Wow…you folks are very kind…thank you so much for all the wonderful comments! Fortune has smiled on me with some serial reviewers – a special thanks to you all. Please keep your reviews coming; I would very much appreciate any further comments you have and don't hesitate to offer constructive criticisms as well! I also invite reviews from those of you who are reading the story and who have not yet commented. This is only my second undertaking in writing and I value your insights.
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Chapter 4
Brennan carefully sipped a cup of tea as she scrutinized a large map of the Miami City Zoo that was spread out on the tray table before her. She occupied one of the window seats in a small FBI corporate jet that was currently flying southbound at 33,000 feet, somewhere over the state of Georgia. Deputy Director Cullen sat in the aisle seat beside Brennan's; he was leaning heavily against her, unconsciously pressing his shoulder into hers as he, too, carefully scanned the layout of the facility to which he suspected Seeley Booth was being taken.
Brennan was surprised by the sheer size of the place. When considering a "city" zoo, her mind had conjured up an image of a relatively small area filled with steel cages and unhappy animals. She could see in the schematic, however, that the Miami City Zoo covered an enormous territory, some 950 acres with literally miles of walking trails meandering through its exhibits. The facility was separated into four distinct areas, each dedicated to a particular continent of the world; she traced the perimeters for each of the African, Australian, South American and Asian zones. The latter area was no doubt where the Asiatic Black Bear from DC was housed.
Cullen suddenly became aware that he was pressing Brennan into the bulkhead. "Sorry, Dr. Brennan", he said. "Didn't mean to invade your space…I'm just trying to get a feel for the place before we arrive."
Brennan nodded, wiping a couple of drops of spilt tea off the map. "It's okay Director Cullen", she responded, returning her gaze to the paper. "I am quite amazed at the size of the facility. It's huge. How do you see our search for Booth proceeding over such an expansive area?"
"Well, first and foremost, our Miami field office has initiated the process to obtain a warrant to search the Zoo. Once we have it, not only will we have to systematically cover the entire area, we'll have to enlist the assistance of the zoo's staff of wildlife experts and keepers to make sure we don't blunder our way into an occupied lion's den. Without that warrant, we're pretty much dead in the water as far as obtaining the zoo's cooperation." He looked down at the map, a grim look on his face. "We really don't have much evidence to convince a judge; let's hope you can wow 'em when you explain the whole Asian bear / DNA thing." He looked quizzical, "You know, I am surprised that your squints were able to identify the bear that the DNA came from so quickly…"
Brennan nodded again. "I know, it generally takes a far more protracted period of time to achieve a DNA match however, we were very fortunate in that the genomes of many endangered and at-risk species have been scrupulously mapped and catalogued, particularly those being held in captive breeding programs. Using a technique called Restriction Fragment Length Polymorphism, Dr. Hodgins was able to determine the nucleotide sequence of the genetic material extracted from the intact hair follicles found on our clothing following Booth's abduction. Once the nucleotide sequence was verified, he simply had to enter the search parameters into the existing database to effect a match."
Cullen eyed her, a scowl on his face. "You will be our expert to clarify the whole thing to the court, Dr. Brennan. Dare I ask that perhaps you could find a simpler way of explaining it? …One that a judge might actually be able to follow?"
She was momentarily perplexed. "I thought I was being easy to follow…"
Cullen resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "You'll do fine." He wasn't sure who he was trying to convince, himself or her. "…but for the benefit of us normal non-genius types, promise me you'll try to dumb it down just a little…okay?"
"…a little more, you mean." Brennan snorted. She never would understand how stating facts made some people so damned defensive. Ignoring his grimace, she turned her attention back to the map. Even once they had the warrant in hand, the zoo would take a very long time to search; she couldn't imagine how they could possibly cover every corner of the massive area in anything close to a timely fashion. There were large expanses of forested areas as well as grasslands and other habitats, not to mention numerous adjoining enclosures and veterinary facilities. They'd need an army to get it done quickly. They didn't have an army…
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Booth sighed with relief when the lights in the hold snapped back on as the plane taxied away from the landing strip. He concentrated on getting his breathing under control and willed his racing heart to slow its pounding tempo, cursing himself for letting his phobia take over again. The humidity of the air that filled the belly of the jet was thick and warm and Booth made a mental note that he was somewhere hot, maybe even tropical. He tried to estimate how much time had passed since the takeoff. Although it seemed like an eternity, he guessed it was probably somewhere in the area of four or five hours…that meant he was probably still in the United States, or maybe a bit further south in the Caribbean. Unsure of the accuracy of his time estimate however, he really was at a loss to figure out where in the hell they were.
He hit the side of the crate again as the plane jolted to a stop...ow...shit. There was a loud thump and a hiss as the seal on the cargo bay door was broken. Rolling onto his side, he was able to regain a kneeling position and peek through one of the slits along the top of the crate. Booth saw two men enter the hold and frantically began calling out to them, swearing when he received no reaction. They couldn't hear him. God Damn it… he realized that both were wearing hearing protection and were engaged in a heated conversation, yelling at each other over the din of the equipment. He waited until the crate was loaded on the conveyor and started viciously kicking the metal sides as he passed by the baggage handlers. "Come on you morons!" he screamed desperately, "Tell me you can hear this…"
The crate stopped moving and he yelled even louder, certain they had heard him, but the momentary pause was short-lived as the two men, continuing to scream at each other and completely deaf to Booth's shouted words, transferred it from the conveyor onto a forklift. "No, no, no!" he screamed in frustration, kicking the cursed box so hard it felt like the damaged bones in his feet were coming apart. This was ridiculous…how could they not hear him? The forklift whirred to life and his mobile prison cell was lifted high in the air. The forklift spun in place and headed away from the plane towards a small hangar; quiet again, his chest heaving, Booth tried to make out the company name on the building as they approached.
"Cicero Import / Export" he read the name aloud. Why did that ring a bell? He tried to think…where in the hell had he heard that company's name before? Wracking his brain, he was unable to recall exactly why the name was familiar.
The forklift rumbled through the large entrance to the hangar and Booth could hear the hangar door being closed as the vehicle came to a stop and his crate was lowered to the ground. The interior of the building was relatively quiet and he started yelling again, his voice hoarse with the effort. "Hey, hey…in here!" A wave of relief washed over him as his cries finally received a reaction from some of the men in the hangar. He watched as several cautiously approached the crate, one of them waving to an unseen supervisor. Booth continued shouting. "Help me! Federal Agent…I'm in here…!" He kicked again at the side of the box. "Open the crate!"
"Shut the hell up, Agent Booth! You have no friends here…" a cold voice silenced his cries, a man with a Hispanic accent… Holy shit…he recognized that voice. Booth swallowed involuntarily as realization dawned and the memory of a cruel face with an ugly tattoo on one cheek flashed across his mind. His fears were confirmed when the chain was removed and the door to the crate swung open. Roberto Ortez stood in front of him, gloating; he wore a nasty smirk on his face and four men were standing in formation behind. Holy shit…. Booth remembered the last time he had seen Ortez, recalling vividly the threats he himself had made against the one-time head of the DC chapter of the Mara-Muerte. Booth had placed his gun in Ortez's mouth, vowing to hunt him down if something were to happen to Dr. Brennan…and meaning every word. The threat had saved his partner's life when the coward Ortez cancelled the hit. Booth wasn't proud of his actions but he sure as hell hadn't regretted them.
He closed his eyes...Holy shit…he knew was going to pay for them now. He felt his heart hammering against his ribs and suddenly was having difficulty breathing. Oh fuck…