Someone you might have been (part 13 of 39)
thehighwaywoman, thank you so very very much for the v-gift! ♥ And deirdre_c, the love was much appreciated. ♥
And hey, I'm sorry you lot, but we've actually reached part 13 of the spy-fic that won't end. Maybe one day.
Someone you might have been
Secret agent!Jared/handler!Jensen… have a very, very bad day
part twelve
A whole four days pass without so much as a word from ISA. Jared doesn't know if he's in disgrace or if they're just mulling over their options or what. He's just grateful for the rest, even if he spends a lot of his downtime thumbing over his cellphone, wondering whether he should call Jensen or not. He sleeps, eats, works out, watches whatever crap he can find on TV.
It's a good thing he makes the most of getting to spend a few days as a normal guy because, within hours of getting the call, Jared finds himself planning to do things normal guys just don't - for example, stealing the core of a thermonuclear device before it can be sold into the hands of a terrorist agency.
"Glazkov isn't Coalition, doesn't have any particular sympathy for their aims and objectives," Jensen says. "But he does do a lot of business with them. And according to intelligence, the shipment he's sending them tonight includes a warhead stolen from the French government."
"Wow, that's a pretty hardcore toy for the Coalition to play with," Jared says.
"Which is why they won't get to play with it. You'll infiltrate Glazkov's warehouse at the docks before he can ship out and remove the core of the warhead. At the very least, the Coalition doesn't get its hands on nuclear weaponry. If we're lucky, it sours the relationship with Glazkov and the Coalition loses an arms dealer."
While Jared scans over the map of the docks, analysing the route Jensen has planned out for him, Jensen sits quietly and waits. His silence is unnerving and after a few moments, Jared glances up at him, just to make sure he's still in the room. Jensen offers him a smile.
"You were right, by the way," Jared says. "About Tehran. Sounds like it was a fucking disaster."
Jensen nods, then stops abruptly and raises an eyebrow at Jared. "Who told you that?"
It's sharply said and Jared grins to himself because it'd be about right for his luck if he somehow got Jensen wondering about his loyalty.
"Weatherly. Gave me a little rant about his woes. Team wiped out in Tehran, handler gone missing from Vancouver, Coalition bug on the servers, and he's a total fucking prick too. Sucks to be him."
The tension visibly draining from him, Jensen nods.
"It's my fault Weatherly doesn't like you. After Chris died, Weatherly wanted me gone. Risk management, y'know? But the other executives wanted to hang onto me. Said I'd be more valuable for having experience with a double agent." Jensen's smile is bitter.
His eyes meet Jared's for a second and Jared feels like he has no idea who he's looking at. It's that guy who cuts off people's fingers, whose hands look at home on a gun. It's that guy who's cold and lethal and full of secrets. Jared doesn't know that guy, doesn't want to. For that second, Jared's never been so fucking thankful he was never stupid enough to turn traitor.
Then it's Jensen again, self-contained and coolly professional and too pretty to be dangerous, and Jared's crazy enough that he can't resist pushing, just a little, just to see if he gets that other guy back.
"You've gotta have an idea who the double is, man. C'mon, if Chris got them believing he know who they were, you've gotta have some idea who he'd have talked to."
It looks, at first, like he might get an answer. Jensen opens his mouth to speak and Jared leans forward instinctively. Then Jensen shakes his head and fixes his gaze on a point just a little to the left of Jared's head.
"I'm going for plausible deniability with you, buddy. I'm not saying a damn word that you could use to get yourself killed. Been there, done that, didn't much like it."
:::
Exactly eight minutes were allowed for Jared to get in to the warehouse, remove the core, and get out again. Jared is three minutes through and in the middle of deactivating security on the warhead's crate when something goes very wrong.
"Shit!" says Jensen, his voice harsh in Jared's ear. "Someone's tripped a burglar alarm in your area. Cops are coming. You're gonna have company, and fast."
As if on cue, the wail of a police siren rises up, and as it grows louder the level of activity in the docks spikes suddenly. Glazkov's people are moving, abandoning their routines and coming to secure their shipment of highly illegal weapons. In short, they're closing in on Jared.
"Sasquatch, abort. I repeat, abort and exit."
Jared hesitates for just a second - just a second spent on wondering whether he can really afford to abort an assignment that involves the Coalition getting nuclear weapons - and he pays the price. He takes a blow to the back of the head that knocks him to his knees. Blackness sweeps in at the edge of his vision and he passes out, Jensen's voice still calling for him.
:::
The way they've got him tied up tells him they're not taking any chances. Jared's tied to the chair, hand and ankle, so tight he's losing circulation. His head is pounding and his hair is sticking to the back of his neck so he guesses he's been bleeding.
Just like he's been trained, Jared takes a second to properly take in every detail about his situation that he can. There's the huge, hollow thrum of an engine going through the walls, which, combined with the subtle lurching of the floor, clues Jared in that he's on a ship. There are two men in the dark, dank room with him. They're both holding semi-automatics on him in well-practised grips.
Jared wets his lips and gives them both a friendly smile.
"Look, no offence to you peons, but can I talk to the management?"
A long pause and then one of the peons mutters He's awake into the radio clipped at his collar. It doesn't take long for the rattle of footfall on metal to sound outside the door. A whole fucking entourage of more peons accompanies the arrival of 'the management', who turns out to be a good-looking woman in her late thirties with honey-brown hair and brown eyes.
"Good to see you awake, honey," she says, her accent giving her away immediately as American. "Thought you were gonna sleep the whole way."
"Nothing like something heavy to the head to put me out good," Jared says. "'Cept maybe the hot milk my momma used to give me before bed. Or whiskey, 'cause, y'know, you give me enough whiskey and I'll sleep right through 'til midday."
She studies him a while, her smile fixed on her face, then she takes a step closer and tilts his face up to hers. Jared grins charmingly.
"What's your name, sweetheart?" she says.
"Anything you want it to be, baby."
She backhands him so hard he thinks the chair might go over. His lip pulses hotly as it splits and the pounding in his head goes up a few decibels. Jared waits for his headache to become a little more manageable and then looks back at her, grins even though it splits his lip wider.
"Who are you working for?" she says. "Who sent you here?"
"Go fuck yourself," Jared tells her sweetly.
He expects the backhand this time and braces for it. It still fucking hurts.
"Honey, I already know you're working for ISA. I know you're here for the warhead. So let's get on to the exciting stuff, 'kay? What's ISA's trade-off with Nguyen? What's she offering?"
Jared laughs and shrugs.
"I don't have the first fucking clue what you're talking about, lady."
"Really? 'Cause people lie about that kind of thing all the time."
"No, ma'am. I don't lie. My momma brought me up right."
She cocks her head at him and spreads her hands helplessly. With a flick of her finger, two of the peons move forward. The first punch catches Jared on the cheekbone, snapping his neck backwards, and his face is still on fire with the pain of it when the second guy punches him. There's nothing he can do to avoid the blows, or even minimise the force of them.
"What is Nguyen offering ISA? And what are they offering in return?"
Jared directs a distinctly hateful glare at her and doesn't say a word.
The next punch is to his stomach and it drives the air out of his lungs so fast it's like being hit by a truck. He gasps for breath, feeling like he might vomit, and then feels like he might pass out when the next punch lands on his solar plexus.
"I'm going to keep asking until you give me an answer," she says. "What is Nguyen offering ISA?"
"Fuck you."
When they haul him up out of the chair, Jared tries to jerk free. He manages to shake them off but just for a moment. They're too many of them, and maybe if he hadn't just had some guys trying to turn his face to shredded meat, he could think about taking them. But they're on him again in seconds, untying his ropes just long enough to hog-tie him. Jared's fingers strain for something to catch on to, a weapon of some kind, something sharp, anything at all he can use.
She moves to stand over him and Jared focuses on her ankle. He won't meet her eyes and distracts himself with thoughts of biting her, sinking his teeth in so deep they'd have to put a bullet in his head before they could get him off.
"C'mon, darling. I don't enjoy letting my boys beat up on you. Just tell me what I want to know and I can let you go."
Right there, just above the ankle bone, that's where Jared'd bite. He'd take a fucking chunk out her.
From the second the first kick catches him - right on the hip, so hard it jars his spine - Jared concentrates on curling in on himself as best he can. He makes himself as small a target as possible for them but they close in tight around him and Jared can only focus on protecting his head, on trying to make it out alive somehow. He can't protect his stomach, gets lifted almost clear off the ground with the force of the first kick there. He can't protect his spine and prays that he'll still be able to walk out of here.
Each kick hurts more than the one before and Jared's whole body feels like it's being reduced to hot, twitching flesh. There's blood on his eyes, thick in his nose, bitter and sickly in his mouth, and there's a dull roar of pain in his skull.
Someone stamps on his knee and, dimly, Jared calculates how likely it is they've shattered his kneecap. It's time to dismiss the possibility of him walking out here altogether. He'll be crawling, if he's lucky. There's pressure on his throat, the hard tip of a boot cutting off breath, and Jared's almost grateful for the narrow focus of torment it provides. He can't concentrate on getting his internal organs kicked to slop if he can't even breathe.
He doesn't think he can hang onto consciousness long.
He doesn't have to.
"Stop," she says.
Jared sucks in a hollow gasp of breath as the beating instantly stops. He mouths helplessly at the cold, filthy floor, trying to spit out the blood filling his mouth, or at least swallow it down. His body feels boneless, misshapen, an endless throbbing of pain. Things are broken inside of him.
"And where did you spring from, darling?"
Jared doesn't understand the question. They got him at the warehouse. How can she not know that? With immense effort, he manages to peer up at her through the blood and sweat-damp hair in his eyes.
She's got Jensen. His hands are tied behind his back and there's a fresh bruise on his cheek but other than that he's unharmed. But she's got Jensen. Jared'd rather be kicked around by these guys for a day straight than have Jensen here.
"He came after us in a speedboat," one of the peons says. He jerks his head in Jared's direction. "Figure he's here for him."
The woman glances between Jared and Jensen, her face lighting up, and Jared's got a hundred denials all ready to go, he'll swear blind he's never laid eyes on Jensen before, that Jensen's not part of this, but he doesn't get chance to use any of them.
"I'm his handler," Jensen says.
"Lying… don't lis'n to him," Jared chokes out.
"Oh well that's sweet," the woman says. "You got a name, honey?"
"Jason," Jensen says. "I'm guessing you're Sam."
There's a long silence while she scrutinises Jensen with that static smile. Then she nods, looking suitably impressed.
"Smart boy. Yeah, I'm Sam. How'd you know?"
"I know a lot of things. More than him."
Jesuschrist - Jared sees where this is going, and he can't let it. Can't let this happen. Mindlessly, he starts shaking his head, trying his force himself up onto his knees, so they'll fucking listen to him! But his goddamn body won't cooperate and Jensen won't even so much as glance in his direction.
"I'm his handler, I'm his superior officer. I'm the one with access to information and I'm willing to make a deal."
Sam looks amused and delighted by the turn of events. She's standing back, watching both of them with her lip caught between her teeth. Then she cocks her head at Jensen.
"Just outta curiosity, Jason, let me hear your deal."
Jared tries to protest, words a thick gurgle, but at a flick of the hand from Sam one of the peons clamps his hand over Jared's mouth. All Jared can do then is try to breathe.
"Put him off the boat, alive. We're close enough to dry land you can put him in a boat and just shove him towards it. Then I'll answer any questions you have."
Sam laughs and shakes her head.
"Or I could just carry on letting my boys kick the shit out of him until you've told me what I wanted to know," she says.
"I'd have no reason to cooperate. I couldn't trust you to leave him alive once you had your information."
"And your plan, which is self-sacrificing to a really crazy degree, is totally trustworthy? I don't think so, sugar."
A flicker of frustration shows on Jensen's face just briefly before it's smoothed away. He rolls his shoulders, straightens up, and somehow manages to hang on to that calm, level tone of voice that Jared's heard every single time he's screwed around in briefings.
"He's more valuable to the agency than I am. And I'm hoping to avoid any self-sacrifice. I'm gambling on the chance that ISA will be able to get to me before you kill me."
Sam leans in, her cheek almost brushing Jensen's. He keeps his gaze fixed ahead of him, away from her and away from Jared.
"And what if we kill you real fast?"
"You won't. Like I said, I know plenty. I guarantee I'll still be telling you all kinds of things you want to know by the time ISA makes its move." He turns his head just enough to look her in the eye. "And you won't hear one more damn word from me until he's put in a boat and sent ashore."
:::
It's morning and the sea is calm and Jensen stands on deck with Sam and the others, watching, as Jared is bundled into a lifeboat and set adrift.
The sky is painfully blue overhead. The boat rocks him gently.
Jared watches the cruiser move away and then gingerly turns his head until he can see land. Not far at all.
Okay. Good. Not going to panic. Totally not going to panic.
Jared takes the cellphone he'd lifted from one of Sam's guys as they'd thrown him in the boat, flips it open and tries not to cackle in hysterical glee as it instantly pops up with full reception. His fingers feel clumsy but he dials in the number with extreme care.
He's totally not going to panic.
part fourteen
And hey, I'm sorry you lot, but we've actually reached part 13 of the spy-fic that won't end. Maybe one day.
Someone you might have been
Secret agent!Jared/handler!Jensen… have a very, very bad day
part twelve
A whole four days pass without so much as a word from ISA. Jared doesn't know if he's in disgrace or if they're just mulling over their options or what. He's just grateful for the rest, even if he spends a lot of his downtime thumbing over his cellphone, wondering whether he should call Jensen or not. He sleeps, eats, works out, watches whatever crap he can find on TV.
It's a good thing he makes the most of getting to spend a few days as a normal guy because, within hours of getting the call, Jared finds himself planning to do things normal guys just don't - for example, stealing the core of a thermonuclear device before it can be sold into the hands of a terrorist agency.
"Glazkov isn't Coalition, doesn't have any particular sympathy for their aims and objectives," Jensen says. "But he does do a lot of business with them. And according to intelligence, the shipment he's sending them tonight includes a warhead stolen from the French government."
"Wow, that's a pretty hardcore toy for the Coalition to play with," Jared says.
"Which is why they won't get to play with it. You'll infiltrate Glazkov's warehouse at the docks before he can ship out and remove the core of the warhead. At the very least, the Coalition doesn't get its hands on nuclear weaponry. If we're lucky, it sours the relationship with Glazkov and the Coalition loses an arms dealer."
While Jared scans over the map of the docks, analysing the route Jensen has planned out for him, Jensen sits quietly and waits. His silence is unnerving and after a few moments, Jared glances up at him, just to make sure he's still in the room. Jensen offers him a smile.
"You were right, by the way," Jared says. "About Tehran. Sounds like it was a fucking disaster."
Jensen nods, then stops abruptly and raises an eyebrow at Jared. "Who told you that?"
It's sharply said and Jared grins to himself because it'd be about right for his luck if he somehow got Jensen wondering about his loyalty.
"Weatherly. Gave me a little rant about his woes. Team wiped out in Tehran, handler gone missing from Vancouver, Coalition bug on the servers, and he's a total fucking prick too. Sucks to be him."
The tension visibly draining from him, Jensen nods.
"It's my fault Weatherly doesn't like you. After Chris died, Weatherly wanted me gone. Risk management, y'know? But the other executives wanted to hang onto me. Said I'd be more valuable for having experience with a double agent." Jensen's smile is bitter.
His eyes meet Jared's for a second and Jared feels like he has no idea who he's looking at. It's that guy who cuts off people's fingers, whose hands look at home on a gun. It's that guy who's cold and lethal and full of secrets. Jared doesn't know that guy, doesn't want to. For that second, Jared's never been so fucking thankful he was never stupid enough to turn traitor.
Then it's Jensen again, self-contained and coolly professional and too pretty to be dangerous, and Jared's crazy enough that he can't resist pushing, just a little, just to see if he gets that other guy back.
"You've gotta have an idea who the double is, man. C'mon, if Chris got them believing he know who they were, you've gotta have some idea who he'd have talked to."
It looks, at first, like he might get an answer. Jensen opens his mouth to speak and Jared leans forward instinctively. Then Jensen shakes his head and fixes his gaze on a point just a little to the left of Jared's head.
"I'm going for plausible deniability with you, buddy. I'm not saying a damn word that you could use to get yourself killed. Been there, done that, didn't much like it."
:::
Exactly eight minutes were allowed for Jared to get in to the warehouse, remove the core, and get out again. Jared is three minutes through and in the middle of deactivating security on the warhead's crate when something goes very wrong.
"Shit!" says Jensen, his voice harsh in Jared's ear. "Someone's tripped a burglar alarm in your area. Cops are coming. You're gonna have company, and fast."
As if on cue, the wail of a police siren rises up, and as it grows louder the level of activity in the docks spikes suddenly. Glazkov's people are moving, abandoning their routines and coming to secure their shipment of highly illegal weapons. In short, they're closing in on Jared.
"Sasquatch, abort. I repeat, abort and exit."
Jared hesitates for just a second - just a second spent on wondering whether he can really afford to abort an assignment that involves the Coalition getting nuclear weapons - and he pays the price. He takes a blow to the back of the head that knocks him to his knees. Blackness sweeps in at the edge of his vision and he passes out, Jensen's voice still calling for him.
:::
The way they've got him tied up tells him they're not taking any chances. Jared's tied to the chair, hand and ankle, so tight he's losing circulation. His head is pounding and his hair is sticking to the back of his neck so he guesses he's been bleeding.
Just like he's been trained, Jared takes a second to properly take in every detail about his situation that he can. There's the huge, hollow thrum of an engine going through the walls, which, combined with the subtle lurching of the floor, clues Jared in that he's on a ship. There are two men in the dark, dank room with him. They're both holding semi-automatics on him in well-practised grips.
Jared wets his lips and gives them both a friendly smile.
"Look, no offence to you peons, but can I talk to the management?"
A long pause and then one of the peons mutters He's awake into the radio clipped at his collar. It doesn't take long for the rattle of footfall on metal to sound outside the door. A whole fucking entourage of more peons accompanies the arrival of 'the management', who turns out to be a good-looking woman in her late thirties with honey-brown hair and brown eyes.
"Good to see you awake, honey," she says, her accent giving her away immediately as American. "Thought you were gonna sleep the whole way."
"Nothing like something heavy to the head to put me out good," Jared says. "'Cept maybe the hot milk my momma used to give me before bed. Or whiskey, 'cause, y'know, you give me enough whiskey and I'll sleep right through 'til midday."
She studies him a while, her smile fixed on her face, then she takes a step closer and tilts his face up to hers. Jared grins charmingly.
"What's your name, sweetheart?" she says.
"Anything you want it to be, baby."
She backhands him so hard he thinks the chair might go over. His lip pulses hotly as it splits and the pounding in his head goes up a few decibels. Jared waits for his headache to become a little more manageable and then looks back at her, grins even though it splits his lip wider.
"Who are you working for?" she says. "Who sent you here?"
"Go fuck yourself," Jared tells her sweetly.
He expects the backhand this time and braces for it. It still fucking hurts.
"Honey, I already know you're working for ISA. I know you're here for the warhead. So let's get on to the exciting stuff, 'kay? What's ISA's trade-off with Nguyen? What's she offering?"
Jared laughs and shrugs.
"I don't have the first fucking clue what you're talking about, lady."
"Really? 'Cause people lie about that kind of thing all the time."
"No, ma'am. I don't lie. My momma brought me up right."
She cocks her head at him and spreads her hands helplessly. With a flick of her finger, two of the peons move forward. The first punch catches Jared on the cheekbone, snapping his neck backwards, and his face is still on fire with the pain of it when the second guy punches him. There's nothing he can do to avoid the blows, or even minimise the force of them.
"What is Nguyen offering ISA? And what are they offering in return?"
Jared directs a distinctly hateful glare at her and doesn't say a word.
The next punch is to his stomach and it drives the air out of his lungs so fast it's like being hit by a truck. He gasps for breath, feeling like he might vomit, and then feels like he might pass out when the next punch lands on his solar plexus.
"I'm going to keep asking until you give me an answer," she says. "What is Nguyen offering ISA?"
"Fuck you."
When they haul him up out of the chair, Jared tries to jerk free. He manages to shake them off but just for a moment. They're too many of them, and maybe if he hadn't just had some guys trying to turn his face to shredded meat, he could think about taking them. But they're on him again in seconds, untying his ropes just long enough to hog-tie him. Jared's fingers strain for something to catch on to, a weapon of some kind, something sharp, anything at all he can use.
She moves to stand over him and Jared focuses on her ankle. He won't meet her eyes and distracts himself with thoughts of biting her, sinking his teeth in so deep they'd have to put a bullet in his head before they could get him off.
"C'mon, darling. I don't enjoy letting my boys beat up on you. Just tell me what I want to know and I can let you go."
Right there, just above the ankle bone, that's where Jared'd bite. He'd take a fucking chunk out her.
From the second the first kick catches him - right on the hip, so hard it jars his spine - Jared concentrates on curling in on himself as best he can. He makes himself as small a target as possible for them but they close in tight around him and Jared can only focus on protecting his head, on trying to make it out alive somehow. He can't protect his stomach, gets lifted almost clear off the ground with the force of the first kick there. He can't protect his spine and prays that he'll still be able to walk out of here.
Each kick hurts more than the one before and Jared's whole body feels like it's being reduced to hot, twitching flesh. There's blood on his eyes, thick in his nose, bitter and sickly in his mouth, and there's a dull roar of pain in his skull.
Someone stamps on his knee and, dimly, Jared calculates how likely it is they've shattered his kneecap. It's time to dismiss the possibility of him walking out here altogether. He'll be crawling, if he's lucky. There's pressure on his throat, the hard tip of a boot cutting off breath, and Jared's almost grateful for the narrow focus of torment it provides. He can't concentrate on getting his internal organs kicked to slop if he can't even breathe.
He doesn't think he can hang onto consciousness long.
He doesn't have to.
"Stop," she says.
Jared sucks in a hollow gasp of breath as the beating instantly stops. He mouths helplessly at the cold, filthy floor, trying to spit out the blood filling his mouth, or at least swallow it down. His body feels boneless, misshapen, an endless throbbing of pain. Things are broken inside of him.
"And where did you spring from, darling?"
Jared doesn't understand the question. They got him at the warehouse. How can she not know that? With immense effort, he manages to peer up at her through the blood and sweat-damp hair in his eyes.
She's got Jensen. His hands are tied behind his back and there's a fresh bruise on his cheek but other than that he's unharmed. But she's got Jensen. Jared'd rather be kicked around by these guys for a day straight than have Jensen here.
"He came after us in a speedboat," one of the peons says. He jerks his head in Jared's direction. "Figure he's here for him."
The woman glances between Jared and Jensen, her face lighting up, and Jared's got a hundred denials all ready to go, he'll swear blind he's never laid eyes on Jensen before, that Jensen's not part of this, but he doesn't get chance to use any of them.
"I'm his handler," Jensen says.
"Lying… don't lis'n to him," Jared chokes out.
"Oh well that's sweet," the woman says. "You got a name, honey?"
"Jason," Jensen says. "I'm guessing you're Sam."
There's a long silence while she scrutinises Jensen with that static smile. Then she nods, looking suitably impressed.
"Smart boy. Yeah, I'm Sam. How'd you know?"
"I know a lot of things. More than him."
Jesuschrist - Jared sees where this is going, and he can't let it. Can't let this happen. Mindlessly, he starts shaking his head, trying his force himself up onto his knees, so they'll fucking listen to him! But his goddamn body won't cooperate and Jensen won't even so much as glance in his direction.
"I'm his handler, I'm his superior officer. I'm the one with access to information and I'm willing to make a deal."
Sam looks amused and delighted by the turn of events. She's standing back, watching both of them with her lip caught between her teeth. Then she cocks her head at Jensen.
"Just outta curiosity, Jason, let me hear your deal."
Jared tries to protest, words a thick gurgle, but at a flick of the hand from Sam one of the peons clamps his hand over Jared's mouth. All Jared can do then is try to breathe.
"Put him off the boat, alive. We're close enough to dry land you can put him in a boat and just shove him towards it. Then I'll answer any questions you have."
Sam laughs and shakes her head.
"Or I could just carry on letting my boys kick the shit out of him until you've told me what I wanted to know," she says.
"I'd have no reason to cooperate. I couldn't trust you to leave him alive once you had your information."
"And your plan, which is self-sacrificing to a really crazy degree, is totally trustworthy? I don't think so, sugar."
A flicker of frustration shows on Jensen's face just briefly before it's smoothed away. He rolls his shoulders, straightens up, and somehow manages to hang on to that calm, level tone of voice that Jared's heard every single time he's screwed around in briefings.
"He's more valuable to the agency than I am. And I'm hoping to avoid any self-sacrifice. I'm gambling on the chance that ISA will be able to get to me before you kill me."
Sam leans in, her cheek almost brushing Jensen's. He keeps his gaze fixed ahead of him, away from her and away from Jared.
"And what if we kill you real fast?"
"You won't. Like I said, I know plenty. I guarantee I'll still be telling you all kinds of things you want to know by the time ISA makes its move." He turns his head just enough to look her in the eye. "And you won't hear one more damn word from me until he's put in a boat and sent ashore."
:::
It's morning and the sea is calm and Jensen stands on deck with Sam and the others, watching, as Jared is bundled into a lifeboat and set adrift.
The sky is painfully blue overhead. The boat rocks him gently.
Jared watches the cruiser move away and then gingerly turns his head until he can see land. Not far at all.
Okay. Good. Not going to panic. Totally not going to panic.
Jared takes the cellphone he'd lifted from one of Sam's guys as they'd thrown him in the boat, flips it open and tries not to cackle in hysterical glee as it instantly pops up with full reception. His fingers feel clumsy but he dials in the number with extreme care.
He's totally not going to panic.
part fourteen