Blind Justice

Eyes covered, wrists bound, Delaney was guided from the back of some sort of utility vehicle, down eleven steps and into a room empty enough to create an echo. No light penetrated her blindfold and the air thick with mildew and grime stifled her lungs and forced a gag from her throat.

"I’m guessing one of you borrowed your brother-in-law Bob's handyman van for this little caper; am I right? Your transport of choice stank like body odor, sawdust and paint thinner. What kind of henchmen are you anyway?” Agent Delaney Keenan intentionally taunted her captors, hoping to deduce the number of men or women in the room by their responses. She knew there were at least two; the one who drove and the one she sensed in the back of the van, keeping watch over her. The drive from her apartment to their current destination was no more than forty minutes by her calculations. She deduced they had traveled just outside the city; possibly into what everyone referred to as cow country.

`” Well, which one of you will be in deep shit if that radical rust bucket of a vehicle isn’t safely returned to Bob’s driveway by tomorrow morning? Certainly, he’ll need it for work. Hey, I have an idea; before you turn the van back over to Bob, why not be a good human and grab one of those little scented trees to hang from his rear-view mirror? It’s the least you can do for using his vehicle in a kidnapping.” 

“Shut up.”

“Ok, at least one man in the room, probably the driver.”  Delaney made a mental note before pressing her agenda. “And, by the way folks, what exactly died here, rats maybe? The stench is making my nostrils burn. I mean, I don’t have a lot of experience with being taken and held against my will, or rotting animal flesh, but I can’t help feeling as though this is one of those low budget abductions. I’m fairly certain we are in someone’s basement. Oh, is it Bob’s basement?” she mocked, “Are we holed up in your brother-in-law's basement? Well, let me just say this; someone needs to tell good old Bob to haul his ass to Home Depot and pick up a dehumidifier. The mildewy mephitis is almost as pungent as the bromhidrosis stink lingering in the van. I’m thinking Bob has sinus issues. Maybe polyps! You know, that would totally impede his olfactory senses. Oh, or is it a chronic condition that he’s become used to and can no longer identify his own offensiveness? Poor Bob. Can’t he at least manage to change the rat traps down here? Death is putrid.” Swamp gas. “Hey, have any of you ever been to Louisiana?” 

“Oh, for fuck's sake, shut the hell up!” 

The expletive was accompanied by an abrupt shove. Delaney stumbled back and landed in a seated position. Ah, a cheap metal folding chair. She could tell by the tinny clink of the seat hitting the crossbar under her weight and the cool hard surface causing immediate discomfort to her rear end. Her right wrist brushed against the connecting joint linking the back to the rickety legs; sharp, bent and rusted. She rocked to the right on the uneven supports. One of those rubber things must be missing. She intentionally pushed back causing the chair to move, sounding an alarming and annoying screech throughout the room, echoing as metal met concrete, much like fingernails on a chalkboard. 

“Aaahhhh!” 

Yes, there it is, captor number two, the female voice she had predicted. Delaney’s training and instinct led her to surmise three captors: two males and one female. Proving her theory would likely assist in her eventual yet certain escape. “Excuse me, miss?” She began facetiously. “Would you happen to have any hand sanitizer or possibly a wet nap in your handbag? I feel terribly grungy, don’t you? This basement, if it is in fact a basement, which I believe it is, is funky with filth. Women should not be subject to such subpar conditions; that is unless you enjoy the putridity.” 

Delaney resented her own stereotypical implication, but it was accurate and effective. The woman responded; the emotional reactor couldn’t help herself. She leaned over and rested her hands on Delaney’s knees, placing their faces just mere centimeters apart. She could smell her captor's breath; was that cinnamon chewing gum? Delaney caught a faint whiff of citrus; familiar and artificial. Inexpensive moisturizer: seven dollars at the drugstore, she was certain. The woman spat, “Listen up bitch, if you don’t shut your damn mouth, I will personally shove the barrel of my gun in it and pull the trigger, got it?” 

“Got it. You’re going to blow my head off. So, tell me, what type of gun do you have? My money is on Sig Sauer P365.”

The woman recoiled without a verbal response. Delaney suppressed a smile. Yeah, she didn’t even know what those words meant. Besides, if she was a proud owner of a firearm, she’d have corrected, bragging about her weapon of choice. “No? Don’t tell me you went for the Glock19? How very Real Housewives of you.” 

Silence as the woman slowly retreated. Sneakers. Practical, cautious, she would be one to run and hide in the face of any real danger. Clearly a contradiction to someone claiming to brandish a loaded firearm, never mind capable of cold-blooded murder. She needed the reward. One down. No worries there. 

Delaney lowered her head hoping to manipulate her blindfold further down her face. It felt rough and itchy. The textile, bumpy and fragmented as if it were torn from a larger cloth. Burlap maybe? It had a very distinct scent, evoking a memory Delaney had long forgotten. Delaney’s eyes teared and began to swell. There were only a few things she’d experienced allergic reactions to in her young life and dried hops topped her list. Earthy, almost minty or possibly piney; either way, the fragrant cloth reminded her of cleaning products and the hospital. Oh, the anxiety of an anaphylactic reaction. This could be problematic. Delaney ignored her inflamed eyelids and focused on the sharp metal chair hinge slowly slicing through the plastic zip tie binding her wrists as she moved them slowly and methodically over the protruding edge. This is going to take forever. 

“So, I’m going to make an assumption as to why you grabbed me, but before I do, would any of you like to enlighten me?” Truthfully, she hadn’t a clue as to why three neophyte criminals would want to antagonize the agency by absconding with a valued operative. Stupid. 

Someone sighed loudly, disgusted with Delaney’s constant banter. Then, she heard nothing as if one warned the others with a noiseless gesture to keep stealth. Delaney continued to distract them despite their best efforts to ignore her. “Whoever you’re all working for better be offering you a hefty cut of a handsome ransom. I’m probably worth fifty times your payday, but given your lack of experience as a pack of street thugs, I’m going to go out on a limb and say ten grand each?” No reaction. “More? Oh God, less?! You’re being ripped off.” she goaded. 

A very deep, masculine voice sounded a few feet to her left. “Do us all a favor and just cooperate.” His inflection seemed calm, passive and sympathetic. He stepped toward her, new leather and sandalwood soap. Delaney deduced, captor number three was middle aged, divorced and a dad. He wanted to protect her; keep her from harm's way. The first incompetent must be Bob’s brother-in-law. The woman was financially desperate and this man; number three, was being forced into the kidnapping; likely being blackmailed; threatened. She was never in any danger, not from the likes of these three.

 Pop! The plastic zip-tie finally severed. Her hands were no longer bound, but she strategically kept them concealed behind her back. Concealed. She remembered her waistband and the P320 tucked securely against the small of her back. They had checked her pockets in the van, but the search was far from thorough; and her first indication of this amateur hour abduction. Her instinct was to reach for the blindfold and liberate her face from the increasing discomfort. Damn Hops. A basement. Someone was into microbrewing. Interesting, was it Bob or the recently divorced dad? 

She wondered what they all had in common; how did they meet, were they related? Curious, how did they know who she was? Agency royalty: worth more than they could imagine; alive of course. She recalled hearing the distinct crunch as someone smashed her phone, just before loading her into the van. However, the tracker on her Sig never stopped transmitting. Hands free and the imminent breach from the agency cavalry fueled her confidence. “Has anyone done you all the favor of explaining who I am and what I do?” 

The three turned aphonic. They knew they’d given entirely too much away already. Her abductors began to panic. Delaney sensed their apprehension. The essence of dread was alarmingly palpable, and she almost felt sorry for them. “Well, let me enlighten you. My name is Delaney Keenan and I am a skilled profiler and exemplary special agent with a clandestine law enforcing organization here in the United States, founded and directed by my uncle. I’m a prodigy as well as a legacy, which makes me highly coveted and impossible to imprison for more than a short period of time. Trust me, my friends, your time has run out. I have been free from my restraints for the past ten minutes and I am armed. I will escape if I’m not rescued first. I applaud your efforts and I am sure you all have your motives, but I have accurately compiled enough information regarding our location and your personal specifics to insure your apprehension and incarceration. I’m going to remove my blindfold because I happen to be allergic to dried hops and my eyes are killing me. However, I will give you a ten to zero countdown and I recommend you use it to get a head start. Delaney presented her freed hands and raised her head, “Ten…….nine……” 

The woman whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

Bob’s brother-in-law became unnerved, “She’s a kid! Come on, she’s bluffing. Brother Jackson will be here any minute. All we have to do is turn her over, unharmed and collect our reward. We are so close; get me another zip-tie!” 

His voice was shrill and unsteady. Delaney detected a slight impediment, “He used to stutter.” she thought. She reached zero and raised her hands to her face. Bob’s brother-in-law grabbed her hands before she could remove the burlap strip. “Oh, no you don’t!” he shouted, forcing her hands away from her eyes. “I will ascend!” he declared. 

“Wait, did you say Brother Jackson, as in Milo Jackson, the psychotic cult leader?” 

“You keep his sacred name out of your mouth!” Bob’s brother-in-law pressed his fingers into the top of her hands. 

Delaney arched her back and raised her right knee, catching captor number one square in the gonads. He yelped like an injured dog, rocked back on his heels and landed hard on the concrete floor. “Bitch!” 

Special Agent Delaney Keenan took advantage of her captor's temporary debilitation and leapt to her feet. She tugged at the blindfold, liberating her irritated eyes. “Stay down.” she demanded. Delaney reached for her gun and released the safety; still she refrained from aiming at anyone or anything specific. “Now, it pains me to admit this, but the whole cult angle eluded my assessment. I’ll give you all some well-deserved credit, I did not see that coming.”

The divorced dad dared to step forward, “Please. My daughter is here, and I am begging you to help me get her out. I’m only compliant to keep her safe. I’m afraid for her life.” 

Delaney quickly realized the woman was gone. Smart, she took her advice and got the hell out while she could. However, this was not good news. They would come; more cult members; reinforcements. Damn it, where the hell was Uncle Brandon and the troops? She turned to divorced dad, “Are we in the compound?” 

“Yes.” 

“Why do they want me?”

“For your expertise in profiling. Brother Jackson suspects disloyalty. Some of his high-ranking followers have demonstrated unusual behaviors. He fears imminent treason and wants you to prove their antagonistic intent before they disrupt his vision. You are worth more than any dollar amount. We were promised ascension in the congregation, promotion, reverence for your capture. He chose me, they trust me, although I’m unsure as to why. Like I said, I’m only here to protect my own daughter.”

“Sir, I believe you and I thank you for your candor. I promise, we will get your daughter out. We have had eyes on this cult and Milo Jackson for years. There hasn’t been probable cause for infiltration or aggressive action until now.” 

“You will pay for your deception.” declared the man writhing on the floor. 

Delaney intentionally pointed her gun at Bob’s brother-in-law, “Now it’s my turn. Shut the fuck up.” She had no intention of shooting, but he deserved to remain in a state of trepidation. Idiot. “Ok big man, you have no options. Stay on the floor and stay quiet; maybe I will spare your pathetic existence.” Her tone now menacing and threatening. Delaney turned away and gave divorced dad a wink. “Let’s get out of here.” 

The man on the floor dared to address Delaney one more time, risking his life to ask, “I just want to know, who the hell is Bob?”