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Description
Deliverance

Terror trembled through me. My heart raced and I realized I wasn't ready for death. My kids' faces flashed across my mind.

I struggled with the ropes that bound my hands, while the pistol glared into my face. The sky above had turned gray.

"Going once—going twice—" said the leader.

"No!" said Reilly. "He's valuable."

"Oh, really? How is that?"

"He's...under protective custody."

"By whom?"

"My...agency."

The leader took another step toward me, his gun still aimed at my head. "Which agency?"

"The...FBI."

The leader grinned and clicked back the safety, holstering his pistol.

"How valuable is he?" He stood in front of Reilly.

"He knows about a crime—unrelated to you. We were taking him to an island where he'd be safe. We only landed here because of the storm...We didn't know about you."

"But you were investigating a large-scale crime? You were chosen—to protect him?"

"Yes."

"And that's why you've been resisting me?"

"I did not want to give in to a terrorist."

"How valuable are you?" The leader put his hand on his bearded chin.

"What do you mean?"

"How much will the FBI pay to get you back?"

"I'm not sure."

"You are the best, though. And this man is worth a lot..."

"We don't negotiate with terrorists."

"You don't? Even when someone's life is at stake?

"Do they know the coordinates of the island?"

Reilly hesitated. "No."

"Do they know about your situation?"

Reilly stayed silent.

"If they don't, they will soon. You will tell them that we demand weapons, supplies. And if they approach the island, one of you will die."

The leader took Reilly's radio from one of the men. Blondie sliced through the ropes binding Reilly's wrists. The leader handed the radio to Reilly who took it with trembling hands. "Call them."

Reilly hesitated.

The leader lifted his pistol, aimed it in my direction. "He could lose an arm..."

Reilly dialed, though his fingers trembled. "Who do I tell them you are?"

"Rashid al-Jahar. Leader of Liberation Jihad."

"Hello," said a female voice at the other end. "Codesign?"

"Alpha Five."

"What is your situation, Agent Jacobs?"

"I've –been taken hostage. Rashid al-Jahar, who says he leads the Liberation Jihad, is demanding weapons and supplies. He has Mr. Allen, as well. He doesn't have my partner, though--"

The leader snatched the radio. "This is Rashid. We are holding your agents at a secret location. You will drop off weapons and supplies at a place I name if you ever want to see them alive again. Tell that to your superiors."

"I—"

"I will contact you later with more specific orders. And if you approach our location, the hostages will die."

Rashid stuck the radio in his belt. "Now, I think it's time we head to a more secure location." They hoisted me to my feet. Then they herded us through the trees.

My back smoldered, breaking out of its relative numbness. My cheek burned. I could hardly feel my hands. Every step jarred my wrists, the rope gnawing into them. My stomach ached, along with my shoulder and hip from falling into the pit.

I looked at Reilly, who was walking slowly front of me without assistance. His shirt hung in tatters; the growing light revealed his back to be a mishmash of bloody slashes. Whatever I felt, it must have been nothing compared to what he did.

We walked out onto the beach. The sun glared its golden face over the grey-blue horizon. The waves lapped onto the beach, reflecting flecks of gold. I breathed in the salt sea air, cool wind blowing over my face.

The leader's radio warbled. "What is it?"

"We're patrolling the south side," said an accented voice. "Boat Four has not responded yet. It has to be more than a radio malfunction."

"Are you going after them?"

"Yes---"

A rustle of rapid whispers. "Wait--Hassan sees something. He says it looks like a helicopter. I don't—"He broke off for a moment. "Wait, I do see something—I'm looking through the glasses. It's a helicopter! It's coming toward us."

"Are you sure?"

Here he broke into Arabic.

Rashid gave him orders in Arabic and tucked his radio back on his belt.

"Let's move. Security's been breached."

We moved back into the trees until a boat churned up to the harbor. They shoved us into the boat and we sat on the bench and Rashid climbed in. The boat sped around the island. It slowed near the cliff and then turned toward a narrow fissure. It looked like the boat would crash on the rocks, but it slipped through the crevice.

The boat's motor echoed on cave walls as it halted near a wooden dock next to a smaller boat. A plateau of rock jutted into the deep pool of dark water. Rashid jumped out of the boat onto the damp stone platform, and walked into a cavernous opening. Drips fell into the water from the ceiling, reverberating throughout the cave.

The two guards, clutching their rifles, stood on either side of the boat as still as statues. Light from the opening leaked into the cave, spilling onto the sloshing water.

Reilly looked at me. "Are you okay?" he said in voice low enough it didn't echo. In the dim light I saw his battered face--a black eye and swollen cheek and lip and the bloody gash on his temple.

"I feel worse than you look."

Reilly chuckled. "That's saying something.

"This wasn't what I had in mind for your first day of training, you know."

"I hope not."

Reilly smiled. "But you did good out there."

"I got you into this mess though! I—wandered into that trap. You could have gotten out of here—"

"And leave you to those --?"

"At least they would have had just me."

"It was only bad luck and bad timing we were captured; I would have gotten you out of there if I could.

"And no one should have to face that alone...especially not someone so new to this game."

"Have you...gone through this kind of thing before?"

"'Interrogation?' Yes. Once by Marxist guerillas..."

Above the slosh of echoing waves I heard the chopping of helicopter blades.

"They're coming. You will do what I tell you?"

I nodded, though I wondered how much Reilly could actually do. Me for that matter.
But my heart fluttered with the bittersweet tang of hope.

Rashid strode toward us, carrying a pack. Two others followed him and jumped into the smaller boat that sat beside ours. Rashid climbed into our boat. The cords of muscle bulged in his arms as he started the boat. Its roaring drowned out the rumbling of the helicopter.

The boats chugged out of the cavern and into the ocean. Wind whipped against my face. The sun shed its rays onto the slate-gray cliffs and the palm trees that rimmed the island ridge.

"Look," said Reilly, pointing at the sky. My heart leapt. A helicopter hovered not far from the island, black and sleek like the one that had taken me here.

Rashid stood over us. "Contact them." He handed Reilly the radio.

"I- don't know their—"

"Don't give me that! Contact them."

Reilly dialed the radio. "This is Jacobs. I'm on the boat nearest you—"

Rashid seized the radio, his bronze face contorted in anger. "This is Rashid. If you deny us safe passage, I will kill one of the prisoners."

"This is team leader Alpha," said a male voice. "If you do not release the prisoners, I will kill you."

"You kill me, you kill them. This boat is rigged to blow. One sniper shot—"

The helicopter whirred about a hundred feet above us. Sunlight glanced off its obsidian hull.

Rashid shut off the radio. He steered the boat back toward the cave. About 20 yards from it, he pressed a device at his hip. A blinding flash, a deafening roar. Smoke poured from a gaping wound in the side of the cliff where the fissure had been. Boulders cascaded into the water. I coughed on the thick dust as the boat raced through the smoke.

Another boat veered toward us. Rashid kept the boat at a crawl as he watched it draw closer. The men stood like bodyguards beside him, rifles raised.

The boat neared us. A man stood on the deck, tall, dark-haired. Winston! He held a rifle. A bound man sat beside him. The terrorist Reilly had taken prisoner.

Winston, steering the boat, aimed the rifle at his prisoner. "Stop the boat!"

Rashid, ignoring Winston, spun the boat toward the open ocean. Two other boats shot from the island toward us while Winston steered his boat in our wake.

At Rashid's nod, the two terrorists shot at Winston. A bullet from Winston zinged over the boat. Looking over the side, I glimpsed a wide shelf of white under the water. Coral. Rashid swerved the boat around it. Winston avoided it as well, gaining on us despite firing off a constant barrage of shots.

The other boats—four now—drew closer. The helicopter raced after the trail of boats like a black albatross. The island receded behind us, as green and gleaming as an emerald set in sapphire.

The helicopter reached our boat, its blades beating the air and making a crater-like impression in the water to the left. A shot pinged off its hull. It shifted to the right and a man shoved a gun out of its window. It spat fire at Rashid. The terrorist leader swung the boat in a circle and headed toward the rising sun.

The terrorists slammed off shots with their semiautomatics, some hitting the helicopter, which fell back. Winston's boat lay far behind us and one of the boats neared his. Had he been hit?

Then, another helicopter appeared in the blue sky. Like a small locust over the pint-sized island, it grew larger quickly. It was no delicate streamlined needle-fly; heavy-nosed, it exuded power instead of grace.

"Call them." He handed the radio to Reilly, who seemed paralyzed. Rashid aimed his rifle at us, slowing the boat. The helicopter hovered to the left. Armed men peered out of the windows.

The terrorist leader glared at them. His long black hair whipped in the wind. A shot caught the guard, Ponytail, in the shoulder and he collapsed to the deck.

Rashid clicked back the safety, shoved the gun against my forehead. Bang! I jumped, expecting to meet death. Instead, Rashid stumbled to his knees, his shoulder leaking blood. He pushed himself to his feet with his rifle, and then he hurled himself over the side of the boat. The uninjured guard splashed into the water after him. The boat veered left and Reilly climbed to his feet, limping across the deck to stop the engine. Then he sat down beside me, breathing hard ragged breaths.

The chopper landed on the water on large 'skis'. A man from the helicopter swung what looked like a grappling hook toward the boat, and the boat floated toward the helicopter. The other helicopter was flying toward us; the terrorists' boats were scattering.

Someone leapt out of the chopper door and onto the deck with a 'thunk' of boots; several others following close behind. The first figure strode over to us.

The last thing I saw before darkness swallowed the world was the face of a beautiful woman looking down at me, her golden hair streaming against the sunlight.

Description
Deliverance

Terror trembled through me. My heart raced and I realized I wasn't ready for death. My kids' faces flashed across my mind.

I struggled with the ropes that bound my hands, while the pistol glared into my face. The sky above had turned gray.

"Going once—going twice—" said the leader.

"No!" said Reilly. "He's valuable."

"Oh, really? How is that?"

"He's...under protective custody."

"By whom?"

"My...agency."

The leader took another step toward me, his gun still aimed at my head. "Which agency?"

"The...FBI."

The leader grinned and clicked back the safety, holstering his pistol.

"How valuable is he?" He stood in front of Reilly.

"He knows about a crime—unrelated to you. We were taking him to an island where he'd be safe. We only landed here because of the storm...We didn't know about you."

"But you were investigating a large-scale crime? You were chosen—to protect him?"

"Yes."

"And that's why you've been resisting me?"

"I did not want to give in to a terrorist."

"How valuable are you?" The leader put his hand on his bearded chin.

"What do you mean?"

"How much will the FBI pay to get you back?"

"I'm not sure."

"You are the best, though. And this man is worth a lot..."

"We don't negotiate with terrorists."

"You don't? Even when someone's life is at stake?

"Do they know the coordinates of the island?"

Reilly hesitated. "No."

"Do they know about your situation?"

Reilly stayed silent.

"If they don't, they will soon. You will tell them that we demand weapons, supplies. And if they approach the island, one of you will die."

The leader took Reilly's radio from one of the men. Blondie sliced through the ropes binding Reilly's wrists. The leader handed the radio to Reilly who took it with trembling hands. "Call them."

Reilly hesitated.

The leader lifted his pistol, aimed it in my direction. "He could lose an arm..."

Reilly dialed, though his fingers trembled. "Who do I tell them you are?"

"Rashid al-Jahar. Leader of Liberation Jihad."

"Hello," said a female voice at the other end. "Codesign?"

"Alpha Five."

"What is your situation, Agent Jacobs?"

"I've –been taken hostage. Rashid al-Jahar, who says he leads the Liberation Jihad, is demanding weapons and supplies. He has Mr. Allen, as well. He doesn't have my partner, though--"

The leader snatched the radio. "This is Rashid. We are holding your agents at a secret location. You will drop off weapons and supplies at a place I name if you ever want to see them alive again. Tell that to your superiors."

"I—"

"I will contact you later with more specific orders. And if you approach our location, the hostages will die."

Rashid stuck the radio in his belt. "Now, I think it's time we head to a more secure location." They hoisted me to my feet. Then they herded us through the trees.

My back smoldered, breaking out of its relative numbness. My cheek burned. I could hardly feel my hands. Every step jarred my wrists, the rope gnawing into them. My stomach ached, along with my shoulder and hip from falling into the pit.

I looked at Reilly, who was walking slowly front of me without assistance. His shirt hung in tatters; the growing light revealed his back to be a mishmash of bloody slashes. Whatever I felt, it must have been nothing compared to what he did.

We walked out onto the beach. The sun glared its golden face over the grey-blue horizon. The waves lapped onto the beach, reflecting flecks of gold. I breathed in the salt sea air, cool wind blowing over my face.

The leader's radio warbled. "What is it?"

"We're patrolling the south side," said an accented voice. "Boat Four has not responded yet. It has to be more than a radio malfunction."

"Are you going after them?"

"Yes---"

A rustle of rapid whispers. "Wait--Hassan sees something. He says it looks like a helicopter. I don't—"He broke off for a moment. "Wait, I do see something—I'm looking through the glasses. It's a helicopter! It's coming toward us."

"Are you sure?"

Here he broke into Arabic.

Rashid gave him orders in Arabic and tucked his radio back on his belt.

"Let's move. Security's been breached."

We moved back into the trees until a boat churned up to the harbor. They shoved us into the boat and we sat on the bench and Rashid climbed in. The boat sped around the island. It slowed near the cliff and then turned toward a narrow fissure. It looked like the boat would crash on the rocks, but it slipped through the crevice.

The boat's motor echoed on cave walls as it halted near a wooden dock next to a smaller boat. A plateau of rock jutted into the deep pool of dark water. Rashid jumped out of the boat onto the damp stone platform, and walked into a cavernous opening. Drips fell into the water from the ceiling, reverberating throughout the cave.

The two guards, clutching their rifles, stood on either side of the boat as still as statues. Light from the opening leaked into the cave, spilling onto the sloshing water.

Reilly looked at me. "Are you okay?" he said in voice low enough it didn't echo. In the dim light I saw his battered face--a black eye and swollen cheek and lip and the bloody gash on his temple.

"I feel worse than you look."

Reilly chuckled. "That's saying something.

"This wasn't what I had in mind for your first day of training, you know."

"I hope not."

Reilly smiled. "But you did good out there."

"I got you into this mess though! I—wandered into that trap. You could have gotten out of here—"

"And leave you to those --?"

"At least they would have had just me."

"It was only bad luck and bad timing we were captured; I would have gotten you out of there if I could.

"And no one should have to face that alone...especially not someone so new to this game."

"Have you...gone through this kind of thing before?"

"'Interrogation?' Yes. Once by Marxist guerillas..."

Above the slosh of echoing waves I heard the chopping of helicopter blades.

"They're coming. You will do what I tell you?"

I nodded, though I wondered how much Reilly could actually do. Me for that matter.
But my heart fluttered with the bittersweet tang of hope.

Rashid strode toward us, carrying a pack. Two others followed him and jumped into the smaller boat that sat beside ours. Rashid climbed into our boat. The cords of muscle bulged in his arms as he started the boat. Its roaring drowned out the rumbling of the helicopter.

The boats chugged out of the cavern and into the ocean. Wind whipped against my face. The sun shed its rays onto the slate-gray cliffs and the palm trees that rimmed the island ridge.

"Look," said Reilly, pointing at the sky. My heart leapt. A helicopter hovered not far from the island, black and sleek like the one that had taken me here.

Rashid stood over us. "Contact them." He handed Reilly the radio.

"I- don't know their—"

"Don't give me that! Contact them."

Reilly dialed the radio. "This is Jacobs. I'm on the boat nearest you—"

Rashid seized the radio, his bronze face contorted in anger. "This is Rashid. If you deny us safe passage, I will kill one of the prisoners."

"This is team leader Alpha," said a male voice. "If you do not release the prisoners, I will kill you."

"You kill me, you kill them. This boat is rigged to blow. One sniper shot—"

The helicopter whirred about a hundred feet above us. Sunlight glanced off its obsidian hull.

Rashid shut off the radio. He steered the boat back toward the cave. About 20 yards from it, he pressed a device at his hip. A blinding flash, a deafening roar. Smoke poured from a gaping wound in the side of the cliff where the fissure had been. Boulders cascaded into the water. I coughed on the thick dust as the boat raced through the smoke.

Another boat veered toward us. Rashid kept the boat at a crawl as he watched it draw closer. The men stood like bodyguards beside him, rifles raised.

The boat neared us. A man stood on the deck, tall, dark-haired. Winston! He held a rifle. A bound man sat beside him. The terrorist Reilly had taken prisoner.

Winston, steering the boat, aimed the rifle at his prisoner. "Stop the boat!"

Rashid, ignoring Winston, spun the boat toward the open ocean. Two other boats shot from the island toward us while Winston steered his boat in our wake.

At Rashid's nod, the two terrorists shot at Winston. A bullet from Winston zinged over the boat. Looking over the side, I glimpsed a wide shelf of white under the water. Coral. Rashid swerved the boat around it. Winston avoided it as well, gaining on us despite firing off a constant barrage of shots.

The other boats—four now—drew closer. The helicopter raced after the trail of boats like a black albatross. The island receded behind us, as green and gleaming as an emerald set in sapphire.

The helicopter reached our boat, its blades beating the air and making a crater-like impression in the water to the left. A shot pinged off its hull. It shifted to the right and a man shoved a gun out of its window. It spat fire at Rashid. The terrorist leader swung the boat in a circle and headed toward the rising sun.

The terrorists slammed off shots with their semiautomatics, some hitting the helicopter, which fell back. Winston's boat lay far behind us and one of the boats neared his. Had he been hit?

Then, another helicopter appeared in the blue sky. Like a small locust over the pint-sized island, it grew larger quickly. It was no delicate streamlined needle-fly; heavy-nosed, it exuded power instead of grace.

"Call them." He handed the radio to Reilly, who seemed paralyzed. Rashid aimed his rifle at us, slowing the boat. The helicopter hovered to the left. Armed men peered out of the windows.

The terrorist leader glared at them. His long black hair whipped in the wind. A shot caught the guard, Ponytail, in the shoulder and he collapsed to the deck.

Rashid clicked back the safety, shoved the gun against my forehead. Bang! I jumped, expecting to meet death. Instead, Rashid stumbled to his knees, his shoulder leaking blood. He pushed himself to his feet with his rifle, and then he hurled himself over the side of the boat. The uninjured guard splashed into the water after him. The boat veered left and Reilly climbed to his feet, limping across the deck to stop the engine. Then he sat down beside me, breathing hard ragged breaths.

The chopper landed on the water on large 'skis'. A man from the helicopter swung what looked like a grappling hook toward the boat, and the boat floated toward the helicopter. The other helicopter was flying toward us; the terrorists' boats were scattering.

Someone leapt out of the chopper door and onto the deck with a 'thunk' of boots; several others following close behind. The first figure strode over to us.

The last thing I saw before darkness swallowed the world was the face of a beautiful woman looking down at me, her golden hair streaming against the sunlight.