Russell Blake - Betrayal

“I hate to bother you, but do you have a bathroom I can use? It’s kind of an emergency…”

He looked her up and down with cynical eyes, and then his expression softened.

“Emergency, huh? I would tell you to go down the road a quarter mile and use the gas station’s, but it’s pretty grim. Wouldn’t wish that on a pack of starving dogs.”

“Please? I’ll only be a minute. I would really appreciate it…”

He pointed a gnarled finger at a doorway leading to the rear of the store. “Second door on the left. Don’t take forever,” he growled, then resumed reading his paper.

She stopped for a few moments at the bathroom, then continued to the rear exit, taking care to unlock the deadbolt as quietly as possible before easing it open and stepping into the night.

A quick glance confirmed that there were several dozen homes nearby, and she was confident that she would be able to find a vehicle she could hotwire. Jim had served his purpose — she was now at least seven miles from the hospital, so the odds of them being able to mount a coherent search were dropping with each passing minute.

A small residential street stretched fifty yards behind the shops; she darted for it, using the trees as cover. Her brief romance with Jim had come to an abrupt end. She wondered how long he’d sit out in front waiting, then switched mental gears. She needed wheels so she could put real distance between herself and the CIA goons.

Jet prowled the street, eyeing the various cars parked along the curb, and then her ears detected a sound that wasn’t consistent with a rural Virginia town — the thumping of rotors in the distance. A helicopter.

The search had begun.

She moved from shadow to shadow, trying the door handles of the sorry procession of vehicles, and stopped when she came to a ten-year-old Nissan Maxima. The door opened with a squeak, and she slid behind the wheel, taking care to shut off the interior light so as not to alert anyone. She reached below the steering wheel and felt for the bundle of wires she knew would be there and then paused.

The whumpwhump of the helicopter’s blades were definitely closer.

Jet resumed her project and, within a few moments, had the wires separated and was pulling at the two she would need to start the car. She got them free and quickly stripped the insulating rubber from them using her teeth, and then crossed them, causing a spark. The engine turned over, but didn’t start. She was about to give it another try when some instinct caused her to look up through the windshield.

A hundred and fifty yards away she could see the blinking lights of a helicopter, hovering a few stories above the tree line.

How the hell had they found her?

The car wouldn’t do her any good now if they’d narrowed her position down this closely. She threw the door open and bolted for the woods across the street, glad that her clothes were a muted color that wouldn’t stand out in the night.

As she ran, she heard car engines approaching on the road she had just fled.

This was impossible.

She willed her legs to greater speed and tore through the brush, branches cracking beneath her feet as she distanced herself from her pursuers. There was no way they would be able to get her in the woods. Too dark and too much manpower required.

Up ahead, she could make out some more buildings through the trees. Houses. Another subdivision.

She altered her course and made for the closest home, and was just rounding a large tree when a car swung onto the cul-de-sac and pulled to the curb no more than thirty yards away.

Arthur opened the door of the black Lincoln and stepped out, looking directly at her position behind the tree.

“It’s over. Stop wasting my time. If you ever want to see your daughter again, step away from the tree, put down the gun and move slowly towards the car,” he said, his distinctively unpleasant voice straining to be heard.

She debated her slim options and then did as he instructed, placing the gun on the grass and then moving to where he stood.

A Chevrolet Suburban lurched to a halt behind the Lincoln, and two muscular men in suits emptied out of the back doors.

She raised her hands over her head and stood still as they stepped to where she waited.

Arthur watched as they forced her arms behind her, cuffed her, then walked her to the SUV. She glared at him with obvious hatred.

“My dear, save your energy. You’ve caused me considerable trouble this evening. That was your one chance. If you ever want to see your daughter again, you’ll get with the program and knock this shit off. I’m not the enemy, or at least not yours. Now get in the truck, don’t try anything, and stop this now. Do I make myself clear?”

“How did you find me?”

“Chip in the gun. New technology. You never had a chance.”

She nodded and allowed herself to be led to the back seat of the Suburban.

“If I agree — how do I know that you’ll keep your word about Hannah?”

“Because I have no reason not to. And because I’m quite sure you’ll kill me if I don’t.”

She studied him.

“We agree on something.”

“Yes, I suspected as much. Look, this whole escape thing was pointless. All you accomplished was to injure three of my men and piss me off. You are no closer to getting your daughter back. The truth is that there is only one road to accomplishing that, and you’ve been told where it leads and what you need to do. Just get that through your skull, and we’ll get along better. In order to get her back, you need to pay me back for my assistance in bringing down Grigenko. Everything has a price. David knew that. I know it. Now you know it. Pay the price and go on to live happily ever after. Don’t invest any more energy in these childish theatrics. They are getting you nowhere,” Arthur suggested, spittle spraying occasionally from the effort of stringing so many words together.

She got into the SUV, opting for silence. He moved to within a few feet of her, and the agents discreetly moved out of earshot, the driver taking the hint and joining them.

“I need an answer now, I’m afraid. Do you help me help you, or no?”

“What if I decline?”

“Then hold onto your memory of your daughter because it’s all you’ll ever have of her. And then hope that you can survive in a terrorist detention camp for the next fifty years because that’s where you’ll be going. You’ll be categorized as such by the CIA, and there will be no trial or defense.”

“So much for the land of the free.”

“Last time I checked, you aren’t a citizen, so don’t complain. You were apprehended with two passports in different names. You were on American soil for nefarious purposes. It’s your word against the CIA’s, and you have nobody to tell your story to. You’ll be sequestered twenty-four hours a day with no access to anyone but your guards, who won’t talk to you. That will be your life. That is, if I don’t decide to just put a bullet in your head while you’re trying to escape. The idea crossed my mind, and I’m sure I could find three volunteers back at the asylum — one of whom might die from the trauma to his lungs and the internal bleeding you caused.”

“Those are the hazards of this kind of duty. You should train them better.”

“Perhaps. Now I am out of time. Your answer — a million dollars and your daughter back, or incarceration and possibly worse?”

Jet sighed. There was really no choice. If she’d been able to escape, maybe…but not now.

“You win.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

“It’s a yes. But a couple of conditions. I don’t want to go back to the basement with the rats. And I’ll need a complete dossier on the target, as well as a full history of the two botched operations. And I will be responsible for coming up with a plan, with no strings or conditions. Just get the diamonds back, and terminate the target. Other than that, I answer to no one.”