Authors note: I have used some military terminology and jargon in this chapter which you may not be accustomed to. As an aid I've included definitions or explanations in brackets following the term. It breaks the flow a little but I thought it preferable to an appendix or footnotes and I wanted to include the military terms in order to add realism to the story.
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13 Aug PM Mid-evening (Exact time unknown)
Circe
The van ride seemed to take a few hours but it was hard to tell since I had a bag over my head. It was also pretty uncomfortable, what with my hands and wrists being tied, but this was easy compared to being hog-tied in Tillman's dungeon. My "captors" were silent except for the occasional grunt or cough. Some, if not all of them needed a few lessons in personal hygiene. Dirty clothes, body odor and bad breath. Tillman never missed a detail. As we travelled along I felt a hand grab my ass, and since I was determined to be the model trainee, I didn't respond or resist. Someone in the van snickered. Then two hands grabbed my breasts, and just a little too roughly. They really seemed to enjoy them but left their hands outside of my top.
One of the men said with a heavy accent, "Stop van, we need to check for bugs."
"Hey I don't have bugs. I keep clean, unlike you guys."
My smart remark got me slapped on the side of the head, "Shut-up bitch whore!"
The van stopped and I heard some sort of electronic chirping around me.
"She's clean. Keep driving."
I wanted to also be witty about my cleanliness but thought better of it. The slap to the head hurt. The chattering picked up a bit but was very whispered. I did hone in on two female voices, or very effeminate men and that made me wonder if Alexandra was here in the van and involved in the test. After a while the van stopped and I could hear gates opening. The van then entered a building and the garage door shut.
"Out bitch whore!" Someone roughly grabbed the hood and my hair and half-dragged me out of the van. I chuckled to myself, yep, been there done that, referencing the time that Tillman pulled me out of the limo by my hair. It was some sort of warehouse because you could tell by the way the sounds echoed and reverberated. Hands on either side of me grabbed my arms and shuttled me deeper into the building and door after door closed behind me and we went up some stairs. Eventually I was roughly deposited in a hard chair and told to be quiet, and not move. Again, been there done that.
After quite some time someone entered the room and walked to my chair, and the hood came off. It took a few minutes for my eyes to adjust to the light but there wasn't much to see. The two "captors" standing next to me appeared to be female and they were dressed in black and wore ski masks. Neither of them had Alexandra's build.
"Stand up and don't make trouble. Take off your clothes."
So now it begins. Obediently I stood and my arm and wrist restraints were removed. I rubbed my wrists to get the circulation back and then quickly pulled my clothes off. As the last item hit the floor I heard a snap and turned to see that one of them had put latex gloves on. She came around to face me.
"Open your mouth."
The gloved fingers went in and swept around my mouth.
"Clear. Now bend over and spread 'em."
Well now this was something different. Two un-lubricated fingers were roughly pushed into my vagina and then into my rectum. Thanks bitch – I hope your next gynecologist treats you just the same way and is a man with giant hands and fat fingers.
"Clear. Put this on."
I was tossed one of those orange prison jumpsuits and told to sit back down once I was dressed. If I knew Tillman, things were going to get interesting but in any case I was just happy that he was active again and on the mend, at least that's what I hoped anyway.
13 Aug 11:32 PM
Tillman
Conveniently, one of my most trusted team members owned a very popular gym that was busy all of the time. It made a great meeting place to conduct initial planning operations because nobody seemed to notice a bunch of very fit people going in and out of a gym. Plus she had set up a very private meeting room that was on the 3rd floor and well away from any customers. Right after I hung up with Alexandra I had hit autodial on my cell for my Tango Team. And no, not the dance. Tango is the military phonetic alphabet for the letter "T" and Tango is often used as the code word for a terrorist. So my Tango Team were specialists in dealing with terrorists.
The FBI has HRT's or Hostage Rescue Teams but they mostly deal with domestic hostage situations, like the guy who barricades himself in his house and holds his wife at gunpoint. Often the domestic hostage-taker still cares about his own life but that's not normally true for terrorists who often consider themselves to already be dead. This puts a whole new dynamic on things because there just isn't much room for negotiation. My Tango Team RoE, or Rules of Engagement, were maximum force, maximum speed, with no attempt to take prisoners. Let me explain. When you shoot, you shoot to kill. This Hollywood business of just wounding someone is just fucking stupid. It will get you killed. Contrary to popular opinion, bad guys just don't fall over dead with one shot anywhere on their body. Hell, it's pretty common for people to survive getting shot in the head. Bullets have to hit just the right place and with just the right velocity and just the right penetration.
So my Tango Teams were always trained to put bad guys down as quickly as possible and in a way that they could no longer threaten my team or the hostages. That means that if they did their jobs right there would be no prisoners. And it's not cold-blooded murder, those people are a real threat and they will kill you if you don't kill them first. Other military operations have other more 'civilized' rules but if you try to apply those to terrorists then your team will end up dead and so will the hostages. I should also mention that on all of my teams, military customs and courtesies are placed aside when we are working. There isn't time in these situations to refer to people by their ranks or to be saluting, and even though it may appear to be very informal, let me assure you that it's not. Everyone knows the chain of command and who's in charge, and that even includes civilians who might be on a given team.
Over the next few hours the various members of the team filtered in and the last would arrive by chartered jet sometime around 0520. The wait was agonizing because images of Victoria kept playing through my head. I needed so desperately to act, to do something, but I also knew that any sort of hasty plan could get Angel killed. So I forced myself to detach and start thinking of her as just some random hostage we were going to go rescue. This was not the time for personal emotion and involvement.
"Hey boss, can I ask you a question?"
"Yes Champ, what is it?"
"I feel that as one of your senior NCO's that it's my duty to ask if it's wise for you to be leading this operation, considering your, um, your history with the, um, the hostage."
"That's a good question Champ and it is one I would expect a senior NCO to ask of any team leader. Let me ask you this in return, considering your, um, your history with the, um, the hostage, do you think it's wise for you to be a member of this team for this operation?"