She's an Easy Target, page 5
part #2 of Quinton Target Series
“I’ll take a raincheck,” he said.
She moved closer to him with her lips puckered to kiss him.
“Better not,” he said. “I don’t want to get blood on you.”
She found a clear spot and planted a kiss on his cheek. He smiled and said, “Sorry the way the night ended.”
“There’ll be other nights,” she said.
“I hope so.”
As he was leaving the car she said, “I’ll check on you tomorrow, honey.”
Chapter 8
Blaire felt like she was waking from a deep sleep after having a nightmare. She couldn’t understand why she was sitting up instead of lying down in her bed. Then it struck her. It hadn’t been a dream at all, she’d been drugged and taken against her will. She tried to stand up but couldn’t because she was sitting in a chair with her arms and legs strapped to it. The room was stifling hot. She noticed that her hoody had been removed but it hadn’t cooled her down. The perspiration soaked through her T-shirt and yoga pants and dripped from her forehead.
As she emerged from the fog and focused her eyes in the dimly lit room, the outline of a man took form. He was wearing a mask that looked like a gargoyle carving on a gothic cathedral. The face had bulging eyes and puffy lips that were spread open to reveal the lips of the person wearing the mask. Short horns on top of the mask protruded through a black stocking cap that was resting on top of the man’s head. Beneath the cap, he wore a high-tech headset with a microphone.
“Don’t you know trick-or-treating is a few months away?” Blaire said. “If you’re trying to scare me, that silly costume isn’t going to do it.”
“Everyone has things they’re afraid of. We’ll find yours,” he said in a voice that was deep and gravelly.
“Oh, nice touch with the voice synthesizer. You should create a video of yourself and post it on YouTube.”
“You think this is a joke, do you?” He walked over to her and slapped her across the face, first with his right hand and then with his left. He grabbed her by the hair and lifted her head. “Now that’s funny,” he said and laughed a gravelly laugh before taking a few steps back.
Blaire’s face tingled and burned, and her ears rang. The percussion made her aware of wires running along the back of her ears with the ends attached to a harness of wires resting on her head. She thought, Who the Hell is this and what does he want from me? Did Dr. Bit find out that I broke into his house and send Rasputin after me?
“You’re probably wondering who I am and why I brought you here,” the gargoyle said. “For obvious reasons, I need to remain anonymous. What I want from you is simple. I want you to answer my questions, honestly. If you do, you’ll be rewarded, if not you’ll be punished. Think of yourself as a lab rat who’s part of a learning experiment.”
Why should I tell you anything?
“If you want to get out of here alive, you’ll cooperate.”
“How do I know I can trust you?” she said aloud.
“What choice do you have?”
Maybe I can stall long enough for somebody to find me. It must be after midnight. QT will wonder where I am and come looking for me. “What do you want to know?”
“We’ll start with an easy question and see how you do. What’s your full name and occupation?”
“My name is Norma Jean Mortensen. You’ve probably heard of me by my stage name, Marylyn Monroe. I’m a famous movie star.”
The gargoyle picked up a wooden paddle, walked behind her, and whacked her shoulders. It stung, but the blow seemed to be intended to intimidate rather than do serious damage. She squinted her eyes and gritted her teeth but didn’t cry out. He struck her again. This time the blow was between her shoulder blades. It knocked the wind out of her. She wheezed, trying to refill her lungs with air.
“You have a high tolerance for pain,” he said as though he were making a mental note. “I’ll repeat my question and see if you’ve learned anything. I’ll even give you a clue to help you recall. Your first name is Blaire, not Norma or Marylyn.”
If you already know my name, why are you asking me? “My name is Blaire Saunders and I’m an analyst at the NSA.”
“Are you the daughter of the wealthy, Georgia businessman, Benjamin Saunders?”
“Yes, Benjamin Saunders is my father.”
“How much do you think he’d pay for his baby girl’s safe return. One million dollars? Five million?”
Is that what this is about, kidnapping for ransom? If it’s money you want, Daddy will pay to save me. “I don’t know how much he can pay. Why don’t you contact him and negotiate?”
“All in good time. Who is Rasputin?”
Rasputin? Why does he want to know about him?” “Rasputin was a Russian mystic, wasn’t he?”
“Why do you insist on being impudent? Don’t you realize how many ways I could hurt you? I could break your arms or legs, drill your teeth, cut off your fingers or toes, run electricity through those electrodes attached to your head, waterboard you, disfigure you, sexually assault you, paralyze you ... so many possibilities. He picked up a pair of tinsnips and walked toward her. Although her arms were bound to the chair, she had enough movement in her hands to grip her fingers tightly around the bottom of the chair. He grabbed her index finger, separated it from her thumb and middle finger, and placed the tinsnips’ blades around it in a position where it could easily be amputated.
“Who is Rasputin?”
“OK, stop. He’s an ex-military hitman,” she said.
“What’s his real name?”
“I don’t know his real name.”
“Do we need another learning moment?”
Do what you will, you maniac, I can’t tell you what I don’t know. For all I know, you’re Rasputin and trying to mislead me. “Please believe me, I don’t know his name,” she said aloud. “All I know is that he’s a former military sniper.”
“I believe you,” he said. “Why did you break into Harold Bitner’s house tonight?”
Would Dr. Bit really send someone to torture me if he found out I broke into his house? “I was doing my job.”
He punched her in her left eye with his right hand and then her right eye with his left hand. She teared up but didn’t cry out. “You’re going to have to do better than that or I’ll have to use more persuasive techniques.”
“I told you, I work for the NSA. I was assigned to do the break-in. We have a FISA warrant. It was legal.”
“I already know you work for the NSA and you broke into the house. I don’t care if it was legal or not.”
He picked up a knife and sliced a piece of paper with it to demonstrate the blade’s sharpness. Slowly, he walked over to her and positioned the knife on top of her upper leg. He ran it across her yoga pants until it cut through them and penetrated the top layer of skin on her leg. It didn’t go deep enough to cause serious underlying damage, but it was sufficient to cause a bead of blood to form on top of the cut.
Blaire jerked wildly at her restraints in a useless attempt to escape.
“As sharp as that knife is, you must have barely felt it. Why such an extreme reaction? Did we find one of those weaknesses we were searching for?”
He took the knife and moved it toward her face. Panicked, she moved her body in all directions to the maximum degree her restraints would allow. The chair shook but didn’t move enough for her to elude the knife. She screamed, “No ... No, don’t do it.”
He laughed and said, “Oh my. No need to worry. I wouldn’t use this knife. It’s much too sharp and wouldn’t leave irreparable scars. With enough surgeries, a good plastic surgeon might be able to make you look half decent again. If I really wanted to cut your face, I’d use the serrated blade I keep for that purpose. It makes jagged incisions. I still might use the sharp knife to cut the facial nerves to cause your face to droop.”
Please don’t do that — anything but that, Blaire thought as she closed her eyes to prevent him from reading the fear.
“Now that you understand what I’m capable of doing to you, I’m going to ask you again and change the wording slightly to make sure it’s clear. What was your purpose for breaking into Harold Bitner’s house?”
“I was instructed to access Dr. Bit’s computer servers and network that he has installed in his basement. I copied all the files, opened a backdoor to allow future remote access, and installed a key logger.”
“You’re not understanding me. Why were you hacking his systems?”
Is this an NSA test to find out if I’ll reveal secrets when tortured? Or, is it the CIA or other intelligence agency that feels they’ve been left out of the loop?
“I need your full attention to the question. Don’t worry about who I am or what my motives are. I don’t want to know the technical tasks you performed. I want to know if you’re aware of what the NSA is investigating.” He walked over to a table and held up a serrated knife.
“I wasn’t told this officially, but I heard through the office grapevine that we’re investigating Upshaw Corporation again. They’re suspected of colluding with the Chinese to develop psychological warfare devices and other high-tech weapons.”
“What does that have to do with Harold Bitner?”
“The CIA and NSA believe that Dr. Bitner and a few of his colleagues are working independently to investigate Upshaw. I hacked his systems to determine if they’ve found anything the government intelligence agencies have missed.”
“What else?”
“Nothing,” she shouted for emphasis.
Blaire looked over at the serrated knife and thought, Please believe me, that’s all I know about the investigation.
He wiggled the knife in his hand and stared at her. “I believe you,” he said.
“Who at the NSA is in charge of the investigation?”
“My boss, Lucas Taylor.”
Why don’t you kidnap and torture him? Come to think of it, maybe you are Lucas Taylor. Is that you behind that mask, you sadistic, little pervert?
“You don’t like him very much, do you??”
“No, I don’t like him.”
“’You use your good looks to manipulate men, don’t you? Do you think men would still want you if you were disfigured?”
“I’ve told you everything I know. You have no reason to torture me further. Let me go.”
“You haven’t told me quite everything ... What do you know about The Global Intelligence Agency?”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“Do you need more training?”
“Please, I’ve answered honestly like you asked.”
“Do you know a DIA agent by the name of John Warren?”
What does Special Agent Warren have to do with this? “Yes, I worked on a task force with him during the initial investigation of Upshaw Corporation.”
“Where can I find him?”
“I have no idea. He’s rumored to still be with one of the US intelligence agencies, but I don’t know which one or in what capacity he serves.”
“I don’t believe you. I think your memory needs refreshing,” he said and walked over to the table. He picked up a quart-sized metal container and unscrewed the top. “Do you know what this is?”
“No.”
“It’s a very strong acid. Can you imagine what it would do to that pretty face of yours?”
Blaire started shaking at her constraints again with a look of desperation in her eyes. “Don’t do that. I’ll tell you anything ... I’ll do anything you want,” she said and sobbed uncontrollably.
“The solution to your problem is easy. Just answer my questions.”
“I already told you, I don’t know anything about The Global Intelligence Agency or John Warren’s whereabouts.” Please believe me. I’m telling the truth.
“... I believe you,” he said. “Now, that wasn’t so difficult, was it?”
What are you going to do with me? she thought. Are you going to kill me? I’d rather die than have acid thrown in my face. Go ahead and kill me, you monster.
“In case you’re wondering, I’m not going to kill you. At least not yet. Maybe later. We’ll see.”
She rolled her eyes up slightly to get a closer look at the wire harness on her head, but she wasn’t in a position to see it. What’s the purpose of those wires? When it came to her what their function might be, she immediately turned her thoughts to other things. QT, where are you? I need you.
“In case your holding onto hope your FBI friend will find you, forget about it. Nobody knows I have you here. Besides, if he does come, I’ll take care of him, too. He’s as vane as you, relying on his good looks to attract women. Quinton Target deserves to have bad things happen to him.”
He’ll find you and when he does, he’ll cut off your tiny balls.
The gargoyle laughed at seemingly nothing. He went to the table and loaded everything into a duffle bag, except for the metal container of liquid, an unopened bottled water, and a black box that was attached to wires that ran behind Blaire’s ears to the harness on her head.
He twisted off the bottle cap, brought the water over to her and said, “Open your mouth.”
She squeezed her lips tightly to avoid his attempt to insert the bottle. Almost magnanimously he said, “I’m trying to save your life. It’s only water. Do you know how long a person can live without water?”
“Three days.”
“Yes, three days. I’m going to leave now. I’m not sure when somebody will find you. I’ve left a trail, but it’s difficult to know when they’ll realize you’re missing. You need to drink this water. You must be thirsty. Think of it as your payment for answering my questions.”
Reluctantly, Blaire opened her mouth and allowed him to pour the water down her throat.” She choked a little when he poured too fast.
“See how it works? When you do what I ask, I’m nice and reward you.”
“You’re a regular Mother Theresa in disguise.”
“Because you come from a rich family and are beautiful, you think you’re better than ordinary people like Lucas Taylor, don’t you?”
“I try to judge people based on the type of person they are, not their looks.” Lucas Taylor is an ugly man, outside and inside, she thought but didn’t say it.
“I don’t believe you for one second. You’re a narcissist like all women who look like you. Maybe I should teach you a lesson before I leave.”
“Please untie me and let me go.”
“If I let you go and then call you to ask you more questions, will you give me the answers? You may have to gain access to files for which you don’t have security clearance.”
“Yes, anything you want.”
“Anything I want? If I want you to get a couple million dollars from your father to give to me or if I want you to spend a night with me or another man for sexual favors, you’ll give those to me, too?”
“Yes, anything you want,” she said out of desperation.” If it takes the rest of my life, I’ll find you and kill you for what you’ve done to me.
“You’re angry right now, so I’ll make allowances for any thoughts you might have about getting revenge against me. But, let me remind you who’s in control of your life from this moment forward.” He put both hands around her throat and squeezed until her face turned red. When he released the chokehold, she gasped for air. “Just remember this experience. If you don’t keep your promises to me, I’ll kidnap you again and I won’t treat you as well next time. Do you understand?”
She nodded her head.
He removed the wire harness from her head and put it in his bag along with a black box attached to it.
“It must be difficult for you to never know for sure whether a man likes you for your good looks or who you are as a person. Before I leave, I’m going to do you a big favor. Think of it as my gift to you for being such a good student. I’m going to let you experience what it feels like to no longer be one of the beautiful people.”
As he moved toward her with the open canister in his hand, she began shaking the chair and sobbing. He grabbed her by the hair, lifted her head, and threw the liquid into her face.
She screamed uncontrollably, “No ... no ... no ...”
He walked away, but she couldn’t see him because her eyes were burning.
“I’ll be in touch,” he said and left.
Chapter 9
Quinton shook his head and smiled to himself as he walked from the parking lot to his townhouse. He’d dodged a bullet and he knew it. Lucky for him, Lieutenant Mad had declined his offer to walk her home. He could tell the attraction between them wasn’t one-sided and the slightest encouragement from her would have put them on a dangerous path. It bothered him that his relationship with Blaire had deteriorated to the point that he’d allowed himself to even consider being with another woman. Alcohol was a factor. He’d consumed enough to impair his judgment and loosen his inhibitions. But, being drunk never justifies cheating. It’s just a handy excuse people use to ease their guilt.
When he reached his townhouse, QT followed his normal security procedure. He checked the top of his door to determine whether the piece of scotch tape that he’d placed between the door and the frame had been disrupted. To his surprise — the tape was missing. It was possible that Blaire had forgotten to replace it when she came home to change, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He drew his gun from its holster before inserting the key into the lock and turning the knob.
He entered the kitchen with his gun held in both hands, ready to shoot. The light was already switched on.
A man with a straggly beard, sitting at the kitchen table, held up a piece of tape and said, “Were you looking for this?”
“As a matter of fact, I was.”
“Do you know who I am?”
Quinton looked at the man who had piercing blue eyes and greasy hair that was parted in the middle and said, “I saw you about a year ago in Crystal City, outside D.C. You saved Anne Upshaw from being assassinated. We’ve never been formally introduced, but you’re Lieutenant Mad’s friend, Rasputin.”
