Beau moved forward to join him in staring at the ground. He had a snipers outstanding eyesight and was the best tracker of all of them.
Looks like three men, he murmured. They milled around beside the vehicle.
Torsten nodded. And one walked over there to the corner of the building and back, close to where the ring was.
Did he drop it, maybe? Tessa asked.
Beau answered grimly, I dont see any tracks small or narrow enough to be Pipers. These are all men in boots.
Agreed, Torsten muttered. I dont think she dropped it as a bread crumb for us.
Either way, Tessa commented, we know she was headed west a couple hours ago.
Beau crouched and studied the dirt a bit more, adding, It looks like some of the tracks lead over to this burn barrel.
Tessa detoured around the footprints to stare into the rusty container at the pile of light gray ashes inside. It didnt look like it would hold any clues to Pipers whereabouts.
Torsten moved over beside her to gaze into the trash barrel, the contents of which were smoking lazily and stank of burnt plastic. He gingerly poked around in them.
Do you see anything, sir? she asked hopefully.
Nope. Just ashes. If the guys in the van dropped anything in here, its gone.
Damn.
Torsten moved away from her and pulled out his cell phone.
Wheres Piper now? Tessa asked logically.
Beau looked up grimly from snapping pictures of the tracks. I think its safe to say she was kidnapped. Which leads to the even more salient question. Why her?
They stared at one another grimly. Were the Medusas compromised?
How? Practically no one knew of their existence, let alone what their real mission was supposed to be. The onlydeeply buriedpaper trail that led to the team vaguely referred to it as an environmental research group.
Back in the Hummer, Torsten ordered briskly. Were going to New Orleans.
Whats in New Orleans? Tessa ventured.
An NCIS field office. Its time to bring in the big guns to track down Piper and figure out what in the hell is going on.
She wasnt about to voice the idea that, if Torsten had listened to her and Rebel earlier, Pipers kidnappers wouldnt have such a big head start on them. Torsten looked like he was probably having that thought all on his own, without her having to say it.
They climbed back into the Hummer in silence, and Torsten stomped on the accelerator, blatantly ignoring any notion of speed limits as they raced toward New Orleans at nearly a hundred miles per hour. No doubt about it, the boss was definitely more worried than he was expressing aloud.
They all were.
* * *
Zane goose-stepped the woman into the cabin as gently as he could. Piper, shed called herself. After a brief stop in the bathroom, he followed Mahmouds order to take her downstairs into the basement and secure her.
The cellar was dirt walled and windowless, cool and dank smelling. He led her over to a four-inch steel pipe running vertically up one wall and pulled out the pair of handcuffs Mahmoud had handed him.
He looped them around the pole and then carefully snapped her wrists into the cuffs. He made sure they were tight enough that she couldnt slip out of them, but not so tight that they hurt her.
Zane brought over an armload of blankets and spread them out on the ground beside her. It wont be the most comfortable place youve ever slept, but its dry and youll be warm enough.
Why are you doing this for me? she asked under her breath.
Why indeed? If he was one of the bad guys, he ought to be roughing her up, scaring the living daylights out of her and terrorizing her into unquestioning cooperation with him and the other men. But she was the innocent victim in this scenario, and he was the criminal whod put her here.
He had already considered telling her who he was in hopes of gaining her trust and cooperation. But hed reluctantly ruled out revealing his true identity to her.
IfwhenMahmoud and Yousef got around to torturing her, which Zane had no doubt both men were sadistic enough to enjoy doing, he really needed her not to blurt out that he was an undercover CIA agent. People in the midst of torture would say or do just about anything to make the pain stop. He dared not give her a grenade that she could lob to save herself.
As much as Zane would like to put her mind at ease and tell her he was one of the good guys, he couldnt. Not yet. Not until the two of them were out of here and clear of Mahmoud and company.
Her eyes were big and dark as she stared at him, revealing for a moment the fear that she was valiantly holding at bay. God, she was brave. Admiration for her coursed through him.
Get some rest, he said gruffly.
Her brows furrowed in confusion.
Ill take you upstairs to use the bathroom in the morning. If you have an emergency before then, let me know. He bent down and deposited a bottle of water and a protein bar on the floor next to the pole. Theres a drink and a snack right here, where you can reach them.
He headed toward the stairs and his hand lifted toward the light switch.
Could you please leave the light on? she asked.
Of course. His hand fell to his side. He hated leaving her alone down here with her fear and uncertainty, but Mahmoud and the other men would be suspicious as hell if he hovered over her like a worried mother hen.
He hurried up the steps before he could lose his resolve.
She tied up? Hassan asked when he emerged into the kitchen.
Yup. Not going anywhere.
Hassan nodded and set a TV dinner on the table for him. Turkey and gravy. Not his favorite, but he wasnt about to complain. Not with so much on the line.
Zane ate about half the bland meal before asking around a mouthful of pasty mashed potatoes, What does Mahmoud want with the woman?
Hassan shocked him by actually answering. Whether it was because the man already knew that Mahmoud planned to kill Zane, or because Zane had actually earned some trust today by participating in the kidnapping, he had no idea. Shes the wife of some guy that our employer needs to do something.
So shes being held as leverage, then, Zane commented neutrally, leaping all over Hassans rare chatty mood. Got it. Keep her alive. Reasonably healthy. Just maintain control of her.
Hassan grunted in what Zane took as an affirmative.
Do we know who her husband is? Zane asked.
Above my pay grade.
And who exactly ordered the kidnapping? Zane pressed.
Above your pay grade.
He grinned and shrugged at Hassan. Sorry. Its hard for me to keep operating in the dark all the time. At some point you guys are going to have to learn to trust me.
I think youre okay. Dont take it personally. Mahmoud always plays everything close to his chest.
Thanks, man. Zane got up and carried his empty dinner tray over to the trash can and tossed it in. Tomorrow, you gotta let me go to a store and get us some real food if were gonna be here awhile. That crap tasted like cardboard.
No lie, Hassan laughed. Ill ask Mahmoud in the morning.
You want me to guard the prisoner overnight? Zane offered.
Dont you want to take shifts or something? Hassan blurted.
Dont you want to take shifts or something? Hassan blurted.
I dont mind doing it tonight. You drove most of the day and could use some rest. I can sleep at the foot of the stairs. Its not like she can get loose and go anywhere.
You show admirable dedication to the work, my friend.
He shrugged and made eye contact with Hassan. Just trying to prove myself to you guys. But youre tough nuts to crack.
Hassan grinned and merely dipped his chin at the compliment, reverting to his usual taciturn self.
By the time Zane went back down to the basement, the woman was curled up on her side next to the steel pole, nested in the blankets like a puppy. She was out cold. Exhausting day shed had. He pulled one of the blankets over her gently.
Rough day for him, too. He unrolled the sleeping bag hed carried down here and spread it at the bottom of the steps. His offer to stay with her was a two-edged sword, of course. Not only did it keep Piper from escaping, but it kept the other men from paying any extracurricular visits to her, as well.
Confident that she would be out cold for hours to come, he closed his eyes, knowing that sleep would claim him immediately. It was a combat trick hed learned during his stint in the army, fresh out of college. When hed never known when or where his next chance to sleep would come, hed become expert at napping anywhere on a moments notice.
* * *
A painful kick in his ribs woke Zane up sometime later. He tensed to do violence before he remembered where he was. He threw off the sleeping bag and rose, silent and fast, to his feet. Yousef was grinning at him and looking pleased with himself.
Boss wants to see you, the man announced.
Zane suppressed an urge to bury his fist in the guys face and merely gestured for Yousef to go first up the stairs. A quick glance at Piper confirmed that she was still dead to the world.
Yousef led him to the living room, where Mahmoud and Hassan already sat. These three were the senior members of this cell. The other two guys, Bijan and Osted, acted mostly as muscle.
Mahmoud held out a cell phone and a national newspaper to Zane, who stared at them suspiciously. After months without him having access to any kind of news or electronic communications, why in the world was the guy offering him both now?
I need photographs of the woman, Mahmoud announced. Clear ones where her face is easy to see. And she needs to be visibly tied up. We want her husband to understand in no uncertain terms that she is a captive.
Of course, Zane responded. Do you want them right now?
Yes.
Back in five minutes.
Zane jogged down the basement stairs loudly, announcing his coming to the woman. Sure enough, when he looked across the space at her, she was awake and watching him.
In the middle of the cellar, he set down the wooden chair hed carried from the kitchen, then moved over to her to unlock the handcuffs.
Whats happening? she asked quickly.
Picture time, Mrs. Black.
You need proof of possession of me? To show whom?
Your husband, of course.
Are you asking for a ransom? Blackmail? Whats the play here? she demanded.
An interesting, and decidedly military, turn of phrase. He responded, The play is youre going to sit in that chair with your hands tied behind your back. Youre going to look properly terrified, and Im going to take a picture of you to send to him so hell do what we want him to.
Which is what? she snapped.
God, hed love to know that very thing. But he also wasnt about to admit to her that he didnt have the slightest idea what any of this was about. He propped the newspaper against her chest, being careful not to touch anything personal while he did so. When he was satisfied that the headline was prominently visible, he stepped back from her.
Say cheese, he muttered as he pointed the camera at her.
Are we doing just stills, or do I get a video, too? she asked.
So you can blink out an SOS or something clever like that? he asked dryly. Trust me. Your husband will know youre in trouble without you having to tell him.
Jerk, she muttered.
You have no idea, he muttered back.
Do tell.
Look scared, Persephone.
The end result was her scowling at the camera, looking more defiant than frightened. But her features were clear and readily recognizable.
Which was, of course, a gigantic problem for him. As soon as Mr. Black saw the photos and declared them not to be of his wife, and that information was relayed back to Mahmoud, this woman would be dead. How long did Zane have until all that happened? A day? Two, maybe?
Urgency to get this woman out of here and run far, far away from these bastards pounded through his gut. The only thing keeping him here with her was the fact that he still had no idea why shed been kidnapped. That, and so far, the men upstairs had shown no inclination to harm her. If he kept his cool for just a bit longer, hopefully whatever Mahmoud had planned for this woman would be revealed.
He briskly led her back over to her pole and cuffed her to it once more. Dont go anywhere, he said wryly.
Are you kidding? she retorted. I love what youve done with the place. Why would I leave this cozy little dungeon?
One corner of his mouth turned up in sardonic humor. She was a sharp one, all right. Dont try that sarcasm on any of the others. Theyll kill you for showing them such disrespect.
But not you? she asked quietly.
Im the one with the sense of humor. Just dont push your luck.
She subsided, silenced by the admonition. Dammit. He much preferred her sassy and mouthing off to him over this silent, apprehensive version of her. If only he could tell her who he really was, what his mission was here.
Look, he muttered under his breath, I dont know what the boss has planned for you. Im going to do my best to protect you from harm. But I need you to hang in there for a little while longer.
Her brow twitched into a perplexed frown. Who are you?
Im the guy giving you a wad of cotton balls. Keep them in your pocket for now, but if it looks like were coming back down here en masse to rough you up, slip them in your mouth between your molars and cheeks. Theyll protect the inside of your mouth, cushion any blows and help keep us from knocking any of your teeth out.
Her frown deepened sharply as he tucked several cotton balls into the front pocket of her jeans. The pocket was snug and warm against her body, and he jerked his fingers out quickly. Must not allow himself to feel anything for this woman. No attraction. No interest. No affection.
He scooped up the fluffiest of the blankets and breathed, Lift your shirt.
I beg your pardon? she squawked.
Keep your voice down, he admonished sharply. Using the knife out of his ankle sheatha big fighting blade he kept razor sharphe sliced the edge of the fleece and then tore off a strip of the soft, thick cloth as quietly as he could.
He reached for her, and she flinched away from him. He couldnt blame her for the reflex, but it cut at his soul and made his heart bleed a little. Reaching up under her shirt, he wrapped the length of fleece around her torso. His palms smoothed across her body, and it was slim and warm...and surprisingly muscular. This woman was in hella good shape. Thank God. She might just survive the worst of whatever Mahmoud and company threw at her.