"Don't throw up now."
"Ja, it's an expensive car."
Waking up to a pounding headache was bad enough, but the claustrophobia of being squeezed between two strange men was something else entirely. Along with discovering she had been restrained at both wrists and ankles, she had a lap belt on for safety. The irony was not lost on Tamara as she felt anything but safe at the moment.
"Do not speak to her," the driver said. "That is an order."
So that cleared up who was in charge here. She wanted to say something really biting to Dale, or whomever this fraud really was, but all that came out was, "Watch out for the ether? What about the chloroform?"
"Tch, the chemicals you are referring to don't work that way. I have my own compounds. Fewer side effects, too," he said without moving, his attention focused on his driving.
Her aching temples begged to differ.
"So do you do this for a living? Kidnapping people, I mean."
He didn't respond and they rode in silence for several uncomfortable seconds before he spoke.
"This was a unique situation. No more questions, just sit quietly."
That was a challenging task, being as uncomfortably situated as she was. She could tell at least one of these men was carrying a firearm based on the pressure she felt against her left hip. Tamara couldn't see the expressions of her captors, but their infrequent chuckles and coughs told her all she needed to know. At least she had had the foresight to wear a somewhat modest summer dress this evening.
She kept her gaze forward, looking out through the front windshield to observe that Rio de Janeiro had been caught in a sudden downpour. Of course, that assumed they were even within the city limits any more, as she had no idea how long she had been in the car. There wasn't much to see in the way of scenery, other than the streetlights reflecting hazily through the drenching rain. The windshield wipers barely masked her rustling and thus it did not go unnoticed.
"We are almost there. Relax."
She took what little comfort she could from the fact that they hadn't killed or abused her. Considering its organized nature, she had to assume this was some kind of ransom situation. At the moment she couldn't mentally engage with the possibility that she had fallen into the hands of human traffickers.
Roger had a good job as an engineer and Tamara worked too, but they were far from wealthy. Especially after having just thrown a decent sized wedding reception for two hundred guests. Where were these people expecting to get the money from?
She finally settled on Roger's grandfather as being the most likely target. He had run a moderately successful business in his lifetime and was retiring comfortably in Florida, but she had never even met the man.
Poor Roger. What must he be thinking right now? She sniffed and rubbed at her face with the back of a hand.
The rain didn't last long, and soon they turned onto an unpaved trail which led into the woods. "There" turned out to be a large clearing in the trees, with a helicopter resting darkly in the center of a large grassy circle, with several flood lights spaced about to keep the perimeter lit. It certainly seemed like the sort of clandestine spot a group of terrorists or traffickers would have for their use.
Dale parked the car a safe distance away from the aircraft, then he and the front seat passenger got out. The passenger, whom she recognized as her grim-faced abductor, headed toward the helicopter, while Dale walked around the vehicle to examine what she assumed was the dirt that had been kicked up onto the luxury automobile. Shaking his head, he finally opened the driver's side backseat door.
The man on her left side grunted a bit as he exited, then stretched out his arms. He was on the larger side, quite muscular, with hair shaved very close to his scalp. Peering out through the open door, Tamara was immediately drawn to the darkness beyond the reach of the utility lights. The woods would be an excellent place to hide if they uncuffed her ankles and she could make a run for it. Whatever was out there in the dark could not be half as frightening as remaining in the custody of these men.
The two men were now speaking in rapid German, gesturing to her and then to the back of the car. Dale appeared frustrated by the situation, but he eventually seemed to relent to whatever the other was proposing and stood back to observe. The muscled man looked in on her.
"All right, come here. I'll help you out."
She hesitated, not liking something in his expression which seemed to contradict with his words.
He put his hands up as if in surrender. "I promise not to hurt you. I'll just help you up."
Tamara swung her feet outside the vehicle and was helped to stand. Figuring the next thing would be to unlock the ankle restraints so she could walk normally, she was caught off guard when he instead scooped her up into his arms, bridal carry style.
She looked aghast into the man's face, thinking back to when Roger had done the same thing only a week ago, but he just grinned. "See, I help you."
It wasn't planned but his bad breath sent her over the edge and she lurched forward as hard as she could, head-butting his nose. It must have caused some damage, because he yelled and brought his hand up to his face, causing her legs and torso to slide out of his grip.
Somehow her feet did manage to touch the ground first, but the rest of her body soon followed as she landed hard on her side into the wet grass. Tamara saw a pair of black military boots, and raised her hands defensively before they could kick her in retaliation. It didn't happen, although a lot of angry-sounding German words were spoken as she was roughly pulled back to her feet by the armpits.
Dale cursed aloud at what must have seemed to be a rather pathetic display and strode angrily over to them. Her adrenaline rose at the sight of him approaching and she began to scream for help. He brought the rag from his pocket and showed it to her as if to say, Stop that right now, or I will use this again.
That was enough to start the tears flowing. The futility of the situation hit her and she didn't even notice how they half-dragged her onto the helicopter in the end.
Dok didn't care much for all this drama, and that was an understatement. At least everyone was now settled, more or less, onto the helicopter, which had been traveling north for about an hour. Franz had a broken nose, which he had adjusted, but it would need further treatment down the road. It was almost tiresome now to deal with fragile humans who lacked healing powers of their own; he had more important projects to worry about. Major had allowed him the use of only one of their artificially enhanced soldiers on this mission, so as not to attract any undue attention. The less chance of revealing their organization's existence to the world, before it was the right time, the better. So the occasional broken nose or some such nuisance was to be expected.
The young couple were something of a nuisance too, although they were a quiet, albeit forlorn-looking pair now. Much as he abhorred unnecessary violence, he had agreed to allow Jannik to knock out the male with a blow to the head. The private was gifted in the use of a small baton, and could do so without causing permanent damage. It was yet another skill of the vampiric soldier, who was piloting the helicopter at the moment.
He thought the sight of her husband would stop the girl's weeping, but if anything she had only cried harder upon seeing his limp body dragged aboard and secured nearby into an empty seat. Fortunately he wasn't able to hear much through the noisy interior of the helicopter.
It was far too much excitement for such an early hour.
However, there had been no casualties, and intelligence confirmed the Brazilian police were neither pursuing nor were they even aware of the disappearance of the two Americans as of yet. Even the power outage that had taken out half of the grand parade route had not been reported as an act of sabotage.
On a more personal note, the BMW had been recovered and taken somewhere to be washed. All-in-all, a very successful mission thus far.
He asked for an ETA through his headset's built-in microphone.
Roger could not recall a time he had been more disoriented, not even after getting his wisdom teeth removed during that one spring break back in college. The first thing he knew was that his head hurt, the second was that his vision was blurry, and the third was that he could do nothing about either of those things as his limbs were restrained.
He leaned back against his seat to relieve the pressure on his neck, closing his eyes against the dizziness and nausea. When he opened them again, things were a bit clearer, and he could see the dim interior of his surroundings. There was the man known as Dale, sitting across from him, watching him with a cursory interest. Based on the windowless passenger area and the heavy vibrations he was picking up through his seat he surmised that they were in a helicopter.
He frowned and turned his head to the right, only to see Tamara looking at him intently with concern. Her eyes were red and she was bound at hands and feet, but she seemed to be unharmed. She was wearing basic ear protection and at that moment he realized that he had some on as well. The dull hum he was hearing was purely environmental, not due to trauma from the head injury.
His instinct to comfort her was cut short by the arrival of the young man who had initially lured him away from the parade. He sat down nonchalantly between the two imprisoned people and began to open a sealed package of food.
Roger leaned forward as far as his flight strap would allow and saw that Tamara had done the same. They exchanged a look between them that said everything, and mouthed three words to each other that left no doubt.
A few hours later the helicopter landed on a deserted field just south of the city of Brasilia, in order to transfer their passengers to a small twin engine airplane. In orderly fashion this time, the doctor had them march Roger out of the helicopter first, then Tamara. He allowed the soldiers to draw their firearms as a safeguard but not to switch off the safeties. As it was, no one tried to run or escape and the transfer ran without incident.
Dok thought it would be best if the couple were physically separated for the remainder of the trip, so he sent Roger to the very back row of the plane with the human soldiers, who could take turns sleeping and keeping guard, while he and Tamara were six rows forward in the front. Jannik was used to being up all night, being a vampire and all, and would continue as their pilot for the final leg of the journey.
Once they were airborne, he thought he might actually be able to doze off for a bit to recharge his mental batteries. The seats up here were roomier and he could stretch out his long legs.
But she kept staring at him across the aisle, her eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep and looking all daggers. It was mildly upsetting.
Leaning back in his seat, he crossed his arms and turned his head to face her. "Something on your mind?"
"What do you people want with us? I demand answers."
"Don't demand, it's rude. But I suppose I can answer a few polite questions."
"Fine. Who are you really?"
"You may call me Doktor. Or Dok. Everyone does nowadays."
"And them?" she inclined her head towards whichever soldier was currently making the rounds up and down the aircraft's aisle.
"Colleagues, well subordinates actually. We belong to the same organization."
"What organization?"
"Next question."
"Are you doing this for ransom?"
"No, we aren't interested in money."
Her voice quavered. "Is this political? Are we hostages?"
"Well, not really and no."
She visibly swallowed and seemed hesitant to ask her next question. "So…why are we here?"
Dok pursed his lips, still unsure of how much to say. He decided to continue with the general truth of the matter.
"I didn't lie to you before, when we first spoke. I am indeed a scientist. You're here because I require your assistance to continue my research into genetics."
Now she was visibly trembling. "I don't understand this at all."
"You will be given enough information to proceed as you need. Best to sleep now, if you can. I doubt there will be the time when we arrive."
He reclined his seat in preparation for a nap.
"Can you tell me where we're going at least? Please!"
"Get some rest."
Regardless of what she decided to do, he was going to take his own advice.
Notes:
So Millennium's base is in Jaburo, Brazil, which is a friggin' Mobile Suit Gundam reference haha, not a real place. Typical Hirano... Anyway, I stared at a map of Brazil until I got bored and I'll agree with the internet that it's basically Japura, Brazil, which is more than 2,000 miles away from Rio. I never appreciated until now just how big Brazil actually is.