Part Two

"I knew there was something fishy going on," I said, trying to keep the anger out of my voice.

Mac couldn't see the gun from where she was sitting, so a confused look knitted her brow. She scooted over to see what was going on and visibly paled when she caught sight of the weapon.

"Mark what's going on?"

"Isn't it obvious Mac? He's no mailman."

She ignored my comment.

"We're no threat to you," she said.

"No, but you're a threat to my employers and they take care of threats."

Mac looked at me confused, but I had a pretty good idea what he was talking about. Stoke must have been involved in some heavy drug trafficking and his employers had him killed for some reason. Maybe he was going to sell them out or maybe he stole something from them.

"Ok Mr. Rabb, you're going to open the glove compartment and pull out the two pairs of handcuffs. If either of you try anything I'll shoot you in a second."

I inwardly groaned and bent over to retrieve the cuffs. When I had them both, I looked at him for further instructions.

"Give them both to Sarah."

I complied.

"Now pull up the headrest behind you."

Once I did that he spoke again.

"Sarah, I want you to handcuff him. One hand on each side of the right metal support."

I had to lifted my arms up over my head, as if I were going to work on my triceps with free weights. Mac took the first pair of cuffs and secured my wrists. They weren't so loose that I could get out of them, but they were loose enough so that I was as comfortable as a person wearing handcuffs could be. Mark noticed that fact.

"Now don't play games Sarah. Make the cuffs tighter."

She begrudgingly complied. She reached up tightened both sides, until Mark told her to stop. They were extremely tight and cutting into my skin. I couldn't see them, but I suspected my hands were already turning purple, they felt colder. They must have been because Mac pleaded with him.

"I think they're too tight Mark," she said, asking him to let her loosen them.

"Well I don't. I want you to put one link around the hand hold on the door and the other around your right wrist."

She did as he said. I awkwardly rolled towards they window so I could see her face, praying Mark wouldn't shoot.

"It's going to be ok Mac, I promise. Don't worry," I said, in a very soft and reassuring voice. She looked at me skeptically, but nodded in affirmation. I wanted this guy to concentrate on me. I want him to see her as weak and unknowledgeable so that whatever he and his employers did, they did it to me. I rolled back to a slightly more comfortable position.

Mark had become more at ease with both of us handcuffed. He lowered the gun to his lap and focused more on driving, but his hand was still clasped around the gun, ready to fire if necessary. Seeing that he was looking straight ahead, Mac took a moment to squeeze my hands with her free one. My hands were so numb that I barely felt it, but I knew it was her way of saying she trusted me and that we were in it together.

After another hour on the road, the sun was setting and my arms were in agony. My hands were completely void of feeling and the muscles in my upper arms had long since grown tired. I spent the last hour trying to figure out how Capt. Stoke and Mac and I fit in to everything. I concluded that Stoke must have been using military resources or something like that to help Mark's employers move the drugs or figure out where they'd be. That's the most likely reason that they'd need someone in the military. They had probably been using his military status to help move the stock back and forth across the border to Mexico. Stoke must have double crossed them and that's why they killed him.

I was so lost in my thoughts that I hadn't noticed the side road we'd turned onto a while back. We were coming up on some kind of old complex. There were about eight buildings, some big and some small, on about two to three acres of land. It was one building next to another and they formed a square. Whatever went on beyond the front buildings, in the center square, was nearly impossible to see from outside. Most of the buildings were old and wooden, but there were about three that looked more modern and were made out of stone. Those were the larger buildings. Two or three looked to be houses of some sort. The fronts of the buildings were all facing outward. I glanced around and realized that the complex was nearly impossible to see from that main road, which was about a mile away. A large manmade hill was on the main road's side and the other side had nothing going on for miles. I recognized an old wind mill and concluded that it must have been a farm or cattle ranch at one time. Now it was probably the base for their drug operations.

Mark pulled the car alongside one of the stone buildings, put it in park, and turned the car off. He opened the door and got out. Sticking his head back in, he pointed the gun in our direction.

"Don't try anything. I'm coming right back with some help."

He closed the door and walked up to the entrance of the building. He talked into what appeared to be an intercom. No more than a minute later two other men came out. Mark walked over and opened my door, making sure I could see the two guys holding guns. He reached over and uncuffed my left hand, giving it a bit of relief. I knew it would hurt like hell when the circulation came back, but I didn't have time to think about it because he pulled me out of the car and into a standing position. He proceeded to pull my right hand overtop my head and yanked the left one behind my back, like a kid trying to see if his fingers could touch. He recuffed the left hand tightly and I couldn't hold back a groan. That was definitely not what I needed. The position was both agonizingly painful and mildly embarrassing.

Mark let the gun wielding guards watch me while he retrieved Mac. Thankfully, he didn't give her the same treatment that they had afforded me. Her hands were simply cuffed behind her back. It was getting pretty dark out, but I didn't think any outside lights would come on. Those people didn't want to draw any more attention than absolutely necessary. I started thinking about a way to get out if it got dark enough, but the guards turned on some flashlights and we were led inside.

It appeared to be an office or housing building. I doubted that they would let us see the real things that went on. Mac and I were led, at gunpoint, into a fourteen foot by fourteen foot office. I was not so nicely forced into a chair, while Mac was allowed to sit down willingly. I was glad that they were taking the more aggressive approach with me. It was better that way, Mac had no idea what this was about and I did, well sort of.

A distinguished but wicked looking man walked in the room. He sat down at the desk and looked us over.

"Well Commander Rabb, Colonel Mackenzie, I'm sure you know why you're here."

Mac looked like she was about to respond with a negative, but I couldn't let her. If they thought she knew absolutely nothing they might just get rid of her.

"If you let us go now, you'll only be charged with abduction."

I knew he wouldn't take it, but it was best to get him upset with me.

"If you tell me what you know, I might go easier on you."

"No one's telling you anything," I said, trying to inflect as much sarcasm as possible into my voice.

"That's what you think Mr. Rabb. I always get what I want, we'll just see how long it takes before you crack," he leered.

"Hart, Sloan, Tapp, take these two to their room and make sure Mr. Rabb is especially comfortable," he ordered.

"Yes sir," they replied.

The taller guard motioned with his gun for Mac to get up. She complied and started out. Mark and the other guard dragged me up by the arms and I had to bite back a groan at the pain it caused. They kept their hold on me, until we reached the entrance to what I assumed was our room. Mac went in first and the guards proceeded to toss me in. I landed hard and saw stars. While I was lying on the floor, I had a chance to glance around the room and it made my stomach roll. There was a mattress on the floor, with a few blankets on top, and a barred window that I could only guess had a view of the courtyard. Besides the mattress, there was nothing else in the room. They didn't want anything that could help someone escape. But that wasn't what worried me. The far wall, by the window contained several circular hooks with old fashion styled chain link cuffs. The ceiling also had cuffs hanging from it, but they looked like the ones that could be lowered or raised to different heights. I got the feeling that they were experts at getting the information that they wanted.

My inspection of the room was interrupted when I realized that the guards had followed us into the room and were talking to me. Trying to clear my head, I watched Mark's lips move, but couldn't understand him.

"Hands or feet?"

"Huh?"

I still didn't understand and he got frustrated, kicking me several times in the stomach. I had the wind knocked out of me for a second and I heard Mac trying to come to my aid, but they restrained her.

"Do you want it on the hands or the feet?" he repeated, agitated.

"What do you mean?"

"Feet it is," he said, tired of waiting for me to choose. Mark motioned to one of the guards. He went over to the wall and unlocked what looked to be some kind of crank. He gave it a few turns and the chains on the ceiling began to move down. When the cuffs had nearly reached the ground, Mark roughly took each foot and secured a cuff tightly around the ankle. He nodded to the guard by the crank, who proceeded to turn the handle the opposite way. I found myself being pulled off the ground upside down. He stopped cranking when my head was about three feet above the ground. For some reason it registered in my mind that the ceiling had to be ten feet high. That thought was quickly washed away as I felt the pressure on my ankles and the blood rushing to my head. The guard then locked the crank and stood beside Mark.

"I hope you enjoy your stay here Commander. I know I will," Mark said, with a smug grin on his face. I would have punched him, but my hands were still cuffed awkwardly behind my back. He gave me one more hard punch to the stomach and began to walk out of the room, followed by the other guards. Seeing that they were leaving, Mac, whose handcuffs had been taken off, went into action.

"You can't just leave him like that. He could die."

"Don't worry Colonel. We'll be back before then," Mark said, closing the door, leaving us in darkness. A second later, a dim light in the ceiling flickered on. I speculated that one of the guards had flipped a switch in the hallway. At least I didn't have to hang there in the dark.

Mac turned away from the door, concern written on her face. I guessed that she wasn't mad at me anymore.

"Are you ok?" I asked.

"Am I ok? You're the one hanging from the ceiling upside down, with your hands locked behind your back and you're asking me if I'm ok?" she ranted.

"Well I wanted to make sure those bastards didn't touch or hurt you."

"Well I'm fine. You, the great Harmon Rabb, managed to save and protect me once again," she spewed contemptuously.

I almost physically recoiled at her statement. I guessed that maybe she was still mad at me. But my god, I'd taken a beating and was hung up to keep those Neanderthals off of her and she was going to yell at me. That hurt. She must have realized the effect it had on me because she exasperatedly ran a hand through her hair.

"I'm sorry Harm. That was out of line and you didn't need it. I really am grateful. I just can't believe we're in this situation."

I realized the parallels our predicament must have had to her mission in Paraguay only months ago. Obviously she carried more feeling for Webb than me, but it still must have been wearing on her.

"It's ok Mac, we'll get out of it. We always seem to," I struggled to get out. The blood rushing to my head was making it difficult to talk and my vision blurred. She must have realized that because she bent down and put a soothing hand on my face.

"It's ok Harm. Don't try to talk, just concentrate on breathing."

I mumbled an affirmative and she stood up, going over to sit on the mattress.

"How long we been here?" I squeaked out.

"Half an hour, now stop talking," she scolded.

Only a half an hour and I felt ready to explode. I didn't know how much longer I could last. My question was answered an hour later when I faded into the darkness that beckoned me.

tbc...