The people who had taken him must want information on something he’d worked on. Some technology. But David jumped from project to project every few months. He had worked there for a number of years now. They could be after information on any number of dozens of highly classified projects.
David tried to think. One of them had spoken his name in English. He tried to remember if there was an accent. He didn’t think so. If they were terrorists, would they have an accent? David was way out of his league. He had been in the Navy for a while. But he had been an officer for only a few months before being let go due to a combination of bad eyesight and budget cuts. He had never deployed or done anything really exciting.
His current job was equally mundane. It sounded a lot more interesting than it really was. He’d spent his first few years out of the Navy working for In-Q-Tel as a low-level tech researcher. His recent promotion meant that he traveled more and got to work on the higher priority projects. But it was still research. David got all of his information about terrorists and spies from books, TV, and the occasional NPR story.
Could they be terrorists? Members of a foreign intelligence service? If he had to guess, these guys were probably from a foreign government. The technology that David worked on would be most valuable in the hands of nations that had the funding and resources to effectively put it to use.
Would the Russians do something like this? Or the Iranians? Would they have spies that had good enough language skills that they wouldn’t have any accent? Would either of those countries take a risk like that? It wasn’t like David could build them the technology. He just knew about the applications: how new voice-recognition software could identify a particular bad guy, or how a new type of computer virus could beat the protection software. Who would want that information badly enough to capture a US employee on American soil? Weren’t they stealing it all through cyberwarfare anyway? The United States wouldn’t stand for this. He had to calm down. The government would find him. Rescue him. Right?
But no one had seen him. Maybe the government would never find out. God, he hoped he wasn’t going to die. Death might or might not be imminent. He didn’t know. But being tied up and blindfolded in the back of a car like this certainly didn’t bode well for his health. David thought about his loved ones. He tried to remember his last interaction with each of them.
He remembered telling his wife, Lindsay, that he loved her when he left for work that morning. He had kissed her on the cheek as she nursed their youngest daughter, Taylor. Lindsay’s eyes had been half-closed as she sat in the rocking chair, but she had smiled. David traveled often now. Lindsay held the house together. She practically raised the kids herself. She was the perfect companion. He owed her everything, and loved her more every day, if that was possible.
He had kissed his oldest daughter Maddie on the cheek as she slept in her bed. Was that the last time he would see them? If he had known, he would have told his wife a thousand times how much he loved her. He never would have let go of his daughters. They were the best part of his life. He couldn’t bear the thought of never seeing them again.
David felt the car turn sharply to the left. The engine thrummed louder and the increasing vibrations told him that they were accelerating. Rhythmic bumps in the road, spaced out every few seconds. Must be a highway. Goddammit, where were they taking him?
He didn’t know why, but he thought of his mother. His wrists hurt from the zip ties being too tight. His whole body was sore from being contorted at an odd angle in the trunk. He was scared as hell that he was going to be killed. And here he was, thinking of his mom, who he hadn’t seen in quite some time. Maybe he did know why. Maybe it was because he was afraid that they would be reunited soon.
David tried to think of the last time he’d visited his mother. It was a year earlier, in the large waterfront home his parents had owned near Annapolis, Maryland. He tried to remember the last thing he had said to her but couldn’t. It was probably about his work. She was always telling him that he worked too hard and too long, and that the government couldn’t keep pushing people like that. That Mrs. Green’s son from church had a government job and he was home every day at 4 p.m. and never had to travel.
He hoped he hadn’t been condescending in his response. She only said those things because she cared for him. If she were still around, she would be devastated if he was hurt — or worse. A Navy wife for more than thirty-five years, she had been tough as nails and dedicated to her three children. She had practically raised them on her own with their father gone so much. He wished she had still been around when Taylor was born. It would have been nice to let her see one more crying grandchild. A slice of heaven for a dying grandmother. But hardship and sacrifice was the way of life in a military family like the Mannings where it was expected that—.
The car came to a sudden halt, followed by the sound of doors opening and shutting. There was an anxious hotness in his chest that he thought could be the start to a panic attack, although he had never had one so he wasn’t sure. Would they hurt him?
He could hear men talking — in English. The sound of a jet engine spooling up told him that they were at an airport. Not good. This could only get worse if they got him out of the country.
David heard the trunk open and felt a rush of cool air. Then the hands grabbed him again. It was more than two people. Not a fair fight even if he had use of his arms and legs. Tied up, his chances were precisely zero. They moved him swiftly. David gave up struggling. There was no point. He felt cowardly for not fighting. He tried to justify it in his mind. He told himself that he was saving up his strength, but deep down he knew it was just reality setting in. David had completely lost control of the situation.
It felt like there were zip ties around his legs, feet, and hands. He barely had the ability to move and was almost certain that the loss of circulation had made his limbs fall asleep. God, he had to pee. The fear made it worse. If they didn’t untie him he was just going to go. What was there to lose? Now they were lifting and pushing him up. The loud sound of the jet engine indicated that they were likely putting him on a plane. He was going to get thrown into a dark prison cell and be tortured by someone who barely spoke English. He had seen enough on TV to know how it went.
They set him down gently enough on what felt like a cushioned surface.
A voice said, “We ready to go?”
“Yes sir. We’ll be airborne in five.” American accents.
“Roger. Thanks, gents, that will be all.” Footsteps down a metal ladder.
The jet engine noise faded and then a hiss as the cabin door must have been closed. He heard a higher-pitched whine and felt the rumble of the aircraft as it taxied out. He was pretty sure that there was at least one person nearby. He could sense it.
“Hang in there, David. We’ll untie you in a minute. Sorry about this. It is not ideal. Relax. We’re not going to hurt you.”
A rush of relief and maddening curiosity flooded him. He fought back tears as he thought once again about his family. He thought about trying to talk but again it felt useless. Just wait. Wait. Wait. He knew that voice. Who was that? It was… Tom. It was Tom Connolly, one of the senior managers at David’s work. David didn’t work directly for him, but they had been in meetings together. What the hell was he doing here?