Chapter Two
April 24, 1996
She arrived back to the US, just before daybreak. As she turned into their neighborhood, the sky was turning from navy to the bluest blue. The sun just a line of orange on the horizon in the East. For Bess, she felt that she had raced the sun the whole way home back to her little sunshine. But, now the sight of Dalton's car out in front of their beige craftsmen style home concerned her. Every moment of her trip replayed in her mind. She stitched the bug in there! There was no way it was lost or that they weren't getting intel from it. She was confident her cover wasn't blown. Maybe it was?
She stepped through the door and saw Marie sitting at the table. Both she and Conrad had untouched coffee mugs in front of them. Marie's eyes were red.
"What's going on? Is he dead?" were her first questions.
Conrad stood up, "No, he's not dead."
"Then why are you here?" she asked him, furrowing her brow, her long blond tresses a mess as she pulled her ponytail out as soon as she got in the car but had no brush.
"Elizabeth, sit down." Marie patted the wooden kitchen table at the seat beside her.
"No, I don't want to sit down. Conrad, just tell me. Where's Henry?" she was almost shouting.
He stood and made his way to her, putting his arms on her shoulders.
"His jet went down last night. He ejected. We had a location on them and when we got there, he and Greg were not there" Conrad was even-keeled with her showing no emotion.
"Oh My God," she didn't feel her legs give out from underneath her, but Conrad's grip on her was tight as he held her up and brought her into the living room. Her reaction came swiftly before the rest of the story as time stood still.
"Bess, listen to me. He is alive. Things are moving fast. We already received a photo of him this morning but he has been taken hostage," she looked at Conrad like he had twenty-five heads.
"WHAT?! By whom?" she asked, whipping her head around to Marie, who was now standing in the threshold from the kitchen.
"The RTI," Conrad said looking down.
"Saslov has Henry?! How in the hell? Conrad!" she began but Marie interrupted.
She spoke quietly, "Patrick and Erin are on their way down. We will stay with you until he is found." She choked on her words and held back her tears, before leaving the room knowing she had heard more than she should.
Elizabeth knew her cheek was wet but didn't feel the tears. It was as if her brain took her out of her body and only into the situation.
"Where's Stevie?" she asked.
"Still sleeping," Conrad answered.
"I'm going to need to feed her when she wakes and then head to the office," she said.
"Bess, no. We can handle this. You need to stay with Stevie," Conrad argued.
"Absolutely not," her hands were on her hips. Her jeans feeling gritty from all the flying. The sleeves of her oversized but comfy gray sweatshirt flapping over her hands. "If you think my husband is going to be taken hostage by a target of ours and I am going to just sit here waiting for you to come and tell me you didn't get there in time?! You have got that totally wrong!"
"Bess! For God's sake, you are too emotionally invested in this one!" Conrad shook his head at her.
Marie heard them from the other room and was a bit surprised as this was her first time witnessing them arguing.
"I am your best option on this one, Conrad. You know that!" Elizabeth yelled back.
"For crying out loud, you are so stubborn. Stevie is four months old and could lose her father. You want her losing you too!" he fired back at her.
She made her way to the stairs, then turned back to him, "We both know you won't send me into the field! But, we both also know I am the only one from Langley who will be able to find him. Let me go feed my daughter and I will see you at the office, Conrad." With that she walked up the stairs. As he shook his head at her and left the house. The door slamming behind him.
The cold was bitter. It wasn't a comfortable cold from an air conditioner but a raw cold that seeped into your bones. His back was sore. Sore from the landing and sore from sitting on the dirty cement floor. The dust covering his hands as he tried to make a fists to keep them warm, which was a worthless effort but he was trying. He stared at him. The smell was getting to him. The smell of death. He tried to keep time in his head so he could give an accurate date for the records if he ever got out of here. He knew a whole day had passed. A whole day since they joked on their way back to the carrier with each other. Laughing as they were just about to hit the edge of land and to open sea. Five more days, one more mission after this one and then they would sail home. One day since their unexpected last mission together after flying countless. He missed his buddy. The Cardinal to his Prophet. A St. Louis guy who grew up loving the Cards more than life itself.
Henry shook his head. He needed to wipe the memories to keep his strength to get through this. The cell bars were large black pipes spread too far apart. He stared at them while thinking his captors were not too smart as he wasn't tied down. Just thrown in there. They came and took his photo maybe eight hours ago. He knew that she knew. What he didn't know was the last eighteen hours of her life would save his.
He only thought about what he knew. Her being halfway around the world struggling to find any clue to get to him. He knew she wouldn't be sitting at home. His Elizabeth was too smart and too strong for that. He prayed their daughter would be just like her. Have the strength she had to help her get through this, if he didn't make it. He shook his head to wipe that thought as well. There was no way he wouldn't make it back to them.
He began to change his thinking and mumbled to himself as he put his head back on the cold, damp wall, "So this is what you think about in captivitiy."
The dark green wooden door with the diamond shaped window creaked when it opened. He felt the warmth from the hallway drift in. He took a deep breath in an attempt to warm his soul a bit. He could tell they were not in a cold climate area. The air that ushered in was dry but he couldn't figure out why this room was so cold and raw. A short, broad shouldered bald man came in with the warm air. His arms were covered with dark thick hair. His black t-shirt fitting tightly to his not so fit body. Henry thought, "I can take him."
He kept his gaze on the floor. He didn't utter a word. Even if they beat him, he would not make a sound.
"We found this amongst the wreckage of your jet. This is his. Where is yours?" he yelled at him. Russian accent but spoke almost perfect English.
Henry looked up and there was a burnt-edged photograph of Greg and Judy. Taken last summer on a sandy beach on Cape Cod. Judy was sitting in front of him proudly showing off her baby bump. Henry thought about the devastation this would bring to Judy. Their infant daughter, Hayley, growing up fatherless. He said nothing and looked back down. Not wanting to show any emotion.
"I asked WHERE IS YOURS?" Saslov kicked the pipe with his foot. "Tell me or my foot will meet your head next."
Still nothing.
Saslov got angrier and fiddled with the lock. Henry listened for the clicks but they didn't come. The lock was his first thought when he woke up in the cold cell, "A combination lock. These guys were truly amateurs."
The clanging of the lock got louder as Saslov got angrier. He pulled on it and banged it against the pipes but it did not open. He stormed out of the dank room and yelled out something in Russian.
A small smirk appeared on Henry's face. He ran his fingers over the tear that was now in the leg of his flight suit. Catching the longer threads feeling grateful there was more than three. As he counted them again, there were eight. He knew he had six captors for now. Enough threads for when they wanted to send a message to the President.
Salsov returned with his captors. As they fiddled and argued over the lock, they had no clue Henry was already planning his own escape. He struggled to keep a straight face as the men argued like the The Three Stooges trying to open the lock. It had only taken him seconds after his lock up to change the combination. His love for Elizabeth was the strongest thing in his life. Their wedding date is the new combination.