Black's Magic Part 1

BLACK'S MAGIC.

by MJ and Cephalgia.

Authors' Notes:.

From MJ:.

So I guess you are all wondering what this story is about huh? What do you expect from the little snippets of information in this disclaimer...

Well... this is very different from the last stories. I here by introduce you to Addison Black, Special Operations Agent for MI5. As you might imagine, we are talking about a soldier for the British government. So I will tell you now... there is violence. Not sickening or bloodthirsty, just appropriate for the story.

s.e.x...? Yes, I know you are wondering. Well of course there is s.e.x, though again, appropriate for the story. It is not gratuitous... honestly... I believe it is appropriate for the story... hold on... I said that... umm, anyway... There is some bad language in here too.

Special thanks goes out to Reagan and my mum for their editing talents. To Maya, Tim and Mike for their information and to Spiky who if it wasn't for her encouraging me to turn a simple idea, from a game we played (Create your own movie character) this story wouldn't have been written at all.

From Cephalgia:.

Yeah, what she said.

BLACK'S MAGIC.

Chapter 1.

High thread count, smooth texture, taste of basic fabric paint...hmm, my guess is a hand-painted silk scarf. By the taste of the pigment I'd say East Indian, more than 30 years old. Guess that seminar on Asian Craft Construction has finally come in handy.

Figuring out what was being used as a gag and blindfold, however, did Skyler Tidwell little good in actually getting rid of the things. For the thousandth time she tested the ropes binding her wrists and ankles together and wondered when she would find out what exactly had happened to her and why. She could tell she was in a vehicle and that it was moving, but basically that was all. Oh, one other thing Skyler thought as she was bounced yet again, this road is in desperate need of repair. It was a perplexing puzzle and the one thing Doctor Tidwell detested was a puzzle. She ran it over in her mind one more time, looking for the elusive clue that would let her figure out what the h.e.l.l was going on.

It had been early evening when Skyler arrived at Wellington University. After a brief stop to check in at her hotel, she had taken a taxi immediately to the centuries old inst.i.tution. It had been two years since she had last seen her mother and Sky was pleased when her mom suggested they get together at the University located just north of London. "If you're going to be in the same hemisphere as I am, you might want to drop by," her mother, the eminent Dr. Marlene Tidwell, had joked. The jest covered a very real longing to spend more time with her daughter.

Her mother was on a sabbatical from Eastern College in Pennsylvania where she was a tenured professor of Biology and was "on loan" to Wellington for a research project in genetics. Skyler wasn't completely sure of the nature of the project but she was under the impression the combined American and British governments were bankrolling it. Whatever it was, her mother was enjoying the time being spent on the project, telling her daughter that the stimulating research was "keeping her young". Not that her mother needed to worry, she retained the good looks of a woman many years her junior, obviously favored by the genetics she now studied.

From her coc.o.o.n of darkness, the younger doctor reviewed her present circ.u.mstances again. She was less than thrilled and was becoming more and more frightened. It won't help, Skyler Jane Tidwell, so just calm yourself down. You've got a good mind, so use it. If you lose your cool you'll have no control whatsoever. Okay, I don't know what's happening now so I'll try to think about something I know everything about. Calm down, calm down... Skyler let her thoughts drift to her own life to combat the rising feeling of panic that at times was threatening to swamp her.

Sky's family lived in the Philadelphia area where her mother had been hired as an a.s.sociate professor at Eastern College. Skyler's father was a police officer and had been her best friend. So middle cla.s.s she thought and smiled a little though the gag made it difficult. Swing set in the backyard and a puppy in the house.

Skyler remembered the golden lab with great fondness. I sure miss you Tess. Her mother got the puppy from a co-worker shortly after it was weaned and brought it home in a box for Skyler. The excited child pulled the dog from its blanket draped home and said, "Welcome to my house, Tess!" Marlene Tidwell was astonished that her daughter had decided on a name so quickly and asked her about it.

"Her name is on the box," the child said simply as she hugged the puppy close. Marlene flipped the lid back to see the label on the box she had obtained from work...100 Test Tubes. Tess Tube was the dog's name from that point on though it was rarely called anything but Tess.

The defining moment of Skyler's childhood took place when she was six years old on a cloudy and cold Monday afternoon. Even now the memory caused her to s.h.i.+ver and not only in remembrance of the weather that day. She had come home from school and settled herself in front of the television to watch the afternoon cartoons. Her mother had finished early at the college and was in the kitchen chopping vegetables for a homemade soup. The volume on the television made it impossible for her mother to hear the knock on the door.

Skyler opened the door to greet two somber faced men, one in a heavy topcoat and the other in a patrolman's uniform. The one in the topcoat spoke first.

"Skyler? Remember me? I'm Lieutenant Simmons, I work with your dad."

Marlene entered the living room then and came up behind her daughter at the door. When she saw the visitors on the front porch of her home the smile slipped from the face of the biology professor.

Skyler's father had been killed in the line of duty. He'd been trying to protect a small child who had become trapped in the crossfire of rival gangs bent on owners.h.i.+p of an insignificant inner city park. The little girl had survived the furious a.s.sault but Officer Jerome Tidwell had not. At the funeral Skyler held her mother's hand as tears slowly streamed down her cheeks. Her father had been her hero, but now he was gone and from that point on it would be just Marlene Tidwell and her rather serious blonde headed child.

They had been a tight-knit twosome, even through Skyler's attendance at Eastern. Being something of a child prodigy, she had graduated high school at age 14 and went directly on to college. She had a huge capacity for knowledge and a fantastic memory that was as close to photographic as you could come without actually earning that label. She immersed herself in academia, all but ignoring the social aspects of life. After all, dating was bound to be a problem for a sixteen-year-old taking courses in such arcane subjects as Pre-Columbian Archeology in South America and Mummification Processes of World Peoples. Study became a subst.i.tute for companions.h.i.+p and books replaced the need for friends.

Flying through her college curriculum, Skyler continued on to graduate studies, receiving her Masters Degree at age twenty-one and her Doctorate at twenty-four. Her fascination with everything from Geology to Psychology made it difficult to narrow her focus down and when she finally graduated, Eastern College issued its first ever advanced degree in the nebulous area of "Human Studies". Skyler called herself a jack-of-all-trades; "egghead" and "professional student" were the less flattering names given to her by some of her fellow students. The scholar didn't care though, all aspects of human behavior and human endeavors fascinated her.

In the two years since Skyler had last seen her mother she had both been traveling and working on projects important to her academic and professional career. The twenty-eight year old had supervised the excavation of an early man site near Olduvai Gorge in Africa, studied Sherpa populations in Nepal and catalogued destruction of crucial rainforest in the Amazon basin. Each project may have seemed completely different from the other but they all fell into Skyler's area of expertise, or at least one of her areas.

Finis.h.i.+ng up a recent six-month survey of disaster relief effectiveness among sub-Saharan nomadic populations, Skyler was now ready for a stint in the more populated and civilized British Isles. After taking some time off to complete her blistering report to the United Nations for their failure in the area of African disaster relief, she was scheduled to oversee the excavation of a newly discovered area of Roman ruins in the northern part of the country. It seemed that an industrious farmer sinking a new well had possibly discovered the first true temple to Artemis in England. Skyler was excited by the new project and couldn't wait to share the news with her mother. It was this that had led her to the campus where her mother's lab was located.

Skyler was feeling good and if she had been given to noticing that sort of thing she would have to admit she looked good too. The North African sun had graced her features with a deep tan that accented her emerald green eyes and her blonde hair was streaked with sun coaxed highlights. The relatively rugged living conditions had subtly toughened her up and the perennial scholar now had an appreciation for the definition her form had taken on. She liked the way she fit a little more snugly into the black jeans, green polo s.h.i.+rt and black suede jacket she had chosen for the meeting.

Being dropped off at the main gate to the university, Skyler was surprised to find the campus quiet and spa.r.s.ely populated until she remembered the students wouldn't be returning from the Christmas break for another week. The sun had set by the time she found a security guard to ask for directions to Newton Hall, the building in which her mother's lab was located. She laughed to herself at the term "security guard" as the elderly man gave her the guidance she needed. It was obvious this sweet grey-haired gentleman was more of a rattle-the-doork.n.o.b-to-make-sure-it-is-locked kind of watchman than a security guard. Fortunately, by the look of the sleepy campus, it didn't appear that his services were needed in any other capacity.

Skyler headed for the large brick building that housed the Physical Sciences Department. As she walked, automatic lights began flickering to life, illuminating the cobblestone path but sending adjacent objects into shadows. She hurried along toward the brightly lit building; her mother had a.s.sured her that working late was commonplace and she would have no trouble finding someone to point out the genetics lab once she was inside. Her hand was reaching out for the handle to the door when a voice called out to her.

"Doctor Tidwell?" Skyler turned to see a pleasant looking, red haired young woman smiling at her.

"That's right," Skyler replied, thinking her mother had sent someone to watch for her. At her words she felt, rather than saw, movement behind her. Then several things happened all at once. Her arms were grabbed; she was shuffled out of the light of the doorway and then total darkness descended as something was placed over her head. Her vision was obscured and as she opened her mouth to cry out, a smothering hand was clamped over her mouth through the material. Screaming was forgotten as breathing took precedence. The doctor pulled air through her nose in a panic as she felt a sharp jab to the inside of her left arm.

Skyler felt heaviness in her limbs and the hand across her mouth now seemed to be holding her head up as it lolled forward. The doctor dimly recognized the agent being used to drug her from a course she had taken in Applied Pharmacology, but that was as far as she got before slipping completely into unconsciousness.

And then what? Skyler thought. I don't have a clue. How long was I out? Where am I and for G.o.d's sake, why is this happening to me?

For all her education she didn't have an answer to that one.

On the rocky coastline of the southern edge of Cornwall, a statuesque lighthouse stood on the crest of a large cliff. The tall cylindrical building, painted with highly visible red and white stripes was the only notable feature on an otherwise ba.n.a.l landma.s.s. Stretching out as far as the human eye could see and spanning around three quarters of the building was the English Channel; a large ma.s.s of water separating the British Isles from the rest of Europe. To any onlooker the site would appear to be abandoned, both lonely in the lighthouse's singularity and in its situation, but to one person it was home. A closer inspection of the area would reveal well maintained areas of shrubbery and flowers, hand built wooden furniture for hot summer days and even worn and muddy boots by the doorway. A wooden structure, which would seem nothing more than a small shack was actually the doorway to an underground garage. The facility was only one small part of a larger compound but it housed three cars, one motorbike and two bicycles with enough tools to preserve the upkeep of them all. The lighthouse was in perfect working order and on dark nights its light beamed proudly as a warning beacon for all pa.s.sing s.h.i.+ps.

It was mid-morning and the sky was littered with dark winter clouds. They stretched out across the sky covering a once brilliant blue with a dull and ominous grey. A distant rumble rolled over the land signaling the coming of a heavy storm. Seagulls that had been soaring through the air began heading towards sheltered land as the atmosphere flowed with an eerie calm.

From a distance the sound of an approaching vehicle began to increase. Out along a single, well-worn and narrow road a navy blue SUV rose over the horizon and made its way towards the lighthouse. The crunch and grind of dust and rocks grated under the 4 x 4's thick, heavy wheels as it made a speedy climb towards home. The vehicle never decreased its speed as it neared the wooden shack and instead a quite beep floated unheard over the land as a remote door was activated and garage doors opened. The 4 x 4 skillfully maneuvered its way through the doors and they closed behind as it travelled down into the underground garage and screeched to a halt beside a black Audi TT convertible. The engine died as the sole occupant of the vehicle opened the door and black booted feet hit the ground.

Addison Black climbed out of the Range Rover and closed the door behind her. She pulled off black shades and slipped one arm into the pocket of her tight blue Levis as she headed towards two metal doors. The door on the left led to the rest of the underground facility and required an eight-digit pa.s.sword and fingerprint scan to enter while the right door lead to the lighthouse. Addison took the right door. She slipped a small silver key into the lock and opened the barrier, taking the steps two at a time until she reached the upper door of the narrow corridor. After keying in a smaller, four-digit pa.s.sword she stepped into the main building.

Once pa.s.sing through the door and stepping immediately into the kitchen, Addison slipped off her black leather jacket and draped it across the back of a nearby chair. She held out her arms and stretched quickly before scanning the room. Usually by now she would have been greeted.

"Spike?" Addison called, her inquisitive eyes searching. "Hey you little beast, where are you?"

Hearing nothing, Addison stepped further into the kitchen and kicked off her boots. Socks still in place she padded across the black and white tiled floor to the spiral staircase. Ignoring the black iron banister, the ebony haired woman climbed the steps to the first floor sitting room of the lighthouse.

"Spike?" She questioned, spotting a peculiar looking lump under the cream throw over her settee. Knowing Spike was hard of hearing; the woman stepped a little closer. "Don't tell me you are angry at me for staying out all night? I know Jenny came to give you a walk early this morning you little mutt."

Addison sat down beside the covered lump and immediately noticed a response. A tiny head lifted under the blanket and struggled to free itself from the cover's confines while Addison chuckled at the dog's antics. After seconds of the small dog stumbling around, Addison took pity on the whimpering mongrel and pulled the throw from Spike's head. Immediately a tiny black dog, with gray speckled flecks on its head, bounced into her arms.

"Hey, I see you missed me, girl!"

Spike barked, jumping around frantically upon Addison's lap as she tried to lick every available inch of skin. Unfortunately, due to an unnaturally small stature, that was nothing higher than her stomach.

"All right, calm down, girl." The black dog settled immediately into Addison's lap. "Good girl," she said and began stroking her hand over Spike's head. "Oh you would have liked the one I had last night, girl. Uh huh! She had magnificent b.r.e.a.s.t.s..." Spike looked up at Addison unimpressed. "Not a breast girl? Okay... well she had legs that could wrap around your body twice... and a tongue that could scramble eggs at fifty paces!" Spike yawned and placed her head back upon her mistress' lap. "Well think what you will, Spiky, but she was one h.e.l.l of a s.e.xy lady. An off-season tourist," she added. "We spent last night in her hotel room and let me tell you... there was very little sleep involved!"

With a disinterested huff, Spike rolled onto her back as Addison's hand mindlessly wandered to her stomach and commenced a gentle tickling. Resting her head back against the sofa Addison's dark eyes moved to the television unit on the opposite side of the room. Sitting upon the television set was a medium sized photo frame holding a portrait of four uniformed soldiers. Though from her distance Addison was unable to make out the four smiling bodies, from memory she knew the colour print by heart. The picture was of Addison with the three other members of her four-man fire team. At the age of twenty-one Addison had joined the Royal Marines. Her decision to do so being one initially made out of a desire to leave her past behind. Addison was the only child of equally abusive parents who found the quest for their next drink favourable over the welfare of their child. She grew up in a small three-rise block of flats owned by the city council and positioned in a neighbourhood reputed for its high crime rate and grotty appearance. It was an estate in which just living there, alone was a strike against employment opportunity. The only way many youths attempted to earn money was by turning to a life a crime. It was a direction that Addison herself had taken. Backed by a gang of five friends from the same neighborhood, they started by stealing from shops and re-selling what they stole at half the retail price. Addison quickly earned the reputation as the girl to go to when something was wanted at a cheaper price, no questions asked. At eighteen years old of age, Addison had become quite talented at avoiding capture but soon the desire for more reared its head. Addison began stealing cars, first to smash into shops and steal the merchandise, and then simply for the thrill of the chase. She began to love the high-speed chases the police would give when they came across the stolen vehicles. Action-packed chases down midnight streets, in cars or on foot, were almost nightly rituals. Never once did she get caught, often managing to disappear around an unexpected corner. Nor did the local authorities ever have any idea of who she was. For three years that was her way of life. Continuing to live at home, she found her parents stole much of her own 'belongings' for the purchase of either cigarettes or alcohol. It was a vicious circle that found Addison's life in a rut. Then one evening, on the thirty first of October, something happened that changed her life forever.

Pus.h.i.+ng the painful memory aside and holding Spike gently with one hand, Addison rose to her feet and crossed the room. She picked up the framed photograph and looked down at the smiling faces. The picture was taken the morning after the four friends has returned from a day's leave. They spent most the day drinking and finished the night off by getting the Royal Marine crest tattooed onto their upper arms. The day after the picture was taken they had all left for a six-month training period in the desert.

Training in the Royal Marines was one of the longest and most demanding infantry training regimes in the world. That was of no consequence to Addison. She had set her ambitions on becoming a Commando Soldier and nothing would dissuade her from the pledge she had made to serve her country the best way she could. Addison easily pa.s.sed all series of tests of fitness, endurance and military professionalism and earned the right to wear the Green Beret and 'Royal Marines Commando' flashes upon her uniform. It was then that she joined the 45th Commando at Arbroath in Scotland.

Addison was also honoured to be awarded the Commando Medal which was given to any soldier who showed he or she possessed qualities such as leaders.h.i.+p, unselfishness, cheerfulness under adversity, courage and determination while maintaining high professional standards during training. They were considered qualities that defined the commando spirit.

Addison smiled down at her friends. They had been close during their time together. Addison had always found it easy to draw people by a unique and striking visual appearance that was a point of comment by everybody she met in her younger days. It was also lucky that the four did get along so well as they not only trained together but also shared accommodation. Life as a Marine Commando was never plain sailing. It seemed that around every corner another hurdle was there to overcome, and it was something each soldier cherished. Though there were few women in the Marines, Addison didn't come up against as much s.e.xism as she antic.i.p.ated. Her talents as a Marine Commando made sure of that. It was common knowledge among the ranks that Addison Black could take a man down with a single punch... and she had.

For six years Addison remained in the Marines but soon she yearned for more, more of a challenge, something that could push her further and harder. She was given the opportunity to join the SAS, one of the most elite counter insurgency forces in the world. It was so secretive that many people weren't even aware at that time that such a team existed. Without so much as a chance for second thought, Addison agreed and pa.s.sed the initial selection process easily. It was then that her instruction really started as she underwent such things as medical training, advanced weapons training and parachuting. The first phase was that of endurance, beginning with a weeklong battle fitness course and then learning basic map revision, gym work, orienteering and many miles of running or marching while carrying up to sixty pounds in weight. Addison found the Endurance March, which took twenty hours to complete, the most gruelling by far. However, she pa.s.sed the first test and went on to SAS weapons training, languages and took a Mensa test to make sure she could adjust to the SAS way.

The second part was the Jungle Phase and took place in Brunei at a British army jungle training school. It was six weeks without a shower and, to Addison, the most uncomfortable part of the training. It was also the phase where many recruits failed, as getting ill was considered unsuccessful completion. Survival was the key and getting even a cold was failure. The last and most intense part of Addison's training was combat survival. One month of living off the land whilst using evasion and escape techniques, she also learned interrogation techniques from people who had been tortured. The final test was known simply as survival week. One week of trying to live off the land while being hunted down by Ghurkhas and Para's, knowing that if caught she would be interrogated. Eventually she was caught, and straight away Addison was blindfolded and taken to an unknown destination. Her wrists bound, she was kept in a small cage made from chicken wire. For forty-eight hours Addison was held and interrogated. She was allowed to give only four pieces of information: her name, rank, number and date of birth. The only other piece of information she was asked was her mother's name. For that she could only reply, 'I cannot give you that information'. For forty-eight hours she was asked the same question; she was beaten, starved, and then she had been placed back in her cage that was covered with corrugated iron that was beaten with a hammer for over an hour yet she replied, 'I cannot give you that information'. Addison received brutal punishment for her persistence. One moment that always stood out in memory was when she was. .h.i.t with such force that she fell to the floor and felt bones in her arm and cheek break... but still she denied them. Because of her strength and ability to prove she was not a security risk, she pa.s.sed the last phase and was awarded her SAS beret and one-year probation.

By the time her one-year probation was over, something unexpected happened. General Blithe, a member of the British Military intelligence otherwise known as MI5, approached Addison. A new secretive division was opening within MI5 to be run by high-ranking individuals with top-level clearance who wanted Special Operatives to work for the Government. These operatives, who were already highly trained in all areas and competent to work in the field alone, were required to serve the Military and Government on strategic missions. Whether they required information on other countries, kidnappings, rescues, surprise ambushes, or data hacking, each S.O. Agent was required to be able to handle them all. Addison was surprised to hear General Blithe had been watching her career for many years and considered her an ideal candidate for this clandestine operation. She readily accepted.

Was she a spy, a mercenary or a soldier? That was unclear to even herself. She was known simply as Addison Black SO2, secret agent for MI5.

This was the position Addison has held for the last five years and at the age of thirty-four Addison felt she was only now just reaching her prime. The best part about her job was that she got to choose where she wanted to live and as soon as she found the lighthouse, she knew that was what she wanted. The lighthouse was fully capable of working on its own; it didn't need a keeper and that suited Addison fine. The place was her own little oasis of solitude, away from the hustle and bustle of life and where she could simply relax. Even the most hectic life needs the occasional down time.

Chapter 2.

The vehicle, Skyler was riding in, came to an abrupt halt; bringing her out of her thoughts and back into the minimal input she was receiving from the world around her. Listening intently she heard two doors open then slam shut and a pair of footsteps crossing graveled ground.

A door nearby opened and a rush of colder air fell across her. In the back of a van or truck she thought quickly before a familiar female voice reached her.

"Doctor Tidwell? The drug should have worn off by now so don't bother to feign unconsciousness. It will be much easier if you walk with us and not make us drag you across the ground. The stones will definitely mar your lovely face." An unseen hand touched her cheek and Skyler involuntarily pulled away.

A soft laugh floated through the blackness. "That's what I thought." There was a brief pause then the woman said, "She's awake. Get her inside. The blindfold and gag stay put until she's in the guest room." Skyler felt the ropes around her ankles cut loose and her upper arms were used to roughly pull her out of the vehicle. A burning pain started in her shoulders and the ropes dug into her wrists that were still bound behind her.

Her feet touched the ground and momentarily her knees threatened to give way as the aftereffects of the drug made themselves known. With an effort she remained upright and even moved without stumbling as she was propelled forward. Skyler couldn't shake the feeling she had heard the woman's voice somewhere before, then it struck her. The red-haired woman at the University! The voice had been tinged with a light Irish accent and it was that trait that the scholar remembered now. She silently congratulated herself on figuring out one part of the mystery and she felt better for it. In Skyler's world understanding always meant control and control was the one thing she could never get enough of.

Through the soft material of her suede boots, Skyler could feel gravel give way to what felt like paving stones.

"Steps," the woman's voice came again, this time from behind her. Four short steps were taken with minimal problem and Skyler was once again out of the fresh air. The air was warmer indoors but Skyler didn't notice as she was concentrating on memorizing the pacing and numerous turns they were taking. She had a feeling her hosts wouldn't give her much of an opportunity to leave, but you never knew when the information would come in handy.

She was pulled to a stop only to feel the floor suddenly drop out beneath her. It wasn't a long elevator ride down but her heart sank with the cubicle as each second pa.s.sed. The movement halted abruptly and Skyler was once again urged forward.

"In here," the voice instructed, and Skyler was moved to her left. The guiding hands left her arms and the sound of footsteps retreating preceded the sound of a door being shut and locked behind her.

"Let me make you a little more comfortable, Doctor," the woman's voice said causing Skyler to jump a little. She hadn't realized the woman was still in the room. Bindings at her wrists were removed and the scholar drew her arms around to the front of her body to ma.s.sage her forearms. The gag was removed followed by the blindfold. Skyler squinted and blinked sensitive emerald orbs against the light invading her eyes after so long in the darkness.

The "guest room" was a small square room that resembled nothing so much as a bomb shelter right out of the 1950's with Spartan living quarters and bare bones furnis.h.i.+ngs. Skyler remembered seeing an exhibition of the shelters at the Smithsonian.

"Doctor Tidwell," the redhead began, "welcome to your temporary abode and I a.s.sure you if you cooperate with us, it will be temporary. Of course you must realize what this is about; we need the information you possess about Project Gemini. Tell us what we want to know and you will be released quite unharmed." The Irish lilt was deceptive in its soothing quality. Skyler could almost imagine this young woman leading a group of tourists through the Irish countryside if the reality of her kidnapping hadn't invaded her thoughts.

"Look, Miss..." the scholar began.

"You may call me Brodie," the redhead supplied.

Nice name Skyler thought, nice everything right up to those baby blues. If those blue eyes hadn't carried the dead gaze of the sharks Skyler had seen while scuba diving off the Baja Peninsula in Mexico, she might have thought the woman was attractive. But a shark was a shark, in or out of the water and if the doctor learned one thing from her research in Mexico, it was you never trusted a shark. A four-inch scar on her lower left leg would always be a graphic reminder of that fact.

"Well then...Brodie...I'd love to help you out but I don't have the faintest idea what you're talking about. I don't understand why I'm here and I've never heard of any Project Gemini. So if you'll just let me get the h.e.l.l out of here, we'll forget about this whole thing and I won't need to inform the police or the American Emba.s.sy."

Brodie laughed out loud and it momentarily softened the predatory look. "Doctor Tidwell, you amuse me. Even in the face of the facts you have a bravado that's quite admirable." Now the amus.e.m.e.nt fled from her eyes to be replaced by an undisguised snarl. "Do you really think we were unprepared? Do you really think we didn't plan?" She pulled an index card from the pocket of the pea coat she wore and began to read from it. "Blonde, green eyes, five foot four inches tall, one hundred twenty pounds, Wellington University, Newton Hall." She looked Skyler up and down. "Right woman, no doubt about it. Now if we could just drop the pretense, doctor and get down to business."

Skyler barely heard the last words. Her mind had already worked out the fact that it was her mother these people were after. It was her mother who was in danger and Skyler had merely been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Or maybe the right place at the right time she thought. If I hadn't been heading into that building when I was...Mom...in the hands of whoever these people are...

Skyler's knees did buckle then, a movement Brodie misinterpreted. "Maybe I was mistaken, doctor, maybe the drug isn't quite all out of your system." The redhead a.s.sisted the scholar to the metal-framed twin bed and lowered her down.

"Why don't you try to rest for awhile? I'll bring you something to eat and when you're feeling better, we'll have that chat. See? We're looking out for you." The attempt at a gracious smile fell short of her eyes giving her a wholly insincere look.

Instead of responding, Skyler merely nodded and slumped back onto the scratchy gray blanket covering the narrow bed. I can't let them know they don't have the right person, not until I can figure out what's going on here.

Brodie walked toward the door where she knocked and said a few words through the thick wood. Skyler recognized the language but not the meaning of the words. d.a.m.n she berated herself, you speak 5 languages and not one of them is Gaelic.

The door was unlocked from the outside and Brodie left without another word to her captive. Skyler watched her go then closed her eyes bringing her hands up to ma.s.sage suddenly throbbing temples. For the first time she acknowledged how wretched her situation was and a small tear of desperation slipped down her cheek.