Chapter Four
Steve wasn't sure why - maybe he still had some sort of psychic connection with Jaime - but an awful, sinking feeling was slamming him in the gut. Jaime was in desperate trouble, and she needed help - now. Oscar was in bed, finally obeying the doctor's orders, when Steve went back to see him.
"Hi, Pal," he said, sounding a little stronger than he had earlier. "Any news?"
"A couple of things, and I was hoping they might help jog your memory." Steve told him. "They found evidence a hollow point bullet may have been fired at your car. You said you thought you heard a gunshot before the explosion -"
"The gas tank," Oscar concluded. "The bullet hit the gas tank."
"That's what I think probably happened. Oscar, the blood in the backseat wasn't yours or Jaime's. Since I assume no one else was riding back there with you, do you remember anyone opening the doors after the crash, possibly to grab either you or Jaime? Maybe acting like they were medics?"
Oscar closed his eyes and wracked his memory. "She said, 'Oscar, there's a man - he's got a gun'. Then she pushed me out of the car."
"I'm guessing he was coming down from the hill, on her side of the car?"
"Right. I - I looked up, and he was reaching for Jaime's door. She kicked the door open and knocked him down. There were two more right behind him."
"Two more men? Were they armed?" Steve asked.
"I...think so. That's where I start getting real hazy. Jaime got out of the car, and she almost went down, like she'd hurt her leg. She knocked another one of them down, and pushed the last one so he fell across the backseat, hanging out of the car on my side. I saw his arm raising a gun at me, just as I was blacking out, and Jaime yelled at me to slam the door, so I did. That's the last thing I remember. She saved my life." Oscar sighed deeply, trying to contain his emotions. "And there wasn't a damn thing I could do to help her..."
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Jaime was realizing very quickly that she was in serious trouble. When she'd kicked out of the chair the adrenaline had dulled any pain and provided the needed momentum, but now, when she needed to run, she found her left leg supported her only with great pain. Then she saw the long, deep gash on the back of her leg. That was why they'd mentioned wires, and probably what had drawn their attention away from Oscar. They'd begun running back toward the hills, but Jaime realized now that they hadn't been retreating at all; they were luring her away from the limo. At least they hadn't gotten Oscar. But - was he already injured from the crash? How badly? And how in the hell was she going to get out of here in one piece?
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Back in his office, having returned from the crash site, Jack Hansen was on the telephone. He was calling Rudy's complex, asking that Steve Austin be paged for an urgent phone call. "Yes, I realize he's on an investigation. Tell him this is life-or-death urgent. Thank you." He briefly drummed his fingers on the desktop.
"This is Colonel Austin."
"Steve - Jack Hansen."
"Yes?"
"Look, it's totally against policy for me to be telling you this, but you and Jaime are both decent people, and I thought I should prepare you -"
"What is it?"
"We've got an ID on the group that's holding Jaime."
"Who's got her?"
"Fortress. I assume you're familiar -"
"Yeah - I know who they are."
"Listen," Hansen said in a very quiet but extremely urgent voice, "we've also got the location. The crews are on their way to the airfield; they'll load the planes and -"
"How much time do I have?"
"Steve, you can't go in there now. You'll never find her and make it out -"
"Dammit - how much time?"
"Probably half an hour, total. Listen...Steve," but Hansen was talking to dead air. Steve had dropped the phone and, at top bionic speed, was racing toward Jaime, trying to beat a squadron of bomb-bearing planes.
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