The night was long and extremely active. Unseen in his uncomfortable hole, Terry was able to listen and take mental note of the movement above. This was not a small operation, although it may have started as one. He knew Carlos was taken from his San Sebastian home by on-again/off-again lover, Luc Ramirez … A.K.A. Robert Garra Rubina, ETA organizer and terrorist. He suspected there was a hell of a lot more to it than that. Hours, cramped in the darkness, nursing a swollen ankle and aching head wound gave Terry time to let his mind delve deeper.

He knew Carlos … knew him as well as any man can know his lover’s brother. What bothered Terry was how much he’d never known and should have. Of course, the connection with the ETA was so obscured and blurred, it was never suspected. The fact that Eva and Carlos were Basque was as far as it went. Had he been blinded? Or … had Carlos been blinded?

It wasn’t unusual for a terrorist group to turn on its own. If Carlos had knowingly supported the ETA, financially or in other ways – passing information or weapons – nothing promised that he wouldn’t fall from grace. But there was no proof Carlos had done more than lend some money to a friend, and even that didn’t seem like all that much. Perhaps it was the plan. Small, untraceable amounts. In retrospect, was Carlos so covert that his support was major enough to cause all this ruckus? Was the kidnapping a hoax, a way to gain as much funding as possible with his consent?

No. If he’d consented to this, Carlos Mendez would not be screaming for help. He was being damaged; he was in pain, agony … astounded by it all. It was clear by the terror beneath his cries. Terry would bet money no consent was given for that.

Then, what was really happening? One small idea kept slipping forward in Terry’s mind. He tried to tamp it down several times. Concepts of this nature smacked of sentiment and emotion and usually didn’t pan out in Terry’s line of work. Kidnappings he dealt with were about money, pure and simple. He’d focus on that.

Around three a.m. he heard extensive movement above and counted. Eight, maybe nine men stomped past his hiding hole. His original guesstimate when they entered was twelve, which meant that a few had remained in the cave. An unknown number were outside; the scent of burning wood drifted in, confirming they were camping close to the entrance. Terry silently drew in a long breath and listened.

Suddenly the captive bellowed in agony once, twice and third time then fell silent. More stomping boots vibrated and bounced against the stone walls, then Terry heard the slamming of that heavy metal door. Even if he could climb out, by his count there were still at least two men inside the cave, guarding Carlos.

Why? Where was a bound and damaged man gonna go, even if he had the super power to escape? It was a torture room built into a bloody cave, how could he get past two guards and another ten plus camping outside?

And again that seed of a thought filtered forward. As the caves grew oppressively silent, Terry let his mind explore the thought.

***

Dino had the team mobilized within minutes. Before the sun set, he had rallied sixteen Spanish troops, five San Sebastian police who specialized in cave rescues, and his own three experts in the field.

Zack Grant passed the HQ management over to newly arrived Steve Billings, one of Dino’s trainees. He had joined Dino, Frank Goshim and Kenny Friday and off they went.

The operation was meticulously strategized, critically planned in order to fly under the ETA radar. First in would be Dino’s team. Next, the police, undercover and pretending a training session on the other side of the mountain in case of discovery. Then the soldiers would inch in slowly under darkness and take strategic positions in the hills. By dawn it was all set and ready.

All Dino had to do was get his ass into that cave … somehow … find Terry and locate Carlos. He knew Terry’s intel was spot on, but it only took him as far as Terry’s mishap. Where Carlos was being held was still in question. Things were complicated and getting more complicated by the minute. Terry was obviously out of touch and now, suddenly, Dino knew why.

“Motherfucker!” groaned Zack, eyeing carefully over a stone outcropping. “Lookin’ at fifty … fifty-five … fuckin’ sixty of them down there. What the hell? Does this seem right?” He turned to Dino who shrugged.

“What we’re lookin’ at is a big ass war brewing here,” added Goshim quietly.

“Been brewing for a long time, I just can’t figure out … what the fuck?” Before their eyes another fifty ETA militants arrived, slithering through the rocks and lining up like trained soldiers. Dino shot a glare at Zack then responded to a radio contact.

“O’Leary,” came Friday’s voice at a quiet hiss. Kenny Friday had slipped closer to the camp and Dino’s heart skipped a beat, wondering if the man had gotten himself captured.  

“Yeah?”

“Take a good look, three o’clock, the man speaking to ten in the shadows.”

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” Dino gasped. “Get up here, we need to regroup. Easy, careful, last thing we need is to get our sorry asses discovered.”

“You thinkin’ what I’m thinkin’?” Goshim whispered at Dino’s side. They were hunkered flat and low on the cold dirt, necks wrenched, hoping to see all the activity going on below.

“No clue. What do you think I’m thinking?” Dino watched through his binoculars, following Friday’s slow movement back to the team.

“We get outta here, come back when we have more manpower.”

Dino narrowed his eyes. “Thorne’s trapped in that fucking cave. A captive is in there. We do what we came here to do.”

“Well,” Goshim sniped. “The captive ain’t who we thought and that changes the whole fuckin’ picture, now don’t it?”

Dino snapped a grip tight at Goshim’s collar. “We have a man down and a captive. I can’t see one fucking reason why things are any different than when we started.” He turned away and growled into his walkie. “Captain?”

“Si. I have already radioed for back up.”

“How soon?”

“One hour, perhaps less.”

“Pray for less,” Dino sighed, focusing his eyes on the reason for all the hoopla.

Carlos Menendez stood, waving his arms and shouting orders to the men. Holy hell, how had the motherfucker pulled this off? For decades eyes had been on Luc Ramirez … A.K.A. Robert Garra Rubina. Records had photos and documentation and all this time Ramirez was only the cover. The real ETA terrorist was moving around the world, free as a bird and playing the guitar for his talented dancing sister. Dino rubbed a temple, it was almost too much to swallow and he wondered about Thorne in the fucking cave.

***

Nothing else made sense.

Terry had come to his conclusion from a completely different angle. In his eyes, he saw the brother Eva loved, the young boy the housekeeper had raised and adored, the talented young man the world was praying for. He saw a boy, abused by his father, dealing with being gay or bisexual … and … who had every financial, political and emotional avenue to the ETA. Terry envisioned the earliest seeds of Carlos’ rebellion against man and family, God and country and he recognized the classic paths Carlos had treaded. So bloody obvious yet so hidden, covert and right in front of everyone’s nose. The key to any secret action is to do it in clear view where no one expects. Carlos Menendez was a genius, an expert at deception and obviously a danger to his entire generation of Basques.

What was the ping that took Terry to these facts? His instincts had been buzzing but he repeatedly chose to look around the elephant rather than at it. Then he heard the truth, clear as a bell. Beneath the captive’s howls of agony was the answer. The man cried out more then once.

“Carlos! No, mio Dios, no!”

And Terry, choosing not to get emotions involved in his analytical process, had completely missed it, perhaps blocked it. The captive, most likely Luc Ramirez, was begging his tormentor to free him, to have pity, have mercy, to love him. All the words were suddenly clear and pounding inside Terry’s head.

Taking it a few steps further, the expected ransom would fund an expanded terrorist army. Bloody hell, this was now major, and blessedly, his incapacity to respond, busted and bleeding in the fucking hole, had saved his life … and probably Ramirez’ too.

How the bloody hell could he have missed this? Now he was pummeled with shit he wasn’t ready to face, but what else did he have to do? There was too much activity to attempt a cell contact with Dino to warn him. Hell, there were probably a hundred men outside the cave by the sound of things. Something huge was afoot and all Terry could do was wallow in his personal misery over it. And oh bloody hell yes, this had become a very personal misery.

Eva. Oh fuckin’ hell, Eva, he thought, squeezing his eyes tight a trying to avoid what was ahead when she learned of her brother’s betrayal. The Menendez family had prided itself throughout history for having avoided the Basque Country freedom war. They’d remained politically apart, supporting neither side in the fight. AND … they’d done it with dignity. Eva was all about familial dignity, and now it would be Terry’s duty to show his fiancé the black tarnish to her name.

His fiancé? Terry’s heart dropped. How long would Eva remain with him after this?

No, no. He couldn’t think on that. He just couldn’t. Not now.

There were important things to deal with first. Why was Ramirez still alive? What did they still want from him? Was this standard practice? The way Carlos had manipulated the man all this time? Punish then reward then hide behind him for another year or so. Possible. Probable. Most likely.

Terry’s usually agile and fine-tuned mind swiveled back to Eva. He couldn’t stop it. In his heart he knew without doubt that she had nothing to do with this. In his mind, he already understood that world governments wouldn’t be so convinced. Should he suspect her?

No, he could not. All he could hope was that Dino and the team did not rush ahead and have her arrested for questioning before he could stand at her side. His brain hurt, his mind was fire and fog, his heart, thrashed, and again the captive began to cry out for help.