Chapter 20

They drove through the outskirts of Washington until they were on the freeway and then into the city, battling traffic turn after turn. Lisa tried to focus, to push herself to pay attention, but completely lost her sense of direction after a while. She suspected that was Jackson's intention, but she was beyond caring.

Que sera, sera, whatever will be, will be. She had always hated the song, its syrupy melody as much as the cheesy lyrics, but Lisa hummed along anyway. There was nothing she could do at this point except to stay sane and regain some of her strength while Jackson brought them to their hideout.

Ever since their brief talk about Cherry he had been stubbornly quiet, concentrating on the road and the radio. Sometimes she sensed his eyes on her in a silent challenge, but she let it pass without a word. Lisa knew it pissed him off and she was glad she had finally found a way to win. A petty victory, but a victory nonetheless.

Daylight was starting to fade when they reached their destination. It was a tall building just outside Washington, a modern office complex without a single name plate to be seen. After sliding an ID card into a slot, they drove into the garage and straight to a numbered parking space by the elevator. Lisa noted that Jackson lined up the car with its back to the wall as if to ensure an easy getaway.

"Is this a fortress? Where are the security cameras?" Lisa looked around.

Jackson had used the ID card again to call for the elevator and now had to enter a code before being able to press the button for the first floor. No names here, either, just numbers.

"There are different kinds of fortresses. Some require an extensive collection of security cameras, others rather desist to ensure privacy for clients."

The first door on the right seemed to be their place. Jackson used his keys to gain entrance and ushered her in. "Home, sweet home."

The first thing Lisa noticed was the impressive collection of electronic equipment, most of which she didn't recognize and couldn't for the life of her figure out what it might do. The second thing was a change in Jackson himself – it was as if someone had turned a switch. He bustled around unpacking his bags, setting up even more equipment and was wading through cables with barely masked glee.

Lisa shrugged and explored on her own. Apart from the main one there was a small additional room with a comfortable couch, a TV and a kitchenette and a bathroom. She frowned … where was she supposed to stay?

"Over here." Jackson's voice startled her. "The TV room is mine."

Lisa went back into the main room and raised her eyebrows. Over where?

With a small grin that couldn't completely mask the pride, Jackson hit a key on his laptop and the wall on one side slid apart, disclosing a windowless space that was about the same size as a decent walk-in closet. The furniture consisted of a thick mattress and a naked light bulb dangling from the ceiling.

Lisa sighed. "Okay, where do I hide my things?"

"Yeah, I changed my mind about that. When you were supposedly taken to the federal office in Miami, you might have packed some stuff - nobody can tell, really. It can stay with you." Jackson turned to his laptop. "I have work to do, so leave me alone. Get comfortable. But," he tossed her the dreaded handcuffs, "keep these nearby."

Lisa rolled her eyes and put the suitcase in her new "room", effectively taking up the last free space. It was claustrophobic. After thinking about it for a few seconds, she dropped the handcuffs onto the mattress. She would have to run here, anyway, so better to leave them right where she'd need them. Screw Jackson.

She walked back to the kitchenette and went through the cabinets. Grabbing some soda and chips Lisa settled down on the couch and turned on the TV. She listlessly flipped through the channels for a while, drifting in and out of some sort of exhausted stupor until she decided to stick with the shopping channel.

A ton of infomercials later, Jackson suddenly stood by the couch. "Fascinating. Come on, I want to show you something."

The main room had undergone an amazing transformation. Chaos had been replaced by order, the cables were sorted, bound and hooked up and the equipment was neatly stored either on the shelves or around the large desk in the middle. Like a spider in its electronic web, a large black box underneath the table was thrumming contently, apparently connected to all.

Lisa whistled. "Impressive."

"Thanks." Jackson sat down by the desk and patted the other chair. "I contacted Whitley and have received a reply."

Lisa took a seat. "Can't they trace your IP address?"

"Not this one, they can't."

Carefully, he pushed the laptop towards her and Lisa read through Whitley's mail. It mostly consisted of threats, accusations and questions about their whereabouts. Lisa's safety was also featured prominently.

"I want you to answer that you are here out of your own free will, that you are safe and unhurt. You know the drill … convince him."

Lisa's fingers hovered over the keyboard, unable to press a single key. What were you supposed to write under these circumstances? Should she give a general account of the past few days and ask for understanding? Or keep it short and chipper? The fact that Jackson was practically breathing down her neck didn't make it any easier. In the end, Lisa decided on a medium length, concise message she kept editing over and over again to make it sound natural and confident.

The part Whitley had played in her decision was incredibly hard to express and after a while, Lisa grunted in frustration. "Stop snorting, this is difficult enough!"

"Are you afraid you might hurt his feelings?" Jackson snickered.

"Let's just agree to disagree here, okay? You think he's an idiot and I don't."

"Whitley is an idiot, but actually a quite talented one - he was just the wrong man for the job. No need to sugarcoat that."

"I'm not sugarcoating." Lisa was radiating impatience. "Go sort some more cables."

Jackson made a show out of checking his watch. "Finish the damn thing already."

Lisa fiddled around for a few more minutes until she was satisfied with the words and she hoped that her message would buy them enough freedom for Jackson to feel comfortable. More for her own benefit than for his – Jackson on edge was something she wanted to avoid if at all possible.

"Well done." He read through her message and corrected a minor spelling error which irked her to no end. "Let's see what they have to say to that."

Lisa regarded him quizzically. "Why are you doing this?"

Jackson cast her a bored glance. "Letting you write to Whitley?"

"No, this - ratting out your former employers. Why not get out while you still can?"

"Because then I'd have two kinds of enemies coming after me. Believe me, if I were to cross Keefe now, he'd spread the news that I have turned faster than you could sob 'Please don't h-hurt my daddy.'"

Red fog descended on her thoughts, but Lisa refused to take the bait. "And you think Keefe won't do that as long as you're good?"

Jackson cocked his head in reply. "I'll have to take my chances. Either way, the life I had is ruined anyhow and thanks for that, by the way."

Lisa met his eyes unwaveringly and her voice was cool, controlled. "Thank yourself, Jackson, I didn't ask for any of this."

"Trouble just seems to follow you around, doesn't it?" He toyed with a pen, a small, amused smile playing across his features.

"Only that this time, it's me following trouble." Lisa shrugged and got up. "Good night, Jackson."

For a second, it looked as if he would try to keep the conversation going, but then an incoming mail caught his attention. "Get some rest, Leese." Jackson turned the laptop towards him and stared at the message. "We're officially on."