Surrender In Silk

Every inch of him was bruised and bloodied. He didn’t think they’d broken any bones. At least, not yet. He’d called upon all the training he’d been given in order to survive this ordeal. He hung on to the fact that it wouldn’t continue forever. Either he would be rescued or he would die.

There was no middle ground.

After three weeks of being chained, his swollen, beaten muscles had become so weak he couldn’t walk. He could barely feed himself. The fever came and went. Several sores were infected. He was in bad shape. If they didn’t get him out in the next few days, they might as well not bother.

In his lucid moments, he thought about the various plans they might employ to rescue him. He figured teams had already been sent in and failed. He knew Winston would weigh the cost of his life against the risk to other operatives. Zach didn’t know how much his boss would think he was worth. Maybe that line had already been crossed.

Maybe no one was coming.

He opened his eyes and stared at the small window on the other side of the cell. From his seated position, he could only see a rectangle of blue sky. The cell faced south. If he inhaled sharply, he could catch the scent of the outdoors, a flower of some kind, the hint of warmth in the air. Today it was enough.

He didn’t mind dying. Sure, he had regrets, who wouldn’t? But he could live with them. He’d known it would come to this. Warriors always died in battle. But, dammit, he would like to go out with a weapon in his hand.

In the distance, a door opened. Despite his desire not to react, he stiffened when he heard the faint laughter of the guards, followed by the metallic clinking of the chains. They had returned to punish him again.

He cleared his mind, forcing himself into a deeper place. One untouched by pain and blood. His breathing slowed, as did his heartbeat. His superior strength and training had kept him alive this long. It would keep him alive a little longer. Sometimes he was pleased, but most of the time he cursed his inability to find release in death.

Jamie checked her utility belt for the fourth time. She knew exactly what was there, but the ritual made her feel better. More relaxed. Pressure built in her ears. She swallowed to relieve it, then glanced out the window. They were descending.

“Nearly show time,” Rick Estes said from the seat across the aisle. “You ready?”

“Of course.”

Rick touched the heavy backpack next to him and grinned. “Me, too.”

Jamie studied him. She and Rick had been recruited into the agency within a few days of each other. They’d gone through training together, under the watchful eye of Zach Jones, then had gone with him on their first mission. They’d been green and scared. When things had started to go wrong, Zach had saved both of them.

Seven years ago. She and Rick had changed. He’d been a gawky, awkward young man with a gift for explosives. She’d been the only woman in a class of eight. Zach hadn’t given her a moment of special consideration and had nearly flunked her for not having the upper-body strength to complete the obstacle course.

Now Rick had filled out and matured. He spoke about timers and fuses as if they were intimate members of his family. His red hair was still worn short, but the innocence was gone from his eyes.

Jamie knew she’d changed, too. The last time she’d tried the obstacle course, she’d beaten every man in her group. She’d honed her body into a lean, muscled machine. It had required hours of dedication, but she’d been determined to be the best. As soon as she and Rick got Zach to safety, she would resign from the agency and have to face the question of what to do with the rest of her life. But for now there was only the mission.

As the plane slipped toward the ground, Jamie double-checked the contents of her backpack. She had food and water, along with medical supplies. Her knowledge of first aid was limited to crisis management. Her gaze moved past Rick, to the far end of the plane. A medical team sat together, talking in low voices. The doctor had already briefed her on what to expect if Zach was still alive. Dehydration, infection, possible broken bones. All she had to do was get him back to the plane. The team would take care of the rest.

There was a slight bump, then the engines jerked into reverse as the plane taxied to a stop. Jamie and Rick were already up and moving. By the time the plane came to a stop, they were in the jeep, prepared to back out into the desolate countryside.

Jamie wasn’t sure how they’d gotten permission to use this private airstrip and she wasn’t about to ask. Winston knew people everywhere. He pulled strings, called in favors, paid whatever sum was necessary and everyone looked the other way. As long as the job got done, the director was happy.

“Ready?” Rick asked.

When she nodded, he started the engine. The rear of the plane opened slowly; the floor behind them lowered into a steep ramp. With a salute to the medical team, Rick put the vehicle in reverse, then backed onto the tarmac.

Brilliant sunshine blinded her momentarily. Jamie grabbed her sunglasses and put them on. It was late March, and the Middle Eastern desert temperature was pleasant. At least Zach hadn’t had to suffer through the summer heat.

Rick checked his compass, then hit the gas. Within five minutes, they were driving due north and the plane was out of sight.

“Once we leave the jeep, I’m going to need an hour and fifteen minutes,” Rick said, going over what they’d planned.

“I brought a book to help pass the time.”

He glanced at her and grinned. “Loosen up, Sanders. It’ll take a lot more than these guys to kill Zach. You know that. They don’t come any tougher than him.”

“I know.”

She tugged her cap lower over her forehead. If their luck was good, no one would see the jeep speeding along the dirt-and-sand-coated paved road. They would get to the compound, blow up the depot, get Zach and be gone. If their luck was bad—

Jamie refused to think about that. She’d known the risks involved when she’d stormed into Winston’s office. Being obliterated by the depot explosion was the least of her concerns.

She shifted on her seat, then reached over her shoulder to pull her long braid out of the way. As she fingered the end, she remembered the first time Zach had told her she had to cut her hair before she returned to class the next day. She’d spent the night studying regulations and had reported back that short hair wasn’t one of the rules. They weren’t in the military, after all. The agency’s purpose was to quickly protect U.S. interests abroad—by whatever means necessary.

She felt her lips curve into a smile. Zach had been mad enough to spit nails. For a second, something had flickered in his gaze. She’d wanted to believe it was respect. He’d leaned so close, she’d felt his breath on her face.

“Your damn hair is going to get you killed, Sanders,” he’d roared, still inches from her.

Although she’d been shaking so hard she’d barely been able to stand, she hadn’t backed down.

“It’s a risk I’m willing to take, sir.”

He’d grabbed her braid and pulled it around her neck. Hard. “What about the risk to the team?”

She hadn’t had an answer for that question. She couldn’t risk the others because of her pride.

He’d given her a cruel, mocking smile and walked away. So much for respect. That night she’d cut her hair. In the past few years, she’d let it grow back.

Zach. It was always about him.

Rick slowed down. Up ahead was an outcropping of rocks.

He parked in their shadow and climbed out. Jamie followed. She checked the sun, her watch, then pulled out her compass.

“Two miles that way,” she said, pointing northeast. “Try not to get lost this time.”

Rick grinned. “Are you ever going to let me forget that one?”

“Never.”

They walked together in silence. Thirty minutes later, they parted company. Jamie could see the compound in the distance. High fences should have shielded the inside from curious eyes, but most of them had recently been blown away. There were several buildings, trucks and dozens of armed men. Her heart started pounding in her chest. Dammit, they didn’t have a prayer of making this work.

Then she forced herself to slow her breathing. Gradually her muscles relaxed.

The terrorists had chosen this spot specifically. There weren’t a lot of trees or plants, so it was difficult to approach the compound without being seen. She found a shallow depression in the warm earth and again breathed a prayer of thanks that it wasn’t summer.

Her camouflage uniform was the color of sand and dirt. With her cap and smudged face, she would be difficult to spot unless she did something stupid. She slid off her backpack, then reached for a bottle of water. After taking a sip, she settled down to wait. An hour and fifteen minutes until Rick blew the depot. If he blew it.

“Don’t think like that,” she told herself. “Everything is going to be fine.”

She grabbed her binoculars and rolled onto her belly. She could just make out the details of the buildings. She focused on the section to the left. A low, one-story structure with small windows. According to their intelligence information, Zach was in there. Possibly chained. She had small but strong cutters in her backpack. If he was there, she was going to get him out.