Hacking It
The Russian translator turned up the audio levels, trying to hear Kostya more clearly. It still sounded like mangled gargling to Nick, but the voice steeled him.
"He's saying that they shouldn't hurt her," the translator said. He frowned at the screen and replayed a segment. "They shouldn't hurt her if they want her to . . . something about information."
"Information?" Gil repeated, leaning closer. "He said that?"
The translator nodded. "I'm not sure what it means, the word he used, but it had to do with the information."
"Accessing it?" Grissom asked. The translator nodded. "So they want her to hack—"
"Hack!" the translator exclaimed, pointing and nodding at Grissom. "That's the word."
Nick raised an eyebrow at that as the translator resumed a more subdued stance.
"—they want her to hack into the information," Grissom finished. "Why her?"
Warrick shrugged and took a swing at it. "Wouldn't they have someone in place to do that? Someone they knew and trusted?"
"Unless that fell through," Grissom said. "Well, Jill studies computer science. Maybe they think she can hack as well."
Nick shut his eyes and leaned forward, cradling his head in his hands. His conversation with Kostya in the car replayed in his mind. Nick swore under his breath.
"What?" his boss asked.
The Texan shook his head, and frowned. "I'm the one who told them about Jill's degree." He sighed heavily as additional guilt settled over him. "That's probably why they kept her. Because I told them what she could do."
He started to berate himself in his mind, wincing at his own voice in his head. How stupid could he be! Why not just take a gun and hold it to her head himself? The police car's surveillance had shown how dangerous things were getting for her. Lane hit her!
"Hey, man," Warrick said, startling Nick's guilt trip. "That probably saved her."
"Statistically, hostages used as leverage are killed as soon as they aren't need," Grissom added. "You gave them reason to keep her alive."
Nick didn't say anything, but shut his eyes again.
"And with the Russian," Gil continued, "he stepped up to defend her."
"So they could get what they want," Nick said.
Gil shook his head. "No. His body language doesn't suggest that." Gil's eyes flickered to a freeze-frame of the incident in Arizona. "He was protecting her. I'm willing to bet what he said was just an excuse so the others wouldn't hurt her."
Nick glanced to that freeze-frame. He hoped Grissom was right. He hoped Kostya was protecting Jill. He hoped Lane wouldn't hurt her.
He was scared to think what was happening to her now.
The tears had dried long ago, but Jill could still feel the path they left on her face. She'd told herself not to cry, over and over again. But somewhere along the way to wherever they went, she broke down.
She hadn't sobbed or been loud about it. She just valiantly blinked back the tears until they wouldn't hold anymore. The flood had come when they arrived outside some old building that looked abandoned. Lane had jumped out of the car and yanked her along with him. She jogged slightly to keep up with his furious pace. Even after driving for an hour or more, he hadn't calmed down.
Jill discovered that in full force when he flung her to the floor of the abandoned building. She quickly scrambled away from him, backing up until she was cornered, against a wall. Lane stalked towards her slowly, his eyes bright yet narrow. His mouth was a thin line, with his lips pursed together tightly.
He reached for her, whirling her around so that her back was to him. His hands gripped her arms tightly behind her back, and then she heard metal clanking as he snapped handcuffs over her wrists. Where he got them, she didn't know, but an image of the dead highway patrolman flashed to her mind.
Lane pushed her to the ground again, and Jill fell awkwardly on her side. The impact jarred her shoulder, but she didn't let out a whimper. Even so, her eyes were wet, and that fueled Lane. He wrapped rope around her feet, tying them tightly. When he finished, he leaned into her, crouching over her menacingly. He reached for her face and gripped it meanly.
"I want you to listen, Jill," he said. His voice was low and tinged with anger that she knew was barely contained. His fingers dug into her chin. "You will help us. You will stay with us until you do what we ask. You will not escape."
Jill didn't say a word. She couldn't look Lane in the eye, so she settled on Kostya, who had followed and now merely observed. But the Russian couldn't face the scene. He studied the floor and paced, but never interfered.
"I will make things painful for you, Jill," Lane hissed into her ear, quieter but crueler now. "I will hurt you, your friends, your family, even Nick Stokes. But if you do what I ask, I'll leave you all alone."
He pushed off her as he stood up and walked away. He grabbed Kostya, taking the Russian with him. For a moment, Jill was left alone, bound and in a corner of the warehouse. Both she and the building were abandoned, it seemed, until Ethan came in and watched over her.
His ice blue eyes revealed nothing but emptiness as he stared at her from across the room. Jill turned from him and shut her eyes, willing the tears to go away, and those dried paths on her face to disappear.
It was Brass who knocked on the door. Nick jumped at the sound and sat up on the breakroom's couch. Brass entered, ignoring Nick's disheveled appearance. He focused on Grissom, who halted his search for coffee as their double turned into a triple shift.
"I have good news and bad news," the detective said. Nick gulped and braced himself. Brass merely sighed and took a seat around the room's table.
"Bad news first," Grissom said, shooting a look at Nick.
Brass nodded, and glanced at each of the two CSIs in the room. "Kannell Corp called back. It seems the CNN story caught their attention. They've requested a copy of what the kidnappers wanted. And they're changing all access to their company servers, new security measures, the works. They'll probably do more when they get a copy of the info."
Nick gulped again. "Jill won't be able to get in," he said. That meant she would be in a tighter spot. And Lane would get mad . . .
"But we know more about the kidnappers now," Brass continued, hurrying to the 'good news.' He brought out three papers from his sports coat. He dropped it on the table and Nick found himself diving for it. "My contact at Interpol pulled these up. Profiles on Kyle Lane, Ethan Gordon, and Konstantin Gatylenko."
Grissom reached the papers before Nick, but let one go to share with Nick. Nick studied Kostya's profile.
Silence consumed the room as new information consumed its occupants. Nick tried to steady his breathing as he learned more and more about Kostya. His Russian military background. His traitorous acts. The crimes he was suspected of in 8 different countries. None of it was good news.
As Grissom read the profile in his hands, he felt much the same way.
"How is this good news?"
Brass shrugged, grabbing and reviewing Ethan Gordon's profile. "At least we know what we're up against."
Gil huffed at that. "Yeah. We're up against a guy who by all accounts is a mercenary and a terrorist!" Grissom slid the paper across the table to Nick. "This guy's got a sheet this long, and no one's picked him up?"
"There's no world police," Brass commented a little lightly. "If it makes you feel better, this Ethan guy doesn't have much of a sheet. Just a couple of things, linked to Lane."
"That makes it all better," Nick mumbled.
"You know," Grissom started, taking his glasses off to clean them, "with guys this smart and accomplished, how could they screw up so much?"
Nick cocked his head to the side. "What do you mean?"
"Well, whoever they had lined up to hack the information obviously fell through. You think they'd have better contacts," Grissom said.
Nick glanced over the profiles in front of him. "Maybe it's as simple as they aren't familiar with the area." He waved the paper in the air. "They haven't worked in the US before."
"Could be," Brass said. "But that doesn't make them any less dangerous."
Ethan watched over Jill, the two of them alone in the warehouse. Kostya really didn't like that, but Lane wanted him to go with him to get whatever equipment they needed. Jill had work to do, and Lane wasn't waiting a second longer than necessary.
Kostya was tired of this job. He was tired of all the hiccups, the threats, the tension. And he really, really didn't like Ethan being left alone with Jill. For Jill's sake—not because Kostya feared she would escape again.
Part of him wished she had gotten away from that motel. It would . . . uncomplicated things. As it was now, he just worried.
But he didn't want to tip off Lane about that, so Kostya's Russian features were kept as everyone expected. Harsh. Uncaring. Cold. They drove back, the hot desert sun beating down on their dark SUV. It bothered Kostya. He was used to wet, dreary and freezing climates—not this hellish inferno here. It didn't seem to matter though. Regardless, he and Lane were rushing back to the warehouse with a few thousand dollars' worth of computer equipment.
When they got back, Kostya almost jumped out of the car and ran inside. He snagged some of the equipment so he didn't look so desperate. As soon as he walked into the empty building, he felt it. It wasn't just the iciness that encompassed Ethan. It was also pure, unadulterated fear.
From Jill.
She lay on her side, still bound the way Lane had retrained her. As soon as she made eye contact with Kostya, she looked away.
That stung Kostya. He grimaced, but quickly masked it when Ethan glanced his way.
They assembled the equipment, hooked it up to one device or another, and soon it was a mess of wires and hardware. But the hard drive hummed as Lane powered the laptop. They were in business.
Kostya bit the inside of his cheek as he waited for what was next. Lane turned to Jill and jerked her to her feet. She couldn't balance well at all, and started to fall to the side. Lane just jerked her upright and dragged her to the computer setup. He let her go and dropped her on the ground in front of the laptop.
"Are you ready?" he asked, a taunting grin on his face. Jill offered a shaky glare back, to which Lane just laughed. Ethan grinned as well, but Kostya's face was stone.
Lane uncuffed her hands, and started to explain everything as she rubbed her wrists. Kostya tried not to feel anything as he saw the red indentations in her skin.
"This hard drive has information from a server for a financial brokerage firm," Lane started. "I need you to decipher it and break into the routing of the accounts."
Jill rolled her eyes. "Let me guess. You want me to route the money to your account."
Lane smiled. "You are smart." He leaned close to her ear and placed a hand on her thigh. "You will do it, Jill. Trust me."
She gulped at that but didn't nod or dispute his words. He moved away and waited for her to start.
But Jill didn't move. She just held her head up and stared blankly through the screen. Kostya and Ethan exchanged glances, but Lane didn't move a muscle. He waited for her to give in.
It was ten minutes when he finally lost it. He stood and grabbed Jill by her shoulders, throwing her on her back. With her hands free, she sat herself up, but her bound feet limited any escape.
Especially as Lane advanced. Kostya felt his teeth clench together as the British man kicked her in the side. Inadvertently the Russian took a step forward. He stopped himself as Lane glanced over his shoulder. It was a warning, and Kostya knew he had to watch it.
Jill cringed at the kick but didn't utter a sound. Lane seized her by the shirt, lifting her and slamming her against a wall. She gasped at that, especially as her shirt ripped at the shoulder. But Lane didn't stop. He backhanded her across the face. Black and white sparks exploded into her vision, and for a brief moment, Jill wondered why mean guys never actually punched girls. Was a punch too harsh, and a slap or backhand more gentleman-like?
That train of thought stopped as she hit the floor. Lane grabbed her by her bound feet and dragged her towards the computer.
"Do it, Jill," he said. "Start now, and I'll stop." He let go of her feet and left her momentarily to lie on the floor and catch her breath.
She looked up at Kostya, and again the Russian looked away. He drew a deep breath and tried to ignore a smear of blood on her face. His pulse raced and he could feel the heat of anger run through him.
"Do you not care what happens to you?" Lane asked. "Being beaten. Raped. Left for dead? How about your family?"
Jill almost smiled at that, but Lane missed it.
"Should I go after your parents? Bring them here so you can watch them die?"
Suddenly Jill started to laugh, and it threw Lane off. His eyes narrowed at the change in her demeanor.
"By all means, Lane," she said, her voice rising with confidence, "go after them. Good luck finding my mother. She disappeared years ago."
Lane raised an eyebrow but didn't have a word to say.
"She was probably killed," Jill continued. Her voice seemed haunted but bold. She embraced her tragic history. "The man responsible is my father. He's in California. I'll give you the address even, if you want to go after him." She huffed. "Just don't expect it to make me do something I won't do."
Lane stared at her, as did Ethan. For Kostya, he already knew this about Jill, but he waited to see how Lane would react.
It wasn't good. The long-haired blonde man grabbed Jill again by the feet, dragging her quickly across the rough and dirty floor. Jill seemed panicked but she held her courage. Lane whipped her around, sliding her further and sending her rolling until she hit a wall.
It didn't hurt, but Lane didn't stop there. He kicked her again, twice more. Jill finally released a yell of pain, but Lane just kicked her again. Kostya's heart raced. He couldn't just stand here and watch this. Not to Jill. He glanced at Ethan, but the younger Brit revealed nothing but near boredom at the situation.
Kostya stepped forward.
"Enough," he said in Russian. It wasn't loud or bold, but it was menacing. Lane shot him a look, daring him to interfere.
The Brit turned back to Jill. "Who do you care about, Jill? You can't be completely alone," he said, a smile playing on his tone. "Nick Stokes? Maybe. Should I go get him? Or maybe I don't even have to look that far."
A rush of chills went through Kostya as Lane turned back to him. He watched, his eyes wide, as Lane suddenly drew his gun. He barely aimed as he fired it at Kostya.
The bullet ripped through his thigh, just above his knee. It sent him to the ground. Kostya gritted his teeth together and muffled a scream. His hand went for his gun, but suddenly more intense pain seared through his leg. Lane stepped on the bullet wound, grinding it with his foot. Kostya screamed and tried to clutch at the wound.
"No!"
The pressure on Kostya's wound suddenly disappeared. It was Jill who had yelled out.
Lane didn't even turn back to her. He just stood over Kostya, grinning. It wasn't just accomplishment. It was a smirk, rubbing in what Lane knew and just proved.
He didn't need Nick Stokes. He didn't need family. If Jill didn't fear for her own life, she now feared for Kostya's.
The Russian gulped back a bout of nausea from the pain. His dark eyes searched for answers from the Brit, but Lane just smirked.
He knelt by Kostya, ignoring the blood he knelt in, and removed the Russian's gun. He tossed it to Ethan, who still seemed unsurprised. That made Kostya wonder how long Lane had abandoned their history, their friendship, even simple comradery. Lane pushed his gun against Kostya's other leg, and looked to Jill.
Her eyes were wide. She shook her head. "Please don't." Her pleading whisper cut through Kostya and made Lane laugh.
"Sorry, Kostya," Lane said in Russian. "I'll still give your cut, if that makes you feel any better."
He nodded at Ethan. "Tie him up."
And just like that, Kostya went from kidnapper to hostage.
a/n: I hope you all liked that. I have another chapter ready to go, so when it looks like everyone's read this, I'll post the next one. Thanks and Happy Holidays!