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on American soil.”
    “I’m not
sure if Posse Comitatus would apply here,” said Percy, his understanding of the
act governing the use of military forces on domestic soil limited.
    O’Toole
shook his head. “I don’t know either. I’m just pissed. I hate being lied to,
especially by a guy I’ve had beers with and known for the past three years.”
    Jamie
cleared her throat. Percy looked at her, as did O’Toole.
    “I think
the real question here is whether or not this is related to our case.”
    O’Toole’s
eyebrows shot up.
    “How
so?”
    “We have
two highly sophisticated kidnappings, with a helicopter involved, that you
guys”—she nodded toward O’Toole—“know nothing about, then we have a transport
plane—military no less—landing in the vicinity. That sounds like a pick-up to
me.”
    “Bright
girl,” said O’Toole, nodding.
    “If
you’re right, this keeps getting bigger and bigger.” Percy turned to O’Toole.
“Can you tell me where they might have landed?”
    O’Toole
smiled.
    “I can
make an educated guess.”
     

 
     
    Unknown Location
     
    Jason Peterson awoke to a curious sensation. He could hear the drone
of the propellers still churning away, and judging from the vibrations, he was
still on the cold metal floor, his lower body aching, his back propped up
against the fuselage.
    But
there was something else.
    He
wasn’t sure he wanted to risk opening his eyes to find out what it was that was
pressing against both his sides. Whatever it was felt soft. And warm.
    What
could it be?
    He
jerked when the warm mass on his right moved, then opened his eyes. He found a
head of hair tucked into the divot created by his arm and chest, his hands
still tied behind his back. A quick glance to the other side and he found another
tuft of hair.
    He
wanted to cry out in horror and joy at the same time. It was his babies, his
most precious possessions. His head spun and he saw Maggie lying on her side,
beside his daughter Ayla, and across from them, Carl with his wife and son, all
three still unconscious.
    Something
moved to his left and his eyes darted toward the front of the aircraft, and he
saw a man walking toward him, knife in hand. Peterson began to shake his head
as his heart pounded in his chest.
    “Please,
no, I won’t cause any trouble. Just don’t hurt my family.”
    The man
stopped in front of him, his stance wide, as he looked down at Peterson. He
waved the knife in the air, as if punctuating each syllable.
    “Now
that we have your family, can I expect your cooperation?”
    Peterson’s
head bobbed up and down rapidly.
    “Good.”
The man leaned over, grabbing Peterson by the shoulder and pulling him forward.
He felt a tugging at his hands, then they suddenly jerked apart, freed at last
as the man stood back up. He waved the knife again. “One bit of trouble out of
you, and I carve an ear off that lovely wife of yours.”
    Peterson
trembled out a nod, his freed arms now enveloping his children protectively.
    But he
had to know.
    “Why are
you doing this?”
    The man,
already walking away, stopped and turned.
    “Certainly
not for God and Country.”
    The
smile that accompanied the statement sent shivers down Peterson’s spine.
    “Where
are you taking us?”
    The man
laughed, shaking his head.
    “You’ll
find out, Professor, when you get there.”
    With
that he returned to the front of the plane where there were several rows of
seats set up, their high backs concealing how many were actually occupied. He
returned his attention to his family. He desperately wanted to know what had
happened to them, how they had been kidnapped, but they looked so peaceful in
his arms, at his side, that he dismissed any thoughts of waking them, and
instead closed his eyes, trying to figure out a way out of their situation.
    But at a
presumed thirty thousand feet or more, he entertained little hope of escape.
     

 
     
    Crossing Bear River Bay, Utah
     
    “What do you expect to find?”
    It was