Chapter 2
***
Washington, D.C.
Saturday, 6:52 AM EST
Josh swaggered into the West Wing's lobby, swiping his keycard at the door with one hand and maneuvering the coffee and bagels he carried in the other as he punched in the necessary security code. He walked through the bullpen and into his office, turning on the lights as he went through. Just as he was about to set the coffee and bagels down on his desk, he realized something was wrong. The bullpen was quiet. And empty.
Donna wasn't there.
"Donna!" he screamed, turning on his heels and stepping into Donna's cubicle in the bullpen. "For crying out loud! Where are you?"
He continued mumbling as he threw off his coat and headed to the other side of the building. "She knows damn well...she is so dead."
"Who's dead?" Sam asked, joining Josh in the lobby.
"What are you doing here so early?"
"I couldn't sleep so I went for a walk. Nothing like a brisk walk in the morning to get the creative juices flowing."
"Writer's block?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Sam replied quickly. "Who's dead?"
"Who do you think?"
"Donna? What'd she do?"
"She's not here!"
"Josh. It's Saturday. Plus, most of Congress is away for the break."
"I know. But I called her last night, or really, early this morning telling her to come in today."
"It's not even seven o'clock yet," Sam said, glancing at his watch.
"Yeah, but I told her seven, which in Donna-time translates to 6:45 if not earlier."
"She's never late?" Sam asked, skeptically.
"Since she started working for me during the campaign, Donna has been late a total of two times. So believe me when I tell you Donnatella Moss does not know the meaning of being late."
"Give her time, Josh. Maybe there was traffic," Sam offered. "I really should get started."
"'Kay. It's just-I'm here; Donna should be, too. I need her to, you know, look up stuff for me."
Sam smiled. "Don't worry. She'll be here."
"Yeah," Josh sighed. She better be, he thought.
***
Sterling, Virginia
Saturday, 7:16 AM EST
Sydney Bristow strode past customs with her small suitcase in tow and exited into the main terminal of Dulles International Airport, checking the boards in the process to see how much time she had to make her connecting flight. She barely noticed the string of chauffeurs and other drivers holding up name signs, on either side of the rope line, until one name in particular caught her attention.
"I'm Danielle Ford," she said, recognizing one of the established CIA emergency go-to names and growing tense at the same moment. She wasn't expected to make contact with the CIA until she returned to LA.
"Was Milan cold for this time of year?" the junior agent inquired.
"Not any warmer than Naples," Sydney replied, completing the confirmation of her identity.
"Right this way, Miss Ford." The agent gestured to the door and led Sydney outside to a large black town car waiting at the curb. She made one, quick glance back into the terminal before getting into the car.
"Good flight?" came the voice from behind the wheel.
Sydney instantly relaxed but waited until the door was closed to speak. "Vaughn? What are you doing here?" she asked, addressing her CIA handler, Michael Vaughn.
"We've got a problem," he said, pulling into traffic. "I'll tell you when we get there."
"I guess I'm not making my next flight."
***
Washington, D.C.
Saturday, 8:08 AM EST
Josh sat at his desk concentrating, or at least he hoped he looked like he was concentrating. Despite the latest budget breakdown spread out in front of him, he was having trouble focusing. He kept switching from incessantly checking the time on his watch to dialing the same number over and over again before slamming the phone down in frustration. His head jerked up when he heard a soft knock on the open door.
"Well, it's about damn time-- " Josh stopped short. "C.J.?" He swallowed back his surprise.
"And a good morning to you, Joshua," C.J. replied.
"Sorry about that," he said, standing. "I-I didn't realize it was, uh, you."
"And there's someone in this building who deserves to be addressed in the way you were just about to?" C.J. folded her arms and peered at Josh in a manner that he was all too familiar with.
"C'mon, C.J.. I didn't...Please don't...I just..." Josh stammered.
"Wanna finish a sentence there, mi compadre?"
"Donna's not here yet," was all Josh managed to say.
"It's Saturday."
"I know," Josh whined. "But-how many times do I have to repeat myself?"
"You work her too hard. You know that, right? You don't see Carol here first thing on a Saturday morning, do you?"
"Uh, C.J.?" Josh said, nodding toward the doorway.
C.J. sighed. "Carol's standing right there, isn't she?"
"Uh-huh."
"Morning," Carol cheerfully responded from her position in the bullpen. "Here's everything I could find on Jeff Breckenridge."
"Jeff Breckenridge?" Josh perked up. "Really?"
"Yeah. Thanks, Carol," C.J. called behind her as Carol walked away. "Well, let's check out your mystery man."
Josh began to leaf through the folder. "Graduated in the top five of his class at Fisk University, interned at Debevoise & Plimpton...he told me that." Josh's voice trailed off.
"Made partner," C.J. continued, "at Samson, Lewis, and Wood in '85. Left to join the Southern Poverty Law Center in '89. This is everything we knew about him before."
"Hey, is there a picture in there?"
"Just the one that ran in the paper. It was taken in the spring of 2000."
"That's right around the time I met with him about the Assistant Attorney General position. Do you honestly not remember seeing him, C.J.? I was in with him all morning, and then we left for lunch."
"Josh, that was like three years ago. I honestly couldn't tell you what I had for breakfast this morning."
"I don't get this," Josh moaned, running his hand through his hair. "If that's Jeff Breckenridge," he said indicating the photo, "then who the hell did I meet with?"
"Can't help you there. Who did see you with him?"
"Donna. A couple of staffers. I don't know. She-Donna brought him in from the lobby. She saw us leave for lunch. She made me bring her back a fruit smoothie."
"You remember all that?" C.J. asked, lowering her glasses.
"Yeah," he replied innocently. "It was during her health food kick." He paused for a moment, thinking back. "She's probably the only other person here who's gonna remember the guy."
"Well, I guess you'll just have to wait until she gets here."
"Yeah, whenever that is." Josh surveyed the stacks of paper piled on his desk. He had work he should be doing, the least of which was obsessing over why Donna wasn't in the office.
"Come get me if you find out anything," C.J. said. "I'll be in my office."
"Okay. Thanks, C.J.," Josh sighed. He reached for his phone to dial the number for the twenty-ninth time. With each dull ring, Josh's frustration turned into concern.
"Where is she?"
***
Undisclosed Location
Saturday, time unknown
Donna awoke with a sudden jerk. For the briefest moment, she thought she was falling. She had a vague recollection that she'd been dreaming. Slightly disoriented, she forced her eyes to stay open. Damp stone walls surrounded her on four sides, and a small casement window let the only bit of sunlight in behind her. She attempted to sit up but found herself chained to a military-style cot she was laying on.
She slowly lifted her free hand to her face, hoping to wipe away whatever nightmare she was experiencing. She would be back in her bed in her apartment waiting to groan at her alarm clock for waking her after the week she had just been through. Instead, as her fingers met her forehead, she touched what unexpectedly felt like dried blood and a dull pain above her left eye.
Then Donna remembered the men with the guns. And the handcuffs and the back of a van. Everything after that was fuzzy. In the distance, she could hear the heavy slam of steel doors.
"Where am I?"
o
***
tbc...
***
Washington, D.C.
Saturday, 6:52 AM EST
Josh swaggered into the West Wing's lobby, swiping his keycard at the door with one hand and maneuvering the coffee and bagels he carried in the other as he punched in the necessary security code. He walked through the bullpen and into his office, turning on the lights as he went through. Just as he was about to set the coffee and bagels down on his desk, he realized something was wrong. The bullpen was quiet. And empty.
Donna wasn't there.
"Donna!" he screamed, turning on his heels and stepping into Donna's cubicle in the bullpen. "For crying out loud! Where are you?"
He continued mumbling as he threw off his coat and headed to the other side of the building. "She knows damn well...she is so dead."
"Who's dead?" Sam asked, joining Josh in the lobby.
"What are you doing here so early?"
"I couldn't sleep so I went for a walk. Nothing like a brisk walk in the morning to get the creative juices flowing."
"Writer's block?"
"I don't want to talk about it," Sam replied quickly. "Who's dead?"
"Who do you think?"
"Donna? What'd she do?"
"She's not here!"
"Josh. It's Saturday. Plus, most of Congress is away for the break."
"I know. But I called her last night, or really, early this morning telling her to come in today."
"It's not even seven o'clock yet," Sam said, glancing at his watch.
"Yeah, but I told her seven, which in Donna-time translates to 6:45 if not earlier."
"She's never late?" Sam asked, skeptically.
"Since she started working for me during the campaign, Donna has been late a total of two times. So believe me when I tell you Donnatella Moss does not know the meaning of being late."
"Give her time, Josh. Maybe there was traffic," Sam offered. "I really should get started."
"'Kay. It's just-I'm here; Donna should be, too. I need her to, you know, look up stuff for me."
Sam smiled. "Don't worry. She'll be here."
"Yeah," Josh sighed. She better be, he thought.
***
Sterling, Virginia
Saturday, 7:16 AM EST
Sydney Bristow strode past customs with her small suitcase in tow and exited into the main terminal of Dulles International Airport, checking the boards in the process to see how much time she had to make her connecting flight. She barely noticed the string of chauffeurs and other drivers holding up name signs, on either side of the rope line, until one name in particular caught her attention.
"I'm Danielle Ford," she said, recognizing one of the established CIA emergency go-to names and growing tense at the same moment. She wasn't expected to make contact with the CIA until she returned to LA.
"Was Milan cold for this time of year?" the junior agent inquired.
"Not any warmer than Naples," Sydney replied, completing the confirmation of her identity.
"Right this way, Miss Ford." The agent gestured to the door and led Sydney outside to a large black town car waiting at the curb. She made one, quick glance back into the terminal before getting into the car.
"Good flight?" came the voice from behind the wheel.
Sydney instantly relaxed but waited until the door was closed to speak. "Vaughn? What are you doing here?" she asked, addressing her CIA handler, Michael Vaughn.
"We've got a problem," he said, pulling into traffic. "I'll tell you when we get there."
"I guess I'm not making my next flight."
***
Washington, D.C.
Saturday, 8:08 AM EST
Josh sat at his desk concentrating, or at least he hoped he looked like he was concentrating. Despite the latest budget breakdown spread out in front of him, he was having trouble focusing. He kept switching from incessantly checking the time on his watch to dialing the same number over and over again before slamming the phone down in frustration. His head jerked up when he heard a soft knock on the open door.
"Well, it's about damn time-- " Josh stopped short. "C.J.?" He swallowed back his surprise.
"And a good morning to you, Joshua," C.J. replied.
"Sorry about that," he said, standing. "I-I didn't realize it was, uh, you."
"And there's someone in this building who deserves to be addressed in the way you were just about to?" C.J. folded her arms and peered at Josh in a manner that he was all too familiar with.
"C'mon, C.J.. I didn't...Please don't...I just..." Josh stammered.
"Wanna finish a sentence there, mi compadre?"
"Donna's not here yet," was all Josh managed to say.
"It's Saturday."
"I know," Josh whined. "But-how many times do I have to repeat myself?"
"You work her too hard. You know that, right? You don't see Carol here first thing on a Saturday morning, do you?"
"Uh, C.J.?" Josh said, nodding toward the doorway.
C.J. sighed. "Carol's standing right there, isn't she?"
"Uh-huh."
"Morning," Carol cheerfully responded from her position in the bullpen. "Here's everything I could find on Jeff Breckenridge."
"Jeff Breckenridge?" Josh perked up. "Really?"
"Yeah. Thanks, Carol," C.J. called behind her as Carol walked away. "Well, let's check out your mystery man."
Josh began to leaf through the folder. "Graduated in the top five of his class at Fisk University, interned at Debevoise & Plimpton...he told me that." Josh's voice trailed off.
"Made partner," C.J. continued, "at Samson, Lewis, and Wood in '85. Left to join the Southern Poverty Law Center in '89. This is everything we knew about him before."
"Hey, is there a picture in there?"
"Just the one that ran in the paper. It was taken in the spring of 2000."
"That's right around the time I met with him about the Assistant Attorney General position. Do you honestly not remember seeing him, C.J.? I was in with him all morning, and then we left for lunch."
"Josh, that was like three years ago. I honestly couldn't tell you what I had for breakfast this morning."
"I don't get this," Josh moaned, running his hand through his hair. "If that's Jeff Breckenridge," he said indicating the photo, "then who the hell did I meet with?"
"Can't help you there. Who did see you with him?"
"Donna. A couple of staffers. I don't know. She-Donna brought him in from the lobby. She saw us leave for lunch. She made me bring her back a fruit smoothie."
"You remember all that?" C.J. asked, lowering her glasses.
"Yeah," he replied innocently. "It was during her health food kick." He paused for a moment, thinking back. "She's probably the only other person here who's gonna remember the guy."
"Well, I guess you'll just have to wait until she gets here."
"Yeah, whenever that is." Josh surveyed the stacks of paper piled on his desk. He had work he should be doing, the least of which was obsessing over why Donna wasn't in the office.
"Come get me if you find out anything," C.J. said. "I'll be in my office."
"Okay. Thanks, C.J.," Josh sighed. He reached for his phone to dial the number for the twenty-ninth time. With each dull ring, Josh's frustration turned into concern.
"Where is she?"
***
Undisclosed Location
Saturday, time unknown
Donna awoke with a sudden jerk. For the briefest moment, she thought she was falling. She had a vague recollection that she'd been dreaming. Slightly disoriented, she forced her eyes to stay open. Damp stone walls surrounded her on four sides, and a small casement window let the only bit of sunlight in behind her. She attempted to sit up but found herself chained to a military-style cot she was laying on.
She slowly lifted her free hand to her face, hoping to wipe away whatever nightmare she was experiencing. She would be back in her bed in her apartment waiting to groan at her alarm clock for waking her after the week she had just been through. Instead, as her fingers met her forehead, she touched what unexpectedly felt like dried blood and a dull pain above her left eye.
Then Donna remembered the men with the guns. And the handcuffs and the back of a van. Everything after that was fuzzy. In the distance, she could hear the heavy slam of steel doors.
"Where am I?"
o
***
tbc...