Chapter Nine

"I have to go out now," Michael told his captives once he'd finished on the phone. He brought the briefcase closer to where Jaime sat, propped up by pillows with her arms behind her, on the bed. "Just in case you have ideas about kicking the door down...." Michael removed a second, larger pair of restraints and shackled Jaime's feet. "The things I could do to you now..." he said, practically drooling. "Unfortunately, there's no time for that." He looked over at Monahan, then back at Jaime. "Have fun, you two – it'll be a real party when I get back. And guess who'll be the guest of honor?"

Jaime listened as Michael's footsteps faded down the hall and into the elevator. "Are you alright?" she asked Monahan.

"Yes. Who are you?"

"Who are you?" Jaime shot back. She'd made her point; Monahan didn't answer. Carefully, she tested the chains between her ankle cuffs – solid, just as Michael had told her. She was trapped. While she was doing that, though, James Monahan managed to free his hands....and then his legs. Instead of running for the door, he turned to Jaime.

"I might not know who you are, but I saw what you are able to do – and he needs to be stopped. Is what he said true? You are able to break metal?"

Jaime had no choice but to trust him. She nodded. "Not this metal, though."

"But other metals. Can you bend as well as break them?"

What was he getting at? Again, Jaime nodded. "Yes."

Monahan went into the bathroom and quickly returned with several metal shower curtain rings. "That doctor took the keys," he told Jaime, "but I can open any lock....and these appear to be the right size. Lean forward, please."

Puzzled but encouraged, Jaime did as requested and Monahan placed one of the rings between her fingers. "Try and twist this straight," he told her. "Then I will need the slightest of hooks to be bent onto one end. Jaime tried to twist it as he'd asked, but without being able to see it, she managed only a mangled clump of metal.

"That is alright. I brought several more," he told her, handing her another one. Precious time was ticking by but Jaime forced herself to concentrate and not rush.

"Why does he wish to sell you – and to who?" Monahan asked while Jaime worked on the rings.

"I can't tell you that."

"He is...a slave trader?"

Jaime grimaced. "Worse." She was growing frustrated; each try produced something between a shapeless blob and a metal pretzel.

On her fourth try, Monahan was satisfied. "This should be right," he assured her. "I will try."

Jaime held her breath, almost not daring to hope, and – good to his word – he released her arms! "Will it work on the other lock, too?" she asked, stretching her left arm to try and return its circulation. It was sore, but none the worse for the experience.

"I am very good at this," he promised. It took several minutes, but sure enough, that lock snapped open as well, and Jaime was quickly on her feet. As they approached the door, Jaime could hear the elevator, several floors down but moving upward.

"I think he's coming," she told Monahan, pulling him toward the window. "Don't ask me any questions and just trust me, ok?" Her companion nodded silently, his eyes wide. They got even wider as Jaime opened the window and pulled him out onto the ledge, while she thanked her lucky stars his room was only on the third floor. A stretch, but they'd probably make it – and it was a far sight better than what would happen back in the room! And....the doorknob was turning!

Without preamble or an explanation (that would've panicked him anyway), Jaime picked up the stout little man, took a deep breath....and jumped.

- - - - -