Captive-in-Chief

by Murray Mcdonald

  Amy had once again shown herself not to be the ditzy Amy she claimed, and after hearing what Hank had told him, Joe was in no mood to treat her any differently from Hank. He told her the truth.

  “The guy Hank was torturing when I found them.”

  “Hank was what?” ditzy Amy, all innocent, was back.

  “Yeah right before Hank told me everything he knows.”

  She pulled the innocent face. Joe could see the panic deep in her eyes, her mind racing as to how she could manipulate her way out of the situation.

  “You’re joking. Where’s Hank? Is he hiding in the back of the car?” she laughed.

  “He’s dead. I killed him.”

  She looked at him, waiting for him to smile, laugh, tell her he was joking. Joe stood pan faced.

  The light bulb moment came. Her face contorted “You fuc—”

  Joe punched her, once, straight in the mouth. He was sure it was probably the first time she’d ever been hit. Certainly the first time she’d been punched in the face by a man. The shock turned to pain and she collapsed, gasping for air. Her nose was shattered. He had to remember not to hit girls quite as hard. One of those life lessons he’d taught Hank, although too late for him. Hopefully Joe would last long enough to learn from his mistake. He picked her and threw her into the back of the car.

  “I believe Lloyd’s got a lakeside house up north, you’re going to take us there,” he said, climbing in beside her. Sandy jumped in the front, next to Daryl.

  The realization that Hank must have told him that hit Amy hard. Hank really was dead. “Or what, you’re going to kill me?” She spat a mouthful of blood across the car at him.

  Joe wiped it away. “No, I’ll wait until, like Hank, you beg me to kill you.”

  “You are one sick dude,” Daryl said from the driver’s seat.

  “Which way?” asked Joe.

  Amy, nursing her nose, refused to answer.

  “Head north, Daryl. I’ll get you directions as we drive,” instructed Joe.

  “If you’re going to do any of that same shit to her as you did to the other guy, can we stop and I’ll get out?”

  Amy’s face was a picture as she looked at Daryl’s reaction in the mirror.

  “What stuff?”

  “Don’t,” Daryl said. “I’ll get sick even thinking about it!”

  “They’ll kill me if I talk,” Amy said.

  “They might kill you, though they have to find you first. I, on the other hand, have you, and I will definitely kill you if you don’t give me the directions. Trust me, it will take some time and I will take no pleasure in it. I really do know what I’m doing. Personal experience is an exceptional learning tool. It’s a shame Hank didn’t live to learn from his experience.”

  Daryl kept his eyes on the road, desperately avoiding whatever was happening in the back of the car.

  Joe was sure Amy was a coward the same as Hank had been. Cornered and helpless, the removal of one nail, which had sent Daryl running from the room, had been enough for Hank to sing like a canary. He had told Joe how helpless the situation was, how he was too late, and how no matter what transpired they had won. The president would be dead soon and they’d have complete control of the country. Hank hadn’t literally begged to die; his attitude and beliefs forbade it. But unlike many of Hank’s victims, of whom Joe reckoned there were many, not many would have had as peaceful a death as him—a silenced round to the back of the head.

  Joe wasn’t a monster, he simply knew how to act like one.

  His acting worked. Amy, looking deep into his eyes, saw nothing other than truth in every word Joe uttered. She sang just as her lover had.

  The lakeside lodge was only thirty miles north in a small town called Boyds on the shores of Little Seneca Lake.

  “It’s only a fishing lodge, there’s nothing there!”

  “So you’re saying the girl’s not here?”

  Her hesitation gave her away. “What girl?”

  “Let’s not break our trust now, I really don’t want to hurt you, be warned though I have little patience.”

  “How do you know about the girl? Shit, you do know him don’t you!”

  “Yes, he’s a friend and nobody screws with my friends. Her mother was a friend of mine also, so I’m really not in the mood to offer you any leeway here. Is the girl there or not?!”

  He reached out and took her hand in his, selecting a finger.

  “Oh God,” murmured Daryl, his eyes trying desperately not to look in the mirror as he drove.

  Without a moment’s hesitation he snapped it back, the finger broke cleanly. Amy’s eyes almost bulged out of her head with the pain.

  “Yes, she’s there!” she gasped.

  Joe grabbed the hand again, Amy fought but the pain was impeding her and Joe was far too strong for her. He selected another finger. “How many men?”

  “Three, there are three men.”

  “If there are more, I will break every finger after I kill the men. Do you understand?”

  She nodded emphatically.

  “You have one chance to change your answer.”

  “There are three.”

  “You’d better hope a friend isn’t visiting.”

  “There won’t be,” she said confidently. “They wouldn’t dare.”

  “So Amy, we have thirty minutes or so together in the car. You’re going to tell me, Daryl, and Sandy everything you know. Particularly who you have working with you near the president.”

  Daryl looked back at them, the car swerved wildly on the road, and he barely managed to avoid an oncoming truck.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” asked Daryl. “What’s the president got to do with this?”

  “Daryl, if we live through this, trust me, son, you’re going to win every award known to journalism from what you’re going to hear and see tonight.”

  Joe moved as though to grab Amy’s hand and smiled when she snatched it away. “Talk!” he commanded.

  By the time they neared Boyds, Daryl’s elation at the size and scale of the story had effectively disappeared. There was no way they were going to survive. Not one chance in hell, and neither was the president.

  Chapter 75

  Val stared at her cell. The call with Clay had been unexpected. He wanted her home, though hadn’t given any other reason than he needed her to be with him. No terror threats he was aware of, the children were okay, he was okay. He wanted her home.

  “Charles, I had a call from Clay, he wants me home as soon as possible?” she said. “Anything I don’t know about?”

  Charles shook his head. As the president’s chief of staff, there was nothing he wasn’t aware of. “I’ve not been informed of any problems or changes. Do you want me to call him and find out if there’s something—”

  She held up her finger to silence him, dialing her phone. “Let me call the children, hold on.”

  ***

  The two VH-60N helicopters stood apart from the other helicopters. Housed in a secure hangar, the security for the vice president and the first lady’s choppers were significantly higher than for most other parts of the island. Clearance to be on the island didn’t clear you to be everywhere, and certainly not anywhere near the choppers.

  Elsa and her crew had walked around the main area without any problem. Their credentials to that point had been stellar, and having the maintenance crew escorted by a security team had worked perfectly. With a security team shadowing them, no other security teams felt the need to check them.

  The walk towards the secure hangar was a no going back scenario. The only reason you began the walk was to go to the hangars. Once she and the maintenance crew started the walk, turning back wasn’t an option. It would simply trigger more questions than they had answers to give. She halted her team at the nearest chopper to the hangar and scanned the guards at the security booth ahead. They were her men, they were in place, and everything was going according to plan. She signaled for her crew to move. Halfway fr
om the hangar, she heard the sound of vehicles racing across the ground. Four vehicles raced past and pulled to a halt at the security booth ahead.

  She and her team were in no man’s land. No cover, nothing. They were stranded in the middle of a landing zone, cleared of every object that could be sucked up, cause damage to the helicopters, or be a danger to passengers. Not even a pebble lay within fifty yards of them.

  A number of the Secret Service agents raced from the vehicles and surrounded the area. Elsa tried to be casual but she noted at least one agent go into the security booth. She urged her team forward. To go back would be more suspicious. She neared the booth and produced her credentials. The security officers handed them to the Secret Service agent inside the booth, out of sight of Elsa.

  “Send her in!” he barked.

  Elsa signaled for her security team to remain calm as she walked into the booth. They had all had become twitchy, all too aware of how exposed they were. Elsa caught a glimpse of the agent for the first time and recognized him instantly. He was always by the first lady’s side, her lead agent. He had his head down scanning her credentials as she walked towards him.

  He looked up and saw Elsa come towards him. “Still a babe, I see.”

  “Still got the hots for your cousin? You know that’s so wrong, don’t you?”

  He nodded with a wicked smile.

  “God, you had me worried.”

  “We’ve got word the first lady may be leaving.” He waved his arms. “We need to get prepped.”

  “Bullshit, she can’t go anywhere,” said Elsa, pulling out her cell. “Okay for the team to get to work?”

  “Yeah, yeah, it’s the VP’s bird you’re playing with, right?” She nodded. “Cool, and to be clear, it’s that one.” He indicated to the helicopter on the right.

  Elsa stepped out and waved her team on as she waited for the call to be answered, signaling to the helicopter as directed.

  “I can’t believe we’re nearly there,” said the agent when she stepped back into the booth. The call was answered, she placed a finger to her lips to shut him up.

  “Daddy, we’ve got a problem…”

  ***

  Val waited while the ringtone continued its pointless routine. Her son Jack didn’t answer. Jack never answered. He answered an SMS instantaneously, a ringing phone, never. It was as though his hearing had tuned out the frequency of any ring tone. He didn’t even flinch when a phone rang. She’d text him but anybody could answer.

  She called Tess, who answered on the first ring. “Everything okay, baby?” she asked.

  “Yeah, Mom, fine. What’s up?”

  “Jack okay?”

  “Yep, CODing.”

  “Can I speak with him?”

  “Okay, hold on, Jack! JACK!” she shouted in Val’s ear. “I swear to God I’m going to flush that headset thing he wears down the toilet!”

  Val heard Tess marching through to her brother’s room.

  “Mom for you,” she said.

  “Ah shit, you got me killed, what’ve I told you about—”

  “Mom for you,” Tess repeated, and Val could picture her with her hand on hip, annoyed look, holding out the cell.

  “Oh hi, Mom,” Jack said sheepishly.

  He was fine. Val relaxed. The children were fine, her main concern was allayed.

  “What have I told you about cussing!” she scolded. “Bed by ten, okay?”

  “Yes, Mom,” he handed the phone back to his sister. “Jesus, she’s 5,000 miles away and I still get in trouble,” he moaned as he replaced his headset and updated his friends.

  “Tess, tell him I heard that,” Val said.

  “Okay, Mom, anything else?”

  “Is your dad okay, he looking after you guys?”

  “He’s fine, Mom. We had dinner with him and he’s going to be back at nine to watch some TV with us.”

  Good, love you.” Val ended the call.

  “So nothing wrong with the children?” Charles prompted. “Your father?”

  “No, he’s fine. I spoke with him earlier.”

  “Okay, do you want me to sort it out?” Transporting the first lady required a lot of preparation and wasn’t a simple task.

  “Would you, please? That would be great.”

  By the time Val was back in her room, her cell was ringing. “Clay?” she answered.

  “I was being silly, you stay there, hon. Have a good time and say hi to everyone for me.”

  “Are you sure? I was about to start packing.”

  “Yeah, you’ll be back in a couple of days and I know the seminar's on child poverty mean a lot to you.”

  “Thanks, babe, love you.”

  “Love you too.” Clay replaced the handset in his office, the message on his cell still glowing: Leave the first lady where she is!

  They were keeping him from his wife but they’d never keep him from his children.

  “I’m done for the night. Thanks for today and go home,” he called through to Ramona, knowing full well she’d go home when she was ready and not when he told her to.

  “Good night, Mr. President.”

  He prayed it would be, although every nerve in his body was telling him otherwise. He picked up his magazine and wished the morning swim wasn’t twelve hours away. He needed Joe.

  Chapter 76

  The area was cloaked in darkness by the time they arrived. Joe told Daryl to pull into a clearing beyond where Amy pointed to the road that led towards the cabin. She guessed it was a mile to the lakeside. Joe pointed to the utility pole fifty yards beyond the car.

  “How far away is that pole?” he asked her.

  “Quarter of a mile?” she guessed.

  “You’re obviously a very bright woman, but you can’t judge distance for shit,” he said, tying her up.

  Daryl pulled out a smart phone, a burner he had picked up after ditching his old phone. He zoomed in on google maps and showed Clay the result.

  “That’s amazing, how’d you do that?” asked Joe.

  “It’s only google maps.”

  “He doesn’t understand, he’s a—” said Amy as Joe gagged her.

  “You don’t understand google maps?”

  “I’m not really computer aware,” Joe said tactfully. Amy snorted derisively.

  “Where have you been, another planet?”

  As good as, thought Joe. “Another time, eh? How far?”

  “About a mile, ironically,” said Daryl.

  Neither could see the contented smile behind Amy’s gag though both felt it. Joe retrieved an assault rifle and pistol from the kit bag. He handed another pistol to Daryl.

  “If she tries to squirm her way out of her bindings, shoot her. If she tries to shout, scream, or make any noise, shoot her. Basically if she does anything other than sit their quietly, shoot her.”

  “Where?”

  “Where what?”

  “Where do I shoot her?”

  “In the head.”

  “Kill her, shoot her?”

  “No other reason to shoot someone. If they’re worth wasting a bullet on, they’re obviously worth killing.”

  “A family motto?”

  “Nope, just made it up. Sandy, come on, girl.”

  Joe disappeared into the woods that lined the road and worked his way down towards the cabin, Sandy by his side. After fifteen minutes, light glowed through the trees ahead. They were nearly there. He signaled for Sandy to stay and worked his way forward quietly, each step slower and more calculated, feeling the ground beneath before his full weight followed slowly behind. He reached the treeline and signaled for Sandy to join him. They sat and watched. He wasn’t sure about Amy’s idea of what a small cabin was, but it certainly wasn’t this. What he anticipated to be a cozy two-room log cabin was more of a detached family home, with two stories that happened to be constructed of wood. A number of rooms were lit, mainly on the ground floor, with one on the upper floor. They were facing the back of the ‘cabin’. There were three sets
of windows, two lit, one in darkness. He could tell that the lights to the right were the kitchen, the middle room lay in darkness, and to the left the final set of windows were French doors which opened from the lounge onto a deck area. He guessed a dining room lay between them.

  The open ground between the treeline and the house was easily seventy yards, and almost entirely in darkness, save for the light shining out of the lit rooms. He could make out powerful spotlights on either corner of the house. If they came on he’d have a problem.

  He pulled back and worked slowly around to the side. The treeline swept around towards the lakeside, the clearing to the house remained around seventy yards between tree line and building. More spotlights were positioned on the side, all off. The front was another matter. The spots there were on, lighting up the beautiful front of the lodge and private sandy bay a few yards from the front porch.

  Joe made his way back to where he had left Sandy. It wasn’t going to be easy. Three men, one girl, and he had to get to them before they had a chance to do anything to Clara.

  He whistled quietly. Sandy walked out into the garden, ten yards in, twenty yards and boom. What must have easily been 5000 watts of light power illuminated the back garden as Sandy triggered motion sensors. Joe whistled twice, again as quietly as he could. Sandy turned and walked across the floodlit garden in front of the patio doors. Another low whistle and she walked back into the treeline.

  Two men stood at the patio doors watching Sandy walk through the garden. A third man exited from the door next to the kitchen. He walked out into the garden and was armed, an assault rifle. Joe’s heart was in his mouth as the man tracked her with the rifle, watching her disappear back into the woods. All three stayed watching until the lights died, five minutes later. Not good. They were neither lazy, nor complacent. They were disciplined and professional, and gave credence to Amy’s comment that there were only three, no friends would be there. This was a professional kidnapping of an exceedingly high value target. Sandy walked back to him, as directed. He waited ten minutes and sent her in again, this time changing her path when the lights triggered. She was only visible to the men for a few seconds. By the third trigger, only one man was checking the light.