InuYasha Fan Fiction ❯ Hijacked Honeymoon ❯ Chapter 24

Hijacked Honeymoon

 

Chapter 24

 

Lying down on the floor of the van with a terrorist pointing a gun at her shouldn't have been conducive to sleep. But from Kagome's position on the floor, she couldn't keep track of direction, couldn't watch the scenery, and after an hour of fighting to stay awake and alert, Kagome dozed, then fell into a deep sleep.

 

When she awakened to the rough nudge of the Spaniard's boot on her shoulder, she was still groggy. The van had stopped and the sun was setting. She estimated she'd slept for five or six hours. Not nearly enough.

 

In fact, after the man and driver escorted her into a dilapidated warehouse half-wasted-away by what was probably the Mediterranean Sea, she wished she was still asleep. A quick glance around revealed her isolation. The exterior revealed nothing but overgrown weeds, a vehicle that appeared to have been junked in the middle of the last century and a half submerged dock. Even if she could escape, she saw no place to run or hide. No nearby town. Nothing but a dirt road, miles of empty beach and the rundown warehouse.

 

That her captors didn't bother to tie her told her that they believed she couldn't escape, upping her anxiety a few more notches. In such a remote location, it was improbable that she would be spotted accidentally. Here there were no nosy neighbours. No curious dogs. No exploring children who might comment on strangers.

 

And no one could approach without being spotted from miles away. The land was flat, barren and, despite the setting sun, the temperature was quite warm. Sweat trickled between her breasts and under her arms.

 

Yet despite her perspiration, she shivered, knowing that this site would become her grave. The Shey Group couldn't know her location—not after Hojo's switcheroo in the open-air market. No group of commandos was going to land on this beach to save her. No Seal team would miraculously swim out of water. With no weapons except her brain, if she wanted to regain her freedom, she'd have to outwit her captors.

 

The Spaniard shoved her through an opening in the warehouse wall where a wide garage door might have once been. The odor of mildew and mold was almost overpowering, and she choked down her dismay. Sand had blown in through a multitude of holes that had once housed glass panes. The roof had fallen onto the metal rafters that were now inhabited by an assortment of critters. At their entrance, birds cawed angrily at being disturbed and flung themselves aloft before flying away.

 

Kagome didn't know if she preferred for the driver to stay or leave her alone with the Spaniard who had grapped her from the open-air market. Two captors would be more difficult to evade then one. After the driver withdrew a bottle of tequila from his knapsack, twisted off the top and drank deeply before offering it to his cohort, she prayed they would get too drunk to take any personal interest in her.

 

Keeping her eyes downcast, she sat exactly where she was told to sit. She didn't move. She didn't speak, although her bladder desperately needed relief. Her plan was to blend into the rusting metal walls until the man forgot her presence.

 

To pass time, she thought of Sesshomaru. Knowing he was frantically searching for her with all the resources of the Shey Group made her feel less alone—connected, grounded. She wanted time to explore her feelings for Sesshomaru, wanted time to see if what they had found was enough to build a lifetime together. Just because her father had abandoned his family and out his work first didn't mean that every man felt that way. She knew Sesshomaru was different from her irresponsible father, and she was determined not to allow the emotional scars of her childhood stop her from finding happiness with a man.

 

As she sat in the damp sand, breathed the musty air, and as the man continued to drink, she searched her soul, wondering if one could ever separate the hurts of the past from the promise of the future. When she'd agreed to marry Hojo, there had been no emotional risk. Her heart hadn't been committed—so if he had left her—she would have been safe. But with Sesshomaru her emotions were like a roller coaster. Up and down at a whirlwind pace. With Sesshomaru there was emotional risk because she cared deeply about him. And she was afraid of the caring that made her so vulnerable.

 

As night fell, her captors polished off the bottle. They might not have been alert, but they weren't close to passing out drunk. When the driver headed to his car and returned with yet another bottle, a call of nature insisted that she could wait no longer.

 

Standing, she brushed off her hands and stood. “I must…use the lavatory.” Of course there was no bathroom and the men seemed to find her words enormously amusing. They slapped their knees and laughed, paying her little attention as she slipped outside.

 

Quickly she took care of business. Was not the time to make her move?

 

If she ran, the men would come after her in the car. She wouldn't get far. She shook her head and went back inside, resumed her place by the wall/ better to wait for the right opportunity. She would only get one chance, and as she realized the men had drunk their way into the second bottle, she vowed patience.

 

Soon.

 

Soon she'd escape.

 

 

Sesshomaru had little trouble tracking down the vehicle. The child witness's information proved accurate. After a visit to the local police station, he'd learned that a party van with balloons painted on the side had been stolen two days before. Another dead end. One of many.

 

Sesshomaru returned to the open-air market. He had spoken to every vendor who hadn't yet packed up their goods for the day and gone home. No one had seen squat.

 

But someone was tailing Sesshomaru. And that was the best news yet. The fact someone was interested in him due to the questions he was asking suggested that person might know more then Sesshomaru did. Or perhaps that person could lead him to someone who did. For two hours Sesshomaru had let the man watch and follow him, waiting for an opportunity to turn the tables.

 

As Sesshomaru played cat-and-mouse games with the stranger in the market, Ryker had kept in touch. So had Kincaid. Developments in the U.S. were interesting. Kincaid had not only managed to spirit Ni-Ru Higurashi out of the top-secret government facility where he's been hiding, the father Kagome had never met was now on a supersonic transport somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean.

 

Even more interesting, Hojo had contacted Dr. Higurashi on his cell phone and was demanding that the man turn himself over with his entire package of research or he'll kill Kagome. Hojo knew that the U.S. government didn't negotiate with terrorists, but had figured that Dr. Higurashi would be willing to pay to ransom his daughter.

 

Sesshomaru suspected that if Ni-Ru Higurashi was allowed to turn himself over to Hojo, the FBI agent would kill father and daughter, then resell the research material to the highest bidder. He steeled himself against how that eventually would rib him apart. He loved Kagome. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her.

 

Shoving aside the fear, downplaying the danger, Sesshomaru concentrated on the problem of extricating Kagome from Hojo's grasp. Where had he stashed her?

 

If they caught a plane two hours ago, they could be almost anywhere in Europe by now. Ryker needed to narrow down the search area. They needed a break.

 

Another hour later there was some good news. Ryker Stevens had broken Hojo's phone encryption, allowing the Shey Group to monitor his calls. The man was still in Spain. Even better, he'd phoned some very interesting cell phone numbers within the Saudi Arabain and Iranian governments—no doubt his contacts.

 

Kagome's plan to make Hojo reveal his network was actually coming to fruition. Sesshomaru was proud of her and yet he was almost sick with the notion that Kagome was not going to survive. He'd let her down by failing to protect her. And not she was out there alone in a foreign land where she didn't speck the language, held captive by enemies who didn't treat their own women well, never mind strangers.

 

Sesshomaru stepped into an alley and doubled back on the man tailing him. From the shadows of a recessed doorway, Sesshomaru lunged out, slammed his follower into a wall. His surprise victim didn't struggle, but stared into Sesshomaru's eyes as if assessing his character.

 

Holding one forearm against the man's throat, Sesshomaru ordered, “Talk.”

 

“I am Fernando Diaz.”

 

“So?”

 

“So, I know something about the man who stole the van you were inquiring about earlier today.”

 

Sesshomaru didn't loosen his hold on the man's neck. “Why were you following me?”

 

“We need to talk…in private. Not everyone in our police department likes Americanos. Your current president is not so very popular here.”

 

“And you like our president?”

 

“I approve of men of honor. Men like yourself. Men like your boss.”

 

Sesshomaru raised his eyebrow, surprised Officer Diaz knew anything about the Shey Group or Logan Kincaid. “My boss?”

 

“My father did a few favours for your countryman. Now I will help you and well paid for my trouble. Si?”

 

“What do you want?” Sesshomaru's suspicions escalation. He didn't like men who asked for bribes. That meant their loyalty went to the highest bidder and that they could not be trusted.

 

But Diaz surprised Sesshomaru. “I would like to be the Spanish contact for the Shey Group.”

 

Sesshomaru thought over his reply. As eager as he was for information, he would not lie to this man. “I cannot make any promises.”

 

Diaz's eyes searched his with calm as if he'd expected no more and no less. “But you can see that I will be considered?”

 

“Yes. Not, what information do you have for me?”

 

“There have been a series of stolen vehicle thefts in Madrid. At first we thought the thieves cut up the cars, placed the parts in containers and then sold them overseas. But last week I heard about a driver taking the cars to a remote warehouse, loading the vehicles onto a tug, then transferring the vehicles to a ship at sea.”

 

“I am not interested in car theft.”

 

“Hear me out. I believe one of the drivers is the man you are looking for.”

 

“Why?”

 

“He had gambling debts and also a reputation for a willingness to do anything for fast cash. He is also missing from his usual bar stool. The man is very fond of drink.”

 

“Back up a second. Why do you believe this man is the one I'm looking for?”

 

“The stolen van with the balloons was taken from his side of town, during the early-morning hours.”

 

“That's not enough.”

 

“The child's description fit him.”

 

“The child's description could fit eighty percent of the men in Spain,” Sesshomaru argued. Although Diaz might be his best hope, he was not about to go running off in the wrong direction without more than this.

 

“I spoke to the child myself. He forget to mention in his first statement that the woman's abductor had an ugly ear.”

 

“Cauliflower ear?” boxers often had misshapen ear cartilage after taking too many punches. Sesshomaru's hopes began to rise. “And this car thief has fighter's ears?”

 

“Si.”

 

“Do you know where he might have taken her?”

 

“Not for certain. But Samuel is not a complicated man. He comes from a small village on the coast. A village where locals keep their mouths shut about snuggling and are not friendly to city people or the policia.”

 

“You think he took her to the same place where he stashes the cars?”

 

“Si, but this is what you call an educated guess. I am not sure.”

 

“Officer Diaz, would you be willing to accompany me on a search?”

 

“I would be honoured.”

Sesshomaru clicked open his cell phone and dialled. “I'll need a chopper.”

 

 

Kagome waited until her captors had almost finished the second bottle of liquor. One man was snoring and the other sat slumped, his eyes closed, the bottle loosed in his hand. She had no doubt she could sneak away without them hearing her. But she wouldn't get far on foot.

 

She needed the car keys—car keys that must be in one of the driver's pockets. Her heart hammered up her throat as she shoved to her feet and fought to control her ragged breath. If the keys were in a back pocket where he was sitting, she didn't stand a chance.

 

Slowly, carefully, she edged closer to the driver. When he released a loud snore, she almost let out a yelp. There's no rush, she told herself.

 

You can do it.

 

All along she'd wondered if Hojo was working with others in the FBI. But if he'd had to resort to hiring undisciplined alcoholics to do his dirty work, be must be on his own. And she intended to use that to her advantage.

 

With two fingers she plucked back the snoring man's jacket pocket. But she found no keys in the right side. Nor the left side. Nor the front inside pocket.

 

Damn. They had to be in his slacks. Lucky for her the pants were baggy. Before risking the maneuver of slipping her fingers into a pocket, she frisked him and found a hard lump, hopefully the keys, in the right pocket. But although he was slumped, he was way too upright, the pocket's material kinked.

 

Risking everything, she placed one hand on his shoulder and shoved him over. He toppled gently, like a sleeping baby, but she held her breath, praying he wouldn't open his eyes. He didn't, but his eyelids fluttered.

 

She gave him a minute to go back into a deep REM sleep. Then slowly she reached into his pocket and edged out the keys.

 

Adrenaline surged and every atom in her body goaded her to run. But instead, she made herself take the gun by his side before hurrying to the van, opening the door and slipping into the front seat. She didn't close the door for fear of making noise. Didn't turn on the lights in case the sudden brightness cast sleep disturbing shadows into the dilapidated interior. Kept the gun on the seat beside her.

 

The engine fired smoothly on the first try. She had a half tank of gas. Thank God, she knew how to drive with a clutch.

 

Shifting smoothly into first gear, she headed down the only road. She'd been sleeping on the way here. But with just one road, she felt confident she could get away and find a phone and help.

 

She had just reached to turn on her lights, when a motorcyclist roared out of the darkness. Her first thought was relief that Sesshomaru had found her.

 

Then her van's lights flashed on the man's face.

 

God, no.

 

It wasn't Sesshomaru but Hojo.