Disclaimer: I don't own Human Target and intend no copyright infringement.
A/N: I'm sorry this took so long, but I had real trouble writing this, it took numerous attempts and without niagaraweasel's invaluable help I would have given up. Thank you, dear friend, for helping me so patiently!
Since they had hoods over their heads, were gagged and handcuffed, Chance had a lot of time to think about Baptiste's words.
It's about a woman.
At first Chance wondered if he had somehow misunderstood him, if his mind had been playing tricks on him, but given the look on his face before they concealed it, the tone of his voice, his reluctance to spill the beans…
It really was about a woman.
Chance remembered their conversation in Washington about that subject all too well. The venom with which Baptiste had spoken about Katherine. The total lack of understanding. And now?
It's about a woman.
Well, at least this explained why the Old Man didn't seem to be involved.
They were transported on water, apparently in the stowage of some sort of fishing boat, judging from the smell. They could hear a rather loud machine stomping and pumping. Chance guessed they were held captive somewhere near the engine room.
Hm, that opened a whole array of possibilities…
"Don't you dare even think of pulling a Captain Hook", Baptiste hissed into his ear.
With a bit of maneuvering, Chance managed to get rid of his gag, too.
"Why not? The hoods would be no problem…"
"I think they're bringing us to the same place where they keep her…"
Oh, so the woman in question had been kidnapped? Seemed to be going around lately…
"Tell me about her."
"Greta's an engineer, specializes in environmental friendly technologies."
Baptiste hesitated. Chance wondered if the woman's image was flashing up in his mind right now. In the first few months after Katherine's death Chance had had the same problem.
"She was hired to watch over the construction of the new oil rig prototype right off shore", Baptiste continued, his voice a tiny bit more raspy. Chance knew that rasping only too well.
"Apparently they used some not so environment-friendly shortcuts while setting it up. She threatened to expose them in her public report, they kidnapped her."
Despite the cutting irony of the situation – a beloved woman on the run from dangerous people – Chance tried to pose the next question as cautiously as possible. "What makes you think she's still alive?"
"Greta spent the first few years of her career developing secret technology for a company competing with the oil rig builders'. That company only just announced they'd finally use an old patent of hers. The oil rig builders really could use that one to make their rig profitable. They tried to hack their computer. I managed to protect it. My guess is, they're trying to get the information from her directly now. " Baptiste sounded as if he was pressing his lips together.
With good reason. "Getting information directly from her" meant torture…
Somewhere in the back of his mind Chance wondered if somewhere in this could also lie an answer why Michele was still alive, at least had been a couple of hours before they got to the stash house with the dead thugs. Could it be that she knew something valuable that she was refusing to tell? If yes, she was damn good at resisting torture… they were talking about weeks of captivity now. But there had been no signs of any of that in the stash house…
"Greta's tough", Baptiste said. "It's been two days. Maybe she's still holding on. She's the toughest thing I've ever met."
He said "toughest" like "greatest" or "most wonderful".
Tough like Katherine, Chance couldn't help but think, then silently called himself to order. They were on their own here, no support from the outside. This was not the time to dwell on the past, but somehow all of this tasted very bitter.
Suddenly the ship's engine's stopped. Apparently they had reached their destination. Somewhere in the middle of the ocean…
… … …
"Don't get me wrong", Chance muttered under his breath, "but if those guys are building an oil rig, can you think of a better place to keep someone for torture? Why go through all this trouble to find out where they brought her? Seriously, I've heard this gingko stuff is really good to enhance cognitive performance, or maybe you should try Sudoku…"
"I've always known she's on the rig", Baptiste mumbled.
If they hadn't still worn hoods, Chance would have stopped and checked Baptiste's pupil reaction, to see if he had maybe suffered a blow to the head or something.
"Then why not parachute in? Or dock with a boat at night? No, your brilliant plan was to let them capture you and bring you here. And you call me crazy…
"Not that crazy when you're wearing waterproof Semtex shoes… Come on, let's pull a White Whale." The rasping in Baptiste's voice was gone.
As they took care of the guards and finally managed to remove the hoods, they heard a helicopter land on the other side of the rig. "Good!", Baptiste yelled. "Better than taking the boat!"
… … …
"We didn't expect a visit from the EPA", the oil rig's construction manager greeted the elderly man laboriously climbing out of the helicopter.
"It's our new "short-notice" policy. After BP we've decided to tighten the reins a little, if you know what I mean", the EPA inspector replied. He had a very peculiar way of talking, slightly slurry. Quite broad shoulders for an EPA bureaucrat, too, and was that golden chain that peeked through his loosely buttoned shirt in accordance with EPA dress code? But the manager was way too nervous about the prisoners, the upcoming auction and the construction short cuts to ponder the issue for any length of time.
… … …
Locating Greta was not too difficult – as soon as Baptiste demonstrated to the thug gang's leader just how high an oil rig really was, once you dangled headfirst over the railing, he quickly gave her whereabouts away.
"We've got about two minutes before they'll know what's going on", Chance told Baptiste as they hurried down a flight of stairs. "Maybe less if their security system is also up and running complete check-ups. But maybe we're lucky, since the whole thing is yet under construction…"
It turned out Greta was locked up behind a reinforced steel door with an electronic key pad. No time to play around with it. Down here, deep in the unfinished bowels of the rig they'd be trapped, as soon as the rest of the crew caught on.
"You'll have to blow it open", Chance told Baptiste. "Greta? You've got to step away from the door as far as possible!", he instructed the captivated woman through the steel.
Baptiste, however, seemed frozen to the spot.
"What? Can't remember how to blow something up? Don't worry, take your time. It's not that we're sitting ducks down here and totally outnumbered." Chance was listening intently to any sounds coming from above stairs. Theoretically their adversaries should have already noticed that something was amiss. Were they watching the weekly movie in the cinema room or something? What was diverting their attention so much?
"If I make a mistake, I'll kill her", Baptiste whispered, still frozen.
"Then let me do it." Chance held out his hand for the Semtex.
Baptiste, however, didn't move. For the first time in what, months? Years? The two men looked each other in the eyes. Really in the eyes.
If he handed Junior the semtex now, he was providing him with the perfect opportunity to pay him back what he had done to Katherine.
An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth...
On the other hand, Baptiste had never been unsure of his skills, but this time, with Greta's life on the line… After all these years he finally understood how this Katherine Walters had managed to screw Junior up so thoroughly – Greta had done the same to him. The mere thought of losing her, although he had only met her a couple of weeks ago, made him choke.
Could he trust Junior with her life? After having taken the very same thing from him? With explosives, of all things?"
Chance wordlessly took the Semtex from his hand and set up the bomb. He didn't even feel tempted.
A second later, Greta was free. And, to Baptiste's great relief, relatively unharmed. "They wanted to auction off my knowledge to bidder's from the Far East and Asia. I was not allowed to tell it to them. They wanted to keep the secret of the technology inside of me so that it would be exclusive for the buyer."
A vague realization about Michele dawned in the back of Chance's mind, but he had no time to think about it thoroughly. The explosion had finally set off the rig's alert system.
… … …
"The easiest way to get out would be to initiate a complete blowout", Chance suggested as they quickly retreated deeper into the half-finished rig. "With a little help the formation pore pressure gradient could exceed the mud pressure gradient… of course this thing isn't fully working yet, but…"
"No! No way! You're NOT going to blow up the whole rig! That would cause a natural disaster ten times worse than the BP ordeal! It would ruin the shores of California for decades, the fish stocks, the birds… even the sea lions at Pier 39!"
"There's a crew of armed thugs coming after you who already held you captive for two days and definitely won't hesitate to kill you, should the need arise, but you put fish stocks, birds and sea lions first?" Chance couldn't help but stare at her for a brief moment while he and Baptiste set up another booby trap for their pursuers.
"My job is not just a job! Protecting the sea, the shores, that's so goddamn important, why does nobody realize this?"
Chance nodded in appreciation at Baptiste. She's a good one, it said.
Nodding hurt.
But not as much as the ricochet bullet that whizzed past them, got diverted by the wall and grazed Chance's thigh. Oh damn.
Footsteps from the other side indicated that more thugs were closing in on them. Oh damn, damn.
Just then a major explosion suddenly silenced the approaching footsteps from the north side.
"That wasn't one of ours…"
A second later they had the explanation. Through the thick dust a very familiar figure approached them.
"Hello Junior", the Old Man said before turning towards Baptiste. "What did you get yourself into again?"