It was one hour of time, that was all. There was a loud, heavy, repetitive noise and a feeling of damp. One hour, what was that in the pond of life? A droplet? Panting, breathing? Cadence McGarry couldn't focus on it, she didn't want to. She had lost an hour of time, that was all.
There was a ringing noise too, like static, was a television on the wrong channel or a radio on the wrong frequency? She shook her head in irritation wishing it would go away, how could she think otherwise? Except she didn't want to think, she welcomed distraction. Only the pain was coming now and she couldn't stop it. There was that heavy noise now, raspy, frantic and with each shift of it she felt a tightness in her chest.
One hour.
Sixty minutes.
Short, simple, what was that, one programme, two maybe? That was all, two episodes of a sitcom.
It had been longer last time but there had been darkness then too and damp. She shuddered, an awful smell of damp that she couldn't get rid of. This was a different kind of damp, two strains really, a hot, painful one in certain spots of her body and a larger, sticky coating of it that suffocated her skin. Sweat. That was one strain but the other, the one that she associated with pain, she didn't want to think too hard on it now.
Cadence tensed suddenly as she felt cold metal against the left side of her skull and immediately came rushing back to reality with it.
The heavy noise, her own breathing she realised, stopped momentarily.
"Remember what we agreed," the voice of a masked man addressed her. He spoke in Spanish knowing she understood it. "You go and you make your pretty speech of apology, we're not entirely satisfied you have paid for the deaths of our people but we won't ask for more, you have your reminder now."
Reminder? Reminder. Cadence felt the hot, searing pain in her side and she clenched her fists and blinked hard. The vomit came in a rush before she could help it. There was the sound of wet splatter as it projected outwards across the van.
Yes, she remembered she was in a van. She remembered part of that missing hour and tried to shrug it off again. If she delved into the memory she would fall apart and she couldn't do that. She had something else to get through.
"You don't make your speech and we're not satisfied at all," the voice warned, unperturbed by her vomiting.
She heard the click of the gun and swallowed down a whimper. She'd heard that sound before. She jolted slightly, again and again as the memories of gunshots ran through her mind.
She nodded. "Okay," she murmured weakly.
Had anyone else noticed her missing hour? What of her father's men? Were they conscious yet? Were they free? She couldn't remember being jumped. There had been something about the driver and the supposed government official who had greeted them. Gas in the car? They had been knocked out somehow. She was only relying on some stranger's word that no one had been killed. That and the fact that she was still alive told her that these weren't terrorists or cartel. Of course the possibility of who they really were or who they were working for might be much worse.
She had to hurry, the speech had to be done before anyone learned what had happened to her, that was what they wanted. Then, when her father's hired help was found unharmed they wanted it all played down. They had warned her, no one could think she was beaten into an apology. Well she hadn't been, that was true. No, they just didn't think her apology was enough, they had wanted more.
Well she should have expected that people here just like at home were now thinking she was either a terrorist or, perhaps worse, in league with some CIA agents and she doubted the Colombians cared whether the agents were corrupt or not.
They'd roughed her up a little, a few bruises were people wouldn't see them, a mark she could hide from the world but not herself, that was all, penance, punishment, she probably deserved it. They wouldn't believe she'd suffered before this, well she supposed she'd done a good job of quashing the nightmares and memories of what had happened. Yes, on the surface she'd just gotten on with her life, gotten a good life in fact that absolutely no one thought she deserved. The masked men were angry to see her strutting about in the White House, some foreign political idiot coming to slam their innocents as traitors. Yes, she could understand their rage, she felt it at herself. She didn't want to tell the lies but even before this confused chaos she had been determined to. Lies to save herself? No, it wasn't so simple. She was trying to save her father and John's reputations as well, to honour the deal the President had gotten for her and to try and save Agent Sparks too somehow.
Cadence knew if she went against the plan and refused to let the President of Colombia tell her she had been unwittingly helping traitors and started telling the truth and slamming the CIA as the real traitors then it would be war. Never mind her career would be in tatters and potentially Leo's too but the White House would be accused of a cover-up, Jed and John might be pushed to step down, there might be an impeachment. Every day there were risks to weigh up, dark decisions to make and less than legal doings to silence and this was just one more.
That thought made her feel sick. Knowing this was not only how the world worked but how it had to. It made her have an understanding for the masked people who had abducted her today to show her a little retribution for the things she had done and would do. They didn't know the truth either, they blamed her for the villagers' deaths, she was American, to them she had to have been a part of it somehow. That was the one thing they had in common with everyone else, no one believed her innocent.
Cadence swallowed hard and winced at the taste of vomit. She should have expected it really. It wasn't that bad. It was only one hour. These masked men weren't cartel and it could have been them, they could have come to silence her for talking about whatever deal they had had with the CIA, a deal she didn't actually have any knowledge of but how could they know that for sure? A deal about a box on a plane? She shook that memory away, it was vague and the President had ordered it to forget it.
These masked men were either a few outraged members of the public or hired thugs of the government. Actual rebels wanting vengeance for the fallen or government soldiers making sure she wasn't going to consider voicing truths about Colombian soldiers and CIA agents. She didn't know, they hadn't divulged. Her side was burning again but she knew she had to ignore it to get through this. She was just lucky no one had decided to silence her as a liability yet she couldn't help but wonder if she was really better to everyone alive than dead.
They had wanted her to feel a little pain and humiliation and some fear too because a speech wasn't going to cut it. She could understand. Hell, if they were locals, when they heard the mention of traitors from their President she could only imagine the rage that would follow.
Her fingers tapped on the floor of the van nervously. She didn't want to be paying a price for that too.
The door slid open and the flash of white sunlight caught her off guard, blinding her temporarily. In that moment someone grasped her arm tightly and pulled her out roughly. They didn't want to shove and send her to the ground so she was dusty. She had to look nice for the cameras so the interview, speech, interrogation, hell she didn't really know what it was, but it had to go ahead.
Her hand brushed against an imitation of silk as she tried to stay upright. She thought about what was underneath, the stains they had adverted and how it was just as well she'd worn a dark shirt. No, she couldn't go there. The sloppy bandage underneath felt rough against her skin. God how odd it was to be bandaged up by the people who had hurt her, people careful to see that her wounds were hidden.
She wanted to scream, to cry in pain and let people know what had happened but she heard gunshots ringing through her mind and suddenly there was only ringing and a wretched smell of damp.
Two hours ago
John's speech was done. He was meant to be done for the day, dismissed to enjoy the hospitality of the Colombian government before some PR styled banquet tonight. Everything that followed his meeting with President Alcazar was just going to be a show of relations for the camera. He wasn't even going to be dealing with the President anymore, he would be back to his counterpart, the detestable Vice President Joseph Rojas.
John considered if he had been in Rojas' shoes during their previous, humiliating meeting, he might have acted similarly. If it had been anyone else in John's shoes that day he might have even admired Rojas' passion and unrelenting stubbornness but as it had been John and he had been the one embarrassed and scorned because of Rojas' arguing, well John couldn't help but despise the man.
John was on the grounds of the Palacio de Nariño, the Colombian counterpart of the White House. They wanted him to look at the art and gardens and voice praises about it later but he couldn't care less. He was done charming and making amends. He sat in a large room with a fine, mahogany table lined with large chairs, padded with stiff, dark maroon leather and silver studs. Art adorned the walls, three extravagant pots sat on the table filled with fresh flowers and the room was full of an odour of Spring. The idea was that it came from the flowers but of course, fresh as they were, it didn't and it wasn't Spring anyway.
John sat away from the table on a pale yellow couch against the wall, legs crossed with a haggard expression on his face. He'd been here for twenty minutes, flanked by Tom Sedgewick and three other agents whilst others stood outside.
Gavin had came and went, Sandra too. Easy on the eyes Sandra, who had attempted to ease John with smiles and not been impressed with his empty eyed stare and blunt dismissal. John didn't even know why in the hell he had relented to the President's demands and let her come, he wasn't going to use any of her speeches.
John was waiting, as he had been, for news on Cadence. He was irritable because he knew she had to be in the country now but no one was confirming it. President Alcazar's head of Public Relations was meant to be sending a representative to greet her and escort her to Hotel Rey Sol in Bogotá where she would be able to get ready before being escorted to here to meet the President in a televised meeting in an area with no onlookers.
John had already gone against protocol. He had voiced sternly to President Alcazar that he would be there. He had promised to stay out of frame, a quiet observer but he was determined to be there. He loathed what he had already agreed to, letting Cadence fly here by herself had been cruel, letting her travel alone with no job title and no afforded protection from any government personnel was reckless. He got that Jed was pissed with her and preparing to cast her off if she got this wrong but why in the hell was Leo going along with it?
John clenched his fists slightly and sighed. Leo was going along with it for the same reason John was. It was Cadence's only chance to salvage her reputation and career. It was their only chance to avert war, screw over Director Wolfe and his lies and save face with the American people. Jed was right to send her here as a civilian making personal apologies and not grand ones on behalf on the state, she hadn't been a member of John's team when she had been down here doing charity work. It was mountains and mole hills. If she came as part of the Vice President's team and thus an extension of the President's team then her innocent mistake was the White House's mistake and they couldn't have that.
The door knocked and the attractive aide who had been delegated or perhaps demoted to be essentially little more than John's maid for the day, stepped into the room. She was tall and slender with a mane of ebony hair and bright eyes of honeyed-brown. She smelled of rose perfume was a master of sweet stares that promised more.
John wasn't immune to her much as he wanted to be and he knew that whilst she might have been hired for her intelligence she was assigned to him for her looks. No, the Colombian government weren't so crafty as to be hoping to create some fresh scandal with him, it was just the simple stereotype of a man feeling better when he had attractive company. John knew it and it had him giving a bitter smile as for a brief moment he despised himself and his gender for being weak to such cliches. Yet the scent of roses did calm him better than whatever false flowery aroma filled this room.
"Sir," she greeted the Vice President with a nod and a humble stare, "you've been here a while, can I get you anything? Food? A drink?" She lifted her dark eyebrows slightly at this, an unspoken confirmation that the drink could be something a little stronger than tea or coffee.
"No thanks Solange," John dismissed her. "I just want to know when Cadence McGarry is here, can you let me know that?"
John offered up his own charming smile and a bright gratitude slipped into his blue stare. "Please," he added softly even though it had been the third time he had mentioned Cadence to this woman.
She gave him an empty, bright smile in response and nodded.
John knew she wasn't going to tell him shit until someone gave her permission to and he felt his anger rise again. Hell he wanted that drink now. Something to calm his nerves. His flight here had been calm, bump free, and probably pleasant for everyone who wasn't him. Had Cadence's been the same? It wouldn't matter if it had, she had previously been in a plane that had been shot down, no calm weather was going to banish that fear. Shot in this county for God's sake and they'd made her fly here alone to face that fear again.
Had she come medicated? She would have had to but then too much and she'd make a fool of herself before President Alcazar. Well maybe the medic would have told her the correct dosage this time or prescribed only that instead of giving her the chance to take too much.
John wished again that he had defied orders. Even if he couldn't have been on that plane with her or she on his he should have sent someone with her- Gavin or Jeremy.
"Are you sure I can't get you anything Mr Vice President?" Solange quipped. Her voice was smooth, pleasing on the ears with a nice little ring of respect to it.
Solange's voice sent a minor thrill of pleasure through John. God he wished he could quash the ego in him now that always had his libido rising when some pretty woman called him by his title with that hint of admiration and awe. That more than anything was a turn on for John, to have someone impressed by his rank instead of putting it down like his wife always did or talking to him like he was lesser as C.J had done in the past.
"It's a very humid day," Solange continued with the idle conversation, "I could get you any drink you like, it's not a problem."
Humid. John bristled at the reminder of the climate. Yes it was humid but the air con in this room was good and with it he could avoid feeling the suffocating heat of the air. His throat was dry however, probably because of that same air con and he realised he was thirsty. He met her golden-brown gaze and knew water would sound like a weak answer to her.
He was on edge and he knew it, too on edge. If this had been any other kind of circumstance he'd be on the phone to Leo or another member of their poker club for some sort of reassurance. He felt his fingers sinking in the arms of the couch and knew his tense appearance was becoming obvious.
"No thanks," he forced out the words.
Solange nodded. "Well let me know if you change your mind or need anything else sir, I won't be far."
John smiled to convey gratitude but there was a glint to his stare that suggested he wondered what 'anything else' might entail.
John needed a distraction of some sort, this waiting was a psychological torture he was in no mood for. He wondered if they would bother to get him to witness Cadence's conversation with President Alcazar or if they would conveniently 'forget'. He could almost taste that drink now, vodka, that was the easy choice, clear, bit of ice, no watering down, just throw it back and get smashed.
John had talked about his last drink being in his college years but it wasn't quite so. There was wedding number one to Josslyn von Meeks, an arranged marriage if ever there was one in a democratic modern day world. It was before John had come into money in the oil business, Suzanne was the lucky wife for that fortune. Josslyn had been a pain in the ass from day one, John had gotten smashed the night before his wedding, then again on his wedding day and his wedding night, all to try and blur out the horror of the event. He could still see Josslyn angry eyed in her wedding gown, sitting on the edge of the window sill with one leg crossed over the other as she swung her foot loudly against the wall below, knowing the headache it caused him.
Josslyn had never liked John either. She had fucked his best man on their wedding day and John knew it. He'd stood in the shadows sipping at a glass of whiskey, watching as they tried to squeeze in a quick bonk in the closed up dining area against a table. John had awarded their performance with a dry applause before departing for another drink.
The memories invoked no rage for John, only a desire for something to help with the horrors of today. He stood up and gave an angry edged smile as the previously slack agents became taut again, ready to follow him.
"Gentlemen I just need the toilet," John announced as he fixed a warning stare on Tom. He didn't want an escort.
Tom nodded even as he raised his wrist to speak to the agents lingering in the corridor outside.
"Hawk is coming out, dog walking," Tom conveyed quietly.
John pulled a face at the nickname. Jed got Eagle or Liberty depending on the feeling of the day and he got Hawk, the lesser bird and, to his knowledge, he was yet to even be worthy of an alternative.
John headed out to the corridor wondering where Solange had gotten to. He saw her halfway up the corridor, her derrière bouncing with each step, flattered by the grey skirt she wore.
Solange heard the door opening and she paused and turned back with a smile.
"I'm just going for a bathroom break," John informed her as he smiled back. He walked towards her, pausing with a moment of feigned confusion. "Of course I'm not entirely sure of the direction."
He was but screw it, he needed something else to think about other than alcohol and failed relationships.
Solange's smile brightened. "I'll show you sir," she said reassuringly.
John held a hand up as he heard his Secret Service team ready to follow. "Gentlemen, it suggests a lack of trust in our Colombian counterparts if we check out areas they have already secured and I'm sure the bathroom isn't far, is it Solange?"
Solange shook her head. She gestured ahead. "Just round the corner and we do have our security there," she added with a smile of reassurance to the Secret Service agents.
They were expressionless in answer but John could sense their annoyance. He didn't care.
"Give me a few minutes gentlemen," John ordered, "I need it."
He turned and headed off without waiting for their response. He heard one follow, knowing they would be determined to keep him in sight to a degree.
Solange led them round the corner and up to a door with a gold plate informing them it was the Bathroom in Spanish. Not Toilets. John wondered about that, where the public toilets were, well this would be a lot more secure anyway.
There were two Colombian guards nearby in the corridor but they didn't pay much attention to John or Solange.
Solange offered John a smile and a chance at temptation.
"Sir, the lock to the door can be a little tricky, would you permit me to show you how to secure it?" she quipped innocently.
John's smile widened at the transparent excuse to accompany him into an otherwise private room. It was a cute pantomime for his agent and the Colombian guards.
John nodded. "Sure, wouldn't want to cause a security risk by accidentally get stuck in there," he joked.
John opened the door and gestured her in. A show of chivalry at a bathroom, it was laughable.
Solange stepped in and John followed. Mercifully, the Secret Service agent made no effort to follow. If he gossiped fine, John had his cover story thanks to Solange, weak as it was.
The door shut and Solange made a show of showing him how to slip the latch down by turning it three quarters of the way. It was simple.
She went to turn it back to release it and John's hand suddenly slipped onto hers, halting the gesture.
The young woman looked up at John curiously and here lay the danger. Had John been reading the signs right or would she cry out sexual harassment?
Solange smiled as John's blue eyes roamed over her, taking her in and wondering if he was going to do anything.
Another possible scandal, shit it was stupid. Cadence was coming and even if she'd shut him out physically John couldn't really think it was fair to push his urges onto someone else. He realised that it wasn't even about those urges, it was about distraction. Colombia didn't give him the distraction he had hoped for from Cadence and her miscarriage, how could it when Cadence was coming here and thus right at the forefront of his mind? He couldn't shake her news off, hell he couldn't shake her off his mind much as he and she tried.
John released Solange's hand and stepped back with an apologetic look.
"Thank you," he murmured.
Solange nodded. "Can I help you with anything else Mr Vice President?"
John felt the tension again as she sounded out his title. He put his hands into his trouser pockets in an attempt to restrain himself and shook his head. "No, please let me know when Cadence McGarry is here," he insisted.
Solange nodded again but there was an irritation in her honey eyes and John knew she had been offended.
Solange left but John didn't bother with relocking the door. He headed to the sink, it was pearly white but not the cheap porcelain of a public toilet, marble instead with a large vanity mirror of silver in a gilded frame. The bathroom was beautiful with more potted plants and artwork on the walls but John didn't take any of it in.
All John saw was his own stressed reflection, lines at his brow, an edge to his blue stare. Hell he still needed something and if he wasn't having Solange then all that was left for him to consider was that drink. He glanced at his watch but he couldn't fathom how long he had been waiting.
John turned on the cold tap and let the water gush for a moment before cupping his hands and splashing it over his face. Vice President of the United States. What did that mean here really? Nothing.
John turned off the tap, pushed the water about his face in an attempt to cool it and ruffled his dark hair slightly with it. He stepped out of the room and headed back to his temporary quarters. He saw Solange lingering in the corridor still, this time engaged with Gavin.
"Get me that drink please," John ordered bluntly, "whiskey, vodka, I'm not picky, just make sure there's lots of ice."
Gavin, who had snapped to attention at John's arrival, looked at his leader with apprehension and a little worry. John should be ecstatic right now, he had done wonders with his interview and everyone was happy, so why wasn't John? Gavin knew what it had to be and it annoyed and worried him. Why was John always so concerned about Cadence McGarry?
Solange nodded. "I'll get it for you now sir," she retorted before heading off.
John paused before heading back to his confines. "Will someone hurry up and find out where Cadence McGarry is?" he snapped loudly to the corridor. "Now God damn it!"
John headed back into the room where Tom and his subordinates remained.
Cadence had another hour forgotten. Her arrival to the President of Colombia's work and living quarters, the meetings and greetings, frowns and murmurs. A rush to clean up her state just a little, a run through with security. She had went to the toilets and almost broken down there. She had splashed water on her face as if she could wash away the nightmare and pushed back her hair in a vain attempt to tease its humid, frizzy state into something a little more appealing. Get the meeting over and down with. She had been greeted and questioned by people she didn't know. No one was asking enough questions about her missing escort.
Frowns and queries. Impatient people rushing her on. She couldn't take in their faces or voices properly and moved on auto pilot, giving one worded answers to their questions. She was late. The President wanted this over and done with. Of course he did. She did too.
Someone had eventually asked about her people but her ears had been ringing. They're right behind me, a slow answer, a dumb answer. The expectation was that her hired guards were safely back at the hotel she had never been to except maybe a token agent who had accompanied her here and was on Palacio de Nariño grounds. That was what everyone decided had to be the case so it didn't matter what answer she gave. She realised when they had been asking it had been a token question of politeness. No one cared about her foreign party of hired guards. She was in the presence of Colombian guards now, she was secure, that was all they really cared about.
She kept sniffing, trying to banish the smell of damp as she walked with her right hand clasped tightly about her waist. Her eyes were wide, shocked and yet empty. She nodded to questions without answering them.
Some people muttered about heatstroke, anxiety or maybe jet lag. They were making excuses for her.
Water? Yes, no, she might choke on it, not right now.
Suddenly she was there, ready to begin the meeting. They were sitting in a courtyard on quaint, irn cast chairs with padded cushions at a matching round table laid with a fancy silver jug of water and two crystal glasses. It was still bright with the sunlight, caged birds were chirping, and ivy and hanging vines offered an exotic backdrop to the table and seats they occupied.
President Alcazar was seated opposite her with a smile.
Their first greeting had been brief and untelevised as they had exchanged their brief hellos and occupied their seats. The live show started with them already seated. They had opened it with her greetings, her thanks and her complete humility. There was a camera rolling out live, its red blinking light a warning to Cadence not to slip up. There was a lone reporter too with his own photographer, photographs only for him. The reporter would have been hand picked by someone on the President's team of course, one loyal to the government.
Cadence didn't take in anyone else, her eyes were on President Alcazar only. He was a kindly looking man with iron grey hair and a matching moustache, dressed in a pale brown suit and giving her a grandfather's smile. It was a persona of course but she was ready to welcome it anyway and end this hellish day. If he had any secret knowledge of her earlier plight she didn't want to know. She realised she didn't care who the masked men had been as long as she never had to see them again.
Cadence was numb as she spoke, holding back emotion as she said what they all wanted to hear. A last she was the dutiful daughter, employee and government servant, singing the tune for her President that would promise peace and an end to smear campaign against her. She explained she had visited Colombia before to carry out charity work with some villagers. She had praised the beauty of the country and said some empty words about its architecture.
The President had smiled at her with sympathy. He had informed her quietly that the villagers she had visited had turned out to be rebels to the government but of course she couldn't have known that. She was the dumb tourist on some silly stereotypical trip to find herself with acts of kindness. They understood, everyone understood.
There was no whiff of terrorists or the CIA to their conversation.
As agreed, Cadence showed her shock at what the villagers were and apologised profusely for any unintentional role she might have had in helping them. President Alcazar accepted her apologies before dismissing them as unnecessary, she hadn't known, he understood that. He thanked her for considering Colombia for her charitable deeds and trying to do good amongst bad men.
The latter comment had stung Cadence to the core, it was hard to resist the urge to protest against the remark that the villagers were 'bad men'. She might have squirmed but the pain running up her ribcage kept her restrained. She was slouched in her chair, demonstrating a poor posture she was unaware of, it would be dismissed as fatigue and a reaction to the climate.
Cadence felt the same exhausted pain she had felt with the CIA when she had finally signed off on their lies. She didn't care anymore for the rights of the dead and as much as it sickened her she was ready to let the lie stand because she was bone tired of the grief it had caused her and she wanted it to be over and she knew the truth wasn't going to help them anyway. She couldn't absolve the dead, no matter how often she might scream that they were innocent there would be too many others to refute it and she was done now, she had to think of the living- her father, her President, her Vice President, Agent Sparks and herself, all people she could help with the lie. It wasn't even as a minor as them, the truth could start a war, she had to think of peace and let the lie pay the price for that.
The meeting concluded. They shook hands again and she felt President Alcazar's revulsion for her sweaty palm although he kept it from his face. She knew he wouldn't be speaking to her again.
The camera had stopped rolling.
The President stood and gestured for her to leave first.
Cadence finally felt a small sliver of relief. The day was a blur but it was done now. Even the meeting she had only just concluded seemed a little confused in her head. She knew she had said the right things but she couldn't of the words she had used.
Cadence stood too and started walking knowing she just wanted away.
Her torso started screaming in pain immediately. She didn't even feel herself fall, rather it was as if the ground rose up to smack her in the face instead of her dropping to meet it. The ringing in her ears was too loud, the world was spinning again and that smell of damp wouldn't go away.
"Jesus Christ!"
The drama was amplified as the Vice President of the United States, who wasn't even supposed to be there, broke ranks from his Secret Service agents and bolted from the edge of the courtyard to run to the woman.
John had come as the meeting had headed for an end, Gavin had learned Cadence was there and let him know what others had 'forgotten' to inform him. He had arrived and been forced to stay stoic and silent lest he ruin Cadence's efforts to make amends.
Gavin watched with wide eyes, immediately regretful of his decision to be honest with John and tell him that Solange had let it slip 'the American woman' was meeting the President in the courtyard.
The minor audience watched in a quiet, confused surprise as John reached the woman everyone had been trying to keep from him today. He crouched beside her, one hand brushing against her sweat soaked brow as he attempted to pull her upright. He cradled her in his lap as his blue eyes swept over her with worry.
"Cady," he called to her, "Cady talk to me."
Her tired eyes rolled up to him and she gave a weak smile as tears slipped out. "I'm so sorry," she murmured.
John's hand pressed against her shirt and he felt the bandage below. His eyes burned with curiosity and confusion. "Cady what happened?"
Tom was suddenly animated, running to John and shouting instructions into his wrist. Something about a breach. Cadence's private security had finally gotten in contact with someone who mattered and delivered their frightening news.
The confusion swept around like wildfire. Everyone was animated, the Colombian guards and the American Secret Service fought to surround their clients whilst shouting angrily at each other. The Secret Service wanted John up and moving, they had to get him secure first and then they would figure out what in the hell had happened.
John wasn't moving without Cadence however.
"Sir we need you on your feet," Tom ordered as he moved to John.
Tom remained upright, half turned to John but looking outwards warily.
John scooped Cadence up in his arms prompting Tom to glance down at him.
"Sir," Tom addressed him in exasperation, "someone else can carry her."
"No." John's answer was firm. "She isn't leaving my side for the rest of this trip," he vowed.
John got her sideways in his arms as he stood up at last.
Tom figured grimly that maybe the woman could be a shield for the Vice President, a morbid thought he wouldn't dare voice. He was hoping it wouldn't come to that, it shouldn't, hell from what he was hearing she'd been the target anyway not John. It was why he needed them apart however, she could be endangering the VP by being with him.
Cadence didn't hear anymore, she blacked out and was relieved for it.
John didn't think he could feel anymore rage but now he was almost blinded with it. It had taken a long time to get any kind of story about what had happened to Cadence out of people. Her private security hadn't much to say. Two men had arrived at the airplane claiming to be from the President of Colombia's Chief of Staff's team, a representative and a driver. They had escorted them to a car and Cadence and her team had gotten into it. Everything was murky after that.
Cadence's security team had awoken in the car unharmed, still at the airport and unaware of what time had passed. All they had known was that they had been knocked out somehow and that Cadence was gone. They had tried to communicate with the airport security but suspicion had proved to be a bigger barrier than any language issues.
They had been forced to get public transport from the airport to Bogotá whilst attempting to make contact with someone could get out an alert. As they were privately hired agents from America, they weren't exactly preferred for or used to trying to track down politicians and their aides in foreign countries.
What had happened to Cadence in the meantime was the issue because she was determined not to discuss it. President Alcazar had offered his doctors, police and soldiers to John and his people and had conveyed horror and embarrassment over the incident. His head of security had suggested that maybe it was as a simple as mistaken identity or that they were targeting what appeared to be a wealthy tourist and not Cadence in particular. John had had to swallow down a lot of rage at those excuses.
Cadence had suffered a few abrasions and bruising to her torso, punching one doctor had speculated but the worst was what the bandage concealed. It was a mark, a deep cut that looked like a T but its meaning was unclear to anyone. It wasn't large but it needed cleaned and re-bandaged.
Talking and arguing amongst the Colombian guards and the Secret Service agents had followed. President Alcazar was afraid of how it looked that an American visitor had been kidnapped and wounded in his country, especially since it was one who had been coming to see him.
John, outraged that the incident had happened at all, was eager to punish the President for his inability to keep Cadence safe. John had grumbled about let this incident go public but of course Cadence wasn't going to let that happen.
Cadence had informed John calmly and quietly that she couldn't take anymore scandal to do with Colombia, that she needed it to go away and that he had to tell everyone she had fainted in the courtyard only because of the heat and that her brief disappearance mustn't be public. She had pleaded with him, mumbled that it hadn't really been that bad, more of a shock than anything else and that he could tell people she had simply gotten lost for a brief period. She insisted the matter was done and begged for John to let it lie so they could have their peace.
Cadence was certain she'd be blamed for it all somehow, that people would twist it and even suggest she'd instrumented the incident for sympathy or to make herself look innocent in the light of terrorist accusations. It was all far-fetched but John could see how the media at home just might run with rumours of nonsense like that.
John figured Cadence was also either terrified of a reprisal from her attackers or still in shock, either way he wasn't letting it go.
Now John was on the phone expressing his rage to his own President. While he made the call, Tom reluctantly remained by Cadence's side in a nearby room. John had refused to negotiate on the matter, it wasn't enough to have a Secret Service agent with her, it had to be Tom, he was the best they had in Colombia.
"Jed this is on your head," John snapped down the phone. "You sent her here unguarded and she was able to be taken and hurt."
"John don't forget who you're talking to," Jed admonished him in a frosty tone.
"You don't get your title, not today, you weren't acting like a President when you withdrew hers and offered up as a civilian, easy pickings for anyone," John continued to admonish him.
"John I'm not clear on what in the hell happened," Jed snapped back. "I saw her meeting, it's hard to believe something like that happened before it. Can I talk to Cady?"
"No sir you cannot," John answered bluntly. He pushed a hand through his sweat soaked brow and sent his hair upwards with the gesture. "She was taken, kidnapped almost right off the plane, then she was hurt, beaten and cut before they left her here."
"John I'm told she walked through the doors without a word of worry or complaint, and that she's a little bruised and confused, and that's what our agents say. They also say, and the Colombian President seems to agree, that this might have simply been an opportunity to try and rob a rich tourist."
"You know that isn't true!" John interrupted angrily. "They didn't rob her and why would they leave bruises on her ribs and mark her with a knife? How did they know where to leave her? Why let her go at all? You know that isn't true!"
"I know if it becomes public that Cadence was kidnapped and beaten before meeting the President of Colombia it looks very bad for both sides," Jed retorted. His tone took on a heated edge. "I know John that if Cadence was kidnapped and beaten on Colombian soil then all I can think of doing is sending all my soldiers down to hurt them because they hurt someone who is family to me but I cannot make rash decisions based on personal feelings. I know until Tom spoke to me and promised ten times over that she was alright I was ready to dial Admiral Fitzwallace and make a call for armed troops to go and get you and Cadence and end any form of peace with Colombia."
"Well then why in the hell did you send her here like this? Don't tell me that wasn't a rash decision," John accused.
Jed fell silent momentarily. "John I worried about you too," he added sincerely. "You're the Vice President, you're a target everywhere you go, they could've been after you as well, how could I be certain they weren't?"
John felt an awkwardness at this declaration and he chose to ignore it.
"You tell Leo about this," John muttered, "and see what he says. He's just as culpable and she's his daughter, he'll want war too. Jesus!"
"John I want to talk to Cadence," Jed ordered. "I want to hear from her what happened."
"She's not talking," John grumbled, "because she just wants it all to go away. She's terrified of reprisals and not just from them but from you, Leo, the press, the American people. She wants back to being my P.R person, no clouds of CIA and Colombians over her. I want to bring her home Jed, right now," he added firmly.
"Alright John," Jed sympathised. "I want her safe too but I need to hear what happened."
"You can talk to her in person then," John snapped.
Jed sighed. "John do you want war over this? Do you want C.J telling the presses what happened to Cadence, that she was kidnapped by some unknown people, held for a short time, hurt a little and released right at the doors of the Colombian President's quarters? It sounds like a PR stunt John, there'll be suspicion and accusations all over again. You don't want that for her and neither do I. I don't know what the hell happened John but we don't need it public. More importantly, we need to ensure you can all come home safe. I agree, bring her home now but that's it."
John frowned. "First flight out of here," he growled.
"Fine John. I'll talk it over with President Alcazar, we'll agree to keep this quiet and he'll make sure you all come home quickly, quietly and safely. We'll say things had to be cut short because of business. Another thing John," Jed added more quietly, "I do agree I was wrong to send her separately from you. You're right, I put her in danger doing that. Now, get off your pedestal, call me by my title and let go off your rage, it isn't going to help fix this."
"We'll see you soon Mr President."
John ended the call and exclaimed another curse. He knew he needed a drink, another drink he realised with a guilty pang.