Run For Their Lives - Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Admiral Calavicci approached the door to the Imaging Chamber and automatically ordered ?Gushie, centre me on Sam!? before remembering that the Chief Programmer was otherwise occupied. Fortunately, Sammy-Jo stepped into the breach and did the honors.
Al had managed to glean a few basic facts about Sam?s Leap from Ziggy on the way down, but had foregone his customary preliminary visit to the Waiting Room, risking ignorance in his haste to check on his friend.
He commanded the computer to inform him of any significant change of status in Kincaid?s undertaking during his absence. Clutching his com-link, he prepared to step into Sam?s world with a weary sigh. Chronologically, these two crises were nearly fifteen years apart, but for Al it was a case of trying to be in two places at once, and even Sam?s convoluted lifetime left him never having enough time for what had to be done. Perversely, there always seemed to be plenty of time for him to worry, which he was doing now ? big time ? though experience forbade him to reveal it in his features.
Thus it was a jovial looking hologram that sauntered casually into the Balmoral Suite through a portal of bright light.
The sight that greeted him almost made him drop his mask in horror, but he forced himself to pretend that things weren?t as bad as they looked. They mustn?t be.
There were two people in the room, but Al would have known that it was the woman?s aura that currently hid his friend, even if Ziggy hadn?t told him the identity Sam had assumed. Ever since Samantha Stormer, Al had insisted on fine-tuning the neural link, so that he could see ?through? the aura to the real Sam beneath. Even though seeing elements of two people occupying the same space gave him a headache, it was preferable to the alternative.
Al looked at Sam.
?She? was seated, legs astride, and bound at the ankles with a fine nylon cord to the ornately carved clawed feet of the Queen Anne chair. The arms were similarly tied behind the chair-back. The head was bowed down on the chest, tilted slightly to the left, not quite obscuring the fact that the mouth was gagged with duct-tape, and the eyes were closed in stupefaction.
The other occupant of the room was a man in his mid to late thirties, some 6ft 5 inches tall, and broad of shoulder. He wore an immaculate fine wool suit in charcoal grey, whiter-than-white shirt, silver-grey tie flecked with a darker grey and held in place with a solid silver tiepin. His fair hair was trimmed short and neat around his ears and he was clean-shaven, with no hint of five o?clock shadow despite the lateness of the hour. He looked every inch the respectable gentleman, yet he was advancing on the hostage with his arm outstretched toward her bosom and a strange glare in his bright blue eyes.
?Sam! You of all people, caught up in S&M and the full bondage bit. After all you?ve said about me!? Al tried to sound as if he believed the teasing was appropriate, but an edge of concern crept into his voice.
?Get away!? he chided the stranger, ?She?s old enough to be your mother!?