Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own a thing. :(

A/N: Thanks to every one of you, who has reviewed, favorited, put on alert or simply... read TPL.

Chapter-7: Black Hole

Marching out of Edward's house, I lean against my bike and bring out my cell phone and then push speed dial number 2.

It takes two whole rings before answer comes from the other end. "Hello? Bell?"

If it was any other time, I'd have felt downright guilty for calling Alice when she sounded so groggy on the phone. But it is not any other time; it is a time when I need to talk to my best friend.

"How are you, Al?"

Something in my tone probably alerts her that something is wrong because when she responds, she sounds more awake than a few moments before. "Bella? What happened? Are you okay?"

I let out a slow breath and say, "Not really. You know the crazy scientist guy?"

"Yeah. Edward Cullen, right? What's up with him?" The slightly shaky quality of her voice tells me that even in her sick state she is walking, trying to tone down the worry.

"He … he's been kidnapped, Alice."

"WHAT?" she cries out. "B, go back and start at the beginning. What exactly happened to the guy? Why do you sound so worried?"

As I open my mouth to answer her, her words play in my mind to formulate a different meaning.

Start at the beginning.

And then, I know where I need to go to find Edward.

Immediately, I'm itching to be on my way. There is still a good few hours of daylight left, and I think that I can utilize it for my search.

"Listen, Al," I say. "It's a long story, and I have to run now. Just know that Edward Cullen is an important man and a scientist from CERN, Jacob Black, might have gotten Edward kidnapped. I'm telling you this on an 'in case of emergency' basis. I'll let you know more soon, okay?"

Before hanging up I hear her yell from the opposite end, "Just promise me that you'll stay safe, B!"

Without giving an answer to her, I hang up because I know deep down that I cannot promise her this knowing where I am headed to.

Slipping the phone back in my pocket, I get on my bike and after a deep, cleansing breath, I drive away from the ransacked home to go and look for it's owner.

~*~*~*TPL*~*~*~

Nearing the so-called 'virus infected' area, I feel my eyes widen. A large area has been sealed off with wire fences about seven feet in height and the electric lines attached to them clearly mark that they have electricity running through them so that anyone trying to jump them will be electrocuted.

So, these things actually do exist outside of action movies! I think dryly before approaching the guard post near me.

The uniformed guard sitting at the post moves his eyes from my bike to my face before letting them finally settle on the badge hanging from the belt buckle of my jeans.

As soon as he sees the Seattle Times Logo emblazoned on it, he puts on a one hundred percent fake smile on his face and greets me. "Hello, ma'am, how may I help you on this fine morning?"

The fake cheeriness in his voice makes me want to snap at him that it's afternoon and not morning at the time, but I calm myself down.

This is a rescue mission, Bella. Getting hotheaded would not help Edward. Keep your cool, girl! I tell myself and offer him a saccharin sweet and equally fake smile.

"Hi! I'm a staff reporter with The Seattle Times. I'm here to cover the news about the viral outbreak in the area."

"Of course, ma'am. If you could drive about a mile south from here, you will find our official press box. We have hourly bulletin being given to the media representatives there along with a bit of light refreshment," he prattles on at a practiced voice.

Do I look like I'm here for the free food? I want to ask him, but instead, I pull out Alice's precious camera from my backpack and give him another sweet smile.

"Do you mind watching my bike for a bit? I'll just dash inside and take a couple of pictures around here before heading to the press box."

My words make his back to stiffen and the smile to fall from his face. "No. Go to the press box," he says, pointing southward with his finger.

For a moment, I consider making a mad dash for the fence, but the formidable looking wires quickly put me off.

Nodding gloomily at the guard, I turn around and head to the way he pointed.

I'm gonna see this shit to the end, I silently promise myself.

~*~*~*TPL*~*~*~

I have to admit that the tent being used as the press box for the viral outbreak actually looks pretty cool.

There are a fair number of computers in the large room where the journalists are able to get printed copies of the hourly bulletins and various images of the signs and symptoms of the 'disease.'

There is an important-looking uniformed officer sitting at a long table at one end of the huge tent with two doctors and even a pharmacist with him.

The journalists are allowed to ask them any question they like and they seem to try their best to answer them.

What strikes me as odd, though, is the fact that more emphasis is being put into serving the 'refreshments' for the assembled journalists than presenting them with any actual information.

I grab a printed copy of the latest bulletin and see that it is something that one could easily write up using the top five hits from a search for 'Ebola' in Google. Believe me, I've Googled it the moment I had gotten to office this morning, so I know where all these information can be found.

Listening to the doctors and the pharmacist for a few minutes, I realize that even they are replying to each and every question from the bulletin. Any questions that cannot be answered from there, they skip with an insincere apology that the answer to that question is yet to be found.

Lying assholes, I seethe in my head as I fold up the stupid piece of paper and shove it inside my backpack.

When the puppets sitting at the table take a break, I approach the officer and hold out my hand, with my badge clearly on display.

"Hi, I am Isabella Swan, Staff Reporter with The Seattle Times," I introduce myself.

"Hello, Miss Swan, I'm Brody Simons. Have you been offered any refreshments yet?" he responds politely.

Smiling at him, I nod. "Yes, I have. I was actually hoping you could help me find someone."

He frowns a little. "If you are looking for a patient who has been quarantined, I don't know if I can help you, Miss."

"Oh no, don't worry, Officer. The man I'm looking for isn't a patient; in fact, I think he's here to help the patients."

He casts a glance at the three healthcare professionals at the table and starts, "You mean a doctor …?"

"No, no, not a doctor," I cut him off. "The man I'm looking for is one Jacob Black. He's a physicist."

Officer Simons looks confused. "Why would a physicist be here? I'm sorry, Miss Swan, but I don't think any physicist named Jacob Black is in here."

Before he can turn away from me, I quickly say, "Maybe he's not here at the moment, but I'm sure if you try a little bit, you'll find that Dr. Black is somewhere in the area."

He looks thoughtful for a moment and then says, "I guess I can ask the commanding office a few miles away from here about him."

Giving him a bright smile, I nod enthusiastically. "Thank you, Officer. If you do find him, will you please give him a message from me?"

"Sure thing. What is the message?"

I pretend to think for a bit, and then pulling out my notepad and pen ask, "Maybe I should write it down? It's a little peculiar to be easily remembered."

When he nods, I tear a page from my notepad and write out the cryptic message I need to draw the fucker out with:

I know about the C-Algorithm. It'll be hard to stop the press conference about our guests without that Uley thing you mentioned last night. I'll be waiting.

Officer Simons reads it once and then grimaces. "You're right. I cannot make head or tail of this message. I'm not sure I would have been able to remember it by the time I located Jacob Black."

I give him an understanding smile and tell him that I'll sit out here while he tries to find Black.

My wait is not too long though. Less than ten minutes after he left, Simons walks back to me with a surprised look on his face.

Standing up from my seat, I give him a questioning look. "Any luck?"

"Looks like you are an important person, Miss Swan. I found a Dr. Jacob Black at the commanding office. He is a physicist from CERN. When he heard your name, he wasn't too interested in talking to you, but once I read out the message from you, it worked like magic."

I smile widely at him. "My words tend to have that effect on people. So did he say anything in reply?"

He shakes his head in disbelief and says, "No, he said he's coming down here to meet you personally. He'll be arriving shortly in his personal helicopter."

"Fantastic. Thank you for your help, Officer. I won't keep you from your job anymore. I'll just sit here and wait for Dr. Black to get here," I reply and motion for him to go join the table.

With a smile at me, he walks away, and I go and grab a cup of coffee from one of the many coffee machines sitting on the 'refreshment' part of the tent.

~*~*~*TPL*~*~*~

I am still sitting with that single cup of coffee clutched in my hands when a sudden buzzing noise comes to my ear. People start looking around for the source, and I realize that my gamble might just work because Jacob Black is here.

Most of the journalists gather at the entrance as the red helicopter lands on the empty field outside the press box. Slowly, I stand up and walk toward the entrance to join everyone.

The moment Black steps inside the tent, he starts to look around, most likely looking for me.

I plaster a big smile on my face and step up to him with an outstretched hand. "Dr. Black, it's nice to meet you again."

Then, the moment he touches my hand, I turn my head to look at the journalists around us and say excitedly, "You guys should be taking pictures! Dr. Black is a renowned scientist who is here to help us with this crisis."

Immediately we're blinded by camera flashes as everyone tries to take a picture of this fucktard.

Smiling at the cameras, I lean closer to Black and murmur, "I hope this doesn't make your Sam Uley mad, after all, you'll have to use his money to buy out all these photographs."

Black glares at me and hisses back, "What do you want, lady?"

I manage my facial expressions better than him and hide the anger coursing through me as I speak through gritted teeth, "First of all, let me make it clear. I have a name and it's Bella Swan, not lady. Secondly, I want to talk to you."

His black eyes bore into mine as he says, "Fine, Swan, come with me."

"Where?"

"In my helicopter. We can talk there away from prying eyes."

Narrowing my eyes at him, I ask, "Do you really think I'm that dumb? That I'll happily go on a ride with you in your chopper and you'll shove me out of it in midair and when anyone asks, you'll just say that I got infected with the virus and decided to take a nosedive out of lunacy? I don't think so, Jerk Black."

He looks at me like he would have loved nothing more than doing just that and then asks stonily, "Where do you want to talk then?"

Looking out at the field outside, I see a birch tree about ten feet away from his chopper. I point and say, "Let's go under that tree. It is way away from people that no one will be able to hear us."

"Fine." He moves his hand up like he is going to grab hold of my arm, and I quickly draw my hand away.

He seems to get the hint and walks out of the press box ahead of me.

Once we're standing under the tree, I speak first. "Where is Dr. Cullen?"

He rolls his eyes at me and snap, "Is this just about your boyfriend? I don't have time for losers like Cullen."

Something inside me explodes as I hear him call the sweet, shy man I have met just a few times a loser.

"Shut the fuck up. You don't get to call him a loser. I know that you had him kidnapped," I spit out.

"Oh yeah? What else do you think you know?" he challenges me.

"I know that in the area you have had surrounded by wire fences an alien species is hiding. I know that Edward has written an algorithm for making contact with extraterrestrial species, I know that he is a brilliant man. And I know that I will make your life hell if you don't agree to help me out."

The corners of his mouth quirk upward in a sarcastic smile as he sneers at me. "Really? You, a puny pen-wielding girl, are going to make my life hell? How? Do tell."

Looking straight into his eyes, I say, "I just had about fifty journalists take your picture back in there and introduced you by your name. How much time do you think any one of them will need before researching your name and finding it on the CERN website? I'm sure in their organogram, you're listed as a physicist specializing in extraterrestrial connectivity and not a doctor. How do you think they'll react when they find out that you're here to make a deal with an alien that might wish to invade our planet? Tell me."

He huffs out a breath and asks, "How much money do you need to keep your mouth shut?"

Inside, I smile a little, knowing that he's starting to step into my trap. This is the thing with greedy people like Black—they think everyone wants money just like them.

On the outside, I shrug nonchalantly and reply, "We'll have time to discuss figures later. First, I need you to tell me where Edward is."

When he doesn't say anything, I deadpan, "Look, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. The easy way will be for you to let go of Edward and then we'll come to some understanding. And the hard way will be for you to wait till I call a press conference and do an exposé on you, and then to let go of Edward. The choice is yours."

He glowers at me and asks, "How do I know that I can trust you?"

I grin at him. "You don't, but it's the only choice you've got."

He lets out a deep sigh and finally says, "We'll do this your way then, Swan. Go to the Fairmont Hotel in an hour. Cullen will be waiting there for you."

With that, he stomps away toward his helicopter and I carefully let out the breath I have been holding the whole time.

~*~*~*TPL*~*~*~

About twenty minutes after my meeting with Jacob Black, I am riding my bike toward the Fairmont Hotel when I hear the sound of my cell phone ringing.

If it was any other time, I would have let it go to voicemail because I am driving, but today, I take no chance. Removing one hand from the accelerator, I let the bike slow down a bit and reach for my phone.

"Hello?" I answer without looking at the caller I.D.

"Isabella?"

"Carlisle? You're Carlisle, right?" I gasp out loud.

"I am the one using Carlisle to speak with you."

"Well then, you're Carlisle for now," I argue.

"Fine. I am Carlisle … for now. I am calling to warn you."

I feel my eyebrows pull up.

"Warn me? About what?"

"A bright yellow minivan. It's going to try to hurt you."

"Hurt me? Who is in that minivan?" I ask again.

"Jacob Black's people. Be careful, Isabella."

"All right. I got it. Thanks, Carlisle." With another warning for me to be careful, the line gets disconnected and I move the phone away from my ear.

As I put my hand back on the accelerator, I surreptitiously check the road behind me.

I don't see any minivan behind me—yellow or otherwise—but I decide blending in is the best way to evade anyone trying to hurt me. So, increasing my speed, I weave in and out of the traffic, hoping like hell that whoever is pursuing me won't find me among the rush hour traffic.

It is not until I'm almost at the hotel where Edward is supposed to be that I notice a bright yellow minivan tailing me. I try to look for a gap to get away, but there seems to be cars all around me.

In my rearview mirror, I see a guy waving a hand out of one of the windows of the minivan, as if he is waving to someone on the other side of the road. Looking across the road, I don't see anyone wave back.

Is he pretending? Is he the one Carlisle warned me about? I wonder.

I move my head to the side to try to sneak a peek at his face, but I cannot see it in the diming light of the day.

However, to my relief the minivan starts to pass by me without a glance at me.

I am just about to let out a sigh of relief when I feel something sting the back of my neck. Reflexively, I touch the spot and find a small needle there. As I pull it out of my skin, my head starts to feel dizzy.

I feel my grips on the bike slackening and quickly stop the bike in the middle of the road. Suddenly, I feel like my head is getting clouded and I desperately look at the direction of the minivan.

Just before the minivan is out of my eyesight, I see the man who must have injected me with some drug through that needle … the man who was pretending to wave at someone and I realize that he is the Stuck-up Dude from Edward's place last night—Jacob's puppet.

All around me commotion ensues with cars honking and people talking while I just stay hunched up in the middle of the road, feeling too weak to move.

"Miss? Are you all right?" I hear voices ask me, but I cannot make my lips move to form a response.

"What happened?" I hear a new voice ask from behind me.

The man squatting beside me replies in a worried voice, "We don't know yet. She was just driving and then stopped in the middle of the road. I think she might be having a seizure or a hypoglycemic shock."

"Maybe she has a weak heart," another voice from the crowd around me speculates.

I feel someone hold my wrist to check for pulse and then the first voice says, "Oh God! Her pulse is thready. I think we need to take her to a hospital immediately. Quickly, someone help me get her into my car."

As I am being lifted into the said car, I manage to get a glimpse of the guy holding my head and I recognize him as Officer Brody Simons—from the viral outbreak press box.

No, please, don't let him take me. He's with the bad guys, I want to scream at the onlookers, but no sounds come out of my mouth.

Simons lays me in the back of his car and asks the people surrounding us, "Anyone want to come to the hospital with her?"

"Sure, I'll go," another voice calls out, and I see another familiar face from the night before come to get inside the car with Simons.

This is all a well-designed plan, I realize.

After a few moments, the crowd disperses and allows the car carrying me to pass.

I use every ounce of energy I can muster and open my eyes. Through the rearview mirror, I see Simons look at me.

"Still awake back there, News Lady? Don't you worry, Swan. We're taking you to a really good doctor … Dr. Black? Ever heard of him?"

He and his partner bursts into laughter at his lame joke as I feel the darkness slowly engulf my consciousness.

A/N: I know. I'm horrible for leaving you at a cliffy, but it was necessary. You'll see why next week. ;)

So ... thoughts? Good? Bad? Or just plain meh?

Hit me with them and leave a review.

In case you missed it, I published my entry for the Bandward Contest in my profile. It's called Guitar Hero. Check it out and maybe leave a review? :)

The song I listened to for this chapter? Yep, you guessed it. Supermassive Black Hole by Muse. :D

Oh and I finally got a twitter account. You can find me there for news about updates and teasers as TwiAddictAnne.

Until next week.

Take care.

Ann