Chapter 16

Customer Assistance to the Garden Center

Three Days Later

Jason Bourne watched as they blew past empty harvested fields at a steady seventy miles an hour. He had nothing to distract him from the constant droning noise that had plagued him for three days. It was comparable to Chinese water torture only more invasive.

The group had decided to go mobile until they had some kind of direction. Kirill had purchased a five-year old RV off Craig's List and they kept one car and one SUV. They all took turns switching out and most people rotated driving partners; although Bourne refused to let Nicky out of his sight.

Marta and Paz had gone to collect the samples Nicky had gathered and were then going to the University of Chicago. Marta said it was the closest place that had everything she needed that had the lowest security. She wanted to go alone, but no one would allow it. Marta refused to tell Cross what she was doing, she had promised Bourne to keep it hush hush. He refused to go with her, so Bourne asked Paz. He was on the ragged edge, having been nearly worked to death the past year, and they all figured it to be light duty.

"Nicky, can you hand me some more aspirin?"

"Sure thing." Nicky dug around in the console and retrieved the already opened bottle and poured two out.

"Three please." She cast him a sideways glance and gave him one more, before making three ticks on his ad hoc medical chart she had started. Normally it would have annoyed him, but at least the droning sound stopped for a minute. Then it started up again…

"…so then Danny Zorn suggested that we go up to Amsterdam for the weekend and blow off steam. God, I had such a great time. Now I'm usually not into drugs- I hadn't developed my drinking problem yet… well except for wine. And beer. Oh, and rum. Okay, well I guess I had… Anyway, we shared a room while we were there and when you found out- Lord help me Jesus did you throw a fit. I finally got you to calm down and made up for it by giving you acupuncture."

Nicky's memories as far as work and Jason were very ordered, completely compartmentalized and linear. Anything else was a tangled mess of half-stories, broken sentences, and vague references. He needed mental diagrams to try to keep it all straight.

True to her word, she was telling him everything- all at once. He had tuned her out for most of the day, which he knew was horrible but he couldn't help it. Her voice was sore from talking nonstop for three days and he knew he should be grateful, but he just couldn't listen anymore. He had tried talking for a while, but every story he had that was worth telling involved Marie and even though she never said anything- or even reacted to it, he knew it was salt in an old wound.

Finally he had to stop the assault on his ear drums, "I never thanked you-"

"…oh believe me, you thanked me later." She stretched out and put her bare feet on the dash and wiggled her toes.

"That's not what I was talking about. Desh. For Desh."

"For Desh- what? For the whole Tangier's thing?"

"No, well yes. Desh was better than I was. When he had me pinned on the bed, that was it. I was done. Beds are soft and almost impossible to escape from if you're pinned."

"Stop it- you're giving me flashbacks of my night with Byer…" she teased. "Seriously to be fair: it was an enjoyable event, but it still makes me feel icky," she shuddered. "I guess I'm saying my body was into it but my mind and soul wasn't? Does that make sense?"

He nodded. "I'm just glad part of you enjoyed it." He saw her glaring at him. "I'm serious. I'm not trying to be a dick. What if you hated it all three ways?" He said reluctantly, "I will admit that I'm glad the other two thirds of you hated it. If that makes a difference."

She swallowed and nodded, "It means a lot. I just wish I could've been with you first. I mean it had been forever for me…"

He glanced at her, "Not the WHOLE time right? Not since Paris."

She recoiled, "God no. Jesus. Four years? You think I'm bitchy and insufferable now! No, I had a bunch of casual encounters- until I saw you again in Spain." She squeezed her eyes shut, "God, that sounded bad. I mean- I didn't have any SERIOUS relationships for that three years. Just a random hook-up as needed."

"You don't need to explain yourself…" he offered.

"Even though we were technically broken up when you lost your memory, we weren't REALLY broken up. We just got too close, too scared. It was more of a cool down period. Neither of us saw other people…"

He nodded and tried to take a sip of his drink but it was empty. "You can have some of mine…"

He took a draw and made an odd face, "What is this?"

"Oh, an Arnold Palmer: half sweet tea / half lemon-aid."

"Oh." He took another draw, "I like it. Just a surprise. I'm serious about Desh though. If you hadn't fish-hooked him off of me…"

She laughed politely, "He wasn't better than you Bourne."

"Me in Paris, no. Me then, yes." He turned and glanced at her for a second, "Thank you, really." She tried to hold his hand but her bandages made it impossible, so she leaned her head on his shoulder.

She swallowed hard, "You're welcome. You know there is a fighting style for that. Fighting while pinned on a bed. Conklin made me take this three week class on it- basically an anti-rape class on steroids. A lot of it is based on feinting and distraction, to create wiggle room so you have room to attack."

"You remember it- could you teach me?"

She looked at him for a long time, "Seriously, or is this like a come on thing. I'm not really into S&M or anything," she said, her voice tight.

"No, I'm serious."

She nodded, "Sure. I should spar with you in general anyway. I need the exercise."

She sighed deeply and then said for the tenth time in three days, "I can't believe she's gone. I mean she tried to call us both Jason- Ashley tried to call us both. And we didn't pick up because we were too busy… …screwing." She swallowed hard and looked out the window a long time. "…and within five minutes *poof* she's just gone. None of us can come up with a reason. She leaves her backpack and purse, but takes her wallet, keys, and a car. Why would she leave without telling us? Any of us! Why would she take off like that at four in the morning?"

He waited for the next comment to come, when it didn't he offered his usual reply anyway, "She not dead Nicky."

She rolled her eyes, "She just didn't get lost Bourne."

"I know that. There are other possibilities. I didn't want to say it in front of Allen, but there is another possibility besides: getting lost, being nabbed by Padre, or some branch of the government." There was a long pause, "A normal rapist or killer could've-"

"JESUS! Well thanks for throwing that out there Jason. Christ." She held up her hand unnecessarily, "Don't tell her father that. Christ."

"Look Nicky. Gary Indiana's population is like 98% black…"

"Yeah- not to be the total racist Marta thinks I am, but it's hard not to notice."

"Well a pale redheaded Irish girl sticks out. The police there are looking for her and if a body turns up we'll know. It's not like she went missing in Dublin."

"Well at least we'll have her body," she snapped.

"The fact that we don't already is proof enough that she's alive."

"You really think that?"

"Yeah. Pull over at that rest area; you drive."

"Wow, your head must really be bad," she laughed. He radioed the other vehicles in their makeshift convoy that they were pulling over only to switch drivers and would catch up.

As Bourne rounded the car, he stopped and retrieved a bag from the trunk. As Nicky drove, he started sifting through the bag. "Is that Ashley's?" she gasped.

"Yeah, I stole it from the other car at lunch."

He examined some pill bottles, "Jason, I looked at those. They're just low-grade antidepressants. She'd do better with a chocolate bar." Nicky's right thumb was unwrapped, so she could drive fine on the highway, but city driving was out of the question.

He stopped suddenly and lifted his head in thought, "Are you on birth control?"

"WOW. Isn't a bit late for that question?" He glared at her. He had realized over the past three days that Nicky was the opposite of Marie as far as ranting. Marie would answer 'yes or no' then go on a tangent. Nicky was the reverse. First the tangent then the answer he needed. He found it infuriating. "Yes, Bourne. I can manage my reproductive system."

"Are you on this brand?" he held up a pack. She glanced at them and nodded. "She's on the greens ones now- are they the sugar pills or the real ones?"

"Those are the place holders; I don't even take them. They are there for habit building."

He furiously dumped the rest of the bag onto the floor board and started sifting through the contents. "What- are- you- doing? What are you looking for?"

"I'm not looking for anything. It's what's not here. Tampons. There's nothing like that in here." His head jerked up, "Did she ask you for any?"

"No. Why-?" she started to ask as it clicked. "That's where she went. To buy some."

He nodded. "She: got to her room, gets ready for bed, realized she was out and was too embarrassed to ask you- or to get one of us to go with her. That's why she left the purse too. She grabbed the wallet and keys, thinking she'd just run in and out." He snatched up the walkie-talkie, "Allen!"

"Yeah."

"Do you know if your daughter was ragging it?"

"WOW!" Nicky shook her head in exasperation.

"How would I- wait… Before we left San Diego I told her to stick a cork in it and she joked about needing me to go to the store soon. Why?"

"There aren't any in her bag. I think that's where she went."

"Okay… What good is that now?"

"Any store open at 4am in that neighborhood has security cameras. We'll be able to see what happened when she was there. She wouldn't know any small local chains- so they are out. CVS and Walgreen's aren't generally all nighters, so that leaves," and they chorused, "Wal-mart."

Goens offered, "Wal-mart's cameras upload to a national server to combat employee theft- to prevent local tampering."

"Can't you hack it?"

He laughed nervously, "I already have- last week. I was getting ready for our annual day-after-Thanksgiving ritual of watching the doors open and people getting trampled…"

Nicky laughed and Jason glared at her, "I'm sorry- but that's just funny."

Bourne barked, "Next major town we come to we'll stop and check. Daisy chain some laptops together so we can all search at once."

"…on it."

Thirty minutes later they were connecting through a WiFi connection at The Cracker Barrel. Each one of them was pouring over a different set of cameras. Cross came back with some takeout food as they were lamenting their lack of progress.

"I was sure I was right…" Jason said deep in thought.

"You try a different location?" Cross asked.

Nicky pulled up the map, "No. See the next closest is more than twice the distance."

Cross shook his head, "No! When Paige and I went to her plane, police and emergency services had this whole area- here- closed off because of the blast. We had to detour around our ass to get to our elbow. Try the next one!"

Before he could finish the sentence, Allen had the new feeds loading. After a few minutes Bourne exclaimed, "There! She pulls in the lot at 4:24. You see that- the car behind her kept going. Then here it is from the other direction. He did a U-turn up the road to throw her off. He pulls in the lot when she is almost inside- see this. She hesitated, mid-step! It's a dead giveaway. She made him! She was looking at the reflection in the door."

The cameras showed her continue inside and then car barreled to the left, around the store. She turned to look and it was gone, she stepped back outside cautiously, looked both ways and didn't see it. This seemed to worry her more. She walked backward into the store and dialed a number on her phone.

"Zoom in on the phone…" They watched her dial the numbers and start talking. "Nicky, you said the other day you could read lips…"

"Kind of. I don't need to though. That's my number. She is saying 'pick up, please pick up-p…'" Nicky's voice hitched and she looked away. Ashley stopped and got a cart and hurried through the store. Periodically she threw things in the cart, but she was all but running through the store.

"Weapons," Bourne said simply. "She's trying to find a weapon." He stepped back and Nicky thought he was going to walk away for a moment. They both knew how futile trying to fight one of them would be.

They saw her stop suddenly, go erect, then sprint down an aisle, and grab- "Hedge clippers?" Nicky muttered.

"Bolt cutters," Cross corrected. "Probably thinking of going for the shotguns; usually they have a metal cable running through them."

She turned with the bolt cutters and sprinted away from sporting goods / hardware. "I'm watching him. I think he heard her running. He is now running too." Kirill said slowly.

"Where the hell is she going with bolt cutters?" Nicky half covered her mouth.

Bourne said suddenly, "The Garden Center. The cutters are for the fence- the whole thing is caged in- roof too."

She sprinted to the glass door to the garden center and slammed into the area next to it hard. "She'll never break that…" Allen murmured.

Cross shook his head, "No, watch. She's clever…"

She rammed into the side panel, one side of it popped out on hinges and swung outward. Bourne explained, "After 'the Who concert'- where people were trapped behind doors that wouldn't open and were crushed to death, doors in public places were rethought. It's designed to pop-out under duress- from the inside only. So, people can get out if there is a fire."

The camera for the garden center was far off, but they saw her run to the fence and pull out her phone, dial a number, and set it down as she cut.

"That's when she called me," Bourne said slowly.

She was almost done when he sneaked into the garden center and quickly moved from cover to cover. He moved smoothly and gracefully, as if he were dancing. Every time she turned to look over her shoulder the man had just stepped out of sight, it would have been comical if it were a movie.

She put the cutters down, stuck one foot through and turned to look one more time and he was one inch from her face. He said something to her and she grabbed the fence and tried to pull herself through the hole, but he held something over her mouth as she struggled and then slowly she went limp.

They watched despondently as he pushed her through the hole and drug her to his car that was parked behind the garden center. They had all hoped beyond hope that she got away somehow.

"Back it up, what did he say to her?"

Allen knew what he said the first play through, he said hauntingly, "Hello Ashley…"

At that very moment, very far away…

The darkness of the room was complete except for faint light coming from around the edges of the door. There was a distinct lack of noise other than that of a man screaming like a tea kettle from a long distance away.

Ashley Goens had awoken some time ago and was too petrified to move. The blood curdling screams gave her all the incentive in the world to remain quiet and hopefully forgotten. She was laying on an old metal cot and thin mattress that smelled like mildew.

"You're awake. Good, I can get started…" she heard a familiar voice say as the man lit a Zippo. He used it to find the string for the bare light bulb in the center of the ceiling. He was the man that had abducted her from the store. He had short, unkempt, greasy hair, a week's worth of stubble, and bags under his bloodshot eyes.

"Your voice- you're Phnxeffxt from online- Marcus. The guy I've been playing Call of Duty with?"

"Yes."

"Is that your real name?"

"That's a difficult question to answer. It has been for ten years."

He looked around, rubbed his face as he sat on a stool, put on goggles, lit an acetylene torch, and started to heat a piece of steel rebar. "Look away from the light or you'll be blinded."

"Wh-what are you going to do to me?" she faltered.

"I'm not going to do anything to you Ashley."

"But, someone is going to- hurt me?" she glanced to the door at the far off screams.

"Yes," he said flatly.

She said very slowly, "I think I would've liked it more if you lied…"

"What would be the point of that? You see, this way your fear will build, but it also lays the foundation of trust- in that I'm honest with you. You should really read up hostage situations…"

"Yeah, because I'm going to do this more often."

"The same skills that are employed in hostage negotiations are used in a lot of situations, buying a used car for example. Fear, awareness, pressure, and deception."

Her eyes narrowed to tiny slits in the likeness of her mentor, "So, you are deceiving me?"

"Nope, I did that already. I would've focused more on the word 'hostage' if I were in your shoes, and why is that class?"

She looked up in thought, "Because they're valuable."

"Ding, ding, ding… We have a winner! Also, the more valuable the hostage, the better the treatment- usually. Prisoners are worthless."

She noticed that it had been quiet for a few minutes; the screaming had stopped. He craned his head in acknowledgment as well. "That's not good; you're up next."

She heard a clanging noise from down the hall and she was suddenly mortified, "Is that a dinner-bell; like a real one?"

He turned the torch off and tossed down a circle he made from a piece of rebar and it landed with a clank on the dirty cement floor, "Real enough. I would leave your shoes, socks, bra, and jeans here. Actually, here- take these," he dug into his backpack, and held out an olive green shirt and boxer shorts.

She gave him an 'as if' look, "Sweetie, he'll just cut them off or throw them out. If you want them later, leave them here." He took out a cigarette and lit it and mostly turned away from her. She debated for a moment, until they heard the clanging again, this time it sounded angry. "He doesn't like to be kept waiting."

She changed as quickly as she could and he grabbed her by her upper arm and slowly led her up a hallway that was circular, like a tube. It looked like some sort of utility tunnel. It had an upward incline and she could see a door at the far end. "The acoustics here are weird. We're underground?"

He nodded. "There's nowhere to run, even if you made it outside. Come on." He seized her by both arms and started pushing her when they were within twenty feet of the door. "Move!" he barked. "Don't make me drag you…"

She felt groggy still and her muscles were stiff, as though she hadn't moved in a very long time, but she slowly started walking again. When they got near the door, it opened and she saw a rather bazaar looking little man. He couldn't have been five feet tall and was very gaunt. All of his skull features stood out and were very pronounced; he almost looked alien. He smiled at her showing huge yellow teeth and suddenly her terror doubled. He looked rabid with excitement and suddenly she felt completely naked in the tank-top and boxers; she crossed her arms in front of her chest as if cold.

She saw an odd chair in the middle of the room. It looked like it was from the fifties and was completely padded with white leather. It had a huge gear and crank under it; it appeared to switch from a chair to a table when cranked. It had arms and legs as well that looked fully adjustable. She saw a metal table that was full of: medical instruments, garden tools, and kitchen utensils. They were all covered with blood already except for a speculum and other tools she recognized from the obgyn.

Her attempt at courage vanished; she screamed, "SCREW THIS!" and tried to bolt. Marcus was ready for it and had her in a choke hold in a flash. She reached back and clawed at his face before blacking out.

She woke up a minute later as they were strapping her feet down and she tried to kick, but it was too late. They were clearly arguing in another language, one that sounded unlike anything she'd ever heard. Marcus screamed at him and pointed to the instruments and then pointed at her. There was a moment where he struggled with words and pointed at her and wagged a finger 'no'.

"I'm not going to tell you anything!" she quivered.

"Good," he said as he turned to leave and started to shut the door.

"You're leaving?!"

"Yeah. There's no reason for me to stay- he doesn't speak English."

"Then who's going to ask me questions?!"

"No one. What would be the point, you're not telling us anything- remember?" he shut the door and walked down the hall. He pulled out a tiny brass music box and started cranking it, listening to the tune to drown out the screams; this time they were going to be real as well as those from his past.

Ashley watched as the strange little man took the bloody instruments and washed them one by one in a bucket of water and then soaked them in a tray that he filled with rum.

She rolled her eyes, "Sterilizing the instruments? What's the point? You're going to kill me anyway."

The little man shrugged and motioned to the door, [他是负责的。.]

"Yeah, 'he's the boss'." She twirled her finger near her head, "Screw ball…"

He nodded and laughed, and then he poured a glass of rum and drained it. He refilled the glass and motioned it to her.

"No, thank you." He motioned to the table of instruments, and then held the glass up again, and she nodded rapidly after looking at them. She gulped it down and then another when he offered it.

He slowly started to crank the wheel and the legs started to move forward and the seat back reclined as it morphed into a table. He kept her legs together, but swung moved her arms over her head. She felt like Leonardo da Vinci's Vitruvian Man as her limbs were moved like a dolls.

He went to drawer and came back with the last thing she expected to see: a huge feather. He proceeded to tickle her everywhere for five or six minutes and despite her best efforts she was snickering. When he was done, he picked up a clip board and started making notations. "Oh crap… you were finding out what was most sensitive." He balled up foam ear plugs, jammed them in his ears. He then put Bose noise canceling headphones over them. "Oh, shit…"