Rendezvous

The next time Reddler woke up, she neither felt neither warm nor comfortable.

She found herself half-sitting, leaning against the wall of a very bare room. Except it wasn't really a room. It was more of a cell. There was nothing in it, except herself and a small camera on the ceiling. Absolutely nothing, not even a window.

Sleep wearing off, she slowly stirred and looked around.

Nothing.

Feeling utterly claustrophobic, she was just about to get up, when she remembered her injury.

Reddler lightly ran her fingers over her shirt, expecting to twinge with pain. But she didn't. Surprised, she lifted her shirt to examine it. There was nothing but smooth skin. She gasped.

Am I dreaming?

But she knew that she wasn't. There was a light welt curving its way through her unblemished skin. So I'm not imagining things.

Her mind worked out the events in its usual logical way.

Conclusion: either they kept me sedated for days, or they have a miracle cure I don't know about.

She was about to investigate further, when she noticed the camera. Hurriedly, she pulled down her shirt and stood up.

A sudden voice rang out, tinny over the speakers.

"Glad to see you up and about, Miss Croft. How are you feeling?"

Reddler shivered involuntarily when she heard that voice. Straightening herself, she faced the camera.

"A little cramped, thank you. Reflects your hospitality skills, I think."

"They're necessary under the circumstances," said the voice, unperturbed.

"What circumstances?" asked Reddler, cocking her head.

There was a small laugh. "Please. Miss Croft, don't take me wrongly, but I prefer to study up on my assignments before I actually accomplish them." His tone grew deeper. "I know what you're capable of. Don't put on an innocent act. If there was even a strip of paper in your cell, I'd find you running about my grounds sooner or later. So please don't try to do anything foolish, or I'll make you regret it for the rest of your life." His last words were absolutely venomous.

'I'll make you regret it…' Reddler felt instant annoyance. Don't you order me around. Nobody orders me around.

She went back to the corner and sat down. "If you are going to negotiate, you had better do it now," she said calmly.

There was a small click on the speakers, and some soft static. She leant her head against the wall, her brain working speedily at an escape plan. She sighed. Her abductors were definitely not careless. They knew her well, and worked everything to their advantage. Most of her chances depended on her debating skills. She couldn't fight her way out, not with that man mountain in the way.

But she would definitely try. Hell, I'll try.

And she closed her eyes, reflecting over her defensive moves one by one.

Brushing a burgundy quill out of her eyes, Reddler sighed impatiently. What's taking him so long?

She remembered his cold, ruthless eyes. It's almost ironical, she thought. To have such lovely blue eyes on someone this cruel. She vaguely felt that she had seen those eyes before. It was impossible to forget their unique color. But her thoughts were clouded, just like a dream. She put her fingertips to her temples, concentrating hard. But she simply couldn't remember.

There was a low whir, and the reinforced steel door in front of her opened. Reddler straightened, but didn't get up.

The huge man entered first, stooping low to enter the cell. He positioned himself halfway across the cell and eyed her warily, as if daring her to come and strike him. Reddler met his gaze evenly.

The raven-haired boy followed him into the cell. He came in so silently that Reddler swore she wouldn't have noticed him if he had decided to come in unannounced. He was perfectly groomed in his attire, slick in a black Versace suit. He had an affected air about him which irritated Reddler instantly.

Putting on a negotiator's air, she spoke first.

"So, are you going to begin by telling me who you are?" her tone was sharp.

"Here are the ground rules, Miss Croft. You don't ask me questions. You shall sit tight, listen to what I have to say, and like it or not, answer them," he said, cutting her short.

He rather emphasized on the 'you' and 'me', as if making sure of their status. You insect. Me overlord of kingdom come.

Negotiation rule: agree with your arguer. Twist the truth, perhaps, but agree, oh most certainly.

Reddler let out a breath. She nodded, even though on the inside she wanted smack the spoilt brat as hard as she could.

"I think you understand. Before I proceed any further," he said, pacing the cell. "I would like to tell you that I wouldn't have abducted you as such, but if I had used conventional means I'm sure that you would have refused entirely." He had a very strange look across his face, as if he wasn't used to saying sorry. If that was what he meant.

Reddler said nothing, staring instead at the wall behind him.

"I have to admit, though," he said after a moment. Reddler noticed that his tone was somewhat softer. "You have a very interesting security system. Multidirectional loops…that's rather clever."

"Yeah, well you hacked into it anyway," she said disinterestedly.

"I did have a little help." He creased his brow.

Reddler now looked straight into his eyes.

"With utmost respect," she said, clenching her teeth. "Will you please get to the damn point?"

His eyes flashed dangerously. "Ground rules, Miss Croft," he reminded, raising a finger. There was a pause. "I want you tell me something," he said, inching closer to her. "What exactly do you have in northern Russia?"

Reddler's eyes narrowed. He could see that she was very, very angry. "You …monster. You think I'm going to tell you about that? You bring me here, and expect me to do the world for you," she was trying very hard to control herself. "Well, guess what—I shan't."

At that moment, she thought that he might sink his fangs into her neck. But he only straightened, smirking.

"Well, then. If you're not going to tell me, I'll have to resort to more …extreme means."

"What do you mean by that?" cried Reddler, jumping to her feet. The gorilla guy immediately swung himself between her and the boy, his hand on the Sig Sauer.

"You'll see," said the boy, laughing quietly as he went out. "And please do stop your 'I'm-so-helpless' hostage act. It doesn't amuse me."

Reddler was on the move even before the door stopped whirring. Time for some real action. She had calculated that it would take him approximately three minutes and twenty-eight seconds to get back to … wherever he was before. Her entire plan was based on only one assumption—that for three minutes and twenty-eight seconds, the camera would be unmanned. It was a rather silly guess, but she needed the drive.

The camera, as she had noticed when talking to her abductors earlier, was hoisted on a single panel along with the cell lights. Evidently someone had fixed it recently, for the plaster was still fresh. Fresh and weak.

Reddler also knew something very essential-- that there had to be an air vent somewhere, because the rest of the cell did not spare even a crack. Backing away as far as she could, she broke into a run and sent a flying kick to the wall for leverage. She pivoted, and her momentum carried her a few feet above the ground. In that fraction of a second, her other foot connected with the camera. It broke, sending a spray of sparks shooting towards the ground. Her kick had dislodged the camera, and it swung downwards, dangling by its cable.

Reddler grinned and rolled over on the ground. She again positioned herself and repeated the maneuver, this time aiming for the ceiling light. It shattered all over the floor. Reddler covered her eyes with her hands and gave them a few seconds to adjust in the pitch-dark cell. Then she got moving again. Guided entirely by touch, she kicked at the wall again, and this time caught the camera cable. She feared that it wouldn't hold her weight, so she shifted, one hand grabbing at the socket of the ceiling light and the other at the hole from where the camera cable snaked its way downwards.

Then she gritted her teeth and pulled with all her might.

The panel gave way and fell to the floor, crashing down on her. Reddler moaned, rubbing her shoulder. Forty-five seconds and counting.

She stood up and looked upwards. There was gaping two and a half foot-wide vertical vent above her head. A bunch of wires from the ceiling light swayed to and fro within her reach.

Better and better, thought Reddler. She quickly shinned upwards, distributing her weight between the camera cable and the lighting wires so that it would hold. When she reached the vent, she gingerly touched its sides. It was unevenly layered with cement, as if made in a hurry. Guiding her feet through inch-wide crevices, she climbed up with practiced ease.

When she reached the top, she was surprised to reach a bend. Her head bumped on the roof of the vent. She reached out and felt wood. It was a light balsa paneling. Unhesitatingly, she punched a hole through it and broke away its sides to make the crack bigger.

One minute, thirty-three seconds and counting.

Reddler crawled into the paneling, and felt more wires. In fact, a whole bunch of them ran parallel to her side. But something was different…

She fingered at them and realized that they were fiber-optic cables. For a whole network of computers.

So that's where you're hiding, you little brat, thought Reddler as she spied a hint of light where the cables entered a room.

She crawled as fast as she could in the opposite direction. At times she feared the paneling wouldn't hold, and had to slow her pace. There was a maze of cable vents, and she had no idea where to go next, but pushed forward blindly. Two minutes and counting…won't be long now…

Reddler stopped and tapped at the wood. She felt a slight vibration on the other side, but there was only one branch of cable bifurcating in that direction. Hungry and suffocating, Reddler took a wild chance. She braced herself against the vent wall and kicked at the paneling. It cracked, and there was an enormous crash.

Breathing the fresh, sweet air that filtered through, she stuck her head out and found herself in a big room, more of a lounge. She was suspended some seven feet from the floor, and on the floor itself were the broken bits and shards of what might have been a wide console. Gathering all her strength, she leaped out. The bits of glass cracked under her sneakers.

Reddler straightened and looked around. The lounge was empty, but it was tastefully decorated. She collapsed on the couch. All energy seemed to have drained out of her. She was awfully hungry, too. She couldn't even remember when she ate last.

Reddler moaned and rubbed her shoulder, which was still sore. Her mind was spinning.

Her brain never stopped thinking while she had concentrated on her escape. She was struck when she had met the boy, although she hadn't shown it.

He had an Irish accent. Oh, god.

She prayed that she wasn't in Ireland. It was entirely possible, though. She had no idea of the duration of the flight, or what time it was. All she could do was hope.

But even then she could feel the terror rising in her.

The second thing that she puzzled over was how he could ever know that she had something very important in Russia.

When Reddler had turned eleven, her father had 'given' her one of his industrial sectors near Minsk, a small factory that was losing capital. He didn't mean anything serious, just asking her if she wanted to try and do something for it. Reddler jumped at the idea. She gathered a team and went there to have quick survey.

Within two months, it was back in business.

Mr. Croft had been so pleased that he instantly handed her the deeds to the sector, no questions asked.

And so for years Reddler continued to earn her father millions of dollars from the small sector in the Arctic Circle. But Mr. Croft had no idea what exactly his daughter was doing to earn such phenomenal dividends; he was too busy to give it much thought. After all, he had always had billions in his account. He never bothered to find out where every dollar in them was coming from.

But Reddler knew that he would certainly flip if he ever got wind of some of her projects.

Symbiosis field agents were given portable scanners to take with themselves on field missions. They were mostly used to get 3-D blueprints of buildings and underground sites, like metros and drainage systems. But x-ray scans were hazardous, and infra-red scans were extremely slow. Reddler was exasperated. She often got very annoyed waiting for every person to evacuate the building to start her scans, and very bored when working with the infra-red ones. So she secretly devised a quick plan. She made the scans nuclear. She used radioactive isotopes with extremely short half-lives which emitted unimaginably powerful directional waves, dying out in nanoseconds. After much field-testing, she decided to sell her patent, even though it was forbidden by Symbiosis. But manufacture was still a problem.

Almost as an answer to her prayer, an entire industrial sector was handed to her.

She was no fool. She couldn't risk selling her patent to some power-crazed industrialist. So she sold it off to a Chilean research unit. They would use it for purely scientific purposes, mostly astronomy and global warming research. Much pleased with herself, Reddler continued manufacture. Northern Russia had huge deposits of heavy metals, and they went in as raw materials for nuclear scan setup.

All of this was done in top secret. Not a soul knew what she was doing. Even the Chilean buyers had no idea that the hi-tech scans they were using were invented by an eleven-year-old girl.

So how could something that had been kept a secret for two years be known, of all people, by that infuriating boy?

She bit her lip, remembering the constant shimmer above his shoulder. Maybe he's so full of hot air that he's got a localized heat haze all to himself, she mused with a small smile.

Reddler got to her feet after a few seconds, searching for an exit. There was a window in the far corner of the room, surrounded by enormous damask drapes that now billowed in the stormy breeze. As she moved towards it, she could smell the earthy aroma of nightly rain. She nimbly tore down the slatted Venetian blinds, and was just about to climb on to the sill, when something caught her eye. There was a small framed photograph on the coffee table near the window. Her trembling hands still gripping the window; she stared at the photo in disbelief. A beautiful woman smiled demurely holding a pair of pearl-colored gloves in her hand. She had lovely raven hair, just like the boy. Behind her was the grand Notre-Dame, but that didn't hold Reddler's attention in the least.

What shocked her was the man who stood at her side, his hands on her shoulder.

Reddler slowly moved to the table and clutched the photo in her clammy hands. She felt as though she was trapped in a nightmare. Time seemed to spin backwards and out of control.

It's him…oh, god…the murderer…I'm in his house.

Oh, god. Oh, god.

The monster…

His house…

Reddler felt terribly lightheaded. She simply stood there paralyzed. Her mind felt as heavy as lead. She forgot what she had been doing, forgot who she was, forgot everything else. She gripped the frame so hard that the glass cracked under her fingers and the shards pierced her hands. The window was open, and the cold breeze carried with it a light spray of rain. Reddler stared at it dumbly.

That day, that moment came to her over and over and over again.

She couldn't see. She couldn't breathe.

She cried out, hurling the frame to the ground. There was a dull, pounding ache in her chest that grew heavier with every second. The floor seemed to give way. She dropped to the ground weakly.

Everything seemed cold and dark. The ache in her chest was burning hot.

I'm in his house.

He won't let me out.

There was the sharp ringing of several alarms, and the almost deafening sound of hurrying feet.

On the floor, Reddler doubled over and screamed and screamed.