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When she opened her eyes she was being carried out of the car into what looked like an abandoned warehouse. Her hands were bound behind her back and the sharp pain in the back of her head reminded her of the blow one of her captors had given her. The image of Jack came flooding back to her and she let out a scream of fury. “You killed him!” She began to struggle and the man dropped her heavily to the floor.
“Any more of that nonsense and I’ll have to knock you out again,” he growled. His eyes were a chilling blue. They were cold and threatening. The calm in them scared Verity more than anger would. She nodded, yet held her head high, anger burning in her eyes. She would find a way out of here. She wasn’t about to let this man, or anyone else, use her to get to her father; for Jack’s sake if not for her father. He had protected her from this fate and she wasn’t about to let his death be in vain.
The man dragged her roughly to her feet and shoved her into a room. The door slammed and she was left in total darkness. She stood up, her back against the wall. She began to walk forward. She had barely taken two steps before she hit the opposite wall. Turning so she had her back to that wall she side stepped until her shoulder met another wall. Standing with her back to that wall she again measured the distance. The room was tiny with no windows. There was just enough room for her to lie down. She slid to the floor and began to work on the rope that tied her hands. She was not surprised to find that, no matter how hard she tried, she could not untie them. Finally, exhausted from the long day and the struggle she’d been through, she lay down uncomfortably. Her mind began to wander and soon settled on the image of Jack, blood trickling down his head, hanging upside down from his seat. Tears filled her eyes. “Jack,” she whispered as the tears began to fall.
Crawling out of the car he shook his head to clear it. He stood up cautiously and glanced about him. Taking in the situation he pulled out his mobile.
“TRU, Irving speaking.”
“Michelle, we were attacked.”
“Jack, you’re alive. A team is on its way. We thought you were all dead.”
“What about Curtis?”
“I’m sorry, Jack”
There was a moments pause.
“Did anyone else make it?”
“We’re not sure. But the whole car went up in flames. There is very little chance that anyone survived. The helicopter that followed you filmed the whole thing but they lost track of the car that took Verity in the hills.”
“How long before the team gets here?”
“About ten minutes. Stay where you are, Jack. We need you here.”
“I’m not planning on going anywhere.”
Half an hour later, on arriving at TRU headquarters, Jack was sent straight to the medical ward for treatment. Sighing in frustration he tried to wave away the doctor who was looking at his head.
“Jack,” Dr. Roberts complained, “this is only going to take ten minutes and, seeing as your not going anywhere until I’ve finished this, you might as well sit still.”
“Fine, pass me the phone,” Jack replied, indicating to the TRU network phone that every department of the building had. Frowning, Dr Roberts complied.
“Irving speaking?”
“Michelle, can you tell me what’s going on?”
Jack heard a smile in her voice as she said,” Couldn’t wait for Doc to finish? Ok, we’ve got an image of the car Verity was taken in. We’re trying to find a match in the area that our team lost sight of them. We’ll let you know as soon as we find something.”
“Ok,” Jack replied before hanging up. “Are you going to be much longer, Doc?”
“Well, I just need to take you blood pressure, temperature, sugar levels and check for concussion.”
Jack groaned.
“Stand up,” he commanded. She obeyed, struggling to her feet clumsily. He nodded towards the door and she tried to walk towards it but stumbled as her legs were still asleep. He laughed cruelly at her attempts and then, taking her arm, half dragged, half pushed her through the door. She found herself on the main floor of the warehouse. It was a vast, cold, grey, open space that seemed to go on for miles. It was dimly lit and Verity could just make out two men standing in the middle. There was also a chair and a table. She was lead towards this by the grey eyed man and told to sit. She did so. The two men, both dressed in black, tied her arms and legs to the chair so she couldn’t move. There was a long silence as the blonde haired man lit a cigarette. Finally he turned to Verity as he waved out the match he held.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked.
“No,” Verity replied, looking him straight in the eye.
“I am Joseph Simnel. I worked with your father last year on a government project. I want to get in touch with him. Where is he?”
“I don’t know,” Verity replied simply.
“Come now,” Simnel smirked. “You must have some idea. It’s for his own good, so tell me.”
“I really do not know. I can not help you.”
Simnel’s eyes hardened. “Can not or will not?”
“Both,” Verity replied through clenched teeth.
“I am trying to help him. If you want to save his life you should tell me where he is.”
Verity let out a snort of laughter. “So, that explains why I’m tied to a chair and you’re keeping me locked up in a tiny room.”
“It is for your own safety,” he replied smoothly.
“Spare me!” Verity replied, rolling her eyes.
Simnel glared at her. He placed his hands on the armrests of her chair and leaning in, his face close to hers. “Do you realise what I could do to you?” he asked, calmly. “I can get to you nearest and dearest and hurt them. Do you want that?”
Verity held his gaze and remained silent.
“Tell me where he is.”
She didn’t move or make a sound.
“TELL ME,” Simnel yelled. Verity felt herself flinch but was determined not to show her fear. She still made no sound. Simnel stood up and turned away from her. Suddenly, in one swift movement, he whirled around and struck Verity across the face, causing her head to snap to the side. She could feel her face burn and could taste blood in her mouth. She spat it out and forced herself to look at the man.
“Tougher than you look,” he muttered. “But everyone has their breaking point.”
Slowly he took the cigarette out of his mouth. He glanced at the bare skin of Verity’s arm, then very slowly placed the tip of the cigarette onto her skin. Verity gasped in pain and bit down on her lip.
“Tell me where your father is.”
“I…don’t know,” Verity gasped. Simnel pushed the cigarette deeper.
“Tell me.”
“I don’t know, I don’t know,” she repeated. Simnel removed the cigarette.
“Then tell me where your Aunty lives. She will know your fathers whereabouts.”
Verity shook her head. A fist collided painfully with her stomach, winding her, tears coming unbidden to her eyes. She gasped for air as Simnel repeated the question. He stood behind the table, his back to her as the other two men who now stepped forward. Verity stared at the floor and thought of Jack. She had to do this for him. Another fist landed in her stomach. She coughed and blood mixed with saliva dribbled out of her mouth.
“Tell me where to find your Aunty.” Simnel’s voice was cold and beginning to sound distant. She felt a blow land on her face. Her head began to spin as a second one landed in the same place. Struggling to stay conscious she began to mutter over and over again the same word. “No, no, no.”
A third blow hit her and she felt blood running down the side of her face. She hung her head trying to protect it but a hand grabbed her hair, pulling her head back. She had long since lost her vision; it was blurred and indistinguishable. A shape loomed in front of her, she felt pain wash over her head and her world went black.
It was then that she heard gunshots. With difficulty she sat up resting her head against the wall and listened. She heard shouts and running footsteps. She turned her concentration to the ropes that bound her hands and again began to try and untie them. This time she could feel that they were slacker and easier to manipulate. Slowly she began to work on them, trying to loosen the knots and work her hands free. It took her ten minutes before she worked one hand free. The whole time she could hear the fight drawing nearer. Frantically throwing the rope aside she scrambled to her feet. Her head began to spin immediately but she staggered to the door and pressed her ear against it. She heard voices. She recognising one of them she began to scream. “JACK.” Beating on the door with all her might she cried out, “JACK, I’M IN HERE.”
She heard a crash and the sound of two men exchanging blows, followed by a thump as someone fell to the floor. Then there was a scraping sound, the noise of a key in the lock and finally the door was flung outwards and she fell into his arms. She stood there, staring into his eyes for a moment hardly believing he was there. “I thought you were dead,” she gasped, before her knees gave way and she collapsed in a heap. “I’m sorry,” she muttered, distractedly. Her head began to swim and she felt her world going black again. She clutched at Jack’s shirt. “Don’t leave me,” she managed to say, as yet again she fell unconscious.
“I won’t,” Jack promised.
“It’s ok, sweetheart,” he murmured, stroking her hair. “It’s only me.”
Verity smiled weakly and shifted so Jack could sit on the seat. “What are you doing here?” Jack asked as her sat by her feet.
“I wanted to see the sky,” she whispered, sleepily. She closed her eyes again.
Jack frowned. “I see,” he answered. “Did you sleep ok?” he asked, trying to lighten the mood. She opened one eye and but said nothing. Jack took that as a ‘no’. “Why not?” he asked. Verity turned so her feet dangled down and she leant her head against Jack’s shoulder. “I get nightmares,” she answered, pulling the blanket up to her neck. Jack nodded and put an arm around her. She let out a sigh and closed her eyes again. “Why are you up so early?” she asked.
Jack laughed softly. “It’s nearly half past ten.”
“So,” she pouted. “That’s still early.”
Jack laughed again. “OK, sweetie. You go back to sleep and I’ll make something for when you wake up.”
“Ooooo, lasagne,” she cried. “I love lasagne.”
Jack grinned, “I’ve never made lasagne.”
“Really?” Verity asked in surprise. “Ok,” she continued, getting to her feet. “I’ll teach you how.”
“You need to sleep,” Jack commanded.
“I won’t be able to sleep again now you woke me up,” she grinned and stuck out her tongue. “Besides, all I’ve been doing for the last week is sleeping.”
“That’s because you need rest,” Jack replied in a half-hearted attempt to get her to lie down.
“Nope,” she replied. “I need to make lasagne.”
Two hours later the government agent and his charge sat down to a meal of slightly over cooked lasagne and salad. “See,” Verity said, as she drowned her salad in dressing, “it’s easy.” Jack raised an eyebrow.
“If you say so,” he replied. “I think it’s time for some good news,” Jack continued. “We have a lead on who is behind your kidnapping.”
“You mean it wasn’t Simnel,” Verity asked with a frown.
“No, it was someone higher up. Simnel was just his puppet. We caught Simnel the day we found the warehouse. But he was being paid by someone in the military. We need to find that person.”
“This isn’t just about money, is it?” Verity asked. “I’m not as stupid as I look,” she continued as Jack stared at her. “I know that government agents don’t just protect anyone who asks for help. There has to be a real threat to national security.” She looked down at her plate, fearing she had said too much.
“You’re right,” Jack replied. “But I can’t tell you anything, for your own safety. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Verity smiled. “I’m going to make a cake,” she said cheerfully.
“Jack. How are you?”
“I’m ok. But I’m worried about Verity.”
“Why?”
“I think she’s suffering a psychological breakdown. She hates the dark, she gets nightmare and she’s obsessed with the sky. She sits watching the sky, she paints the sky…The other day she made a cake and put blue icing on it with white clouds. I think she’s going to need help.”
Michelle sighed. “You know we can’t move her until it’s safe and it’s too dangerous to send anyone to the house. You’ll have to try and help her.”
“How?”
“Come on, Jack. You remember the first time you saw someone being interrogated? “
“Yes,” Jack whispered. He had just joined TRU. At the time he hadn’t been on the field-team. He had worked at a desk like everyone else. The prisoner was a known terrorist who had been captured and prevented from swallowing cyanide. He refused to talk and Jack, who had to watch, was in a state of shock for weeks. He had only been twenty seven at the time.
“You understand what she is going through better than anyone. Talk to her.”
“Talk to her?”
“Yes,” Michelle chuckled. “I know you’re not the talkative type but you also know she needs help. You’re the best one for that. You’ve been in that situation where you have been tortured for information. You understand what Verity is going through and what she needs to hear.”
Jack made no reply.
“Jack? You still there?”
“I’ll call you back.”
Jack hung up and reached across to the bedside table for his gun. It was past midnight and Verity had gone to bed. There was a noise coming from the front room. The soft tread of footsteps mixed with the clink of a glass reached Jack’s ears and he climbed slowly out of bed. He peeked through the crack in the door and his eyes fell on the fragile figure curled up on the sofa, her head facing the window, the chair lamp on and a glass of water in her hand. Tucking the gun into the waist of his jeans Jack opened the door and headed for Verity.
Hearing Jack approach Verity turned her head and smiled. “I wondered if I could get up without you hearing. You must be a light sleeper.”
“I was already awake,” Jack smiled, taking a seat beside her. There was a long pause. “Something on your mind?” Jack asked, eventually. Verity looked up at him. His eyes were an intense blue, almost grey in places. They were filled with concern as he gazed down at her, snuggled against his shoulder.
“Simnel,” she said eventually. “I keep seeing his face everywhere.”
Jack nodded. “It’s not easy. It never is. There are certain events in your life that, not physically but mentally, kill you. When you go through hard experiences, such as you have been through, you have to come out the other side still fighting. There is no rest for a long time afterwards. You have to keep fighting for your life for a long time afterwards. I’m still fighting over something that happened four years ago. Sometimes it takes longer than you think, other times you get over it quickly, but either way it’s never easy. Sometimes you feel exhausted and want to just give up, and other times you feel determined to grow old and see you daughter graduate and get married, have children of her own.” Jack paused. “It won’t happen over night, but eventually you’ll get used to, and accept, what has happened. Sometimes something much better happens to soften the blow or wipe the memory from your mind. Then you can begin to heal.”
Silence fell between them again. Verity began to wonder what event could have caused Jack to be fighting it for four years. She had her suspicions and was suddenly filled with pity for this tough government agent. It was taking him four years to come to terms with the death of his wife. He must have loved her very much.
Jack watched the girl in his arms. ‘Sometimes something can happen to soften the blow…Then you begin to heal.’ He knew that this energetic, quirky, brave girl was helping him to heal.