by: iluvaqt@hotmail.com
QT's notes: Thank you to all who sent me feedback. It's always appreciated. Aerie, I like both Logan and Alec. But I'd be lying if said I didn't favor reading good Alec fiction. I feel that in Dark Angel, he wasn't a well-developed character, relatively shallow and mostly one-sided. Only in LATR and TBA did they try expanding on that. At times, I find either one easier to write. All depends on the circumstances they're in and the stages of the plot. I get stuck, momentarily, at the end of the 3rd Act, usually. And something has to shove me over the roadblock. One of these days I'll get a chance to write the first episode of Cable Hack {rest assured there's no Alec in that world} ;D
Chapter 16: Cold Comfort
Alec didn't wait for security to confirm their status. He didn't even break pace as he passed through the deserted ground floor lobby.
The backup lighting was poor in comparison to the grand chandeliers that lit areas throughout the hotel. In the corridor, leading from the ballroom, a soft orange glow broke the shadowy darkness. Every few feet, close to the wall, the backup downlights shone. Lighted tubing ran along each marble edge, illuminating the staircase that led to hotel reception.
Alec pulled on one end of his bow-tie and unfastened, while taking the stairs two at a time. He stuffed the black cloth in his jacket pocket and turned a corner to head for the hotel entrance.
When he reached the economically designed, glass atrium, he noticed two of his security staff flanking the exit doors.
"We're allowing checked exits, sir. And only registered hotel guests are approved for entry," the man supplied.
"Good idea." He was about to go through the door, when he noticed the man's watch. "Is that the Titan with Satmap?"
The man gave him a hesitant look, and uncomfortably shifted his arms. "Ah…"
"If I don't get it back to you, as loaned, I'll replace it," Alec said, agitation plain in his stance. He liked a quick chain of action. This guy was stalling his progress.
Sensing his boss' impatience the man quickly loosened the wristband and handed over the watch. "Good as…"
Alec was gone before he could finish and he'd hotwired the nearest set of wheels before either man had time to see which way he went.
Revving the engine of a red Ducati, he took out his earpiece and honed for the sound of helicopter rotors. They were faint; the wind carried the sound from the North East. They had to be going North. If they'd been going South, the rotors wouldn't have been so loud and the engine wouldn't sound slightly strained. He wasn't complaining. Had they been going with the flow, he might have had more trouble picking up their trail.
~*~*~*~
"Robert, it's Louis."
Tash could hear the strain in the Admiral's voice, as he spoke with his son. All his seventy-eight years were showing on his face. Robert. Julianna's husband's name. Only then did all the pieces fall into place. Maggie's only daughter, Julianna, had died of leukemia ten years ago. Her married name was, Berrisford. Rachel was Julianna's daughter. Tash wanted to kick herself at how long it had taken for her to put it together. Alec had disappeared a few months back. Neither Max nor she could figure out where he'd gone. No note. No 'I'm coming back'. Just one afternoon, he was gone. About a week later, he'd called her from a payphone, asking for a wire transfer. He'd been in Gillette, Wyoming, at the time. Considering how touchy the memories of the area where for her, she hadn't pressed him on the subject. Even though Alec had told her that he'd gone to Rachel's funeral, she still had trouble figuring out what had gone down. Why would Berrisford fake his daughter's death? For protection? If so, from who?
"…Rachel's been kidnapped…I couldn't stop it…I'm sorry…" he chocked out. The Admiral gripped the receiver like a lifeline. His knuckles were white and his free hand shook with emotion.
Jones sat leaning on the edge of the LCD directory table. He was a few feet from the Admiral. Tash was sitting in a swivel chair, studying the security monitors with devoted attention. But she wasn't fooling him. He knew that she kept the Admiral in her peripheral vision, and from the firm line of her lips, he knew that she was listening into the conversation. He wondered if she'd already formed an analysis of the situation. She was always quick to pronounce judgment on human behavior. Their parents had been a little anxious at her intuitiveness at times. He pushed off the table and crept up behind her. Pulling a chair close, he leaned in and whispered in her ear. "What's the prognosis, sis?"
"They'll make a ransom demand, but something tells me that even if he pays. They'll kill them both," Tash whispered back. She kept her attention focused on the monitors, pretending that neither of them had said anything.
Sitting back in his chair, Jones took a deep breath and got up. He wouldn't let it happen. Security at he function was his responsibility. If anything happened to the young woman, he'd hold himself personally accountable. "Tom, have we still got Alec on comms?"
The lead technician, swung to face his boss. "Yes, but he's been silent for a few minutes now. Our last communication was from hotel reception."
Jones looked at Tash, who was now standing near the main control desk. "Take the chopper. I'll radio you as soon as we've got a location from him."
Tash wordlessly acknowledged his request. Picking up her clutch bag, she squeezed the Admiral's shoulder as she passed him. He looked up at her and she saw the unshed tears in his eyes. "We'll get her back, I promise."
Jones walked her to the door. "I don't need to tell you to be careful, do I?"
She kissed his cheek and hugged him tight. "No. And I meant what I said, we will get her back."
"I don't doubt it."
~*~*~*~
Robert Berrisford sat in his makeshift study; his head in his hands and tears of frustration streaming down his face.
"I'm just supposed to sit here, while someone tries to get her back? I can't. I won't," he growled. He punched the end-call button and slammed his fist down on the desk. He turned around, his face etched with anger. He clenched his fist until he heard a definite crack, and he hurled the broken handset against the wall. He pulled his tie loose and rested his head against the cool glass of the window. He couldn't protect her. It didn't matter how hard he tried, he still hadn't managed to keep her safe.
There was a knock at the door and he stared at in resentment. It would open, and it wouldn't be Rachel. It wouldn't be his wife, Julianna. It never would be. He'd let Rachel go months ago. He'd done it thinking it was for the best. If he kept her with him, he'd only endanger her more. He'd chosen witness protection; he couldn't force her to do the same. Not when she wouldn't understand why they had to live with constant caution and fear. Not when she couldn't even remember who she really was. So he let Rachel Berrisford die in a coma, and sent the beautiful teenager he loved away. She went to her grandparents in New York. Living under the name of his brother in-law, Mitchell. And he let her go on thinking he was just her uncle from Boston.
Beautiful, smart and gentle, Julianna. Whatever the situation, she'd always been the levelheaded, intelligent one. She'd soothed him, when his temper threatened to get the better of him. She reasoned with him, when he'd wanted to give up on his company, Mercidyne. In its beginning days, Mercidyne had been more stress than it seemed worth. He wondered whether any of it had really been worth it. Now that he'd lost the only precious family had left because of it. He wondered what Julianna would have said to him today. Would she have stayed with him? Would she have understood? Or would she have blamed him?
"Come in."
"Sir, call for you." The butler hastily added, "It's Admiral Mitchell."
The dark look never left Berrisford's face, as he took the handset from the butler. "I'm listening."
"Good. I'd say listen very carefully if you want to see your daughter again."
"Who is this?" Berrisford demanded.
Back in the security center at The Rolands, Jones told the Admiral to keep quiet. They were on a conference call. The kidnapper had called the hotel, asking to talk to Robert Berrisford. They were recording and as soon as they could, they'd patch through the recording to Alec and Tash.
"We'll meet soon. I want $500,000 in $50 unmarked American bills. If you want your daughter back, you'll be at Tuileries Wharf in an hour. Come alone, or you'll regret it."
"But I can't get…" The line was cut. How was he supposed to get that kind of money? There were no banks open at this hour. Even if he cleaned out his safe, he'd still be $450,000 dollars short. And it'd be impossible to get from Boston to Chicago in an hour.
"We can arrange the money, Mr Berrisford," Jones said, breaking the silence that had hung over the open line. "Security was my company's responsibility. Besides, we'll get it back. These bastards won't get away with anything."
"Thank you," Berrisford managed to say.
~*~*~*~
Alec crept along the wharf, hiding in the shadows of the freight containers lining the dock. He'd been about ten miles out of the city when Jones had updated him. Nearing Lake Michigan, he'd lost the sound of the chopper all together. Had he not known the wharf they were meeting Berrisford on, it would have been taken hours to track them down. Time Rachel didn't have.
He stepped to the corner of a storage warehouse and peaked around. A few hundred feet down, he saw the helicopter. It was empty, bar the pilot. And from the light of one bay spotlight, illuminating the surrounding area, he noticed there was nobody else around. Crouching low and running closer, he planted himself flat against the wall and tried to listen out for voices.
"Alec?"
His earpiece buzzed in his ear and he could hear Jones on the other end. "I'm at the wharf," Alec whispered.
"The plan is to wait. We can't risk anything. Have you seen Rachel?"
"No. I've seen the helicopter. I'm still tracking the guys. Wait…" he paused. He heard voices from somewhere nearby. They were very close. They couldn't be more than a few hundred feet away.
"If he's smart, he'll come alone," a man said coldly.
"We know he's smart, it's smarts that earned him a hit."
A chill ran through his body and Alec touched his forehead to the cold steel in front of him. He closed his eyes. The men talked for a little longer about the bets they had on whether Berrisford would bring clean money, or if he'd come armed or not. All Alec could think about was how he'd get both Rachel and her father out of this alive.
"Alec, Berrisford will be there in twenty minutes. He's on his way now. We have a back up team, but he'll be going in alone. We'll have eyes and ears. Tash says she'll be there in five."
A couple seconds passed and another crackling sounded in his ear.
"Alec, you can reach me on comms. Stay put. Remember, I got your back," Tash reminded him sternly.
"I don't like it. This is a trap. I think all they want is Berrisford, Rachel's bait." Alec clenched his fist and resisted the urge to pound metal.
"Trap or not. They'll kill Rachel if he doesn't show. If they're serious enough to kill Berrisford, believe they'll kill anyone who gets in their way. I'll talk to Berrisford," Jones said.
In the distance, Alec heard the comforting sound of Worsely Corp's Astar helicopter. All the back up he needed had just arrived.
~*~*~*~
Rachel felt her conscious return with a thump. She groaned, and tilted her head to ease the ache in her neck. Her thick auburn hair fell over her face and she automatically lifted her hands to rub the tender spot on her head. She only got halfway up her back. Her hands were firmly tied together with duct tape and it was only then, that she realized where she was.
Feeling fear rise in her throat, she chocked down the urge to scream. It would be useless anyway. The rag stuffed in her mouth would effectively muffle any sound she made. The material had dried out her tongue and she felt like gagging. They'd taped it in, and she had to calm her nerves and remind herself to breath evenly, or she'd end up hyperventilating. For what felt like forever, she'd had a horrible fear of suffocating. She'd heard her doctor tell her grandparents that it was probably a nightmare from the time she'd been in a coma. She had to keep reminding herself now that it was just a gag. She could breathe fine through her nose. So long as she didn't pass out and choke on it, she'd be okay.
It was completely black, and she couldn't make out anything that would hint to her location. Letting her eyes adjust, things slowly came into focus. Shadowy shapes came out of the darkness and she saw a short flight of stairs leading to a door. It was an odd shape. It had rounded edges and a round wheel on it. Looking up, the ceiling looked very high. But the darkness could be distorting her perception, so she didn't bank on her estimation.
When she tried to get up, she realized she'd been tied to something. A cord, or rope of some kind was loosely wrapped around her waist. She wasn't sitting on a chair either, it felt more like a box, a crate maybe. Was she in some sort of warehouse, a basement?
The door. She racked her brain trying to visualize the relationship she was trying to make. Then it hit her. About six months ago she'd taken a tour with her grandfather. They'd visited a battleship docked in New York. All the doors and bulkheads below deck had, had rounded edges and wheel locks. She had to be on a boat. A loud, drawn out groan startled her and sent a chill up and down her spine. She prayed that her thoughts weren't true. The worst thing that could happen was that they were moving.