Chapter 7
"Ah, Mr. Markham, so nice to see you with us again. Is there anything I can do for you today, sir?" The desk clerk, one of Knowles' faceless minions, smiled cheerfully.
"Yes, is Knowles around? I wanted to double check a few things with him." Markham shifted his feet nervously, glancing about for the man in question.
"I believe he is in the dining room, sir. I'm sure he won't mind your joining him for lunch."
Nodding curtly, he turned abruptly on his heel and stalked into the restaurant as the phone rang. She answered, pulling up the correct screen on the computer for reservations. "Good afternoon, thank you for calling the Ojibwe. How may I help you?"
Her brow furrowed for a moment at the request, but dutifully keyed in the information. "No, I'm sorry sir. I am not showing a reservation for Miranda Keene. Perhaps she booked into a different hotel? Excuse me, did you say Room 23?"
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Once again, she opened her eyes slowly. Gagged again, but at least she wasn't hogtied anymore! The pieces suddenly fell into place. She understood now what her captor wanted... and she also knew as soon as he got it, he'd have no further use for her. She thought quickly, trying to order her thoughts.
Markham wanted the details of the computer summit – so did the President. One held her life in his hands; the other signed her paychecks and had given her a lovely certificate of valor. It was no contest. Markham would have to kill her to get the information he wanted.
With Lee being such a hot commodity to their enemies, it was pretty much predestined for her to be taken captive again. Keeping this thought in mind, Leatherneck was slowly making adjustments to her common possessions. Amanda remembered the alterations the big man had done to her wristwatch just last week. He teased her when he gave it back, but his message was sincere. Thank you, Leatherneck! I will give you a big kiss the very next time I see you! Kinda funny that the first time I use the new toys has nothing to do with Lee. It's been a while since someone's kidnapped me for being me. I'm not so sure I like the change. He'd implanted a tiny jagged toothed razor blade into the back of it somehow, leaving a tiny catch for her to press to release it. He was using her as his guinea pig, but she didn't mind one bit. Unlike most of the counter-intelligence community, she liked having options beyond explosives and gunpowder.
Sliding her fingers carefully, she maneuvered her hands around enough to press the release. James Bond had nothing on their Leatherneck! It slid free with a quiet snick. It was barely the width of her pinkie finger, but it was better than nothing. She would be making baked goods for weeks but, if this worked, she wouldn't mind it for a second. Working at it carefully, she slowly managed to ease her hidden helper out of its tiny sheath.
Success! Her future was suddenly looking much brighter. Holding the blade against the nail of her index finger with the pad of her middle one, she winced from the contortions she needed to make to begin the long arduous journey towards freedom. She sawed carefully while going over what she knew.
Amanda bit her lip as she worked the tiny razor blade through her twisted ropes of cotton. She could feel them fraying, but it was taking forever. She didn't dare move her fingers any quicker as it would be too easy to slice into her flesh by mistake.
The first order of business, logically, was to get free. From there she could figure out her next move, provided she had the time. Everything depended on how long it took Markham to return to her prison. She had no idea how long he'd been gone, but she did know she'd definitely missed her plane. She gratefully allowed the anger and disappointment over missing tonight's concert to push aside her cloying fear. Anger she could work with... Lee had taught her that. Lee had taught her many things over the years.
Tugging on her wrists, she felt the strands of cotton break. Her hands were free! Now to untie her ankles. Using her stomach muscles, she tried to sit up and immediately lost her breath. Nausea roiled through her gut and her gag reflex kicked in. She'd forgotten about the stupid gag! She tore at it frantically, knowing she could drown if the acid in her stomach reached her lungs before she got it out of the way. Battling nausea, numb fingers, and floating vision she struggled with the tight knot at the back of her head.
Tears watered her eyes. He'd knotted her hair into the gag. For an inexperienced bad guy, he was surprisingly talented. She would need to remember not to underestimate him. She swallowed several times, forcing the burning bile back into her stomach. He would not win!
She'd lost the razor blade when she tried to sit up. Forcing her trembling fingers to work, she had to deliberately slow her actions for a moment. She was panting, which only served to make the dizziness worse. If she passed out again, everything would be for naught.
Battered and bruised, Amanda finally managed to work a single fingertip into the tight knot. She sacrificed a thick hank of hair without a second thought, and worked through the pain. She would have time to mourn her losses later... after she managed to get away. Right now, she needed to focus.
Victory was again in her grasp! The knots loosened enough to slide another finger in, even though the taut material dug cruelly into the sides of her mouth. She pulled ruthlessly, fighting to free herself. Markham would kill her, he had no choice. She knew far too much for him to dare leave her free.
She tore the gag away, and just lay there for a moment, gasping in the sweetest air she had ever tasted. Somehow, this was the worst kidnapping experience she'd ever had... and that was saying something! Every time before she'd been treated like a precious commodity. Markham didn't need to keep her healthy to display on live television for the free world to watch in horror. He obviously preferred to keep his tortures private. Not if she could help it!
It took a few minutes, but her heart eventually quit racing. The dizziness abated with the fresh influx of oxygen, which gave her an additional leg up. She would need every advantage she could scrounge as getting her legs free presented a new paradox.
Using her arms and walking her hands slowly, she managed to slowly sit up. Wow that hurt! She wondered briefly if he'd broken a rib or two when he hit her the last time. Probably most definitely cracked at the very least. She'd have to be even more careful than she realized. A punctured lung would end this game long before it had really even begun.
Using one hand, she dragged a pillow down to the small of her back for some support. She was tied to a queen sized bed, her legs spread wide. Definitely not going to be easy to manage. "Think, Amanda, think! What would Lee do?"
She laughed almost wildly. Lee would never be stupid enough to be in this situation. No one got the drop on the Scarecrow twice. She bit down on her lip contemplating her situation, her right hand reaching unconsciously for the delicate heart dangling on a thin chain. She worried the necklace, wracking her brain for solutions. There had to be a way. It would be too humiliating to die at the hands of a computer repairman!
She wiggled her ankles experimentally, then winced as the coarse rope dug into her skin. OK, that wasn't a solution. She was going to have to lean forward, there was simply no other option.
Steeling herself against the pain and nausea, Amanda slowly leaned towards her right ankle. On her way forward, the tiny razor poked against her stomach, scratching against her skin. There it was! A small sense of triumph filled her heart as she clutched the tiny saving grace tightly. She might still make it out alive.
Markham was going to pay dearly for making her miss Maestro Pavarotti!
Gasping as her abused body rebelled the exercise, the determined brunette attacked the thin rope. She noted with some concern the fact her feet were almost bloodless. Walking wasn't going to be very much fun. However, she'd only be walking if she managed to get out of these darn ropes!
At last it broke. She drew her leg up and carefully scooched her bottom along the bed. She was running out of time. He could be back any minute.
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Immediately spying Knowles at a table, he checked his stride. It wouldn't do to display his nervousness to the concierge or the patrons. He smoothed his expression and settled into a chair at the same table. An attentive waiter was hovering at his elbow before he'd the chance to settle a napkin across his knees. Opting for an affable smile, he glanced at the menu and ordered the most expensive dish with a lovely bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon. He would break her, it was just a matter of time.
He dined sumptuously on filet mignon, red potatoes and chives, tiny buttery Brussels sprouts, and a lovely roll generously coated with lavender and oregano. Once he got the information out of the bitch, he could eat this way all the time... not just occasionally. He had a worried thought, I hope the card clears, before snorting. Doesn't matter, he'd charge it to Gates & Jobs. They could afford it!
"Knowles, my compliments to the chef. Be sure to add this to their bill, won't you?" Markham nodded cheerfully. She was surely awake by now.
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With a foul curse more normally heard from her partner, Amanda pushed the fear away. Thoughts of Markham were only distracting her. Reaching back, she retrieved the abandoned pillow and nestled it again at the small of her back. It wasn't much support, but it was far better than nothing. Her poor tormented body screamed in protest as she again leaned forward to saw at the final rope. She deliberately refused to think about the ominous creak she'd heard from her ribs.
When she got home, she was taking Francine up on those aerobics classes, too. She wasn't nearly as flexible as she needed to be. Although, aerobics was a lot of bouncing about and not so much about stretching. Hadn't she also said something about a new yogurt... no, that's not right, what was it? Yog... it was an odd word, kinda sounded like Yogi Bear. Yoga! That's what it was, yoga. Maybe she'd look into that, too.
The silly thoughts calmed her nerves. Gritting her teeth against the pins and needles in her right foot, she slid around until she was seated on the edge of the bed with her foot on the floor. She flexed her toes for a second before beginning the final attack. She listened warily for the door while she made short work of her chore. This one was much easier with the rest of her free. It took less than a minute, and she was tucking the invaluable contraband back into its hiding place on her wrist.
Resting for a moment, Amanda took stock of her situation. According to her watch, it was now 3 p.m. She'd missed her check-in. If they hadn't known before, the folks in DC definitely knew by now that she was in trouble. While she wasn't exactly a courier, she didn't have any official agent status either. She was unofficially Scarecrow's partner and actually merely his secretary. How ironic that the civilian auxiliary PTA mom had more field experience than most of the agents in Billy's bullpen.
Grasping the bed post, she eased herself to her feet. It wouldn't matter how much field experience she did or did not have if she didn't manage to save herself and bring in Markham. At the very least he'd be up for assault on a federal employee with criminal intent. She clung there, looking about the room for something with which to bind her sore ribs. Espying the lace valence on the window, she had an idea.
She dragged the desk chair over to the door and wedged it beneath the handle. Even if it meant his escape, she wouldn't allow him the drop on her again. She was fairly positive she wouldn't survive it. Then, crossing the room as quickly as she was able, she pulled the delicate curtain from the window. This would do nicely. She only needed a temporary fix, after all.
Returning to the bed, she carefully unbuttoned her blouse. Glancing down, she winced at the ugly bruise forming over her ribs. Small wonder she hurt so badly. Folding the curtain in half length-wise, she began to wrap it tightly around her ribcage. Not the perfect solution, but one which would work for the moment. She tucked the trailing edge as she stepped to the bathroom. There was probably a robe in there. Aha! She tugged the belt free and tied it over her makeshift bandage like a Japanese obi.
She looked in the mirror and gingerly touched her swollen face. It was probably very lucky for Markham that Lee wasn't here. Maybe Abernathy's little jaunt down the back streets of Dublin wasn't such a bad thing after all. How on earth was she going to explain the black eye to Mother and the boys? Hopefully she was healed up before Lee got home.
Testing the bandage, she took a slightly deep breath. It still hurt, but the support on her ribs helped a lot. It should hold until she could get to a doctor. Pausing only to get a glass of water, she sipped at it carefully. She didn't think anything was ruptured, but she still needed to be cautious. What she wouldn't do for some Tylenol right now!
As she retrieved her blouse, Amanda glanced at the phone. It didn't surprise her to see the cord was missing. Markham didn't miss a beat. After she'd fastened the last button, she pulled the chair from the door and placed it just out of range of the door. She picked up a lamp and settled in to wait. Markham had a few questions to answer.
