Chapter Fourteen
Walter woke with a start. Paige. Where was Paige? Remnants of his nightmare
still floated through his mind. They had been hurting Paige, doing things
which made him ill to think about. And he had been paralyzed, unable to stop
them. He could still hear her pleas for him to help her, pleas which had evolved
into screams when he did nothing.
He tried to sit up, but pain surged through his body, nearly caused him
to lose consciousness again. With Herculean effort, he moved his head in
Paige's direction. Once his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, he saw she
was sitting on the mattress beside him, her knees drawn up to her chest as
she rubbed the cords on her wrist against her mouth. Wait. . .something wasn't
right.
"How did you do that?" he asked once he had figured out she had somehow
moved her arms from behind her back.
"Oh, you're awake." She had lowered her hands to look at him. "Old gymnastics
trick."
"You were a gymnast?"
"Yes, until I grew too tall. There's a reason why those girls are usually
short." She smiled ruefully at him. And he noticed the dark splotches which
had to be blood on her lips.
"Your mouth's bleeding," he said, as fury flooded through him. "Who did
that to you?" He struggled again to straighten up, but his anger was replaced
by agony. He groaned as he had to stop moving, his breath slowing to shallow
pants. But even then, the pain didn't subside.
"Walter, it's okay. I'm fine. No one has come in since they. . .you know."
She glanced away for a moment before lifting her bound hands. "I've been using
my teeth to saw through the cords. I thought my lips felt a little funny."
She wiped the back of her left hand across her lips, smearing a dark streak
across the back of it. "Oh God, I didn't realize it was that bad."
"You should stop. . ."
"No, I'm not giving up." She shoved the area she had been working on at
him so he could see her progress. "Look, I'm about halfway through." She
sounded so proud of herself.
As well she should be, he thought. She'd been right before, she wasn't a
helpless damsel in distress. And he should probably stop treating her like
one. But that clashed against every ideal he believed in. He was supposed
to use his genius to help others. He was supposed use it to save lives. He
was supposed to protect her, not the other way around.
"Can you show me what you did?" he asked.
"I don't think you should," she said. "Not with your ribs. . . No."
"I have to do something," he said, frustration filling him. "I can't just
sit here and do nothing." Images from his nightmare flashed through his head
again, the sound of her screams ringing in his ears. "I need to do something."
"Walter," she said patiently. "I know you. And I know this is driving you
mad. But you're hurt and you'll only make it worse if you try to do anything
and I can't allow you to do that. I'm not arguing with you about this. You're
going to sit there and concentrate on not dying while I try to get us free.
Okay?"
"Okay."
She seemed stunned he had acquiesced so easily. "Good," she said. "You can
tell me stories of when you were a boy. . .if you want to, that is. . .while
I work on this." She held up her hands.
"I can do that," he agreed, unable to deny her anything she wanted at the
moment. "I could tell you about the time I raced my father's tractor against
a kid who lived at a neighboring farm."
"I'd like to hear about that." She smiled at him and he could feel himself
grinning back. So while she tried to slice through the cord binding her wrists
with her teeth, he began to tell his story. . .
"We're back in." Cabe walked over to the table where Happy and Toby had
piled the gear they had brought back an hour earlier. "I may have sold my
soul to the devil, but they're going to let us be part of the hostage extraction."
"You won't even know it's missing," Toby said with a wink.
Gallo ignored his remark. "We're to rendezvous at 0600 southeast of the
estate." He pointed to a spot on one of the maps spread out over the tabletop.
"Happy, Toby, you'll go in first to disable the alarms, surveillance, whatever.
I'll be with the rest of the Homeland agents. Sylvester, you'll be here running
backup for Happy and Toby."
"What about me?" said Ralph.
They all looked at each other, realizing they forgot about the boy whose
mother was, at best, in grave danger, and at worst. . .
"You can stay here and help Sly," offered Toby.
"But that's all you've let me do." Ralph sounded tired and a bit whiny.
"I want to really help."
Drew stepped up and placed his hands on his son's shoulders. "I know you
do. I want to help rescue your mom, too." He crouched down in front of the
boy genius. "But you're too young and I'm not smart enough. We'd only get
in the way. And we don't want that, right?"
Ralph looked his father in the eye. "I don't think you're stupid," he said
quietly. "You know about stuff like aerodynamics and anatomy and statistics
and strategy. . ." He took a breath. "I'm half you and half mom. By my reckoning,
my genius had to come from both of you."
Drew's response was to hug the boy tightly. "Out of the mouth of babes,"
said Toby solemnly.
Cabe cleared his throat. "We've got roughly two hours to get ready. I suggest
we use that time wisely." He pulled his cell from his jacket pocket and began
tapping in numbers.
"Cabe, wait," Toby stopped the agent as he started to head toward the door.
"I wasn't joking earlier about the likelihood superiors are more liable to
be security breaches. Who told you they needed an IT guy? Is wasn't Katherine,
was it?"
"No, it was another agent, Richard Heehn. I don't know him all that well.
Just to say hello to," said Cabe. "He coordinates with the Secret Service.
. ."
His voice trailed off as they all realized if Walter and Paige didn't make
it of this alive, this Agent Heehn was most likely the one who had sent them
to their deaths.