Page 6 of Duty Bound

Hawkeye.

The official codename for the military software system she'd helped to develop. They wanted it, needed it, and she was the key, with the access codes locked up tight in her head.

No one else knew the codes apart from the two Afghan software developers on her team who she'd personally trained. She'd made sure each held the job title "Office Administrator" so no one hacking into the facility's employment records would suspect them.

A copy of the codes was also stored in the Commander of the Afghan Army's safe in an undisclosed location, but she'd heard he'd destroyed them when Kabul had fallen to the Taliban.

She was the weakest link.

Panic threatened to choke her.

The small window above her head let in a hard shaft of light, the beams of which picked up the dust hovering around the room. That grimy pane of glass was her only connection to the outside world.

Lily crossed the floor to stand under the sunbeam then turned her face up to the light. What a pain her eyeglasses had been in her lost luggage.

Shivering, she thought back to the chaos at the airport. Desperation and fear in the air, the crush of bodies, the helpless cries. Then the world had erupted—gunfire, screams, hands yanking her into the unknown.

She wrapped her arms around herself and waited until the tremors subsided. It had been a nightmare—and it was only just beginning.

Lily blinked at the sun. Judging by the temperature and the position, it was late morning. She'd been in this stinking room for over twelve hours. Someone must come for her soon.

She tried not to think about what lay ahead. Torture, for sure, as they tried to extricate the codes from her. Death… eventually. A sob caught in her throat.

If she played dumb, pretended she didn't know anything about the codes, she might be able to buy herself some time. But time for what? Besides, she didn't think that charade would last for long.

Lily swallowed thickly, trying to generate some saliva. Her mouth was drier than a sand dune. What little water she'd had on her had been left in the van. As well as her jacket with her passport.

Crap.

Without that, she wasn't going anywhere even if she did somehow escape.

Weariness—or maybe it was despair—crashed over her, and she collapsed back onto the mattress. Who cared about a few pesky bedbugs? She'd be dead in a couple of days. Unless they left her here to dehydrate and starve to death before they tortured her, hoping to make her more compliant?

Maybe their main focus was the reporters, and she'd just been in the wrong place at the wrong time. Under the circumstances, that would be the preferable option. She gave a dismal snort.

A scratch at the door made her jolt upright. She scoured the room for a weapon but found nothing but that wobbly chair.

The door creaked open. A woman, face veiled, stepped in bearing a tray which she placed at the foot of the mattress.

Relief washed over her.

After a little bow, the woman retraced her steps toward the door. "Wait," Lily called out, her voice hoarse. The woman paused, eyes downcast. "Thank you."

Lily mirrored the woman's bow, but she left without a word, the clicking lock echoing through the empty room. So much for trying to establish contact.

Lily was alone again. She wanted to run and scream and kick at the door, but she knew it wouldn't do any good.

Sighing, she eyed the tray. On the bright side, she now had something to eat and drink. It wasn't much, just a flatbread and water, but to her it was a feast.

She'd barely finished eating when the door flew open again. Lily scrambled to her feet, heart thundering. A man filled the doorway, his gesture clear.

Follow me.

Was this it? The moment her torment would begin?

Lily steadied herself then stepped forward, muscles aching and blisters screaming with each step. Still, the pain was nothing compared to what she knew was coming.

Gritting her teeth, she followed the man into the unknown.

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