a/n: Yes, long overdue. Let me know if anyone's still interested in this story. :)
Chapter Six
The news was even getting tired of covering the frequent videos of President Asher's captivity. What more could they say about it? Analysts and TV personalities argued about the President's mental state, physical health, odds of survival, political fallout, and so on. The speculation was endless and yet circuitous. Round and round they talked, with no end in sight.
Mike could almost sense the relief of the news team on TV when they covered a tornado that ripped apart a town. It was a tragedy but a break from a story that was becoming "old" news.
Mike wanted to shoot the TV.
It was late. Lynne most likely would wake up soon and need some comfort to go back to sleep—a habit since his daughter had her stay at the hospital. Mike turned his attention to the videos of the President.
He hated watching them, hated seeing how many views they got, but he watched. Maybe it was self-torture but he told himself at some point, there would be a clue. Ben would find a way to tell him something. He would.
The lump in his throat grew as he watched Ben barely able to struggle against the SOBs who held him. Mike stopped the video. What if Ben didn't fight anymore? Blocking out any outside analysis, Mike could see Ben's health was fading. He looked pale, and he coughed – more like wheezed – frequently.
Mike drew a deep breath and clicked on the video to keep playing. He blinked, and then clicked the video to stop it.
"What?..." he said aloud. Mike stared at the video, specifically a small window in the background. It was the first time this angle had been shown, just slightly different than the other videos of Ben. Mike played back the video a few moments earlier and stared hard at that was a cloud in the background showing through that window. But the cloud moved, up and down, as the video played.
Mike played it again. What moves up and down like that?
Slowly he smiled as hope filled his chest. "Water. They're on a boat."
Mike picked up the phone. This was the break they needed.
-0-0-0-
"You're going for $1 billion dollars right now," Yula said as she sat next to Ben in his pathetic makeshift cell. She chewed loudly between bites of some meal in a tin pan. "We think it's early. You'll go for double that, maybe triple."
Ben didn't need to comment. Yula enjoyed chatting, digging away at his morale as he considered the worth of a president to bidding terrorist groups and criminals.
"You want to know who? Many. Al Qaeda, but no one thinks they can actually pay. Some that are merely driving up the price. Who do you want to go to?" she asked. "Drug cartels? They can actually pay."
Ben shifted so that his bare back was to her. His shirt had been destroyed in the past day or two, courtesy of his captors' rough handling. Yula's comment on drug cartels made him nervous. He'd made a lot of enemies there, fighting the influx of drugs in the country and pushing every leverage and force he could on those countries plagued by cartels. He would be executed for sure, perhaps more swiftly though.
Yula's fingertips touched his back. They moved along his skin, caressing it. His breath caught in his throat. He debated between pulling away from her and just letting her touch linger. He was essentially powerless, and if he angered her, she had no qualms about hurting him more.
When did I give in? The fact that he was broken made him feel even worse.
"Why did you not remarry?" she asked. Ben shut his eyes. He didn't want to have any conversation with Yula, much less this one. "You will tell me." At that, she snaked her hand to his side, to his chest. She stopped there for a moment, and Ben's breathing hitched. She moved her hand lower, her fingertips ghosting over his skin.
"Too complicated," he spat out quickly and quietly. Yula's hand stopped. She gently tickled her fingers over his stomach.
"You had a girl brought in then?" she continued. Ben rolled his eyes. Of course she would assume he turned to something so base.
"No."
Yula pressed her hand against his torso, pushing him to his back so he had to face her as she leaned over him.
"You still love your Maggie?" Yula asked. Ben didn't like hearing his wife's name from Yula, but for once, she didn't seem to be taunting him. She was curious—maybe love wasn't something Yula was capable of.
Ben nodded.
Yula watched him, maybe thinking he was lying. He grew uncomfortable with her scrutiny, and her hand still resting on his torso. Slowly, she started to slide her hand up his chest to his face. She cupped his chin gently.
"She is lucky then."
With that, Yula leaned over Ben and kissed him on the cheek. Her eyes watched his carefully. Ben couldn't mask his hate for her. Yula grinned and stood up, leaving him.
Ben's chest heaved as emotion drove his breathing into a hectic pace. Yula was masterful at making him feel hate, hope, despair, sorrow…. Just when he thought maybe sincerity was possible, she reminded him of his helplessness and his deepest pains in losing Maggie.
The only good it did was make Ben feel like he had to fight. He wasn't broken—I'm not! He had to rest, and recover, and get stronger. Somehow. The time would come. Opportunity for escape or a rescue would come. Hadn't he resolved to learn how to defend himself and to fight back these past months? What was it for if he wasn't willing to fight now?
Ben couldn't give up.
0-0-0-0
Despite the lead with the boat, the generals advising Acting President Trumbull were skeptical about finding Ben. The ocean, apparently, is a big place. Mike nearly cussed them all out for their sarcastic reception of his lead. And despite his track record of pulling off the impossible, the generals doubted his value.
Thankfully, Trumbull didn't. He sent Mike on a military plane to Ramstein Air Force base—far away enough from Russia but close to possible targets. Mike came to the operations center. Intelligence—really, not more than tips—came in and out there. Nothing actionable yet though.
There were three strike teams ready to go in a moment's notice. They looked bored. Mike wondered how long they would be on call without a break. They lounged, slept, played cards, ate, and checked their weapons. Mike had his set of gear and weaponry ready to go.
But no new intel came yet. Mike stood behind men and women staring at computers, monitoring movements and chatter.
"Commander?" one lieutenant called out. Mike watched the commander on watch lean over the lieutenant. He couldn't hear what they said. He moved closer….
"…It's lining up with all the chatter."
"What chatter?" Mike questioned. The commander looked to him with some hesitancy. Mike stared at him until the commander answered.
"Financial chatter mostly," the commander hedged. "Several groups are talking about a rare pawn."
Mike frowned. "Like the chess piece? What's that code for? The President?"
The commander nodded. "That's what we're thinking. They're bidding. It's an auction but we're getting bits and pieces of the intel as it comes in."
"Who's the intel coming from?" Mike asked.
The commander nodded at the lieutenant. The lieutenant squinted at his screen.
"A source in Al Qaeda. Sounds like they're trying to buy but not succeeding. It's just part of the conversation we're getting."
Mike looked between the lieutenant and the commander. "You've had this for awhile. So what's new that has you looking so uncomfortable?"
"Al Qaeda is screaming about being outbid. By North Korea."
Mike's jaw clenched so hard he felt the joint pop.
-0-0-0-0-
Ben frowned as one of his training detail, a Secret Service agent named Danforth, took the gun from Ben's hands.
"Not tonight, Mr. President," Agent Danforth said. Danforth handed the gun to the supervisor over the gun range. "Please follow me."
Ben did, but he didn't like this change. He was supposed to be improving his aim. He'd gotten good at shooting, or at least he liked to think that the surprise on the agents' faces as he shot wasn't fake.
"What have you got up your sleeve, Danforth?" Ben questioned. The agent led him to a room with cushioned floor mats set out in a large square.
Agent Danforth gestured to the mats. "How often are you carrying a gun, sir?"
Ben quirked a grin but wiped it away. "Never in public," he said.
Danforth nodded. "And I figured, the situation you're really training for is if you are being held at gunpoint."
Ben felt his stomach drop at the truth of his words but kept his composure.
"So, I want to show you how to disarm someone who has a gun pointed at you. Stand over here, please."
Ben opened his eyes, taking in very little light in his metal prison. Outside, he heard birds squawking, seabirds of some sort. He hadn't seen them yet, given his limited exposure to the outside.
His mind drifted to his dream, memories of not long ago. Could he pull off any sort of maneuvers he had learned in his current state?
Ben shifted and grimaced at the sharp pull in his torso. He could feel muscles and bone protest, though the pain wasn't as strong as a couple of days turned to his side and braced himself with his hands. Slowly, he started doing push-ups. His arms shook with the taxing impact that seemed to connect directly to every injury in his body.
He counted himself lucky to get to 10 pushups.
He collapsed.
Footsteps though made him sit up. He could recognize the steps—lighter than the others. Yula.
Ben scooted back from the door, subconsciously snarling at himself for the retreat. Even so, he braced himself for what was to come.
The door to the metal container opened, letting in more light than he was used to. Ben blinked and had to look away.
"We have a surprise for you, Ben," Yula said. Two men came in and grabbed Ben, making him stand. The chain on his right wrist was removed. They man-handled him out of the container, and while he feared another beating was in his immediate future, something was different this time. He couldn't pinpoint what, but something, the energy of his captors….
They were smiling.
The men forced Ben's hands in front of him, and Yula slipped a ziptie over them and gave a harsh yank on the slack. The plastic quickly bit into his skin. They led him up the stairs.
"We have a winner, Ben," Yula said. "Want to know the final price for you?"
No, Ben thought, but he knew he wasn't going to get his way.
"One point eight billion," she said with a smirk.
"Not quite what you wanted," Ben said, hoping to wipe that smirk from her face.
"No," she said. "We found few could actually pay much more, at least not without drawing attention from your government. It came down to one buyer."
Ben could hear those seabirds again. His breath caught in his throat as the sound grew louder. Yula was taking him to the deck of the ship.
She caught him taking in the daylight. The men at either side of him stopped, and shoved him against an iron wall. Ben winced at the impact on old bruises. Yula came closer to him until she was pressing her body against his, leaning well into his personal space.
"Should I tell you who, or do you want to be surprised?"
Ben glared at her. Part of him was happy to be sold to whoever, if it meant being away from this she-devil.
Yula grinned. "Kang."
Ben couldn't school any expression. "He's dead." Yula's grin grew.
"Not his brother."
The shock sunk in, deeper and deeper. Kang's brother, and whoever he was working with to pony up $1.8 billion, would have the worst in store for him. Not to mention using him to humiliate him, personally and politically, shaming the country, and no doubt vengeful treatment on behalf of the dead terrorist.
Ben tried to keep his breathing in check. Yula saw all of this. She let out a laugh, and then kissed Ben. Ben shook his head, trying to break contact but he could feel her grin against his mouth. She pulled back only slightly.
"You will miss me, I am sure."
She kissed him once more, just a peck this time. Ben registered the sound of a motor boat approaching. Yula's men yanked him out further on deck.
The motor boat was a zodiac of sorts. Ben didn't recognize any faces but they were Korean, he could tell. Ben took a step back. Yula stood behind him, stopping him.
"Hold him!" Yula snapped at her men. She leaned close to Ben's ear. "Don't worry. Kang doesn't want to kill you. I hear he has a collection of rare animals. Maybe he will place you in a cage next to a white tiger."
Ben turned sharply to her, glaring, but Yula was unfazed.
"Goodbye, Ben," she said.
-0-0-0-
a/n: more to come!
