Chapter Five

The interrogator was no longer working through a loud speaker. Instead, he was directly in Jaime's face - and he was relentless. "You work for Oscar Goldman," he stated. "What is your security clearance?"

Jaime was still quite groggy but her resistance training kicked in automatically. "Huh?" she hedged. "Oscar...who?"

His face was only inches from hers. "Oscar Goldman - your boss."

"I'm a retired tennis pro."

The slap across her face was stunning and sudden, but Jaime didn't blink, infuriating her captor. "I know exactly where you work, and know who you work for!"

"You know nothing!" Jaime snapped.

Her tormentor laughed. "You've also spent time at all three of Rudy Wells' complexes, so I strongly suspect you are bionic."

"I'm...what?"

"Your children are here," the man taunted with an evil grin. "Would you like to see them?"

"My children have nothing to do with this."

"They do now."

The had been Jaime's worst fear since the day she'd first learned she was pregnant with Jenna: her children were in serious danger, solely because they were hers and Steve's. Resistance training didn't cover this.

"As a Security Five or Six, you have plenty of information behind that pretty face..."

"Sure - I can tell you all about Wimbledon or Forest Hills. I can also do a 20 minute dissertation on bottle feeding if you'd like -" Jaime and Steve had recently been promoted to Level Seven, but she certainly wasn't about to tell him that.

The second slap was expected and Jaime still refused to blink. "Which limbs are bionic?" the man persisted. Jaime merely shrugged and glared and the man pulled out a large angry-looking knife. "Never mind," he snarled. I can find that out...my way."

- - -

When Steve found out that Jaime was gone, he was inconsolable - band furious. There were no clues in the file or the forest; it was as if Jaime (and the children) had simply disappeared. Fresh NSB teams began combing the woods while Oscar led Steve back into the house.

"We found a lot of children's items in one of the bedrooms," he told Steve. "I need to know if any of it belonged - belongs - to Jenna or Adam."

The room's occupants had obviously left in a hurry. Steve picked up a doll from the floor near the youth bed, and it nearly brought him to tears. "It's Jenna's...her favorite." His eyes were drawn to the rocking chair, where something was gleaming from between the cushions. "It's Jaime's," he said, cupping a thin gold bracelet in one hand. It wasn't broken, and Steve knew she'd left it behind to tell him she had been there.

But...where was Jaime now?

- - -

The interrogator leaned closer, menacing Jaime with the knife. Annoyed by her lack of response, he began the next phase by slashing purposefully and cruelly at her left arm. Jaime flinched just slightly from the pain and kicked wildly at the man's kneecaps, sending him sprawling across the floor. But the drugs she'd been given were powerful and Jaime was unable to leave her seat quickly enough.

The attacker waved the knife wildly, cutting Jaime across both legs before forcing her into a chair. "Now that we've found flesh and blood..." he stared at her bleeding arm, removed a syringe from his pocket and plunged it into the arm, just below the cuts. Jaime tried to fight him off but the double whammy of sedation and blood loss was too much to overcome; her strength was gone.

When she woke up, she was back in the van again, leaning against a wall. Someone was with her and she was crying: Jenna! Jaime snapped instantly to full alertness, pulling the little girl close and brushing the tears from her eyes.

"Mommy! You're ok!"

Jaime's heart broke - her daughter must've thought she was dead. She hugged her tightly, ignoring the searing pain in her arm and the gashes in her legs (which, thankfully, Jenna didn't seem to notice).

"Jenna," Jaime began as gently as possible, "where's Adam?" He wasn't with them in the back of the van.

"I don't know," Jenna said, sniffling.

"Is he up front with the driver?"

"No-o-o-o..."

Jaime remembered the interrogator had claimed her children - plural - were with her at the place they were moving further away from with each passing second. When the van began to slow to a stop, Jaime pulled her daughter close to her chest. "Hold on tight, Bug," she instructed, "with both hands." When she felt the child's grip tighten, Jaime kicked out the back door of the van and - pulling Jenna with her - made a last-chance dash for freedom.

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