After making sure that the back wasn’t being watched, Dana parked the Harley in the rear of her building and entered it through a metal door that opened into the basement. Maybe she was going to be okay. Maybe she’d been lucky and it had been too dark to make out her license plate.

Dana took the stairs and paused on the landing that ran in front of her door. The cheap linoleum floor was dimly lit by a few low-watt bulbs spaced along the water-stained ceiling. The linoleum would squeak when she walked along it, so she moved as quietly as she could. The hall doors were made of thin wood and provided little privacy. If she was in the hall, Dana could hear televisions playing and domestic quarrels. She pressed her ear to the door to her apartment for a minute and used her key when she didn’t hear any sounds coming from inside.

Dana flipped on the light and stared down the narrow hallway that led from the front door to the bedroom at the back of the apartment. The kitchen was through the first doorway on the left and the entrance to a small living room was next to the kitchen door. Dana closed and locked the front door and listened for sounds in the apartment. When she heard nothing she breathed a sigh of relief and stepped into the kitchen.

The blow to her solar plexus took her breath away, and Dana sat down hard. A large hand grabbed her by the throat and hoisted her to her feet while she tried to suck in air.

“Where are the camera and the pictures, bitch?” asked a large man in a black T-shirt. He pushed his face into hers. He had a broken nose and dull, blue eyes. His breath was stale, and she could see the dark bristles on his cheeks.

Dana wanted to answer but she couldn’t catch her breath. The man threw her to the floor and kicked her in the side. Her motorcycle jacket absorbed some of the blow but not enough to prevent pain from shooting through her ribs.

“We’re not fucking around. Give us the camera and all of the pictures, now, or I’ll rape you before I kick you to death.”

Dana’s mind played tricks on her and she thought her attacker sounded like one of the men who had chained her to the wall in the basement. She scuttled backward down the hall like a crab until she was pressed against the front door. Then she curled into a fetal ball. Her attacker looked over his shoulder at a second man, who was dressed in a light gray jacket, jeans, and running shoes. His blond hair almost touched his shoulders and his beard was neatly trimmed.

“I think she’s holding out because she wants us to fuck her,” said the man who’d hit her. “What do you think?”

“I didn’t hear the young lady tell us where the pictures are, did you?”

“No, siree. I do believe she wants it.” Her attacker grabbed his crotch and pulled up. “Mmm, mmm, she’s gonna taste sweet.”

Dana was terrified but she was also armed. Ever since her ordeal she had carried an assortment of weapons, and the one that was easiest to reach in a fetal position was the gun that was secured to her ankle.

Her attacker watched wide-eyed as Dana fired. The bullet bored through his thigh, and he screamed and crumpled to the floor. The explosion and scream in the confined space paralyzed the second man. By the time he was able to move, Dana was on her feet, her gun pointed at his heart. She looked homicidal.

“Take it easy,” the second man begged, his voice unsteady and his hands, which he’d raised in supplication, shaking badly.

A red tide washed through Dana’s brain and insane voices urged her to kill. Only the lessons learned in months of therapy stopped her from shooting the man, or doing something much worse.

“Easy?” she screamed. “It didn’t sound like you were going to take it easy.”

Dana’s hand was trembling and the intruder’s eyes were glued on her twitching trigger finger. He held his hands out toward her.

“You don’t want to shoot me by mistake. Calm down.”

“Tell me to calm down one more time and I’ll gut shoot you.”

The man turned pale. “Look, we weren’t really going to rape you,” he said, his voice shaking as badly as Dana’s. “We’re federal agents. We were trying to frighten you.”

The man who’d hit her had grabbed his thigh with both hands and was rolling back and forth on the floor, moaning in pain. Dana kicked him in the face.

“Shut the fuck up,” she yelled so she could be heard above his cries of pain. Blood spurted from his nose and he collapsed on his back.

The second man used Dana’s momentary inattention to go for a weapon, but her gun was back on target before he was halfway. He hesitated before raising his hands again.

“Don’t shoot. We’re really Feds. Let me get my ID from my pocket.”

“I don’t give a fuck who you are. But you’re sure not dressed like J. Edgar Hoover. You’re dressed like a burglar-rapist and I’d be acting in self-defense if I shot your balls off.”

“Be smart. Kill us and you’ll have every law enforcement agency in the country hunting you down.”

“They’re doing that already.”

Dana cocked the gun.

“Please, don’t. I’m married. I have kids.”

“You think I care?”

Dana heard sirens. Someone had heard the gunshots and the screams and called the cops. She made a decision.

“Do you have handcuffs?”

“Yeah.”

“Take them out slowly then get down on the floor and cuff yourself to this asshole.”

The second man was only too happy to comply. As soon as the two agents were hooked up Dana backed out of the apartment and sprinted down the stairs. She’d been tempted to kill her attackers but she didn’t need any more ghosts in her nightmares.

As soon as she straddled the Harley Dana sped off, making random left and right turns until she was miles away from her place. She tried to remember how much money she had in her wallet. She’d used an ATM recently and she thought she had $150. If she used an ATM again the cops would know it but she had no choice. She needed as much cash as she could get her hands on. She would not be able to use her credit cards from now on.

Dana found a bank on the outskirts of Chevy Chase and got the maximum amount of cash from the ATM. Then she sped off with no plan. She was living the ultimate nightmare. The president of the United States was out to get her and he had the resources of the FBI, CIA, NSA, and every other letter in the alphabet at his disposal. Dana had $372.40, a.38 Special with four bullets, and a borrowed Harley with three-quarters of a tank of gas.

Part Two.A Hopeless Appeal

Oregon

Chapter Nine

Shortly after moving to Portland to take a job with Reed, Briggs, Stephens, Stottlemeyer and Compton- Oregon ’s largest law firm-Brad Miller rented a riverside apartment with a view of Mount Hood. When he opened his bedroom shades on this balmy morning in late June he beheld the sun rising behind the majestic, snowcapped mountain and a crew of eight women stroking with vigor along the far shore of the Willamette River. It was a scene that should have brought a smile to Brad’s face but this morning he had a good reason for feeling sad and empty.

Brad had experienced good days and bad days since moving across the country for his job. The longer he was away from New York and the everyday sights that reminded him of Bridget Malloy, the more frequent were his good days, but today was the seven-month anniversary of the day Bridget had broken off their engagement, and there was no view, no matter how magnificent, that could prevent him from being depressed.

Brad showered away some of his gloom, dressed for work, and walked to his office, stopping on the way for breakfast at a favorite spot on Third Avenue. He usually grabbed a quick bite at home, but there was a lull in work at the office and he was in no rush this morning. He read the newspaper while he finished his eggs. The Yankees’ extra-innings victory over Boston helped take his mind off Bridget. Brad may have left the East behind, but he was a Yankee fan for life.