Chapter 7

Jaime scarcely dared to breathe. So many searchers! She thanked her lucky stars that none of them thought to look UP! Matter of fact, they seemed quite preoccupied with looking down, as they combed the riverbank searching for skids in the mud and grass (that would mean she'd fallen into the water)...and prepared to 'drag' the river. She shivered slightly at the thought that they were looking for her body in that fast, murky water. Jaime also felt a twinge of guilt when she thought about what Rudy and Oscar (and even Michael, although she barely remembered knowing him) must be going through...if they believed she was dead. For a fleeting moment, she wished she still had her datacom so she could at least let them know she was alive but she'd left it behind near the riverbank, realizing the voices it would broadcast would instantly give her location away to the Rescue teams. She was doing what she knew was right - and for now she had to focus on that! Her ear was picking up even the slightest sound from everywhere around her; it was getting harder to hone in on anything...but she threw everything she had into the effort and soon was able to pick up what she guessed what the main radio frequency for the Rescue effort.

''Boats are in position, Mr. Hansen; divers ready to go in if we find anything.''

''Copy; thank you. Results from the lab show the blood in the car belongs to all three subjects. I need ground crews to remain on the lookout for all three...and any other signs of injury or foul play.''

Jaime's head was spinning, from too much info, fear...and more than a little pain. Steve and Russ were hurt! She had to find them - and fast! Where were the terrorists? (Her instinct just knew they would still be looking for her!) Had they been scared off - for now - by the Search teams? Jaime had no choice but to wait it out. But when/if they did show up, how would she get through what seemed like masses of Oscar and Jack Hansen's men to get to her targets?

Steve laid on his side gasping for air, in a temporary respite from the physical assault as his captor paced the creaky old floorboards of the attic. Instead of blows, he was being tortured now with words...and Steve wasn't sure which hurt him the worst.

''Who is this woman?'' the gunman mused. ''Is she a friend to you? Maybe your girlfriend...your wife? No matter; she'll be ours soon. My friends will find her...and we've arranged a very special welcome, just for her! Perhaps you'd enjoy watching what we have planned...and hearing her screams? It can be arranged, you know. So tell me, how does one so young and pretty come across such extraordinary abilities? Maybe she is...bionic?'' (Steve cringed inwardly; he did know the word, after all.) ''Has Rudy Wells finally done it? Seems we might be able to get our hands on those nuclear powered generators, after all! I just hope we don't hurt her too badly. Such a pretty little thing...''

Jaime was having trouble isolating - focusing in on - any single sound, with everything that was going on all around her. It seemed that the boats were moving down the river now, away from her - and as they did so, the ground crews gradually began to thin out. Then it was dusk and the crews that remained began to use lights, both hand-held and on the ground - to illuminate the search areas. This is not good, Jaime thought to herself. When the time would come to jump, she'd now have to dodge floodlights as well as potential rescuers in order to accomplish her goal. She listened as carefully as her throbbing head would allow...and very soon heard what she'd been waiting for.

A car was coming slowly down the road, in the opposite direction from where most of the search and rescue teams had come. It stopped far short of where a small Command Center had been set up, and it sounded like the car had pulled down onto the soft shoulder, to be at least partially obscured from sight by the ditch and the trees. Footsteps (it sounded like two men or possibly three) meandered through the trees, probably taking care to avoid the lights (and eyes) of the search teams. Then...a voice...one Jaime hadn't heard before.

''The searchers are still here,'' the man noted. ''That means the girl hasn't been found. And she is very valuable to them, to have so many out looking for her. We must find her first - and then you know what to do.''

Jaime waited until they'd wandered a little closer, then gathered her courage and dropped down from her perch, landing softly on the forest floor. Instead of a perfect two-point landing, she wobbled and fell but was immediately back on her feet...and she ducked behind a tree as a Security man's light swept in her direction. When it was clear, Jaime headed in the direction of the men she assumed were the terrorists. And she was right.

Rough hands grabbed her from behind and a hand clamped across her mouth (silencing the scream she had tried - almost successfully - to muffle), as a hood was forced over her head. Something hit her hard, just missing the goose egg she'd suffered when her body had collided with Steve's in the backseat. Jaime fought back an overwhelming sense of panic...and forced herself to go limp. Hands that were far from gentle lifted her up and carried her, placing her on a hard, carpeted surface that smelled of gasoline and oil. Jaime heard the slamming of the trunk (overhead) and then the car started and drove slowly out of the ditch.

She was on her way...but to what?!