Doors slammed. An engine roared to life. The limousine jerked into motion with unbelievable speed. Nancy held herself motionless, like a crouching cat preparing to spring. But she couldn’t spring—not yet.
She had to be ready.
She had to stay alert and not give way to panic. She had to force her senses to be aware of every detail of the terrifying ride.
It was astonishing how much Nancy could notice, even with her eyes tightly bound. The car’s ride was very soft and springy, in spite of the fact that they were hurtling along the dirt lane. She figured that they were on the lane because the car was rolling across the same ruts she’d driven over earlier, and occasionally she could hear stones fly up to ping against the undercarriage of the car.
Then the limousine was jerked abruptly onto a much smoother road. Although the windows were shut and the air conditioning was on, Nancy was able to hear the sound of air rushing past the windows and the zoom of other cars shooting by. That must mean they were on the interstate. They had turned left at the end of the lane. That meant they were heading toward Alexandria.
Nancy concentrated hard, counting in her head. How long was the ride taking compared to her drive to the college? Could she estimate the car’s speed and therefore the mileage?
The limousine came to an abrupt stop, then made another left turn. It was heading toward the Potomac—toward Washington.
It made another turn, this time to the right, and was caught up in the roar of commuter traffic. Nancy thought they might be on Route 7 or the Belt Parkway.
Then, with a rush of terror, Nancy heard the roar of jet engines close at hand.
The airport! They’re going to take me on a plane! Nancy thought with panic. But the jet sounds receded. A metallic rumble underneath the wheels seemed to indicate that the limousine was crossing a bridge. Into the capital itself?
The limousine rattled over cobblestones and drew to a stop. A rush of fresh air and the lightening of weight on the seat told Nancy that a back door had opened and her seatmate had climbed out.
The next thing she knew, she was being dragged out and stood up. Something cold touched her ankles, and then the ropes around them were removed. Still gagged and blindfolded, her arms bound, Nancy was half pulled, half pushed, across an expanse of gravel and through a door. Footsteps echoed hollowly on cement.
There was an ammonia smell in the air, and once, when Nancy stumbled, her face brushed against something that felt like a cardboard carton. Were they in a warehouse?
A hand knocked on a metal door. The door was opened, and Nancy was dragged inside.
The voices of Nancy’s captors, speaking in Spanish, became deferential. They’re speaking to their boss, Nancy realized. But what are they saying? The Spanish was so rapid, so staccato, that she could only understand one word in ten.
Suddenly she was dragged over to a window. Nancy knew it was a window because she could feel the warmth of sunlight against her cheek. Hands grasped her face roughly, turned it this way and that. Fingers ran through her hair.
Abruptly she was released—so abruptly that she lost her balance and fell painfully to the concrete floor.
Before Nancy could scramble away, a new set of hands grabbed her. Somebody’s knees pinned her down as her ankles were tied again, this time with something cold and harsh. After that, Nancy was ignored.
Something was wrong, she realized instantly. With a cold fury, her captors’ boss was yelling at them in rapid Spanish. Nancy recognized one or two insults that brought hot color to her face. Fortunately, no one seemed to notice. She was virtually forgotten until suddenly she was picked up and swung like a carpet roll over somebody’s shoulder again.
The thugs rushed Nancy back outside and dumped her in the car.
Again the car jerked to life. Nancy forced herself to remain alert and clearheaded, but she could hear only an occasional word from her abductors. At least there was no gun at her head this time! Or could that be because there was something worse in store?