Chapter EighteenNathan listened to every small sound, interpreted every jostling motion, trying to determine where they were taking him. He felt the cold metal bench as they sat him in the back of a truck. He heard heavy wheels on pavement. His body swayed with the turns, and he smelled oil. But compiling all the information and constructing it into something useful proved more difficult that he had expected.
If he survived this, he would add that to future training — learn to fly a helicopter, learn to figure out location while hooded.
“Legs out,” a voice commanded.
Nathan considered fighting, but that time would have to wait until he knew more. He straightened his legs. Somebody slipped a pair of sweatpants on him.
“Arms up,” the voice said. Moving slowly Nathan brought his arms up a
