The Tracie Tanner Collection by Allan Leverone

Author:Allan Leverone [Leverone, Allan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Rock Bottom Books
Published: 2016-03-26T00:00:00+00:00

21

Date unknown

Time unknown

Location unknown

J. Robert Humphries awoke with a start. An ex-marine, he had served with distinction in World War II and the early days of the Korean conflict, and until a few days ago had always viewed himself as strong and tough. Steely eyed. Stoic. Able to take whatever life threw at him.

The qualities that had made him a good marine and had seen him through tours of duty in two wars, one declared and one undeclared, were the same qualities that had made him so valuable to Ronald Reagan when it had come time for the president to fill his cabinet. Reagan had wanted a strong-willed, no-nonsense secretary of state, a man who would not blink when it came to high-stakes diplomacy with the Soviets.

Humphries had been that man. A lifelong friend and confidante of the former actor, California governor, and now United States president, J. Robert Humphries had projected the image of toughness and hard-nosed diplomacy abroad that former president Jimmy Carter’s administration had lacked, particularly following the disastrous rescue attempt of the American hostages in Iran.

J.R. Humphries wondered where that strong, tough ex-marine had gone. Lack of sleep, nonstop stress, fear, and the relentless throbbing in his hand where his little finger had been sheared off just below the knuckle had reduced him to a shell of his former self. For a while, he had attempted to keep rough track of the time since he had been taken. But he was so disoriented he really had no idea. It might be a couple of days, might be a week. Time had lost all meaning.

Now, as the door to his room crashed open, J.R. realized his restless doze was being interrupted by one of his captors.

It was the man who had cut off his finger. He entered the room carrying what looked like a small tray table and a pad of paper.

J.R. cringed involuntarily, blinking hard and wishing he could wipe the sleep from his eyes but was unable to get his shackled hands anywhere near his face. He tried to control his rising panic in the face of the knowledge that he might be about to lose another body part. “What now?” he asked quietly, impressed by the relative steadiness of his voice.

The man smiled broadly, making clear to J.R. that he could see right through his captive’s forced nonchalance. “It is time to keep the pressure on your boss,” he said.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

The man slid a chair across the dirty floor and positioned it directly in front of J.R. Then he sat. “It means you are going to compose a letter to President Ronald Reagan.”

“And why would I do that?”

“Because if you don’t you will soon discover that you are two fingers short of a full complement, rather than one.”

J.R. sighed, and this time his nerves betrayed him. The shaking sound came through loud and clear, and he saw the man’s smile grow wider. “I don’t suppose I’ll be writing down my own thoughts,” he said.

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