Didn’t matter, she had to get out.
But she could barely lift her eyelids. She figured it’d take a lot more energy to create the miracle it would take to get free of her bonds.
She closed her heavy eyes and listened to her breathing. Energy, energy, energy. What was her brain trying to tell her?
Energy. She opened her eyes wide. That was it. If she could somehow concentrate enough energy to go invisible, maybe it would help burn off the effects of the drug. It always made her metabolism at least triple. It was worth a shot. Not like she had anything else to do.
Jenna lost track of time as she tried and tried and tried to make herself invisible, sweating more with each effort.
Come on!
Desperation mixed with fuming anger finally did the trick. Once invisible, she concentrated every speck of gray matter toward the drug coursing through her body, willing its effects to fade. Gradually, her vision cleared, then the muffled feeling in her ears, even some of the cotton ball feeling in her mouth. When she stopped concentrating, she reappeared, drenched in sweat and spent.
There was no time to be tired.
She pulled and tugged on the ropes tying her hands and feet together behind her back. They burned and dug into her skin, but she figured she could grow new skin if necessary.
Jenna scanned the room for something that could help her get free. Nothing but a plain wooden table, the folding chair in which Kevin had sat and four walls of concrete. Not even a light fixture. The only light came from a stub of a flickering candle atop the table. From the sound of the lock engaged on the door, her only route of escape was a small grimy window at the top of one wall.
Damn it, there had to be something.
And there was.
Unable to walk, she tipped herself onto her side and rolled across the room toward the chair, the concrete floor biting into her skin. She winced against the pain in her raw wrists. When she reached the chair, she positioned her hands next to one of the chair’s legs and fumbled for several minutes with her clumsy fingers before she succeeded in slipping the little rubber floor protector off the bottom of one leg, exposing the metal beneath.
In what she could only assume looked like a walrus walk, she shoved the tipped-over chair against the wall, the exposed leg pointing toward her, and began to rub the ropes against the metal edge.
Several times she had to stop and rest. She gritted her teeth so hard she feared they’d crack. The muscles in her arms burned and shook. But the fate of the president, the country, even her own rested in her ability to get free and warn the Secret Service of the threat. To warn Daniel.
When she felt the rope begin to fray, she bit down on her lip and worked harder. Sweat poured down her forehead and temples. It coated her back and trickled between her breasts. More sweat ran onto the skinned areas of her wrists, burning the tender flesh.
When her efforts finally paid off in the rope breaking and freeing her hands, she fell sideways and lay gulping in air and blinking away tears. She would make Kevin pay for this if she had to follow his sorry ass around the globe to do it. She intended to make good on the saying that paybacks were hell.
But first she had to get out of this basement and save the president and anyone who stood in Kevin’s way.
She pulled herself upright and freed her feet. She stood and shook her legs against the tingling of the returning blood flow.
After setting the candle on the floor, she dragged the table next to the wall beneath the window. But even if she stood on the table, she wouldn’t be able to reach the window. So she placed the chair on top of the table and then stood on top of it.
She cursed when she realized how thick the glass was and she had nothing to slam against it but the chair. But she needed the chair to be able to reach it in the first place.
She knew no useful objects would have mysteriously appeared since last she looked, but she scanned the room anyway. All she saw were the ropes that had bound her.
Wait.
Jenna looked up, then back down at the ropes. She jumped off her perch, grabbed the ropes, then climbed back up again. The precious minutes ticked away as she wrapped the end of one rope around her torn wrist, then worked it around the floor joist for the level above and knotted it.
With a deep breath she lifted her feet, holding all her weight by one hand and pulling up the chair with the other. After some awkward flailing, she managed to get the chair closed and positioned so that the unprotected leg she’d used to free herself was toward the window. Using her anger to fuel the thrust, she slammed it against the window. Once, twice, again and again until it finally cracked, then broke. A few more jabs took out the jagged edges and allowed fresh air to flow into the room and hit Jenna’s sweat-soaked skin.
Dear Lord, did she have enough energy left to get herself out?
With what felt like her last reserves of strength, she managed to get the chair back into position beneath her feet. The arm with which she’d supported her weight was about as useless as a wet noodle.
But she could rest later. She’d sleep for a solid week when this was over. And heaven help anyone who dared bother her.
She grunted and yelled and cursed a blue streak as she heaved herself up into the window. She scraped even more skin off her body and most certainly bruised her shoulders and hips as she shoved them through the small opening.
When she reached the outdoors, she collapsed onto the grass and tried to regain some semblance of her strength.
As she lay there, enjoying the cool feel of the grass against her superheated skin, she heard a watery lapping sound. Where the devil was she, anyway?
She hauled herself onto her feet and had to wait for her head to stop spinning before she stumbled down an incline toward the sound. They must be near the river. A sliver of moon shed enough light that she managed not to stumble and fall.
As she neared the water, the moonlight seemed brighter. It reflected off the surface of the water, the only light in an otherwise inky night.
Correction — she wasn’t near the river, she was in it. An island. He’d left her on an island in the middle of what she could only assume was the Potomac. She plopped down onto a small boulder. What was she supposed to do now?
****
Jenna slogged along the shore of the island, hoping she could find something, anything that would help her. She didn’t expect to find a convenient boat tied up at a dock, but she couldn’t just sit still knowing what was going to happen.
She looked up at the moon, tried to gauge how much time had passed since Kevin had left. Had he gotten to the White House yet? All depended on where the heck she was.
When she rounded a jut in the shoreline, her heart lifted and sank within a breath. The glow of lights in the distance upriver told her she wasn’t horribly far from a city, most likely D.C. If she could find some way off this island, she could get there in a reasonable amount of time if she found transportation. But with a boat at his disposal, Kevin was probably already there. Was she even now too late?
Come on, Daniel, read my mind! Be there to read my mind.
She could really use a genie and three wishes right now.
Jenna rounded the top of the island and picked her way along the rocky shore of the opposite side. She almost believed her imagination was tricking her when she noticed something light in color bobbing in the edge of the water.
As she moved closer, her heartbeats accelerated. It was the kind of inflated tube she’d seen people ride in behind boats. She picked up the edge of the tube and examined it. No visible damage, still seemed fully inflated. It must have blown out of someone’s passing boat. Lucky for her. Who would have ever thought the fate of the president of the United States could rest on a lost inner tube?
Or not. She gazed across the dark expanse of the river to the far shore. Even with the tube, there was no guarantee she could make it. The tube might deflate. The current might be too strong and send her hurtling toward the Atlantic. Her body might fina
lly give up and stop working halfway across. Well, there was no way of knowing until she tried, and she sure as hell wasn’t just going to sit on this island.
Besides, Kevin likely had more information about why she could make herself invisible, and she intended to wring it out of him.
She sure could use a paddle, but she doubted fate would have had two useful objects blow out of a boat at just the right spot at just the right time. She’d have to take the plunge, so to speak.
Jenna stepped into the center of the tube and pulled it up to her waist. The cold of the water shocked her as she took the first steps in. She tried to judge the distance to her goal, then figured it didn’t matter. It wasn’t like the mainland was going to move closer because she wanted it to. She took a deep breath and jumped in.
Sheer determination, mediocre swimming skills and the fear of drowning pushed Jenna as she fought the current and moved slowly toward shore. Her muscles screamed and burned. Her torn and battered body demanded rest, but she ignored it. She dared not look back to see how far downstream from the island she’d been swept. She’d deal with that when she made it to shore.
Like she had when she’d freed herself from the basement, she collapsed on the ground when she finally made it. She lay there sucking in the smell of fishy, wet sand, unable to move. Was she already too late to make a difference in Kevin’s plan? Maybe she’d stay here for awhile, until morning when the sun could dry her and give her some iota of energy. There was a vice president after all. Part of his job was to take over if the president died.
The thought of Edward Archer’s pompous ass sitting in the Oval Office and making executive decisions gave her enough impetus to lift her bedraggled self from the ground. She ached and burned, and her stomach felt like it’d never be able to keep food down again. How much more could she take?
If only a car would magically appear on the shore so she could actually make it to D.C.
With no idea if her efforts would make a difference, Jenna trudged up the bank and into the wooded area beyond.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The wind dried Jenna’s clothes and hair as she sped through the night astride an old motor scooter. She was picking up all kinds of bad habits since arriving in Washington. Not only did she lie on a regular basis, now she was a thief.
The owners of the scooter had been home, but how likely would they have been to let her take it if they’d opened their door to a woman who was cut, bruised, dirty, wet and had hair sticking out in ten different directions? One who was spouting a crazy story about how she needed their scooter so she could save the president?
She drove like a demon, ignoring stop signs and careening through yards when necessary.
When she came to a little hamlet by the name of Cherry Cove, she spotted a convenience store. She made an abrupt turn that almost unseated her and skidded to a halt in the end parking space. She dug in her pockets and realized she had no money. Despite her crazed person appearance, she ran inside hoping the attendant didn’t mistake her for a robber and blow a hole in her with a shotgun.
She ran in the front door. “I need to use your phone.”
The heavy-set, middle-aged guy didn’t even look up. “There’s a payphone outside.”
“I saw it, but I don’t have any change.”
When the guy glanced up from his car magazine, his eyes widened. “Are you okay?”
Just peachy. “I’m fine. I just need to use the phone.”
“Unless I need to call the cops, we can’t let customers use the phone.”
She nearly screamed, but she figured that would only add to her look of dementia. She looked down and noticed her watch. It wasn’t a Rolex, but it was thankfully waterproof and worth more than fifty cents. She ripped it off and extended it to the guy. “Listen, I’ll give you my watch if you’ll just give me fifty cents.”
“That won’t buy you much.”
“What?” Hell, the guy thought she was going to buy drugs. “I...just...want...to...use...the...friggin’...phone!”
Okay, she’d successfully wigged him out. He dug in his pocket and tossed her two quarters.
“Thank you,” she said and rushed toward the payphone.
When she stood in front of it, she debated. Call the White House and warn the Secret Service? Or call Daniel’s cell phone, hoping he was alive and could answer it?
She called the White House, trying not to focus on the fact that she feared Daniel was no longer around to help her. The phone rang and rang and then she arrived in Voice Mail Hell and was forced to leave a message!
This couldn’t be happening.
She ran back inside. “Please, I’m begging you, I need another fifty cents. And then I swear I’ll leave you alone.”
He didn’t even question her this time. She wondered if he’d already tripped the alarm.
Daniel’s cell phone rang, and then the voice mail picked up.
“Daniel, if you’re alive and get this message, I’m on my way to the White House. The assassin is a man named Kevin Mathis, at least that’s what he said his name was. He was one of the painters who was working in the East Room. He’s probably already at the White House, and he’s gone to kill the president. And he can make himself invisible.”
She looked up to see the store clerk watching her while talking on the phone. Great, he was calling the cops. She slammed the receiver into the phone cradle and raced for the scooter. Thankful it started a second time, she zipped out of the parking lot.
She was at the edge of the District when the cops found her. They gave a short burst of the siren and a couple of turns of the blue lights. Time to be a cop running from the cops. She gunned the scooter and shot up onto a sidewalk. The patrolman turned on the lights and siren full bore. Jenna ditched caution and zoomed through a series of alleys, dodging Dumpsters and lumps that looked suspiciously like homeless people settling in for the night.
Her heart beat so loudly, she could barely hear the scooter over the pulse in her ears. Somewhere along the way, she lost the patrol car. She also managed to get lost. She looked at the street sign. It didn’t mean anything to her, but she was pretty sure she was still south of the White House. She headed north and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the Washington Monument. She knew where it was in relation to the White House.
It took her ten more minutes to reach her destination, and when she did her heart sank. There were no flashing lights to attract attention, but the White House grounds held a sea of capitol police, D.C. cops and Secret Service officers. After trying so hard and pushing herself to the breaking point, was she too late?
She abandoned the bike and corralled her remaining strength to go invisible in the shadow of a reeking trash bin. Then she ran, fairly certain all the activity on the lawn would cover the sound of her footfalls. Only when she reached the edge of the White House grounds did she slow and take more careful, though still quick, steps.
When a Secret Service agent stepped out, she slid inside a side entrance. She rushed toward the Oval Office, dodging a bevy of law enforcement. She had no idea where the president was, but she had to start somewhere.
She stopped abruptly when she turned a corner and nearly collided with Rennie.
He looked toward her, then behind him, then back again. “How? You were just in the West Wing,” he whispered so none of the other agents and cops could hear him.
“No, it wasn’t me,” she whispered back. “The assassin, he’s invisible too.”
Rennie’s eyes widened. “Follow me.” Rennie led her to an alcove midway down an adjoining hallway, then pulled out his cell phone to make it appear that he was talking on the phone instead of into thin air. “The guy’s invisible?”
“Yeah.”
He cursed. “He was in the same damn room with me.”
“Where’s the president?”
“Not here. He was moved when the White House operator got your message.”
“We’ve got to find Kevin. Even if the president’s safe n
ow, Kevin will just try again later.”
“Stay here so I know where you are.”
“Screw that. I’m coming with you. He and I have some unfinished business.”
Rennie didn’t argue, and it was the first time she even remotely liked him.
She followed as he moved swiftly from room to room. Many of the other officers were already moving outside, having swept and cleared the interior of the building.
“This is exactly what I told them,” he muttered to himself. “Don’t trust what you can’t see.”
“Hello, I can hear you.”
He looked toward her as he checked off another office. “Maybe there are exceptions.”
“I’m stunned by your praise.”
Though he remained deadly serious in the pursuit, she thought she saw what passed for a hint of amusement from Rennie. Still counted as a frown for most people.
They cleared the entire West Wing before moving into the main part of the White House.
Rennie stopped suddenly. “This way.” She hurried to keep up with his long strides. She was several steps behind him as he entered the Red Room and then went down, out cold. She froze, didn’t move, didn’t breathe. She didn’t know how much more advanced Kevin’s power was, but if he could truly sense her location she was toast.
Her ears strained to detect sound, movement, the stirring of air. Nothing.
She’d made it working in the projects and the land of crack houses without getting shot, survived the threat of being dissected with Elliott’s scalpel, made it out of what should have been an impossible situation in that basement. She’d be damned if she was going to get taken out in what should be the safest building in the country.
Out of Sight (Project Athena) Page 19
