Thanks for your continued support. Your reviews and alerts make my day, cheer the muses, and shut up that pesky inner censor that mutters at me when I'm trying to write.

I'm not terribly pleased with this chapter. I've been trying to beat it into shape for the last week, and I'm still not getting anywhere. But in the spirit of keeping things moving, here it is, warts and all. I may come back and fix it later on.

Warning: the language in this chapter is a little salty.

Enjoy and let me know what you think.

M&M

Chapter Thirteen: Some Kind of Hero

"Okay. Let me know when you get there." Eric Barber ended the call. With any luck, the exchange would take place on time and proceed without incident. If it did, it would give him a couple of hours to focus on the other operations he was handling, including doing whatever he could to support Auggie's op. Releasing a breath, he minimized the screen and scanned his desk for something to eat. He eyed a half-consumed doughnut with uncharacteristic revulsion and instead, popped a couple of antacids into his mouth. As far as Barber was concerned, Auggie couldn't get back to the DPD soon enough.

He cast a quick glance around the department. Business as usual with the customary hum and chatter of handlers, analysts and techies. "Hey, Stu," he called out, "you check for hitchhikers lately?"

"Uh uh..."

Barber swiveled his chair around. The younger man's focus was entirely on his computer and the strings of code scrolling across the screen. Eyes bright, fingers flying over the keys, lips curled in a tense half-smile, Stu's demeanor said it all. The kid was on the verge of an epic win.

"I'm in!" he cried a moment later.

"You did it?" Barber said, disbelieving. The kid was good. "You hacked the FAA database?"

Stu sat grinning like a twelve-year old.

"Well, don't just sit there. Get us those flight plans and go show them to Joan."

"Me?" Stu asked. "Aren't you coming?"

"It's your win, Stu. Besides, someone has to protect the free world while you're up there basking in the glory."

"You know, Boss, you almost sound jealous."

"Yep, almost. Oh, and don't forget to check for hitchhikers."

Specialist Rivera rushed out from behind her desk. "Dr. Bertrand, thank-you so much for coming."

Several men milled about the vestibule, scribbling notes, taking photographs, and speaking quietly among themselves. So, Annie mused, Joan had read in the Bureau. She looked around for Special Agent Rossabi.

Rivera continued apologetically. "I realize that this isn't your area of expertise, but... well.. Captain Anderson's file makes no mention of family, and you were the only other person I could think of."

"No, it's okay. Though I'm not sure how much help I can give. Especially if you've called in the Bureau."

"I'm not the one who called them in."

"Your CO then?"

"I don't know. Maybe. Major Duncan was called up to his Colonel's office an hour ago. These guys just showed up. Said they'd been alerted to Captain Anderson's disappearance and were investigating it as an abduction."

"So why call me in? Do we even know that he's been abducted?"

"It's just that you seem to know Captain Anderson better than any of us do. Maybe you can help them?"

Annie cast her a doubtful look, but followed her into the vestibule just the same.

The Army specialist cleared her throat. "Special Agent Rossabi?"

The dark-haired agent turned around. Annie fought a smile as recognition slowly lit up the agent's eyes. The rest of his face, however, remained neutral.

"Special Agent Rossabi, this is Dr. Bertrand. She has worked closely with Captain Anderson and may be able to assist you."

"Dr. Bertrand, right. You look vaguely familiar. Have we met before?"

"I doubt it. Is there somewhere we can talk?"

"Captain Anderson's office?"

Annie followed Rossabi into Auggie's office, and smiled. Auggie's Pentagon office was very nearly a mirror image of his space at the DPD, right down to the teakwood sculpture and the Grado headphones. In fact, she almost expected to see his laser cane resting alongside his keyboard. Instead, in its place, she spotted his cell phone.

In all the time she'd known Auggie, she'd never seen him outside of Langley without it. It was as much a part of him as his cane. Tricked out with dozens of navigation and accessibility apps, it was the one piece of technology he never left home without. Auggie had even persuaded Joan to let him set up his secure Agency phone in a similar manner. So why did he leave it behind?

"A new 'do?" Rossabi smirked, looking her over. "Glasses, flats? You're always full of surprises...Dr. Bertrand."

Annie's eyes flashed in annoyance.

"Don't worry," he said, his face suddenly serious. "Your secrets are safe."

"You're assuming I have secrets."

He snorted. "Right, so the short hair and flats, that must all be part the VA's dress code."

Annie decided to ignore the agent's taunting. "How is it that your team's already here?"

"The case is under FBI jurisdiction," Rossabi reminded her, as he made a slow circuit of the office. As soon as his back was turned, Annie snatched the phone.

Rossabi paused by a bookcase and ran a curious fingertip over the spine of a Braille manual. "Your boss, it seems, has finally remembered that we're in charge, and that this op is a joint effort. She read me in about an hour ago. What have you heard?"

Annie showed him the two text messages she'd received.

"That's it?"

"That's it. He probably didn't have time to send anything else."

"Where's his CO?"

"Upstairs talking with his CO. Your doing?"

Rossabi threw his hands up. "Don't look at me. I don't have that kind of pull."

"Okay. So let's figure this out." Annie said. "What do you know?"

Up a flight of eight stairs, a landing, then eight more and a shove through a set of double doors. From the doors it was three steps forward followed a sharp turn to the right, then down a long hallway and a turn to the left. "Hold on," he called to the nameless goon pulling on his arm. He needed to catch his breath.

Somewhere in the distance Auggie heard a quiet murmur of voices. An elevator chimed and an image formed in his mind. So, there were others here. Good to know. The silence of the preceding hours had him thinking he might be alone in this place with only his captors for company.

He rubbed a hand across his brow. He had to figure this place out, form a mental map of the place, but his head was spinning and he couldn't concentrate. The drugs they'd used to knock him out were still messing with his perception. He leaned against the wall for a moment, and tried to get his bearings.

"Let's go, Anderson. Get moving." His escort was a big guy with a solid grip and a voice that came from several inches above Auggie's face. Auggie straightened and pushed away from the wall. He pried the man's fingers from his arm. "Walk ahead and I'll follow." He knew he'd be safer taking the man's lead, but his refusal to use the proper stance stiffened Auggie's resolve to move as independently as possible. He fell in step behind him, trailing the wall and following the sound of the man's footsteps, hoping all the while that he wouldn't trip or run headlong into something. Though maybe if he did, it would help establish his cover with these guys.

Auggie's knuckles trailed the wall. One door... two doors... three... as they made their way down the hall. His guide came to an abrupt stop at the end, causing Auggie to stumble into him. A hand fell briefly on his shoulder, then the sound of heavy footsteps disappeared down the hall, in the opposite direction from which they had come.

A familiar voice called from inside the room. "Have a seat."

Auggie stood immobile in the doorway, waiting.

"There's a chair in front of you. Sit."

With no further clues, Auggie took a few careful steps forward as the door shut behind him. He reached for the chair. Nothing. He kept going. "This would be a lot simpler, Dr. Allen, if you simply gave me back my cane." He felt his leg bump against cold metal, swept a hand across the seat, and sat.

"We don't want you using it to injure yourself."

Auggie shot him a look of disbelief. "The whole point of the cane is to keep me from getting injured."

"We also need to make sure you won't use it as a weapon. You'll get your cane and your other belongings back in due time. Until then we can provide any assistance you may require."

Auggie didn't bother masking his annoyance. "Let's get this over with."

A rustle of papers, and the sound of something more solid being set on the table. "I appreciate your cooperation, Captain Anderson."

"Like I was given a choice?"

More papers were shuffled about. "Are you comfortable? Can I get you anything?"

"I'm thirsty." Dr. Allen slid a bottle across the table. Auggie followed the sound, and found the bottle on his first try. Hurray for small victories. He broke the seal and took a long drink.

Being well versed in interrogation techniques, Auggie had a pretty good idea what was coming. He'd experienced this before from both sides of the table. First put the subject at ease. Gain his confidence and alleviate any sense of apprehension. Then start with the softball questions. Once confidence is established, get the subject to drop his guard. In this initial session, if he remembered the playbook correctly, his interrogator would ask general questions, try to determine his psychological profile and decide which approach was likely to yield the desired results. These things could go both ways, and Auggie was determined to get as much if not more out of his interrogator, as he would reveal about himself.

Dr. Allen was seated across the table. Someone else was in here with them, too. Protocol dictated that the interrogator was never left alone with an unrestrained subject. He cast about the room for some clue as to the other person's location and was rewarded with the sound of quiet breathing and the faint scent of institutional laundry detergent at his five o'clock. He greeted his new minder with a nod and a wave.

He leaned back into his chair and waited. The first softball question should come along in three...two...one...

"So, according to your file, Captain Anderson, you were raised in Glencoe, Illinois?

"That's right."

"Nice place to grow up?"

"According to the real estate ads."

"Tell me about your childhood."

Auggie took another drink. He capped the bottle and wiped his lips, taking his time before answering. "Typical middle class childhood. Nothing out of the ordinary."

"High school State wrestling champion in your weight class two years running. Impressive."

"In the lesser scheme of things." Auggie replied.

"What about your family?"

"My father's a doctor. My mother's a college professor. I have four older brothers. Why the hell am I here?"

Dr. Allen cleared his throat, but ignored the question. More pages turned. "You went to MIT. Studied computer systems and network security, correct?"

"Yes."

"You were in the ROTC. Joined the Army after grad school. That's unusual for a computer geek, isn't it?"

"If you say so."

"And you served in...?"

"A lot of different places. Why am I here?" Still no answer. In the silence that followed, Auggie heard the telltale sound of fingers tapping on ... not a keyboard...a tablet? Good. A tablet could be hacked if he could get a message to Langley.

The tapping stopped. Dr. Allen paused for a moment before continuing. "You were blinded while serving in Iraq."

"Yes."

"Under what circumstances?"

"Fighting bad guys."

"What was the nature of your injury?"

"I'm sure it's in there somewhere," Auggie said gesturing vaguely towards the stack of papers."

"It is, but I'd like to verify your understanding of your injuries."

Auggie's patience was wearing thin. "There was an explosion. Lights out. End of story."

"Says here you suffered a traumatic brain injury."

"Yeah, funny how IEDs tend to do that. Are you going to tell me why am I here?"

Dr. Allen breathed a sigh of frustration. "Why did you refuse the Army's offer of an honorable medical discharge? Seems to me, if I were you, I wouldn't want to have anything to do with the Army ever again."

"With all due respect," Auggie replied, smiling coldly, "you aren't me."

"So why did you stay?"

"All my life, as far back as I can remember, all I ever wanted to do was to serve my country. Luckily for me there were people higher up the chain of command who believed in me, respected what I'd done over there. Apparently, I'm some kind of hero, and because of that they found a way to let me stay in the Army as a reservist."

Dr. Allen cleared his throat again. "Some might say you wanted to stay in so that you'd be in a better position to get back at the Army for what happened to you."

"And some might say that's a load of bull." Auggie leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. "Look, I don't blame the Army for what happened that day. I was one of the lucky ones. A lot of good men came home in boxes."

More tapping. "You were with Special Ops in Iraq when your accident happened?"

"It wasn't an accident," Auggie answered, settling back in his chair, and closing his eyes. "It was a deliberate and premeditated assault on my unit."

"You were Special Ops in Iraq, correct?"

"Why do you want to know? If you're with the VA, you have access to my record. Or maybe you're not with the VA..."

"Captain Anderson, your suspicion is unwarranted."

"Is it? Your thugs abduct me from my workplace. They drug me and drag me off to ...God knows where. You take my belongings, even my most basic necessities. You took away a blind man's cane, for crissake! And on top of it all, you refuse to tell me why I'm here and not in a regular treatment facility. And don't insult my intelligence by telling me this is a typical VA psychiatric facility."

No reply, only more tapping. After a long pause, Dr. Allen continued. "Tell me about your time in Iraq."

Stu hesitated by the director's door. Joan Campbell did not look up from the file she was reading. "Stuart, either come in or go back to your office, but stop hovering at my door."

"I have something I think you'll want to see," he said from the doorway.

"Come in Stu. I won't bite."

"Right. Of course." He entered and handed her a file, then waited nervously as she scanned the contents.

"Good work, Stu," she smiled. "So, one plane went to Minnesota, and the other to Nevada. Do we know which one Auggie was on?"

"The flight to Minneapolis-St. Paul arrived on time. The flight to Reno, on the other hand, was nearly an hour behind schedule."

Joan studied the flight plan for additional information. "How do you know that?"

Stu handed Joan a second file. "I checked the average travel times for both itineraries for that type of aircraft. Making allowances for wind and weather, the Minneapolis flight was well within normal parameters. The Reno flight was still nearly an hour late"

"Which means..."

"That plane landed and took off again somewhere between here and Reno. We find out where it landed..."

"...and we find Auggie."

How long the initial session lasted, Auggie couldn't clearly tell. Back and forth it went, easy questions punctuated with the type of question Auggie knew was meant to trip him up, to get him to reveal mission details. He was tired, tired beyond words, and the pressure building behind his eyeballs threatened at any moment to explode into a full-blown migraine.

And then suddenly, without warning, the session ended. Without saying a word, Dr. Allen exited the room. The stranger who'd stood silently in the corner the entire time led him through a different part of the building. They stopped and his minder drew a set of keys from his pocket.

"My new accommodations?" Auggie asked as he was guided through the door. The door slammed shut behind him. "Okay, I guess they didn't hire him for his conversational skills."

Auggie listened to the key turn. Instinctively, he tried the handle. It didn't budge. He was tired, hungry. His head throbbed and he leaned his forehead against the cool of the wall fighting the pain, darkness, and frustration. He turned around and listened intently. He was fairly certain that he was alone, but something about the room hinted that it had been only recently vacated. Was it the lingering scent of stale food? The smell of sweat? Of fear? He called out into the silence. "Hello?" There was no reply.

He pushed himself away from the door, and with one hand on the wall, worked his way around the perimeter of the room. He found a table bolted to the floor and a few steps further, a bed. For now, that was all that mattered. He would have slept on the bare ground without complaint. The simple metal frame, and thin bedding were five-star luxuries. He stretched out.

First trial passed, he thought with grim satisfaction. The next challenge would be more difficult. As sleep tugged at his consciousness, he tried to predict what might yet come. Sleep deprivation? Definitely. Isolation? That was already under way. Sensory deprivation? He'd be saving them some time with that one. And after that? Drifting off to sleep, he hoped he'd get to the bottom of this operation before they got that far.

Annie strode into the DPD, clutching Auggie's phone. She swung into Tech Ops, came to a sudden stop and looked around. Patrick, a junior handler, was on the phone, and he was the only one there.

"Where is everybody?" she mouthed.

Patrick pointed towards Joan's office. The blinds were drawn.

She raced up the ramp and knocked on the door. "I hate to interrupt," she said.

With a gesture, Joan indicated that Annie should join the conversation.

Annie shut the door and crossed the room. "Auggie's phone," she said, holding it out as she approached the desk. "It's all I could get. Rossabi and his team were already there."

"I called him. Does he know about this?" Joan asked, holding up the phone.

"I don't think so. Should I have given it to him instead?"

Joan smiled and set the phone on her desk. "I'll have Marty check it out ... before we send it over to Hoover." She turned to the two men on the couch. "Stu, show Annie your data."

Annie quickly scanned the single page. "So all we have to do is check every airfield between here and Reno?"

Stu smiled. "I can narrow it down for you. We have the air traffic control data all the way to Wichita. The plane went off line ten minutes later. They came back online when they entered Cedar City, Utah's air space."

"How did they explain their silence?" she asked.

Joan responded. "They haven't yet. The Bureau has taken the crew into custody. We'll know more after they've been questioned."

Annie considered Stu's information. "These are only the flight plans. What about radar data?"

"Working on it." Barber said, "but it might not give us much. They could have flown below the radar."

"Through the Rockies?" Annie said.

"Never said they weren't ballsy," Barber replied.

Joan cut in. "Annie, I need you and Stu to work together on this. Compile a listing of all the general aviation airports between Wichita and Cedar City. Find out where that plane could have landed. Find out everything you can."

"Everything?"

"Everything. Wherever Auggie is, we can assume there are others, too."

"GET THE HELL OUT OF MY BED!"

Auggie jolted upright. Barely awake, he was swinging his legs over the side of the bed when two large hands fastened on his shoulders like a vise and hurled him across the room. He raised his hands to his face a fraction of a second before crashing into the wall. Recovering quickly, he spun around and crouched in a wrestler's stance, waiting for the stranger to make a move that would reveal his position.

His attacker came charging at him from his two o'clock, bellowing like an enraged beast. Auggie shifted his position slightly. Whether Auggie heard him swing, or whether it was luck or skill or some other strange prescience, he blocked the blow with his left hand and swung hard with his right. His fist connected with the man's jaw. The stranger staggered back but kept his feet. He struck back, and brought his right fist crashing into Auggie's midsection. Auggie grunted and twisted away slightly, just enough to deflect some of the force of the blow. Turning his attacker's own momentum against him, he hooked an arm around the man's neck and sent him crashing to the ground. In an instant he had him in a headlock.

He didn't want to hurt or incapacitate the guy. As far as he could tell, they were both in the same boat here. He needed to subdue him, though, and figure out what was going on.

The stranger grunted and cursed and struggled to free himself, but Auggie only tightened his hold. "The harder you fight," he said through gritted teeth, "the tighter I'll squeeze. Your choice, dude."

The man's squirming suddenly stopped. "Jesus, Auggie?" he croaked. "Auggie Anderson?"

Auggie furrowed his brow. He recognized the voice. He'd place it in a second.

"Auggie, let go, man! It's me, Tommy... C'mon, Auggie. I can't breathe."

"Tommy?" Auggie shifted his weight and eased his hold very slightly. "Tommy Marcus?"

"Yeah, man. Get off me, dude."

"Middle name?"

"Ah c'mon, Auggie." Tommy whined.

Auggie grinned. "Middle name, Lieutenant!"

He mumbled something inaudible even to Auggie's sensitive ears. "Louder!"

"Marion"! And it's 'Captain Thomas Marion Marcus' now, dammit!"

Auggie grinned and released his former teammate. "Dude, your parents must have really hated you to give you such a girly middle name."

Tommy groaned, rubbed his neck, and sat up. "I think you've mentioned it once or twice. It's my mother's -"

"Her maiden name. I know. Damn it, dude, what are you doing here? Last I heard, you were in Libya. How'd you end up in this place?

"Libya? Where did you ever get that crazy idea?" He rubbed at his jaw. "Geez, Bro, you still got a mean right uppercut."

"Curtis and Josh, when we got together for..." Auggie suddenly fell silent. "Tommy, how long have you been here?"

Tommy scrubbed at his face. "Not sure. They grabbed me back in July. Drugged me. When I woke up I was locked up in this place. I tried to keep track of the time but they keep moving me to a different room every few days. They kept me from sleeping. They did pretty much everything they could to try to mess with my head. Tried just about every trick we learned about in SERE training."

"You okay?"

"I'm hanging in there. So, what's the date?"

"I think it's around November 15th give or take a day," Auggie guessed.

He took a moment to process the information. "Wow, nearly Thanksgiving. Time flies. So you saw the guys? Did I miss some kind of reunion?"

Auggie knew he had to tell Tommy about their friend Danny. "Tommy, there's something you need to know ..."

Joan strode into Tech Ops. "Sit rep."

Annie looked up from Stu's computer. "We've got the list. We drew a circle and Stu compiled a list of every airport in that one-hour radius. Then we eliminated airstrips that couldn't accommodate a Gulfstream. That still leaves us with an awful lot of ground to cover, Joan."

"That's why this is Plan B. We have to hope that Auggie has his equipment, and will be able to get a message to us."

"And until he does?"

"I'm pulling satellite imagery for those airports," Barber responded. "It's a long shot, but maybe one of our birds snapped that plane while it was on the ground. Once we know where he is, I can get an extraction team in place."

Joan held up a hand. "Slow down, Eric. Remember, Auggie's on a mission. Unless we have cause to believe he's in danger, we need to give him time to work his op."

"But he's -"

"Don't say it. Auggie is well aware of his limitations. We all are. And he knows the risk. He won't do anything foolish. Keep in mind, he's in a privileged position. They'll underestimate him, won't realize who he is or what he's capable of. Let's face it, he's not the typical spy."

"But..."

"No 'buts', Eric. Auggie is tracking down a domestic intelligence failure. Whoever is behind this is exposing our operatives and returning troops to mortal danger. It's an important mission and one that Auggie is eminently qualified for. I want you to handle this the way you would handle any other mission. If you can't dissociate yourself from your personal friendship for Auggie, I'll turn it over to Rossabi's team. "

Barber looked contrite. "No, I can do it."

"Then do it. Have an extraction team ready, but they don't move until we hear from Auggie, or until I say so. Understood?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Tommy sounded confused. "What do you mean? What's going on? What happened?"

Auggie sighed and scratched the stubble on his face, playing for time, trying to find a gentler way to break the sad news he had to share.

The cold rising from the bare tile floor seeped into his bones. "Look, is there somewhere else to sit in here? This is a nice floor and all, but..."

Tommy pushed himself to his feet. "Not much in the way of furnishings. No chairs, but you can sit on the bed," he said reaching down a hand. There was a moment of awkward silence. "I'm holding my hand out in front of your face, Bro. Grab it."

Auggie winced as Tommy pulled him up. "Damn, you still know how to throw a punch."

"That's what you get for being a desk jockey and a goddamn weekend warrior. The bed's about six feet in front of you."

Auggie stopped when he felt his leg bump against the mattress. Sitting, he explained, "Weekend warrior is better than not being a warrior at all. Besides I'm back in now."

"Yeah, right!"

"I'm serious. It's a desk job at the Pentagon, but it's active duty, and I keep my full rank."

Tommy snorted. "Sure beats the hell out of chasing insurgents across the desert."

"Hey, if you want to trade places..."

"You'd do a better job than some of the kids they send us, that's for sure." Auggie felt the mattress depress as Tommy sat next to him. "Okay, Auggie, enough with the chit chat. What's going on? What the hell happened that you don't want to tell me about?"

Auggie sighed and leaned forward, setting his forearms on his knees. "Danny's dead. He drove his truck off a mountainside."

"When?"

Auggie told him what he'd learned from the police and the papers. He kept from mentioning what he'd learned since then. Best keep those things to himself for now. "Anyway, it was when I met up with Curtis, Josh and Graham at the funeral that they told me you were in Libya."

"Libya, hell, I wish! They grabbed me just when I was heading up to Lake Sandpoint to enjoy some well-deserved R&R after having spent six months winning hearts and minds in the mountains of eastern Fuckistan!"

Auggie gave a grunt of laughter. "How'd that work out?"

"Dude, you don't want to know. So, how'd you go from riding a desk to enjoying this fine Rocky Mountain hospitality?"

"Is that where we are? The Rockies?" Now the fatigue and headache made sense. It was the altitude.

"The scenery seems to fit, but it's just a guess. They don't let us out much. So, what brought you here"

"I was at work and had an episode," he said, investing the word with all the contempt he could muster. "My CO insisted I get help. I guess the help wasn't helping fast enough, because the next thing you know, a couple of goons grab me, shoot me full of sleepy juice and I wake up here. They took my clothes, my cane. I don't know what kind of treatment facility this is, but I'm willing to bet it's not the kind they talk about at the APA."

"They've been trying to get me to talk about things I did over there."

"Yeah, me too." Auggie rubbed his eyes. "You tell 'em anything?"

"What? Jesus, no, Auggie! I didn't tell 'em anything I wasn't supposed to tell. But it's hard you know? I'm just so tired, and they can be pretty persuasive."

"What did they do to you?"

"All sorts of shit. Isolation's a big one. You're the first guy I've seen in weeks. Sleep deprivation's another of their favorites. Sensory deprivation, too. They shut you up in this sort of tank."

"Drugs?"

"Yeah, that too. I can't figure out what their game is. These guys are supposed to be helping us deal with the trauma we've been through? I'll take the PTSD, thanks. The one thing they don't seem to be trying is actual thera-"

Auggie held up a hand, silencing his friend. "You hear that?" he whispered.

Tommy shook his head. "I don't hear anything."

"Someone's coming. More than one."

A moment later a key turned in the lock, and the door flew open. "Marcus! On your feet. Time to change rooms."

"Wait. No. This is my room," he cried as they dragged him out. "C'mon, guys. Anderson just got here. He's the one who should be somewhere else, not me! This is a mistake. Auggie, tell 'em. Auggie!" His bare feet slid against the floor.

"Hang in there, Tommy. Stay strong. I'll get you out." But the words rang hollow and Auggie wondered how he'd ever pull that off.

To be continued