw it.”
“Roger. Anything else?”
“Negative. I’ll be flying a roving orbit, northward. I’ll call back in ten minutes. Out!”
Liam looked at Bailey who was already following Mike’s change in orders. “Go to it, Bailey. You heard the man.”
BRIANNA SHOOK HER HEAD and fought back another wave of nausea. Was this the result of the drug Fox had given her? Then she realized she hadn’t eaten in over a day. She lowered her head between her knees and waited for the dizziness to pass. Dear God, she must remember to pace herself and not overexert.
From the sun’s slant, she calculated that about three hours had passed since she’d escaped. So far she’d seen no sign of Fox. A sense of exhilaration filled her. So far, she’d successfully eluded him. Now, all she had to do was stay alive until she ran across some sign of civilization.
She took several more steps, but it was no use. Her legs were too wobbly to stand. Her knee was bleeding from slipping and stumbling down the side of the ravine. Her arms and hands were scraped and bruised from the rocks at the base. She forced herself to keep going. Twigs cracked underneath the spongy forest floor as she trampled ahead, willing one foot in front of the other. Up ahead was a large boulder. She would make it that far, then rest for a few minutes.
Her lungs burned as she drew in a breath. When she finally reached the boulder, she thought she heard something. Her senses quickened as she flattened herself against the cold granite and listened. Yes, she heard something. A whirring. No, it wasn’t a helicopter. It was a rushing sound. Water. She heard water running.
With a renewed sense of energy, she forced herself to keep lumbering toward the sound. She parted the foliage. There, less than twenty feet away was a wide stream. Branches slapped at her as she hurried to the bank. Water. Her mouth was so dry she could hardly swallow. Her boot slid and she almost tumbled headfirst, but she caught herself just in time. When she was almost to the shore, she peeked through the limbs. Maybe it’s a wide feeder stream or small branch of a river. Maybe it leads to the Hudson?
She took a gulp of air before she collapsed.
BRIANNA OPENED HER EYES, instantly awake. The sun was still shining. Good, she hadn’t lost v
ery much precious daylight.
She pulled back the hair that had come loose from her ponytail and fallen into her face and looked around. She must have fallen asleep. Insect bites covered her body. She managed to get to her feet, every muscle aching in protest. Lumps and bumps covered her face, swollen from insect bites. Her arms and legs were scratched and bruised from the slapping branches. But she was grateful to be alive. She was a survivor. She would find help. Someone would come by. She had to believe.
She would follow the shore. Trees and undergrowth were dense enough to provide cover, in case Fox managed to somehow track her. That thought propelled her to move. How long had she slept?
Several hours by the sun’s position. She’d have a few more hours of daylight. This time of year it didn’t get dark until almost 9:00 p.m. But here in the mountains, the darkness would come suddenly. By then she would be safe. She needed to believe that.
WAS SHE SEEING THINGS? Brianna blinked. No, it was real. The white-shingled, weather-beaten cottage looked uninhabited. No smoke drifted from the chimney. No telephone or electrical wires led to the building. The porch and steps were mounded with dried leaves and debris. She moved to the edge of the clearing and looked around. Several black shutters hung by their broken hinges. The white paint on the porch trim was peeling. She crept to the front window and peered inside. White sheets covered the furniture. Her heart sank.
Maybe they had an old compass, a C.B. radio? A map?
A small shed loomed in the distance. Maybe she could find a bike, or a motorcycle, something. Her heart raced as she dashed toward the outbuilding.
There, inside the shack, was an old, beat-up aluminum canoe and a paddle. Her breath quickened as she picked up a rock and broke the door pane.
A short while later, Brianna was paddling with the current downstream. The craft was light, and to be safe, she took a few extra minutes to place several large rocks in the canoe bow. Although the wind wasn’t blowing now, and the water was calm, the canoe would be too light to manage if the weather changed or the current got rough. She might be in this canoe for days.
Tough As Nails Page 21
