The Red Herring

Chapter 1

[This story contains violence, adult situations, and strong language. You've been warned.]

Beth Lachlan and Jim Croyston sat in a damp abandoned warehouse. A leaky copper pipe made the air smell metallic and moldy. Beth sneezed.

Legally, they were Adam and Christina Blackmon but being ex-CIA, they were known by their aliases. Beth rocked back and forth in the chair she was tied to. Two feet away, Jim did the same.

"Ok," he said. "I really think if we work at it, we can pull the screws loose and the chairs will break."

"I have a better idea but it'll be complicated and we'll need to figure out how many guards there are and what their schedules are before we try it," Beth told him.

"What is it?" Jim asked.

"Blade in my boot."

Jim stared at her. "Why?"

"Because I'm at home with our kids. In the event that today's events took place, I had planned to be ready. It just didn't play out that way."

"The kids are fine. Devin will take care of them." Devin was Jim's grown son. When they'd come for Beth, they brought Devin to take care of the young children. Eliot was two and a half. Paige was just six months old. It was an odd gesture but Beth was thankful for it.

"I'm not worried," she said.

"Baby, I've known you for nearly twenty years. I know when you're worried but he'll take care of his little brother and sister."

Beth sighed. "I know he will but it was my job to protect them. What if Eliot's only memory of me is the man dragging me away?"

A door at the far end of the room opened and a man entered and walked toward them. He looked to be well over six feet tall and he was prematurely balding.

"What can we do for you?" Jim asked.

The man faltered before smirking. "You can do nothing for me." To Beth's trained ear, his accent gave him away. He was from southern Russia.

"Any idea when the boss will be in? These chairs suck and she's allergic to mold," Jim continued. Right on cue, Beth sneezed.

"Sorry," he replied. "I'm just here to make sure there are no problems."

"There are," Jim said. "Chair. Mold."

"No, problem you cause," the man said.

"That'll come later," Beth said.

The man eyed her. "We'll see," he said and retraced his footsteps back through the door.

"Well that's one," Jim said. When Beth didn't answer, he continued, "How many do you think there are?"

Beth frowned but didn't answer. Finally, she said, "I was counting. I wanted to see how long before the next guy."

About an hour later, he stuck his head into the room. A few moments later, the door closed and he was gone. "We have one hour," she said. "Make it count."

She threw herself backwards. She landed hard on her back. She scooted her body close to Jim's hand. The chairs were low and he could reach her boot. He felt around the inside of her shoe until he found the knife.

He cut the ropes around her ankles. With a tremendous amount of force, she was able to roll over. She managed to stand up and turn the chair around so she was back to back with Jim. She returned to a seated position and Jim used the knife to cut the ropes around her wrists. Beth jumped up from the chair and took the knife from him. Facing him, she shoved the rope into her pocket. Jim gave her a puzzled look.