Hello again to all my readers. Thanks so much for your wonderful reviews. I'm sorry to keep you waiting so long for the next chapter but my work has been crazy lately…working ridiculously long days so I just haven't had the time to sit down to write. I will try to update more often. Please don't stop letting me know what you think about my story.
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Brennan tried to remain hopeful as she and Cullen listened as the chief of operations at the Miami City Zoo, a hostile man of about forty, described the layout of the huge facility. Mr. Jorgenson was definitely not happy with the mandate given to the FBI to search his zoo and he sniffed with derision each time a question was asked. Cullen secretly wanted to pound the man into a million little pieces but he managed to control the impulse. He needed the zoo employees if he was gong to search this place. A large diagram of the facility, its habitats and its administrative and veterinary facilities illuminated the huge screen at one end of the conference room. How in the world could they possibly search such a huge area, much of which was populated by a variety of wild and sometimes dangerous animals?
Ignoring the aggravating zoo manager, Cullen eyed the map, a search plan forming in his head. "We will begin with the administrative offices and the main veterinary clinic" he said. "Teams one and two will cover these areas while the remaining three teams begin the search of the animal habitats. They will start with the Asian territory and go over the zones, one by one." He looked grim…he had five teams, each one made up of three FBI agents, ten Miami City police officers and two zoo employees. The numbers were woefully inadequate; he knew it would take days to carefully explore every nook and cranny of the enormous facility in hopes of finding one captive agent. He also knew that Booth's chances of surviving this ordeal grew slimmer with each passing hour. He sighed and glanced at the forensic anthropologist who sat silently at his side. "Dr. Brennan, we'll be on team number one. I want you with me to search the veterinary and research areas."
Brennan was about to protest; she felt sure that Booth would be held in some distant part of the zoo, well away from the prying eyes of administrative staff. The look on Deputy Director Cullen's face however, made it obvious that any protest would be pointless; she could see his grim determination as well as the barely controlled anger threatening to explode at any provocation. She wisely decided to yield to the obviously volatile agent's wishes.
Team number one was assembled in the atrium located on the edge of the conference room. Mr. Jorgenson would be one of the employees escorting their team and Brennan eyed him suspiciously. She found herself calculating the probability that this man was in cahoots with Ortez's criminal organization. It made sense that someone high up in the zoo's administration was involved if the zoo was being used to smuggle drugs and other illicit items, and the man's undisguised disdain for their efforts made her wish she could get him alone in a small room to knock some sense into him…or find out what he really knew…
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Booth's breathing was shallow and rapid but under control and he was able to recognize the sound of a gate being opened as the vehicle slowed and turned a corner. The agony in his shoulders from the now hours-long discomfort of having his hands cuffed behind his back almost overshadowed the pain he felt searing through his battered ribs every time he took a breath. Ow…shit… Focusing on the pain enabled him to overcome his anxiety and he was almost thankful for its presence.
He opened his eyes and stared into the darkness of the car's trunk; there was absolutely no light at all. The amount of time he had been in the car was difficult to assess, his near panic attack having ruined any chance of rational thought for an indeterminable period at the beginning of the drive. He felt the car accelerate once again and heard the gate closing behind. Where the hell were they taking him? Booth guessed they had been traveling for about half an hour but had no way to be sure. He grunted as his body was thrown back and forth into the sides of the cramped space as the vehicle sped along what was obviously a twisting roadway and he found himself wishing they would just get there…wherever there was. He'd rather face another beating than spend any more time locked in this damn trunk.
Finally, Booth felt the vehicle slowing; it turned a corner and rolled to a gentle stop. He listened intently as the car doors opened and several pairs of feet stepped out onto pavement. There was some shuffling around and Booth heard the unmistakable sound of a pump-action shotgun being loaded. His heart rate sky-rocketed. Damn… He wondered if they would just shoot him through the metal of the trunk lid and get it over with, but then heard Ortez's voice, "Take him inside boys… If the bastard tries to kick you when you open the trunk, break his legs…" Booth gulped. His body was so stiff and sore he doubted that a kick would have even been possible, but Ortez's words made it clear it would be the wrong thing to do anyway…for now.
One of the goons pressed the trunk release button and the rear hatch sprang suddenly upwards, surprising the captive agent who jammed his eyes shut against the blinding light from outside. He opened them again immediately, squinting against the glare as his eyes adjusted. It was daylight; the sun was warm and the air very humid. Booth blinked in confusion. He was sure that it was still night but obviously more time had passed than he had figured since the abduction late yesterday afternoon… 'I think it was yesterday…' he thought blearily. He couldn't even be sure of that…
He was still attempting to work out what day it was when two of Ortez's thugs cautiously leaned into the trunk and gripped him roughly by the elbows. Booth offered no resistance as he was hauled out of the vehicle and dragged towards a nearby low concrete building, his bare feet scraping against the coarse pavement. A third man stood to one side, the shotgun at the ready. Ortez was nowhere in sight. Part of Booth's mind registered that the building looked like a bunker. He could see lush palm trees and thick vegetation surrounding it… this was definitely someplace tropical.
An oddly familiar and yet unfamiliar smell caught his nostrils; the odour brought his uncle's cattle farm to mind, but the smell was wrong somehow…not cows for sure….but maybe some other kind of farm? Try as he might, Booth was unable to come up with any reasonable guesses as to where he might be. El Salvador? Colombia? Florida? He really had no idea at all.
The two thugs dragged Booth through a low doorway and into a surprisingly clean-looking room. The walls were painted white and were illuminated by a row of fluorescent lights and there was a large rectangular stainless steel table, about seven feet long, in the middle of the floor. His immediate thought was that this was some kind of morgue and he shuddered involuntarily. Booth tried and failed to remain silent as he was thrown roughly to the ground, groaning loudly as his broken ribs struck the unyielding concrete floor. Trying to regain his breath, Booth gasped as one of the thugs prodded his bruised chest with the toe of a pointed cowboy boot. "Stay here Fed", the thug said icily in a Hispanic accent. "If you try to go anywhere, I swear, I'll break your knees…"
Booth bit back the retort that threatened to come. He was in no position to provoke these people. The thugs left the room, closing and locking the door behind them and leaving their captive sprawled on the floor. He rolled to one side and tried to sit up, changing his mind at the searing protest the movement caused in his ribcage. Damn…
The room was cold and Booth recognized the hiss of an air conditioner somewhere nearby. He rolled onto his opposite side and tried again to ease his body into a sitting position. The ribs whined again but he ignored them and was finally able to muscle his body upright, panting heavily with the effort. He leaned his back against the side of the steel table and closed his eyes momentarily, trying to figure out a way out of this…any way…
There was a quiet coughing sound as someone nearby cleared their throat and Booth jerked his eyes open in alarm. Had he been sleeping? Damn it… A woman stood in the corner of the room, pushing the door closed with her back as she stared at him. She looked to be around thirty five years old with long dark hair and a Mediterranean complexion. She wore a white lab coat and regarded him with a mixture of fear and pity on her face.
"Oh dear, what have they done to you?" she asked quietly. Her voice was soft; the accent indicative of a Spanish mother tongue. Booth eyed her suspiciously, not trusting the sympathetic look she was giving him. She walked forward cautiously, knelt at his side and ran her hands lightly over his bruised face. "They told me you needed cleaning up, not that you were hurt…"
Booth flinched as her hands gently probed the laceration on his cheek. "Where am I…?" he asked. "What is this place?"
"Shhhhh…" She placed a finger on his lips. "Don't ask…I cannot answer any of your questions anyway."
"Can't or won't?" Booth scowled as she ran a finger over the cut on his chin and he angrily pulled his face away from her touch. "Who the hell are you anyway?"
"You can call me Marianna…but that is all I will tell you." Her brown eyes were brimming with compassion and he found it hard to distrust her. "She reached out and determinedly took his chin in her hand again; with his back pressed into the side of the table, he could not avoid her touch. She leaned back, letting her eyes travel over his bruised body and he suddenly became self-conscious of the fact that he was naked with the exception of the now-tattered boxer shorts. If Marianna was aware of his embarrassment she did not show it. "We must get you cleaned up so I can examine you for more serious injuries…"
"Are you a doctor then, Marianna?" Booth asked, twisting sideways as her fingers ran down his chest towards his belly button. Damn, that tickles…
"Of a sort…" she smiled and reached down into the pocket of her lab coat to produce a handcuff key. "I will remove the restraints but first I must warn you…there are armed guards right outside the door with orders to shoot you in the legs if you try to flee. Roberto wants you alive…"
"Oh, he's Roberto to you, is he?" Booth snarled, his look becoming hostile. She could not be trusted. "How very chummy… Who is he to you anyway? A lover? …" He noticed the wedding band on her left hand. "A husband? You must enjoy being hurt…"
She did not answer but Booth almost regretted his words at the look of despair that suddenly invaded Marianna's pretty face. He was definitely missing something but she clammed up and refused to say any more about it. Her face became cold as she held out the key. "Promise me you will not try to escape and I will remove the handcuffs and leg irons." He looked away and she grimaced. "If you do not promise, then I will simply remove what is left of your clothing and hose you down…"
He glanced up at her quickly; the angry look in her eyes made it clear that the threat was no bluff. He looked down at his shackled feet. "I promise…" he almost whispered. "I'll be good." Goddamn it, he felt weak. Anything to get the cuffs and irons off…he'd be good…for now.
She sighed in relief and a little smile returned to her face. She unlocked the leg irons first, tossing them to the side. He leaned forward, allowing her to reach the handcuffs behind his back. Marianna was not accustomed to the double locking mechanism of the cuffs and it took her several minutes to free his hands.
True to his word, Booth did not try to run. He sighed with relief and stretched his arms over his head, luxuriating in the warm sensation of the blood returning to his hands. His aching shoulders didn't want to flex but he knew the stiffness would pass. Marianna allowed him to stretch his bruised body for a few moments then stood up and offered a hand to help him stand. "Come with me Agent Booth…we'll get you cleaned up."
Booth hesitated a moment then took her hand and tried to stand. His legs were shaky and refused to work properly and Marianna was forced to reach down and half lift the large man off the floor. She was surprisingly strong and he leaned heavily on her until the muscles in his legs solidified. He wrapped one arm carefully around his ribs as she led him towards another door at the back of the building, opening it to reveal a large tiled bathroom. Glancing quickly around, Booth was disappointed to see it had no windows.
"If you think you can manage to get cleaned up on our own, I will allow it." He shot an angry look at her but Marianna's expression remained unemotional, almost clinical. She pointed to a small supply of toiletries, including a safety razor and toothbrush. "There is plenty of hot water. When you are done, I will examine you…" He started to protest and she held up her hand. "You have no choice in the matter. Once the examination is complete, I will see what I can do about getting you some clothes…"
Booth looked around the small bathroom. The truth was, he needed desperately to empty his bladder and a hot shower would feel great. He nodded in resignation. She closed the door and he overheard as she summoned one of the thugs in to guard the bathroom door while she went to retrieve some supplies. Booth sighed and rubbed a hand over his painful ribs. Who the hell was she? Where the hell were they?