Posted 11 Feb 2019

The longer the situation went on, the less sense Alexis Castle could make of it. She'd seen Taken. That was her greatest fear, being sold into a human trafficking network as a sex slave. They hadn't drugged her, though, even after her failed escape attempt. At this point, she didn't think something like the auction in that movie was her captors' plan.

She knew her dad. Her disappearance would lead to some rash actions with him trying to be Liam Neeson. That would get him killed. Hopefully, Beckett could keep him in line. That was if they even knew where she was.

Paris.

She hadn't been here since her mom, Meredith, took her out of school for a lunch date, which turned out to be a meeting with one of the potential directors. Alexis was nine at the time. Even her dad, who had his own loose definition of proper parental behavior, was furious. Alexis wasn't too happy either. She missed the local spelling bee finals. Times like that made her so glad her dad got full custody. Ever since then, the idea of visiting Paris seemed like something to do when you don't care about anyone else. The city might be great, but it had been conspicuously missing from her high school post-graduation, European itinerary.

Her dad's antics were always individually self-destructive, never affecting her. She could give him a pass because he was there. Sometimes the Page Six stuff was embarrassing, but it was never as bad as the top ten eligible bachelor list. It's not like he could help it if her teachers (and a few of her classmates) had a crush on him. She understood the bad boy image wasn't who he really was. She understood it helped sell more books that paid for her prep school education. He was the fun dad who gave her opportunities and loved her enough to stay. He had been the adult by age, while she acted like one. At least his current police activity was of the more lawful variety, a sign he had grown. It actually made her proud, when it wasn't scaring her to death.

She said a quick prayer that Detective Beckett would keep him out of trouble this time.

Back to her current predicament.

Growing up the daughter of a mystery writer prepared her for this scenario as much as anyone who didn't have martial arts training. Give her a foil and a single opponent, and she'd have half a chance. She doubted she'd be going one-on-one, fencing-style, anytime soon, though. Her dad's books did give her plenty of ideas for escape. Picking a lock, breaking zip ties, distracting a guard—she learned it all from her dad's stories of Derrick Storm and Clara Strike. Some might say that was fiction, but her dad always tested the craziest theories. Everything in his books was possible.

The problem was her previous failed attempt made her captors more vigilant. Other than two bathroom breaks to a room with no windows and a tiny fan vent, she hadn't been out of sight since she saw the Eiffel Tower from the roof. That was a different building. She and her co-captive, Sara, had some privacy there. Now she was standing in a cage in the middle of a large, opulent room. The cage door had a number pad. From when she was let out before, she knew the first number was a two and the last was a four or a seven. She wasn't sure about the four in between, but she thought the second and third were the same number. It didn't matter because she couldn't reach the pad through the one inch grid of the thin horizontal and vertical bars.

The cage was in a large, tall room in the house with a smaller, but full-sized room next to it, through decorative arches. Her larger room had openings on two sides with walls or shuttered windows on the other two. One open side had two interior doors, only one of which was open. A staircase was in the area next to the adjacent room.

Alexis hadn't seen Sara again. For a while, she hoped her college friend had escaped and found help, but a few hours ago she heard a couple guards talking about their cut of the ransom and hoping the new people hired weren't going to be cutting into their shares because they weren't there when the ransom was paid.

That meant she was a hostage, which was better than many other possibilities. It still didn't make sense, though. Several of her dad's books included hostage trades. They were always risky for both sides. with the whole situation becoming a game of cat and mouse. Why would someone do that twice? Her dad had enough liquid assets to put up money fast enough. Ransoming her separately was asking to get caught.

The large number of guards also was confusing. Sure, she tried to escape, but recently she had counted at least twenty people in this room and in the next. What kind of ransom could pay for the small army guarding her? Maybe they were there for other illegal operations, but even so, many of the men were new. The number had doubled in the past couple hours. They were expecting something.

If she were in New York, she'd think they were holed up against an NYPD assault. Her dad had some contacts in Paris from book research, but nothing that would warrant this kind of defense. Her captors could have avoided all of this if they just ransomed her with Sara.

The one good thing about the extra guards was they were all speaking English now. The original ones were speaking in Russian most of the time, except when ordering her around. Only a couple of them had spoken Arabic, but Alexis hasn't seen them since her escape attempt. The new ones were mostly French, probably locals, so they had all fallen back on English as a common language.

They also didn't all work well together. Alexis had noticed some dissension, except when the boss was around. He put fear into everyone, her most of all. Whenever he looked at her, she could tell he wanted her dead, but something was holding him back. He was waiting for something. Alexis hoped that whenever that thing happened, she'd be freed. They might move her. If it didn't look good, she'd have to take her chances before twenty or thirty more guards might show up.

What was her move? If she got one of them alone, she could knee him in the groin. She might have to flirt a little to get him close enough. She didn't have a 'move' for more than one. She wished she had worked up the nerve to ask Beckett about self-defense classes, although group defense would be more advanced and still wouldn't cover a situation like this. Her dad has suggested some kind of training once, but at the time she just thought he was being over-protective about college boys. In her mind, that's what pepper spray and a knee to groin were for. She wasn't expecting Russian mobsters and French mercenaries.

Her dad always told her the mobsters he knew for research purposes liked him. Maybe this was a rival organization. There was that night she went home to do some laundry and found him and Beckett role playing…eww. The explanation afterwards included something about Russian mobsters and a poker game in Chinatown a couple years before, and was filled with apologizing. Somehow it was Alexis's idea—the apologizing, not the role playing. She had tried to scrub that evening from her brain. Frankly, she'd be happy if they would get married and stopped having sex. Married people stopped having sex, right?

Anyway, maybe this guy was that Russian mobster's brother or something. But how was Chinatown poker connected to Paris? If this was a vendetta, no ransom was coming.

She definitely needed a plan. And she needed to stop spiraling. That meant going back to collecting intel. She laced her fingers through the cage and resumed her watch.

In the next room, a new man, holding some kind of machine gun, walked up to the boss. He must have been guarding somewhere else. That made twenty-one.

"What!?" the boss exclaimed.

"I said Alexei Volkoff is here," the thug repeated.

"I know what you said. How can he be here? He's supposed to be at a CIA black site."

"They say he escaped, like you did."

"They always leak about an escape, to try to control the power vacuum."

"There were those rumors from Africa that he had escaped."

"That was years ago. He hasn't been seen since his daughter disappeared a month later. That was probably a ruse to get control of the Norseman and take out the competition. You want to know how I know that he's not here? Because of the havoc that witch Frost has been wreaking on my organization. With him gone, she's trying to take over, but each step of the way, the CIA is swooping in and shutting down my operations. This is all the result of the incompetence of Alexei Volkoff's woman. He wasn't even a real Volkov."

"But sir, he's at the front door, and he insists on speaking with you."

"I tell you it's not him. Kill him." The boss flicked his hand, trying for dismissal.

"He has three guards."

"Alexei Volkoff didn't need guards."

"Ivan says it's really him. He worked on his personal security detail a couple times."

"Kill Ivan too."

"His brother…"

"I know, I know. His brother is our accountant. I can't kill him. Fine. Send Ivan and… Petr, and the other Ivan—"

"Which one?"

"The skinny one. Send them down to the tunnels. Make sure they don't talk to anyone about our guest. Then bring our guest to me."

"What about his guards?"

"How many?"

"Three. A man and two women. Ivan said he recognized one of the women."

"Really?"

"She was at Volkoff's headquarters a couple years ago too."

"Frost must be on the outs if he's gallivanting with other women. She probably screwed up one too many times." The man shook his head to reset his musings. "They can come too, but make sure we have six more men in this area. I don't want this so-called Alexei pulling anything while I have this operation going on. We need to settle whatever this distraction is quickly."

Interesting, Alexis thought. Some kind of rival had shown up unexpectedly. One named Volkoff, while her jailer was Volkov. The man clearly made a point of differentiating the pronunciation. The extra men must be because of this ongoing operation. It couldn't be because of her failed escape. That wouldn't warrant so many extra people. Her situation must be on hold until the operation completed. Then maybe she would be ransomed like Sara was. It seemed like she just needed to stay low and stay out of the way of whatever required more bad guy firepower.

Alexei Volkoff. Why did that name sound familiar to Alexis? After a moment, she had it. She saw him on one of those FBI most wanted posters one time when she stopped to see her dad at the precinct. He was number two, and that's when Bin Laden was number one. He was there? Or some imposter claiming to be Volkoff was there. She really needed to keep her head down!

A minute later, the man came back with a large armed contingent. Several spread out around the adjacent room. A couple looked familiar, but several were new. She lost track of the number of different people she had seen, but it had to be close to twenty-five now. The four visitors were in the middle. All of them were extremely tall. The two men were taller than her dad. One was older, wearing a black suit with some sheen. The other was maybe early thirties with short curly hair, wearing a dark trench coat. One woman was blocked from view, but she had long brown hair. The other, a blonde with shoulder length hair, was in head-to-toe black. Her boots were something else. They had to have seven inch heels with platforms. With those shoes, she was as tall as the men.

"My name is Alexei Volkoff," said the older man.

"Yes, I know who you are," Volkov responded.

The younger man failed to hold in a laugh, getting a curious look from her captor and the older man and a glare from the blonde.

"Sorry, it's from Doctor… that's not important." He caught the look from the blonde, but couldn't stop himself from adding, "I'll be quiet now."

Volkov spoke, "Alexei, is this man mocking me? Who is this guy? Your help used to remain quiet."

Alexis noted that her jailer seemed to accept him as Alexei Volkoff.

The tall, joking man was turning colors as he bit his lip to stay quiet and not laugh some more. Oh, Doctor Who is the guy. Ok, that was a little funny, not that Alexis was in a laughing mood. What good was the distraction of these visitors if she was stuck in a cage?

"Pardon, my friend Charles." Alexei Volkoff sounded British. "He's still new to the henchman role. He normally runs his own little business with his wife, Sarah, here," Volkoff said, indicating the blonde, "but I needed some support on short notice so he's here under orders from his mother."

Ok, that explained the glare. Alexis recognized it from the looks Gina gave her dad when Alexis and he played laser tag in the loft. The tall blonde was married to the giggler and her glare was her attempt at telling her husband to behave.

"I don't care. Keep him in line and teach him to show some respect. Didn't you learn that from your mother?"

Volkoff warned casually, "Take care before disparaging his mother. Very few live past the remark."

"Threatening me with a henchman's mother? That's not your style, Alexei, or whoever you are."

Charles risked opening his mouth again, "It was always his style, Gregor. Didn't you meet my mother before your incarceration? I call her mom, but you probably called her Frost."

This didn't go over well. Volkov started to pull his gun from his back waistband, but with his hand still caught in his sport coat, Sarah already had a weapon pointed at Volkov's head. Surprisingly, none of the other dozen or so in the two rooms moved to protect their boss. She was too fast. A few looked uncertain or surprised. The older, more experienced ones didn't flinch. Alexis thought this type of thing must happen a lot when crime lords meet. A lot of threats with weapons being brandished.

Gregor withdrew his hand, sans gun, and held it wide. "I see why you wanted her as backup, Alexei. She's faster than her mother-in-law, but next time leave the talky one at home. The wife can put her gun down."

Sarah didn't move. No one moved. Alexei didn't look like he had any say in what she did. After a few more uncomfortable seconds, Chuck squeezed out through a forced smile, "I'm ok, Sweetie." She lowered her gun, but she did not put it away.

"Put a leash on your b—" Chuck cut Gregor off with a throat clearing. "What?" he barked at the guy who didn't know when to shut up.

"I would recommend not saying something like that about the woman who almost made a mess of your hardwood floors. If you think Alexei Volkoff is going to try to stop her, you obviously don't remember what he did to people who insulted Frost and by extension, her family."

To Volkoff, Volkov said, "Is Frost running your organization now? From the cleansing after your capture and the failures of your daughter and your lawyer, most of the Volkov assets have disappeared. Your precious Frost's mismanagement is practically handing over the remains of Hydra to the CIA. You come in here as the great Alexei Volkoff, but that was the past. I'm in charge now."

With all of the threatening, Alexei's companions had shuffled. Alexis finally saw the fourth person in the group, and she was looking directly at her. Their eyes met for an instant before the woman immediately looked away, scanning the room around Alexis.

It was Beckett.

Kate Beckett had somehow infiltrated this new Russian mafia contingent.

To rescue her.

That woman was amazing. Maybe she did deserve her dad. Maybe she was more amazing than even he was.

Alexis still had no idea how they would get out of there.

Gregor Volkov was still droning on about the demise of Volkoff Industries—something about how it never would have happened if the illegitimate son of his father hadn't taken over thirty years ago. He complained that the Volkov name should never have been Anglicized. It diverted his attention, but that didn't get Alexis out of the cage. Her dad liked to brag about how badass Beckett was, but no amount of badassery could get by the small army in the room.

That Sarah seemed tough, and maybe her husband could do something besides talk too much. Maybe he could unlock the cage with a Doctor Who-style sonic screwdriver, but there were still too many guards with big guns. Maybe a trade. But why would this Alexei Volkoff trade for her? Her dad might have mobster friends, but her dad never mentioned the FBI's most-wanted owing him a favor. Alexis couldn't shut off her brain.

Volkov asked, "Other than unwisely announcing that you are still alive, why are you here? Do you need me to deal with Frost or the mess in her wake? Or perhaps you need someone to put a bullet in your brain, which I'd normally be happy to provide assistance? As you can see I have an operation in progress, and you need to get to your purpose before I have my men escort you out. We could arrange a meeting next week at the house in Antwerp."

"This operation. That's why I'm here," Volkoff said.

"It has nothing to do with you. It's about my wife."

"Gregor, Gregor, Gregor," Alexei shook his head. "I'm mostly retired now, but you are still carrying on the Volkoff family legacy."

"It's VolkoV, and it's not your legacy."

"Considering how much of the company I built, I believe I had the name right. What are you doing with it? Kidnapping beautiful, innocent young women. Volkoff Industries always stayed out of the human trafficking business. When I heard about it, I came straight here. Breaking up families is not what we were about."

"Her family is not so innocent."

"Ah, the sins of the father's father. But that's not her fault. She was wearing pigtails when that happened. Katherine, dear, please see to the young lady."

Beckett started in Alexis's direction. Gregor began to say something, likely to stop her, but Charles cleared his throat again and Sarah raised her gun eye-level. Alexei continued, "Ms Beckett's just going to see to her condition, one woman to another."

Gregor shrugged. "Why not? The girl's not going anywhere. She already failed to escape once. She is only getting out of here if her grandfather doesn't. Even then, I don't care."

Wait, did Gregor say grandfather? She only had one, that she knew about, and he died a few years ago. Beckett never stopped walking and was almost there. It was too much to process at once.

Another guard started to the cage, but Beckett stared him down. That was a little impressive. She reached the cage and leaned in close to whisper, "Hi, Alexis. Are you ok to move?"

Move? Were they going somewhere? How was she supposed to get out of the cage?"

"Alexis?" Beckett touched her fingers through the cage.

Right. Answer. Alexis found her voice, "I'm ok. What is going on?"

"Later. You won't be able to hear in a minute. Take these."

Gregor Volkov was still droning on in the adjacent room. Alexis looked at Beckett's hand and saw… What were those… Earplugs?

"Alexis!" Beckett whispered, "You need to focus. Put them in."

Beckett's tall frame shielded the hand-off. They weren't normal ear plugs. They were basically tiny cushions wrapped around something metal. Alexis looked up to ask and saw Beckett mouth, Hurry. Alexis did as she was instructed.

"—have them in yet?" came a voice through one earpiece. That was her dad!

"Be quiet!" responded a gruff voice through the earplugs. "She can't respond without giving it away. You need to stay off the line while I feed Hartley the cue."

Who was Hartley?

Beckett was looking at the security pad. Alexis risked a whisper, "The code is six digits, 2, then a repeat, ending in a 4 or 7."

Her dad's voice jumped in again. "That was Alexis! Hey pumpkin, you're going—"

"Shut up, numbnuts! Two strikes gets you muted," the gruff voice said. His sports rules were different. "Chuck was right. Beckett, the code is ANNA67. Punch it in now."

Beckett did as the angry man ordered, and the door unlocked.

"Hey, what are you doing there?" one of the nearby guards, who had taken an interest in Beckett by the cage, asked. "Back away."

In the earpiece, the gruff voice said, "Everyone get ready. Alexis, Beckett, and Hartley, close your eyes."

Close her eyes? She suddenly couldn't hear. What was happening? She looked over over to the connected room, just in time to see Chuck's coat open with a flourish as he started to spin. Several canisters flew out in all directions.

Flash bangs!

Before Alexis could process, Beckett pulled her from the cell and pressed her face against the woman's shoulder. Alexis heard many small pops. A few seconds later, she felt herself being pulled across the room by the arm, another hand pressing against the back of her head. She heard several other pops as she also tripped on the guard on the floor. He was screaming, not that Alexis could hear it.

Alexis found herself against the wall, behind some kind of ornate couch. Beckett pulled Alexis's legs in further. When the younger woman realized what she wanted, Alexis bent her knees for better cover. Beckett put her hand on Alexis's cheek and pulled her face to face, making sure the surprise was gone. Alexis nodded that she was ok. With that, Beckett pulled her gun and peeked around the edge of their cover.

Alexis had always imagined Detective Beckett was a badass in situations like this. Sure, the character Nikki Heat was fictional, and her dad embellished the true stories, but it was fun to think of the real life model as a bit of a superhero. Here she was, coming to her rescue on the other side of the world, in Paris. At this moment, though, the detective did not engage. She lowered her weapon in perfect synchronicity with the lowering of her mouth. She looked as surprised as Alexis felt.

Alexis decided to risk looking around her edge, and she was rewarded with the reason for Beckett's shock. Chuck was spinning in a circle holding Sarah suspended in the air, only holding her forearms. Sarah kicked at least three people, adding to the other half dozen on the ground. Some around the room were crying out in pain, holding their ears or eyes, still recovering from the flash bangs.

Chuck tossed Sarah through the air from the other room towards Alexis's room. Sarah landed on her feet but transitioned the landing into a cartwheel followed by a handspring. She stopped just short of one of the recovering men. With her back to him, he started to get up. A tranquilizer dart shot from the other room and just past Sarah's head to take the man out. Alexis looked to the source, but the likely candidate, Chuck, was already finishing off two opponents hand-to-hand.

"Who are these guys?" Alexis asked his dad's girlfriend.

She answered, "They're on our side. Or maybe we're on their side." A couple more bad guys fell to the ground under Sarah's fists. "They're friends," Beckett finished.

The British man from the group had backed away to the closest wall, out of the way.

Sarah hurried over to Beckett and Alexis as Chuck escorted Alexei to the stairs. Sarah got them up and helped them navigate the incapacitated men spread throughout the room. It looked like no one was dead, but they were out of commission.

Up the stairs, they navigated through one of the doors to a large room that looked like a household library or study. Sarah closed and locked the door behind them.

"What is going on?" Alexis asked. He sounded meeker than before, more genteel.

Chuck explained in a rush, "Hi, Alexis. We're glad you are ok. I'm Chuck. That's my lovely wife Sarah. We're ex-CIA and run a private security company. We're friends of Detective Beckett and your dad. This is Hartley Winterbottom. He was brainwashed to be Alexei Volkoff, the world's most dangerous arms dealer. He's better now. Before he was brainwashed, he was my dad's best friend. We're here to rescue you."

That barely explained anything, but in combination with what she had overheard, it made a little more sense. It was logical, in a crazy world. At least they were the good guys and were trying to get her out of here.

Suddenly there were a couple of explosions and gunfire, coming from outside the house. The building shook. It seemed like the incoming fire was coming from multiple sides.

"That would be our partner Casey and your grandfather. Casey's ex-NSA, and he's a partially retired spy. Your grandfather is a retired spy too. They are providing an external attack as a distraction."

She had a known grandfather? And he was a spy? It made even less sense to her.

Chuck was over at a desk, using a computer he had found there.

"This building was used by the resistance during World War II. Second bookshelf from the left, third shelf from the bottom. Le Comte de Monte Cristo. It's in French, of course."

Sarah went straight to the shelf and pulled the book. The next shelf moved, revealing a gap. Asking for a hand, she worked with Harley to pull the shelf to the side, revealing a closed dumbwaiter door.

"I'll take point," she said. "Chuck, honey, don't get lost in their network." She opened the door and disappeared down.

Chuck then said, "Alexis, you're next. Then you detective. Then Hartley. I've got the rear. There's only a hole two stories down to the basement. No elevator. So be careful."