Chapter Four
The Game
-x-
Tell me exactly what I'm supposed to do,
Now that I've allowed you to beat me,
Do you think that we could play another game,
Maybe I could win this time…
I kind of like the misery you've put me through,
Darling, you can't trust me completely,
If you even try to look the other way,
I think that I could kill this time!
It doesn't really seem that I'm getting through to you
Though I see you weeping so sweetly
I think that you might have to take another taste
A little bit of hell this time
Disturbed, "The Game"
-x-x-x-
Pain. Throbbing, piercing pain in her temples, behind her eyes, in the back of her head. Pain filled her entire world. It was all she might have well known.
The world slowly came back into focus, the darkness lifting away from Lisa's mind and eyes like a curtain, but the pain still remained. Lisa groaned, attempting to raise a hand to run the throbbing in her temples, only to find out that she could not. The haze that had clouded her mind only moments before was swiftly replaced by a stab of panic. Her hands… Her hands and her feet had been bound behind her back with some sort of course rope that bit painfully into her skin as she struggled against them. Lisa moaned, only to hear that her own voice was muffled behind a gag that had been forced between her lips as she lay helplessly on her side. Her heart began to hammer behind her ribs as she remembered what happened.
Lenore… She remembered the woman named Lenore who had claimed to be a journalist for Regal America, and her interest in seeing the suite which had once been reduced to ruin because of the terrorist attack. None of that had seemed suspicious at first, until she specifically began to ask about Jackson. Cold dread had flooded Lisa then, but before she had any time to respond everything had gone black and deathly silent. And then…
And then…
Holy God, where was she now?
It took a surprising amount of effort for Lisa to roll from her side onto her back, seeing how she was bound by the wrists and ankles, and even more of an effort to rock herself into a sitting position using only her back and abdominal muscles. By the time she was in a suitable seated position, panting heavily through her gag in the aftermath, Lisa was finally able to take in her surroundings. The room she was in the dark, cold, sealed against the sunlight that tried to filter in through old, worn cracks in the walls. As Lisa's eyes became better adjusted to the dark, the depth and vastness of the room became more eminent, and she could make out what looked like to be the remains of old machinery scattered throughout the space and rusty pulley systems hanging from the ceiling. It almost looked like a warehouse. A very old warehouse that looked to have been out of commission for a very long time.
A million questions raced through Lisa's head at lightning speed. First, the questions were obvious; why was she here? What did they want with her? Then as her head cleared, they became more specific, and focused around a single person who made her blood run cold and her vision bleed red around the edges. Was she here…because of Jackson? It was the only logical explanation she could think of. Who else could it have been? That meant that Lenore had just been a pawn, one of his dogs to lure her into his trap with only one motive in mind.
Revenge. He had finally caught up with her. But why now, after almost a full year since his escape from the hospital?
Of course. Lisa thought bitterly. He was waiting for me to let my guard down. And I walked right into his hands.
But there was no time to be reprimanding herself for mistakes that she couldn't fix. She had to find a way to get out of there, to call for help… Anything. And hopefully she could do so before Jackson had the chance to show up and gloat. Of course, nothing would make her feel better that moment than slapping his smug grin right off his face.
That was, if she could get her hands free first.
So, first thing's first then; get out of the restraints, and do it fast.
At first, Lisa merely attempted to struggle against the ropes, hoping that the friction would loosen the knots, but it did not take long before her skin began to burn, and a slow trickle in between her fingers told her to stop. Still, the knots held fast. Lisa sighed, thoroughly frustrated, and leaned back against the wall that was directly behind her. As much as she hated to admit it, she was in deep shit. She was unsure of how long it would have taken her coworkers from the Lux Atlantic to realize that she had gone missing, but even when they did, what good would it do her? She didn't have the slightest clue to where she was, so what good would that do for anyone who was trying to find her? She was alone, and completely at Jackson's mercy.
That perhaps scared her more than anything else at that moment.
Somewhere on the opposite side of the warehouse, Lisa heard a mechanical thud, and what sounded like very rusty gears being ground together as dusty yellow light filtered into the empty space somewhere just out of Lisa's line of sight. Her heart pounded back and forth on her ribs, and before the newcomers – who were no doubt the same people that had kidnapped her in the first place – had a chance to realize that she was awake, Lisa fell back to her side with a painful thump, closing her eyes to mock sleep in case they decided to check on her. But as she lay on her side, trying her best to fake unconsciousness, she could hear their voices as they proceeded further into the warehouse. Voices drifted to her through the broken machinery; two male voices, arguing with one female.
"So we have an accord, then. All you have to do is keep an eye on the girl, and you get the second half of your payment as soon as our guest of honor arrives." It was the female voice that was speaking, and Lisa strained her ears towards it. It sounded very familiar. Lenore? "That's not very difficult now, is it?"
"I don't see what all the hassle is about." One of the male voices said in a gruff, but nearly whiney tone. "All this work just to settle some personal grudge? Why not just find the guy yourself?"
"Because I know how Jackson's mind works. He'll only come for something that appeals to him. Especially if the matter of his pride is involved."
Lisa's blood ran cold. Jackson? So he was involved…but he was not the reason why she was here. At least, not the direct reason, and from the sound of it, he was not the one involved with her kidnapping. Lisa felt her head spin. What in the world was going on?
The second man spoke, his voice thoughtful. "This was the same girl that was involved with the Keefe assassination, right? I bet he would pay a pretty penny if we turned this into a ransom…"
There was a harsh slapping noise of flesh striking flesh, accompanied by Lenore's hissing whisper. "Absolutely not! I'm paying you enough for this monkey charade, aren't I? Or do you want the attention of the authorities and have them take a closer look at what you and your thugs are shipping in through the marina? The only one who comes for the little bitch in Jackson, and Jackson alone! And trust me, once he learns I have her dangling like a worm from a hook, just right for the taking, he'll take the bait with no regards to the consequences. Once he shows up, I get what I want, you get what you want, and we all move on with our lives, and it's as simple as that. Or do I need to write it down for you?"
"No, ma'am. Don't worry. We'll watch over the little tart."
"You're goddamn right you will. No one is to leave this warehouse until I give the word. Understand?"
The two men mumbled something in agreement, and Lisa heard the sharp clicking of Lenore's stiletto heels as she walked away. Silence hung supreme in the empty warehouse for several long minutes, then one of the men cursed loudly. "What are you looking at, dipshit? Go set up the table. Might as well do something to pass the time while Ms. Bardwell delivers her precious package."
Lisa's heart thudded behind her ribs with such force that she was surprised the two men in the room didn't hear it. Jackson was not the one who had kidnapped her for his own revenge, that much was clear to her now. But now she was going to used as bait to lure him out of hiding for whatever it was that Lenore had schemed. For some reason, the latter seemed far more terrifying than the prospect of having to face Jackson face-to-face in the warehouse there and now. Lisa knew nothing about this woman or her obvious past connection with Jackson, or why she seemed so hell-bent on getting his attention. There would be no outside contact to the authorities to her whereabouts, no message of ransom to Keefe or her father…nothing. She was wrapped up in some sick game whose motive she could not even begin to fathom.
The need to escape was never as strong as it was with that chilling realization.
With a silent grunt, Lisa pushed herself back up into a sitting position, determined to wriggle her way out of the knots that bound her even if it meant sheering off all her fingers in the process. As she began to struggle, the rope snagged on something on the wall behind her. At first, Lisa felt a flash of annoyance, but as she moved her hands to free herself she felt something sharp slice her skin at the base of her thumb. Blood ran thick and hot between her fingers, but instead of cringing at the pain, a new idea came to mind. Moving slowly to avoid calling attention to herself through her movements, Lisa carefully positioned herself so the rope once again snagged on the sharp piece of metal that jutted out from the wall. With carefully measured strokes, Lisa began to rub the rope against the metal, hoping it would eventually have the same effect on it as it did on her skin. It might have been a long shot, but it was the best hope that she had just short of doing anything that could have resulted in her bleeding to death.
Even as she worked, she could feel the minutes ticking ominously by, and each one that passed felt as though she had taken one step closer to the executioner's block.
-x-x-x-
Most of the time, Jackson had no business in what Rodney and the others did. Although they technically all worked for the same company, the levels of jobs which they operated in kept them isolated in their own spheres of influence. Their company held no alliances, no favorites, no favors. They only catered to the highest bidder, regardless of what country they were from, which political party they were loyal to, which religion they worshipped under. Their "customers" were only faceless people with fat wallets. Nothing else need apply. While Jackson's job as assassination manager was more of a mercenary job than anything else – "those who pay the highest price get to knock off the political opponent of their choice", as the job description more or less stated – the lower-ranking intelligence teams were used mostly by local authorities who were on the verge of finding themselves in a potentially dangerous situation, yet were unwilling risk their own necks doing the jobs they were paid for. Monitor drug rings and tapping phone lines were some such examples, and all child's play in Jackson's eyes, though he would never admit that to his friends. So when they were alerted to keep an eye on a group of lowlife drug hustlers that operated out of Miami, Jackson had naturally assumed that it had nothing to do with him.
Until, that was, the night that he was given a rude awakening when Rodney smacked him across the top of the head with a sheet of rolled-up paper, waking Jackson up from the uncomfortable sleep that he had finally fallen into. Sleep had never come easy to Jackson; he was an insomniac by nature, thanks to the high stress of the job and the unpleasant dreams that tended to plague him in his unconscious state. The Louisiana heat and humidity did nothing to help his situation, and so when Rodney woke him up in a less than pleasurable manner, Jackson was alert in an instant, complete with knife in hand and fire in his normally icy blue eyes. When he turned his murderous glare on Rodney, the shorter blonde man jumped perhaps two feet back, hands raised before him in self-defense.
"Whoa, hey! Chill Jackson, it's just me!"
When Jackson realized what was happening, he let his posture relax, the fire disappearing from his eyes and he brought one hand up to rub the bridge of his nose. Christ, it would only be a matter of time before he did gut one of them out of sheer reflex. "Rodney…what the hell…?"
Rodney swallowed thickly, sitting down in a chair opposite the couch that Jackson had been laying on. "So…you know about a week back, Higher Ops called about that drug ring from Miami they wanted to watch, right? Well, Lionel was able to intercept a cell phone call earlier this afternoon, and we finally got a new lead on them. Looks like they've moved on from drug smuggling and into the kidnapping business."
If Rodney had expected some sort of reaction from Jackson, then he should have been mildly disappointed when he merely snorted, laying back down on the couch, draping one long arm across his eyes. "And?"
"Well…you know in a case like this, we would be expected to inform Higher Ops, and they take it from there. But…that is…we're not sure how to handle this one, exactly."
"Why? Why's it so hard this time?" He wished that Rodney would just hurry up and get to the point. The guy had been his best friend throughout college, but he was in no mood to deal with one of his mind games.
"You see, it's a little awkward this time. There's no ransom note, no outward motive. Jackson… They got the girl from the Keefe job. Lisa Reisert. She's being held in an abandoned warehouse just along the Florida/Louisiana border."
Jackson felt his attention being snagged like a fish on a long, barbed hook, pulling him violently out of the haze of sleep and hurtling him a year back in time. Lisa? His Lisa? The one person that he had never expected to come back into his life, the one person whom he didn't want back in his life. Even though the bodily wounds she had inflicted upon him had long since healed, the wounds to his pride were still open, raw and oozing, and although nothing would give him more pleasure than taking revenge for all the grief and suffering she caused, the repercussions his employers threatened him with was enough to keep him in place. After a year of healing, he had come to the unsettling conclusion that he would be better off completely erasing Lisa from his mind. He despised her for what she did to him, but as he had once told her, he wasn't suicidal. The little life he had left was not worth the risk. So, naturally, Jackson feigned indifference, covering up the ominous shadow he could feel building at the corners of his mind. "What about her? What's that has to do with us, then?"
"God, Jackson, I know you're not that dense." Rodney was back on his feet, and was already beginning to pace, just as he always did when he went into a rant. "Doesn't it seem the least bit suspicious that she's kidnapped, yet there's been no ransom demand from anyone who might care? I bet you Keefe would pay any random charge simply because he would feel in debt to her, but no one's taken that opportunity. Besides, you don't know the whole story. Lionel didn't find this by chance. It was sent to us."
If news of Lisa's abduction hadn't caught him off guard enough, that was more than enough to throw him through a loop. Rodney nodded, seeing the light of realization in Jackson's eyes. "You know it too, then. Someone's looking for you, Jackson. We don't know who yet. The voice was simulated, and there was no name given. But they obviously have been keeping up with you to assume that you feel that you have unfinished business with her. It's all a setup."
The idea was nothing new. In his short history as a manager, to say that Jackson had made some enemies in his carrier would have been an understatement. He was sure that there were plenty of people out there who wanted his blood. But Rodney was right. Something did not sit well with this situation.
There were many things in this world that irked Jackson, and one of them was when people assumed that they knew him, and thought him to be predictable. Easy. Hungry for revenge. Someone had assumed a great deal about his actions and inner workings, and it made him seethe with a fury on the inside. But he could not let Rodney see how much it upset him.
"Did whoever send this know where we are?"
Rodney shook his head. "No. At least, I wouldn't think so. Lionel picked it up on a major phone line, almost commercial, but one they obviously knew that we listened to on a regular basis. Something's wrong here, Jackson. Really wrong."
A million thoughts were running through Jackson's head, each one more insane than the last. Someone wanted him, and they were using Lisa as the bait. There were endless possibilities to how he could handle the situation. Finally, he stood from the couch, running one hand through his sweat-soaked hair.
"Where are you going?" Rodney asked.
"Shower. Then I'm going after Miss Reisert."
"Jackson…are you sure about that? If what I assume is true – and I'll bet you a hundred bucks it is – then you'll be playing right into their hands!"
"I don't doubt your judgment, Rodney. Someone's obviously trying to get my attention. I don't want to disappoint them." A devilish grin crossed Jackson's full lips. "Besides, this is outside of Higher Ops' jurisdiction. Someone thinks they know me. I want to prove to them just how wrong they are. You and the others can choose to come or not. I'm not going to ask any favors."
Jackson left Rodney in the main parlor of the house, walking up the grand, yet badly wore down staircase towards the upstairs bathroom. He passed Byron on the way, whose arms were full of what looked suspiciously like canisters of plastic explosives, but his mind was a million miles away, yet focused intensely on one person.
Lisa…
His mind was already made up. As easy as it would have been to simply ignore the whole thing, to simply let Lisa rot in whatever hell she had gotten herself into as some sick, long-distance form of revenge, Jackson was not about to brush off this whole situation. This was not about the others, or the company. This was all about him. Whoever was trying to lure him out obviously had some personal grudge against him, and were pulling out all the cheap shots to try to finish it, and assumed that he was shallow enough to play into their hands. Who it could have been, he did not have the slightest notion. The possibilities were endless.
To hell with the consequences.
Besides, what did he have left to loose?
This isn't about Lisa… It's about me. All about me. That's all that I should be worrying about. Lisa was just unfortunate enough to get caught up in all of it. Her own damn fault, though. If she had just made the damn call to begin with, we could have both moved on with our lives a long time ago. But right now, this isn't about her…
But she's still in danger. And it would almost be worth it enough to see the look on her face when you come riding in, her knight in shining armor. Almost.
It's not about her…
Jackson stood under a cold shower, milling his plan of action in his head, trying to determine his best course of action, trying to stay focused on the issue at hand. Telling himself over and over that this was between him and whoever wanted his attention. Lisa was merely the bait. And once he was finished with whatever it was he had to do, he could cast her aside just as easily. It was as simple as that.
It's not about her…
Was she hurt? Had they hurt her in any way?
It's not about her…
He was not worried about her. The little bitch had tried to kill him, for fuck's sake. She deserved what she got. Arrogant bitch.
The sooner she was out of his life again, the better.
Lisa…
-x-x-x-
Author's Note: The countdown to the reunion has begun. I also ask that you continue to bear with me as I continue to get comfortable with Jackson's character. He's a hard one to tie down. I might re-write this chapter later. It feels rather bland to me. But now it's past 1:30 AM, and I have to work tomorrow.
