Page 21 of Trapped With the Secret Agent

Chapter Five

“Tell your presidenthe has until tomorrow morning to secure the release of our jailed brothers or we’ll begin executing one hostage an hour until they’re set free.”

Peter stared at In-Charge for the barest of moments before relaying that message. Georgia waited, consciously holding her breath, for the president’s reply.

Peter nodded to something said over the phone then spoke to the leader.

“The president says that he’ll personally handle the negotiations with various governments for the release of your countrymen.” Peter paused. The president was obviously making him repeat what he was saying word for word. “He asks that you have patience. These negotiations will be complicated and may take some time.” Another pause. “The president assures you that all your demands will be met.”

The leader grinned and shouted a short sentence at his men. They all yelled triumphantly and shook their rifles in the air.

Georgia saw Peter’s lips move again, but with all the noise, she couldn’t make out what he said.

When the shouting finally died down. The leader approached Peter, a condescending smile splitting the terrorist’s face.

“Tell your president that he has six hours, but—” he poked his rifle into Peter’s stomach, “—if there is any effort made to save the hostages, I will blow up the embassy with everyone in it.”

Peter hesitated.

“Tell him!” the leader roared.

“Sir,” Peter began. “I’ve been instructed to tell you that if any attempt is made to rescue the hostages, the embassy will be destroyed.” He was silent for a moment then made eye contact with the terrorist again. “You have the word of the President of the United States that no action will be taken against you. His number one priority is to get every American citizen here home safely.”

“Good.” The leader nodded with a satisfied air. “Now tell him you will call back in six hours.”

“Sir, I will call you back in six hours,” Peter repeated.

“Hang up,” the leader ordered.

Peter hesitated, keeping the phone to his ear one second longer, then placed the receiver carefully in the cradle.

The leader turned his head and stared at Uncle Theo, an I-told-you-so smile twisting the terrorist’s lips.

He strutted closer. “You can thank the journalist for saving your life,” he said leaning over to pat Uncle Theo on the thigh. “But enough of that,” the leader said with a smile, ignoring the injured man’s grunt. “We have other things to discuss.”

* * *

Peter watched In-Chargejab Mitchell’s thigh, wishing, fantasizing he had a gun in his hand so he could put a couple of bullets in the fanatic’s head. He switched his gaze to Georgia’s too-pale face. She looked frightened out of her wits, but she was hanging in there. He loved a woman with guts.

“Where is your safe?” In-Charge demanded of Ambassador Mitchell in a don’t-screw-with-me tone.

Peter saw Mitchell glance down at Georgia, kneeling at the side of his chair, before meeting In-Charge’s eyes once more.

Mitchell was no fool; he knew why they’d kept her around. If he didn’t cooperate, they’d either rape or kill her. Probably both. Then they’d go get another hostage and the cycle of psychological torture would start over again.

“It’s in the inner office,” Mitchell answered, his voice strained with pain. “Behind one of the wood panels in the wall. Ms. Masters knows the combination and where to find it.” He looked at Georgia again and nodded.

In-Charge wasted no time, grabbing Georgia by the arm and pushing her ahead of him into the room. Peter followed, along with most of the terrorists.

All four walls were covered in two-foot-square wood paneling.

In-Charge let go of her arm and pointed his rifle at her chest. “Open it.”

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