EYE OPENING EXPERIENCES

Thirty minutes passed, then forty, then forty-five, and then an hour.  There was no sign of Pax anywhere.  Where the hell is she, Donovan wondered.  Impatiently, he went to the phone and called the paper.  He listened to the voice on the other end of the line and his jaw dropped slightly in shock.  Donovan stared down at the phone.  He was told that a fire alarm had gone off and the building was vacated.  Pax had never returned.  Fuck.  Something happened to her.  Goddamn it.  He made swift contact with Jake and Alex.  After that, he truly began to worry.  He called them back, just as he had called her back an hour ago.  Jesus.  Where was she?  Where the hell would he start looking for her?  Pax?  Where the fuck are you? 

*  *  *

When Pax regained consciousness, her mouth was gagged and her hands and feet were bound with thick twine rope.  Damn it.  Where was she?  Who hit her?  What did he hit her with?  When she got her hands on him, she'd kick his fucking ass.  She took in her surroundings and realized that she was in the back of a van.  The front of it was blocked off, so she wasn't sure who was driving the fucking thing, but she didn't doubt it was one of the fucking goons.  I can't believe Donovan was right about that little prick fucker.  The mole had been Graham all along.  She didn't understand why he took so long to show his face.  Gritting her teeth and scooting her body to a good spot, she raised her legs as high as she could.  Without a thought as to how hard the wall was, she brought her legs up and out, slamming into it with all her strength.  She felt the jarring sensation starting from her feet all the way up to her head.  It hurt like hell, but she did it again, and then again.  She wouldn't stop until someone fucking looked at her.  She felt the van stop abruptly. 

The van door slid open and the interior was suddenly bathed with bright sunlight.  She shielded her eyes against the intrusion and watched as a man climbed in with her.  He slammed the doors behind him.  When her eyes adjusted to the darkness again, she realized that she was staring at David fucking Graham.  He snatched the gag out of her mouth.  She didn't have her feet or her hands.  All she had was her mouth and teeth.  How much damage could she do to him?  He said nothing to her at first, but he was quite tempted to smack her again.  The side of her face was reddening and would likely bruise by morning.  Perhaps she would enjoy getting another upper cut to that area?  It wasn't often he had her at a disadvantage.  He smiled a little as she snarled up at him.  If her hands and feet were loose, she might get away with killing him.  Yet, it wasn't quite time for her to die, so he had to resist the urge to fight with her. 

"Come on, J.E., did you think we'd keep you around Donovan very long?  You're going to stay with me for a few days until we make our little shipment and then you're going to call in your lover.  I'll kill you both to settle a score for family."

She looked up at him, her snarl never leaving her face.  "Family?  What the fuck are you talking about?"

He drew close to her, cupping her face painfully in his hand.  It hurt like fuck, but there was no way she would cry out and give him the satisfaction.  "Tore Raynor?  Have you ever heard of him?  I'm sure you have, haven't you, jomfru [virgin]?  He told me about you and your CIA days.  He also spoke about the unfortunate death of your son.  I'm not David Graham.  I'm Onde Raynor, Tore's cousin.  I've always done work for him, but when I heard what you did, I jumped at the chance to get to you this way.  You ruined his life and now I am set to ruin yours.  Don't worry, your lover will join you and your son in death soon enough.  Shut up, don't speak, because my trigger finger is itchy."

She spat in his face.  "Fuck you."

*  *  *

It was a quiet day on the harbor.  Jim and Cal were out fishing.  It was actually colder than a well digger's ass, but they were bored and thought they'd fish around for something interesting.  Jim had a taste for fresh fish.  Cal didn't give a shit either way.  Going fishing was just an excuse to get away from the nagging wife for a few hours.  Jim reached over for a fresh beer as Cal grumbled incoherently.  He swore off suds a few weeks ago [another bright idea supplied by the nagging wife] and he was aching for a taste of the pale ale.  Oh well.  Hopefully, he'd grab a fish or three and have something to take to the house other than a booming headache.  Jim cast his line and watched it tick away.  It hit the water yards away with a loud woosh and he kicked back and waited for the bite.  Almost immediately, he felt a hard tug.  Hot damn.  He had caught a big one from the way his pole was bending.  It took both Jim and Cal to hold the pole to reel the big fucker in.  What the hell had he caught?  Jaws?  They pulled and tugged, tugged and pulled.  What they were expecting to pop up to the surface wasn't what they saw.  Dear Jesus, a body!

Both Jim and Cal had puked about nine dozen times since the Chicago cops had arrived; they were literally crawling all over the place.  The man was stripped naked, his throat slashed.  He was fair skinned with blond hair and green eyes.  How in the world did this poor fuck end up in the harbor?  Cal and Jim were so choked up that they didn't see the small tattoo below the man's left nipple.  It was simple, only consisting of two initials:  "DG." 

*  *  *

It had been a good three hours since Donovan had last heard from Pax.  He called the paper again and was then told that both she and David Graham were missing.  Goddamn David Graham.  He was the fucking double agent.  How the hell could they not find something in his record?  Donovan stood behind Cody and had him check Graham's background nine dozen times.  Nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  Jesus.  Where the fuck are you, Pax?  As Donovan stood behind Cody contemplating his next move, he didn't know why the idea had eluded him.

"Fuck," he growled suddenly.  "Can you pull up a photo?"

A few moments later, Donovan was staring at the true face of David Graham.  Without bothering to bark an order to Cody, he ran upstairs and began calling various police precincts around the city.  He was certain that the real David Graham had met a swift demise.  The next question was, who the hell was the other man?  The thought of Graham not being Graham was disturbing.  The idea that the true David Graham was dead was horrifying.  However, the thought of Pax being in the hands of someone else was terrifying. 

*  *  *

After Raynor wiped the spittle off his face, he was completely tempted to strangle her.  Yet, he wanted to wait to exact revenge.  He wanted to bring Donovan as much pain as she had brought to Ingrid and her sons.  He sat back out of her way so he she wouldn't spit on him again.  He smiled a little when he gazed at her snarling face.  There were dozens of ways to kill a person and he had used more than his fair share of them.  Jonella Paxton was special.  He would finish her off slowly, just as his cousin had wanted.  What was it that Donovan liked about her?  Was it her hair?  Perhaps he would peel her scalp right off her head and send it to her lover before he met his own demise.  Would he enjoy that gift?  What else?  Perhaps he would gouge out her eyes and send them along at the same time.  Interesting.  His smile grew wider.  The thoughts swirling in his mind comforted him.  Apparently, Donovan thought the world of this bitch.  He had given her an expensive ring.  Hmmm.  That gave him another idea.  Perhaps he could stuff the rings onto her tongue as yet another souvenir of his lost love. 

The van stopped again and the sudden movement jarred Pax's body for the second time.  As soon as it stopped, Raynor bolted out the back door and shouted a command in Norwegian:  Hjelp med henne; hun er en vill.  [Help with her; she's a wild one]  Pax watched as Raynor's helper came to assist him.  She groaned when she recognized Sekher.  She would have to deal with both henchmen.  Jesus.  There was little she could do tied up like she was.  She couldn't spit them too death.  As Raynor grabbed her feet, he began to pull her toward him.  She fought against them, cursing and spitting with everything in her.  As soon as they neared the door with her, Sekher grabbed hold of her bound hands.  They looked all around them for witnesses.  The warehouse was relatively secluded, but if someone happened upon them, he/she would be shot on sight.  They had difficulty carrying her because she wasn't cooperating.  Raynor was damn close to knocking her unconscious, but she had to be awake when he made the call.  If not, Donovan might not believe that he had his girlfriend.

Pax looked all around her as they made the journey from the van to the warehouse.  She was remembering everything, from the landscape to the smell to the dark gray building looming ahead of her.  She also studied the nondescript white van with tag number UGL031.  She wanted to memorize it all.  If she didn't, she might not have anything to tell.  Tell who?  Who do you think is going to come to your rescue, you fucking idiot?  Not Donovan, that's for damn sure.  He doesn't even know you're gone.  For all he knows, you fucking took off again.  The two men carried her into the dark building and set her body down onto an uncomfortable wooden chair.  Until her eyes adjusted to the dark, she wouldn't see anything around her.  She would have to wait it out.

"Behold Deres øyne på henne. Jeg lager et rop," Raynor ordered.  ["Keep your eyes on her.  I must make a call."]  He went outside and walked a few steps forward.  If he was any closer to the warehouse, his phone might pick up the generator at the back of it, and give away her location.  It wasn't time for that.  Donovan hadn't received his gifts yet.  He dialed a number and waited patiently.  It was Donovan's work cell number.  Not many people had it, but Raynor did.  He listened to the brusque greeting, "Donovan," before he smiled widely, broadly.  "Nice to speak to you again, Agent Donovan.  Recognize my voice?"

On the other end, Donovan closed his eyes for a moment and clenched his teeth together.  "What the fuck have you done with Agent Paxton?"

Raynor laughed a little.  How Donovan had enjoyed playing his game with Tore.  He would enjoy returning the favor.  "Agent Paxton?  How so very formal, Agent Donovan.  Do you call all your lovers such formal names?  Listen to me and listen carefully.  Your girlfriend, fiancée, fuck buddy, or whatever, is my captive.  For now, she's alive, but I could change that quickly, you know."

"Who are you really," Donovan demanded.  "How can I give you want you want if you have made no demands."

"In due time, Agent Donovan, in due time.  You and your elsker [lover] destroyed my cousin's life.  His name was Tore Raynor and I'm certain you remember him well.  After all, it wasn't that long ago, was it?  If you give us two days to get our shipment out, I'll return your elsker to you.  If you wait, I'll send you pieces from time to time, beginning with her scalp."

Donovan clenched his jaws together and held back the curses that threatened to spill out of him.  He had to remain calm.  Men like this fed off panic.  "How do I know to trust you with this bargain?  How do I know you have Agent Paxton with you?  How do I know she isn't dead already?"

Raynor walked toward the door of the warehouse and kicked it open.  "Dra hennes hår!" ["Pull her hair!"]

Pax's scream came loud and clear over the line.  He clenched his fist to go along with his jaw.  It would have been fairly easy for him to lose his mind, to let go, but he didn't.  He held onto his mental faculties and waited until the scream died down.  In the background, he heard a faraway whining, and the noise imprinted on his brain.  He might need it for later.  "Enough," Donovan shouted.  "If I let your shipment go through, will you release her?"

"I won't answer that," Raynor said.  "But if you don't, her scalp will be in the mail to you tomorrow."  He hung up in Donovan's ear.

Donovan snapped his phone closed and bolted downstairs.  "They have Pax and we have to find her.  I heard some type of high-pitched whine in the background.  It sounded like a generator."  He glanced at Cody.  "What can we do with that?"

"Not much, Boss, but I can try."

*  *  *

Cautiously, Pax watched the two men exchanging conversation in Norwegian.  She didn't understand much of it.  She picked up a word here and there.  From what she could recall, it sounded as if they intended to leave.  She wasn't sure how long they would be gone.  By this time, her eyes had finally adjusted to the darkness and she had begun looking around.  She was afraid to move her head, because it might raise suspicion. 

Both men turned to look at Pax.  She watched as Raynor approached her.  "We'll be back to you shortly, Agent Paxton.  Do try to be a good girl."

As soon as the two men were out of the warehouse, Pax began shifting her head from side to side.  At first, she saw nothing in the room.  This had obviously been a place where the gang had once stockpiled something.  There was tons of floor space.  Feeling trapped, she worked her way out of the chair until her body hit the concrete floor with a solid THUD.  She couldn't see the other side of the room without dragging herself down.  What she saw in the corner of the room nearly made her cry.  It was a phone, albeit, an old looking rotary, but it was a phone all the same.  Had the fuckers been too stupid to notice?  Yet, there was always the chance that the phone wouldn't work.  She had to take a chance.  Painfully, inch-by-inch, she scooted her body along the floor, feeling the friction it created against her clothing.  She had to know.  Pax scooted and pushed, rubbing herself raw in places from where loose sand had bitten into her flesh.  She came upon the phone, saw the cord sticking out the back of it, and jerked on it.  It didn't come loose.  Thank God for that.

Pax yanked on the cord, pulling the phone down onto the floor.  It made an audible CLANG.  The noise reverberated in the room ten times louder than it was supposed to, and she laid still, listening for the two men.  She held her breath and waited for them to run through the door.  When they didn't, she let out a deep breath.  The receiver had fallen off the phone.  Feeling like an idiot for taking an incredible chance, she leaned down as far as she could.  When she heard the steady wah wah wah, she did cry a little.  Oh God.  Thank God.  She worked herself clumsily to the side, her legs straining and aching.  When she found that she could pick up the receiver, she thanked the crazy fucks for tying her hands criss cross fashion.  She dropped it down noisily, hanging it up.  She knocked it off the hook again and hit zero.

The phone rang and Donovan swooped over to get it.  "Donovan."

"Frank?"

Jesus.  It was Pax.  "Jonella?  Where are you?"  Her voice sounded strained and a little far away.

"No time to speak.  Get your computer guy to trace the call.  I'm not sure how long I'll be alone."  She said nothing else.  She left the phone off the hook and pushed it far back into the shadows.

Donovan listened as Pax grunted and groaned, scooting her way back to the chair.  "Start the trace," Donovan barked.

"Already on it, Boss."

"Thank you, Cody."

They waited several painstaking moments, continuing to listen to Pax moving around.  "Boss, got it."

When Raynor and Sekher returned, they saw Pax sprawled out on the floor.  "Can't get very far all tied up, can you," Raynor asked with a smile.  He dragged her up and slammed her down in the chair again.  "Such hatred on your face, Agent Paxton.  I'm only honoring my family.  What was your motivation?"

"My son, you bastard," she said through clenched teeth.  "Did your beloved cousin tell you how he died?  Did he tell you how he threw my son into oncoming traffic to save his ass?  Just fucking kill me now.  I know that's what you're going to do."

"I decide when you die, not you."

It took no longer than forty-five minutes for the team to find the warehouse.  They parked a good mile or so away and had contacted enough backup to lead the men away once they were captured.  As they approached, Donovan instructed them to spread out.  They'd heard from Cody a few moments ago and there didn't appear to be any type of surveillance here.  They slowly spread out around the building, looking for a weakness and an entrance.  They simply couldn't burst in with guns blazing.  They had no idea how many men were inside. 

"Any movement, Cody," Donovan asked as he ducked behind an industrial size dumpster.

"Nope.  None.  I don't think it's like Literville, Boss."

Donovan moved away slowly, keeping watch and listening.  "Alex?  Jake?"

"Nothing," both agents echoed.

Donovan moved on and around the warehouse.  There were no low windows.  Gaining entrance without much fanfare wouldn't be easy.  By the time Donovan made it around the back, his eyes spied a ladder.  It appeared old and rusty.  When he reached out and grabbed it, it seemed strong enough to hold him.  He looked straight up and saw a small window toward the roof.  There was another floor or a loft.  "I found a ladder," Donovan said.  "I'm climbing up to check it out.  I have no idea where it's going to lead."  Steadily, he climbed up just to the edge of the window.  He knew if he were spotted, Pax would lose her life.  He argued with himself for three minutes or more, before he decided it was now or never.  Steeling himself, he looked into the window and spotted a loft.  He saw nothing.  He rose up further and spied three figures several feet below.  He looked down quickly.  "I see them."

"Can we gain entrance," Jake asked.

"I'll have to break the window, but by that time, Pax will be dead."  Jesus.  What the hell was he going to do?  He looked up and over again.  "Movement inside.  I think they might be coming outside.  Both of you go around to the side.  If I see them moving toward the door, I'll let you know.  If they come out, jump them."  He watched carefully as they moved closer to the door.  "Move," he commanded.

As Raynor and Sekher exited the warehouse, two people jumped them.  Donovan wasted no time smashing out the window.  His body barely fit through it.  He stepped out onto a creaky loft and searched for a ladder.  "Jonella," he called down.  "Are you all right?"

She looked up toward the voice.  "It's about fucking time," she grumbled.  "Get me out of these fucking ropes.  Your super agents are getting all the glory."

He smiled a little.  She was fine.  He stepped carefully over to the ladder and swung down and around to it.  It took him all of three seconds to get down to the bottom floor.  He kneeled before her and began working on the ropes tied around her ankles.

"You're down on bended knee," she said with a sarcastic little smile.

"Shut up.  You want out of the ropes or not," he asked looking up at her.

"I do, just hurry the fuck up."  She looked down at him.  "Frank?  Will you be my perpetual fiancé?"

He looked up at her again, gazing at her crazily.  "Don't we already have that worked out?"

He'd finished with the ropes on her ankles and began working on her wrists.  "Yeah, I suppose we do, but I thought I'd ask anyway.  Things kinda run through a girl's mind when she's kidnapped and threatened with death.  So, I thought 'what the hell.'"

Donovan stopped what he was doing to look at her again.  "The answer is yes.  Now stop wiggling around or I'll never free you."  

____________________

To be continued…