Check Mate (2 page)

"Reactivate him?"

Les finally found a radio station, although the reception wasn't great. A Sixties rock hit blasted from the radio and reverberated inside the SUV.

"Turn that damn thing down." Burgess gave his partner a sharp glance, which prompted him to lower the volume.

"It seems those superkids, the Extraordinary Five, were put through some sort of hypnotic conditioning when they were children so that they could be controlled. The boss wants this guy reconditioned."

"What do you know about Doc? I don't even know her name. Is she a real doc or just a shrink?"

"She's a psychiatrist. Her name's Dr. Brooks. We're suppose to follow her orders. I was told that she'd be in charge."

"I don't like taking orders from a woman."

While Les and Burgess went back and forth on the advantages versus the disadvantages of having a female boss, Jake took the opportunity to look out the windows and see if he could pick up any visual details that might help him.

All he knew—from what Les had said—was that they were in Arizona. The more he knew about his location, about the surrounding territory, the better prepared he'd be when he made his escape. And he would escape. Somehow.

Someway.

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Jake wondered if it was later the same day—the same day he'd been ambushed. If so, then he would have been flown from Oregon to Arizona. But if it was the following day, while it was possible that Les and Burgess had driven the entire distance overnight, Jake would lay odds that he'd been flown to some private airstrip, then picked up by these two thugs.

When he surveyed the area outside the SUV, what he saw didn't surprise him, but it did frustrate him. They were headed up a mountainside, driving through rough terrain, although the road appeared to be paved. Golden rabbitbrush and a fresh layer of snow covered the ground, and in the distance he saw snow-coated, barren rock formations. His captors kept talking about a cabin—no doubt some isolated retreat that belonged to the Coalition—and about a woman doctor—a psychiatrist they'd called Dr. Brooks.

The Coalition wanted to reactivate his programing, done when he'd been a boy by Oliver Grimble and Agnes Payne, two of his father's colleagues, who had secretly implanted psychological messages—phrase triggers—in his young mind to make him easier to control. But he hadn't been the only one whose mind had been tampered with by the gruesome couple. Each one of the Extraordinary Five had suffered the same fate.

Suddenly the vehicle lurched and bounced, tossing them about despite the restraint of their seat belts. Jake realized they had left the paved road and were traveling over a rocky, rutted trail leading higher into the mountains. Burgess dropped into four-wheel drive and they continued at a snail's pace. Snow-laden junipers, pines and chaparral lined the narrow roadway, and although the vehicle's heater seemed to be working just fine, Jake felt a sudden chill and realized the temperature was dropping quickly as the sun was setting. The rugged dirt road wound about in a series of steep switchbacks up the mountainside, taking them higher and higher, deeper and deeper into the godforsaken wilderness.

If he tried to get away—and he intended to—he would face several major obstacles. First and foremost, his hands and feet were shackled. But they wouldn't keep him bound once the good doctor started her treatments. The first problem would be solved then. The second handicap was his location. He didn't know the area, and traveling on foot in these dangerous hills in a January winter would be deadly. He'd just have to find a way to secure a vehicle—either this SUV or the doctor's car. Second problem solved. The third obstacle would be escaping from Les and Burgess.

Both men were probably well-armed, so it would take some real finagling to get past them. He'd just have to find a way to disarm them and render them harmless. A problem yet to be solved.

And what about Dr. Brooks? Jake asked himself. Hell, she was only a woman. Managing her should be the easiest part of the great escape.

As his two captors continued conversing, Jake picked up snippets of their conversation, most totally irrelevant to his current situation. One rock song after another added background music to the jabbering, and except for an occasional glimpse into the back seat, neither man paid much attention to Jake. He studied the landscape, trying to find some sort of marker that might let him know he was on the right path when he made the return trip alone after his escape, but everything was beginning to look the same. Then suddenly he noticed a stream bed. Cold, white water and frozen slush cascaded down a series of large brown boulders, creating a miniature waterfall. This was definitely something worth remembering.

Creeping along the winding road, they soon became embraced by thick wooded areas on either side, shutting them off from everything except the dying embers of sunlight as twilight approached. Jake tested his handcuffs and leg irons. Totally secure. No room to maneuver. And even though he was thinking straight and his five senses were working properly, he wasn't sure how much physical strength he had left, after having tried to fight off six attackers and being drugged for God only knew how many hours.

While he was considering his options and surmising that at present he had only one—cooperation—a midsize log house appeared in the distance. The sunset melted into the treetops at the back of the cabin, so Jake knew the place faced east. The structure was modern, practically brand-new from the looks of it. Had the Coalition moved their headquarters? Jake wondered. Was this part of a new compound?

"Well, at least the place isn't a dump," Les said. "How many bedrooms? If there's not enough to go around, I'd be happy to share with Doc. Unless she turns out to be a real hag."

Burgess chuckled. "I hear she's not bad to look at. But you keep your hands off her or you'll be in big trouble. And I'm told she carries a gun. If you get too friendly, she just might shoot you."

"What if she won't keep her hands off me?"

"You wish."

When Burgess drove up to the two-car attached garage, the door opened immediately, which to Jake meant that someone—the lady doctor?—had been waiting and watching. Once the SUV was encased inside the garage, beside a late model Chevy TrailBlazer, the door closed, sealing them inside. Snapping their seat belts loose, Burgess and Les jumped out of the vehicle, then Burgess rounded the hood and came around to Jake's side. Les opened the door and looked Jake over from head to toe. Jake feigned grogginess, letting his eyelids open and close languidly.

Les reached out and shook him. "Wake up, In-gram. We're not going to carry you."

Jake opened his eyes and stared into Les's leathery tan face. He figured this guy was close to forty. "Where am I?"

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Jake asked, making his voice sound weak.

"You're where nobody can find you," Les replied. "Now come on and get out." He grabbed Jake's arm and urged him to move.

Jake turned and slid off the seat, letting his feet hit the concrete garage floor. With his legs bound, he found it difficult to balance his body's weight properly and teetered back and forth precariously. Burgess clamped his meaty hand down on Jake's shoulder.

"Get behind him," Burgess told Les, then said to Jake, "You follow me. Take your time or you'll fall flat on your face and I'm not going to pick you up. Got it?"

Jake nodded, then as soon as Les took up his rearguard position, Burgess headed toward the closed door that led into the house. With no choice but to move slowly, Jake hobbled behind Burgess. Once or twice, Les punched him in the back, apparently aggravated the simple task was taking so long.

Burgess grasped the doorknob and the door swung open. Jake followed the young blond ruffian inside, directly into a large living room and dining room combination. The furniture, though inexpensive, appeared to be as new as the cabin.

"So where is she?" Les asked.

Jake was wondering the same thing. If there was a Coalition psychiatrist waiting to start experimenting on his mind, then where the hell was she?

"Dr. Brooks?" Burgess called out in his deep, gravelly voice. "Hey, it's Burgess and Lester. We've got Jake Ingram with us."

Footsteps tapped on the wooden stairs that led to the upper floor. Within minutes, a pair of long, slender legs encased in denim jeans appeared. All three men stared upward to get a good look at the doctor. As unexpected as waking to find that he'd been drugged and was being held captive, Jake's reaction to the woman was even more unexpected. And completely unanticipated. Jake Ingram felt as if he'd been poleaxed, a condition completely unknown to him until this very minute.

Tall—really tall—probably somewhere around five-ten, the lady had the figure of a runway model, one who worked out regularly. Thin, athletic, every inch toned to perfection. Legs that went on forever, slim hips and enough bosom to fill out her bulky turtleneck sweater nicely. But it wasn't her figure alone that staggered Jake. There was something about the whole package that aroused him. Damn, was he crazy? This bitch worked for the Coalition. She was the enemy. Yeah, sure. His brain knew it, but tell that to his body.

Jake couldn't take his eyes off her as she entered the living room. Her long, wavy, jet-black hair had been confined in a loose ponytail and pulled away from her broad face. As his gaze moved down her body again, he noticed the hip holster she wore. The lady was armed—and definitely dangerous.

"There's no need to shout," she said, her voice commanding, yet utterly feminine. "You're...?" She looked directly at the burly blond.

"Burgess, ma'am."

She glanced at the smaller man. "And by process of elimination, you must be Lester." Her gaze moved on to Jake.

She did a quick double take, as if seeing him had somehow shocked her. Jake couldn't help wondering if he affected her the way she did him. "And you must be Jake Ingram." She studied his cuffed hands and manacled ankles.

As her azure-blue eyes inspected him thoroughly, her gaze softened ever so slightly, as if she felt a modicum of compassion. When her gaze lifted and met Jake's, he almost grinned, but he wasn't sure whether the humor came from realizing this sultry brunette was sizing him up or from the lunacy of the whole idea that they'd been instantly attracted to each other. Suddenly she frowned and glanced away. Jake noted that her nose was long and straight, her lips wide and full. She wore only a minimum of makeup and a clear gloss on her naturally rosy lips.

Les socked Jake in the side. "When the doc asks you a question, answer her."

Jake winced. Damn but his ribs were sore. "Yes, I'm Jake Ingram. And that's all the information I'll offer you."

"Smart mouth!" Les punched him in the ribs again.

Jake hunched his shoulders and snarled as he glowered at Les.

"That's quite enough," Dr. Brooks said. "Please, undo his leg irons and give me the key to his handcuffs." She held out her open palm.

"I'm not sure that's a good idea," Burgess said. "This guy could easily overpower you. Take a good look at him.

Doc. He's a pretty big fellow."

"I've downed bigger men," she replied, without missing a beat. "I'm thoroughly trained to handle uncooperative patients."

Burgess retrieved a key from his pants pocket, knelt down and unlocked Jake's leg irons, then he stood and tossed the doctor another set of keys. "I'd keep those handcuffs on him if I were you."

"I intend to," she said as she pocketed the keys. "At least for the time being. But I've prepared a room upstairs for our patient, and it will be easier for him to climb the steps without those." She eyed the discarded restraints.

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"Why upstairs?" Burgess looked toward the back of the house where two doors stood open.

"I thought it best to confine him upstairs," Dr. Brooks explained. "Less chance of escape. And more privacy for my sessions with him. Besides, there are twin beds in the room upstairs and I plan to be with Mr. Ingram most of the time, so I'll share a room with him."

"You might want to rethink that one. Doc," Les said. "He might get fresh with you." Les chuckled, but shut up instantly when Dr. Brooks gave him a withering glare.

"I assure you, Lester, that I'm more than capable of protecting myself against unwanted attention from Mr. Ingram...

or from anyone else."

"Guess she told you." Burgess grinned at Les, then asked the doctor, "You need any help getting him upstairs?"

"No, thank you. I believe I can handle things... even if he's uncooperative." She glanced meaningfully at her hip holster.

Jake resisted the urge to bend down and rub his ankles. Instead he stood tall and straight, his gaze fixed on Dr.

Brooks. He realized that not only couldn't he trust this woman, but he couldn't trust his own feelings about her. The fact that he found her sexually attractive could put him at a disadvantage, but only if he allowed the chemistry between them to distract him from his objective—escape.

"Mr. Ingram, please go out into the hall and up the stairs," Dr. Brooks said. "I'll be right behind you. And if you're thinking of doing something foolish, I'd advise against it."

Jake nodded, then without responding verbally, turned and headed toward the hall. With each step, he subtly studied the house. Knowledge was power. The more he knew about everything that affected him here in this isolated log cabin, the better his chances of finding an opportunity to escape. As he made his way up the wooden stairs, he felt her behind him and heard her footsteps echoing his own. When he reached the top of the stairs, he was facing the bathroom, the door ajar enough to reveal a compact area consisting of a tub/shower combination, a white freestanding sink and an economical white commode.