Chapter Three
"Oh no..." Oscar sank heavily into a chair before his legs gave out. "You're...ok?"
"Well, with that warm of a greeting, I wish I'd stayed on vacation," Steve replied, looking curiously at his boss.
"How could anyone - especially you - just take off without a word to anyone?" Oscar raged.
"Hold on a minute. I did leave you a message. You and Callahan were both out of the office, so I told the receptionist; even left a phone number where I could be reached. Oscar, what the hell -?"
Oscar was already back in full action mode. "Peggy!" he called, not bothering with the intercom. "Get Russ, Rudy and our entire top echelon of operatives; tell them I need them here yesterday! And get the Secretary. I don't care if he's out for dinner, having a massage or home in bed. I want his butt here, and tell him I mean now!" Oscar ran a frustrated hand across his forehead and through his hair, feeling the closest he'd ever been to completely overwhelmed. "It was a set-up..." he said softly. "God forgive me...I sent her right into a trap."
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Jaime, meanwhile, had caught her first bit of good luck since her feet had touched foreign soil. The tiny building she'd ducked into appeared abandoned but had once been some sort of living quarters. She ducked into the fireplace and up onto a ledge in the chimney until all the footsteps were gone, then climbed down and ran a little bit of water in the miniscule sink, attempting to clean her wound as best she could. It was still bleeding rather badly, but she quickly searched and found a few towels, stuffing them temporarily into her shirt until she could find a safe place to rest for a little while.
She went to the door and, before opening it, Jaime listened to her surroundings with every bit of power her ear allowed. She heard only one or two voices, a good distance away, and waited until they were gone. There were no more footsteps approaching so she cautiously stepped outside, turned and jumped up onto the outbuilding's roof.
Good fortune smiled on her one more time. The roof was high on three sides and sloped down toward the back - the side facing the fence. The chimney poked up on the other side of the drainpipes, so she could sit between the chimney and the slopes of the roof and be reasonably well-hidden. The bed in the cabin had looked so inviting, but she knew they'd search there eventually, and if the spot she'd found wasn't soft, at least it was relatively safe. She pulled out one of the towels and began trying to staunch the bleeding, which was still alarmingly profuse.
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Steve stood tensely in the back of the transport plane. His every thought was of Jaime. Was the fate she'd been told was his - capture and being put up for sale - now her fate, instead? Was she being tortured for information? Or was this a set-up by someone whose intention was to eliminate her entirely?
The small battalion Oscar had sent to attempt a rescue was on a larger plane that would land at an airstrip in a nearby city. Having them storm the complex would be the last resort, as it would also drastically increase the odds that, once the raid had begun, Jaime would be killed solely to prevent her from being rescued.
Steve would be going in alone first, in much the same area she'd landed in, less than 24 hours earlier. He was Jaime's best - and possibly only - chance of getting out alive, and he knew it.
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If Oscar had been breathing fire the day before, now he was out for blood - from the Secretary of State. It had been more than two hours since he'd had Callahan call and ask that he come ASAP, and Oscar was beginning to think his boss might've been behind the plan to set Jaime up.
"Ok, Goldman; what is so all-fire important? Your little cutie break a nail?"
Finally. "Exactly who told you that Steve was in trouble?"
The Secretary stared at Oscar as if he thought he was a lunatic. "The receptionist who took the call. She wanted to forward them to me, but they gave her the message and hung up. What's -"
"That would be the same receptionist who neglected to tell me that Steve was going on vacation?"
"Excuse me?"
Oscar was only getting started. "And would you mind telling me how you got a presidential order with faulty, incomplete intelligence?"
The Secretary's face grew pale. "Oscar...you have to understand that my primary concern was getting Austin out -"
"Jaime's safety be damned?"
"I didn't say that. I did what I had to do to enable a rescue."
Oscar's eyes were burning with anger and disbelief. "You...lied to the President?" he asked slowly.
"Hell no. But - I did lie to you. There was no directive."
Oscar's fury threatened to boil over. "You son-of-a -"
"You wouldn't feel that way if Austin really had been in trouble."
"But he was never in any danger!" Oscar thundered. "And now, Jaime is!...If she's still alive."
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Up to this point, Jaime had been too focused on what needed to be done to acknowledge any fear or pain. Now, as she sat quietly, holding a towel to her right side, she had nothing to do but think. She knew the blood loss had badly weakened her, and she stood no chance of retreating back over the fence. She wasn't even sure she'd be able to jump the single story back onto this roof again, once she got down. Jaime realized how extremely vulnerable she truly was, and it chilled her to the core. The pain seemed to be getting worse, as well, but she reminded herself that no matter how bad her situation might be, Steve's was worse. She had to keep going.
Jaime stood up, and her head spun as her body swayed precariously on the edge of the roof. She aimed for the hiding spot again, knowing instinctively that she was about to pass out. The world faded to black and Jaime's body crumpled.
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