There was no response, so he spoke again. “Douglas, is that you?”
The man on the toilet remained perfectly still.
“Douglas, are you alright?”
Ashton peered around the divider and stifled an involuntary gasp. Douglas lay folded over on his lap, and blood oozed from a wound on the back of his blond head.
Ashton’s training kicked in, and he drew a compact pistol from beneath his shirt. He shoved the bathroom door open and marched across the dungeon floor, keeping the weapon partially hidden at his side.
Martin met him halfway to the beds. He grinned and asked, “Feeling better?” Then his eyes narrowed as he spied the pistol. He fell into step beside Ashton and said, “What is it?”
“Douglas is dead. On the toilet.”
“Shit,” Martin spat. He drew his own pistol and held it in front of his waist. “Who do you think did it?”
“Otto. Only, I don’t think he really is Otto.”
Ashton nodded at the bed where his Saudi friend had gone with the stripper. He gripped the curtain, then thrust it aside.
The prostitute lay unconscious at the center of the bed, her hands and feet bound with strips of bedsheet fabric and her mouth gagged with the same. The Saudi assassin’s body was curled in the fetal position, a dark pool of blood next to his head.
Without a word, Ashton rushed to the next bed and threw the curtain open while Martin aimed his pistol. They found a similar scene, this time with two unconscious prostitutes and two dead agents.
“Where is he?” Martin growled.
Ashton shook his head. His eyes roved every centimeter of the room, then paused on a man with spiky black hair. Ashton nodded to where their American friend was sitting on a couch and said, “We need help. Let’s find the others and sweep the room.”
Martin nodded and set out to search for his fellow assassins while Ashton approached the American.
“We have a problem,” Ashton said as he stood over his dark-haired friend. “There’s an intruder killing—” Ashton paused, surprised by his friend’s disinterest. He kicked his friend’s boot and said, “Did you hear me? People are dying.”
The American’s knee buckled inward, and his head drooped, revealing a familiar wound on the back of his skull.
Ashton swore, clenched his teeth, and spun in a circle, searching for Martin. He found the Slovak near the dungeon entrance, his pistol at the ready.
Martin turned, his face a mask of confusion. “Someone locked us in!” he shouted. “The door is…is…”
Ashton blinked, unsure if his vision was playing tricks on him. Martin’s hands hung limp at his sides, and his mouth drooped toward his chest. His eyes widened, and he looked more like a puppet than a man. A clear substance like liquid glass rolled down his chin, then, impossibly, curled upward and entered his nose. For a moment, Ashton thought he saw a shimmering fog behind his friend.
“Martin, are you alright?” Ashton called out.
As if his words had been a diabolic spell, the glassy substance on Martin’s face exploded into a fan of spikes. Martin’s head split from chin to crown, and the halves toppled to the floor.
A naked prisoner, chained to the wall and covered in lacerations, witnessed the gruesome death. He smiled as Martin’s body pitched forward and dumped blood onto the stone floor.
Despite his years of training, Ashton’s hands began to shake. He searched wildly for a target but found none. He blinked, and when he opened his eyes, the room was still dark. He blinked again, then rubbed at his eyelids. The entire dungeon had been plunged into darkness.
Then the screams began, so tortured and strident that he wondered if he had been dragged into the depths of Hell.
17
Hillcrest Trauma and Rehabilitation Center
Baltimore, Maryland
Janson thumbed the speed on the treadmill, and the conveyor belt hummed on stainless steel rollers. Beside her, Eli Graham strode casually on his own treadmill.
“Be careful,” he said, “these things are expensive. You wouldn’t want to melt the gears.”
Janson ignored him and continued to hold down the button even when the display read “20mph.”
Eli chuckled. “They’re governed, like a race car. You’ll have to settle for a snail’s pace.”
Janson frowned. “It seems slower than before.”
“It might be the robots they injected you with,” Eli offered.
Janson glanced over her shoulder at a pair of engineers watching her from the opposite side of the gym. “They’d better not be spiking my food with steroids.”
Eli followed her gaze, then shrugged. “They’re just curious. You were supposed to be their lab rat.”
Clenching her teeth, Janson hit the stop button on the treadmill. The belt droned to a halt, and she hopped off.
Eli disembarked his treadmill and followed her to a row of punching bags. She stood in front of a synthetic leather heavy bag and, maintaining eye contact with one of the engineers, punctured the bag with her right fist.
There was a clacking sound as the engineers stowed their pencils in their clipboards and left the room.
“Really subtle,” Eli said, rolling his eyes.
Janson withdrew her hand from the heavy bag. “Sorry, I just can’t stand it when they do that. I mean, there are cameras all over the room. They could be creepy somewhere else.”
Eli shook his head and struck the heavy bag next to hers with a long combination of punches and kicks. When he had finished, he held the bag to stop its swaying. “Try to remember that they’re just worker bees. They probably didn’t even know you were being experimented on against your will.”
Janson examined the pink circles forming around her knuckles. “You’re probably right. Want to hit the shooting range and plink a few targets?”
“Sure. As long as you don’t pretend it’s Daron’s head you’re shooting at.”
Smiling, Janson walked alongside him toward the exit. “I can’t make that promise.”
They left the gym and wandered down concrete corridors, then paused in front of the elevator. After several seconds, Eli said, “A multi-billion-dollar facility and you still end up waiting around by the elevator.”
Finally, the door slid open, and Santiago Torres looked out at them, his face ghostly pale. “You have to hurry,” he said, practically dragging them inside. “Ford is back, and he’s been injured.”
“What? How?” Janson asked.
“Sub-Level Two,” San said, addressing the elevator’s voice-command system. He shook his head. “I don’t know. He showed up a few minutes ago, and CJ told me to go get you. I haven’t even seen him yet.”
Janson hugged herself and shifted her weight from side to side. The wait was agonizing, even though the ride to Sub-Level-Two took only a few seconds. The door opened, and she heard a familiar voice say, “I’m not getting on your damn stretcher. Where’s Daron?”
Wiping the childlike relief from her face, Janson stepped into the hallway. Ford was reclined on the floor a few paces to the left, and three paramedics hovered over him.
“Are you alright?” she asked, kneeling beside him. “Where’s Eugene?”
Ford winced as he struggled to his feet, then glared at the medics. “Get out. I’ll be fine.” He turned toward Janson. We need to talk. In private.”
“We can use my room,” Janson said. “It’s closer than yours and I swept it for listening devices this morning.”
Ford gestured for her to lead the way, then limped after her. Janson paused in front of a steel door, and it slid open. She unfolded a chair for herself, then helped Ford onto her bed.
“Thanks,” he grunted.
“No problem.” Janson sat in the chair and leaned forward, her fingers intertwined. “What happened out there?”
“Snafu. We made contact with Jarrod, and he went Grade-A psycho on a couple of civilians, then disappeared. Luckily, he told us where we could find a bomb he had made for attacking the base. So,
we continued the mission without him.”
Janson raised an eyebrow. “You attacked a Katharos base without backup?”
Ford nodded. “We were hoping Jarrod would show up and help, but he didn’t. We decided to detonate the bomb and get out of there.”
“Did it work?”
Ford ran a hand over his cracked ribs. “Sort of. The base looked deserted, so we waited for confirmation that it was the right target. Then one of those things showed up.”
Janson leaned back. “A cyborg, like the one at the Pentagon?”
Ford shook his head. “Bigger. Like the one from the video of Kinshasa. We blew the payload and took the first one out, but there must have been another one nearby. It caught up with us a few hundred yards from our hide site. We hit it with everything we had, but we couldn’t stop it.” He paused, closed his eyes, then added. “It took Carver.”
Janson ran a hand over her bristly scalp. After a long moment, she said. “We’ll find him. Whether he’s dead or alive, we’ll bring him back. And we’ll make the bastards pay.”
“This thing is out of our league,” Ford said, his eyes dancing around as if watching a replay of the cyborg in action. “If we try to take it down with a strike team, everyone dies. Our only chance is to blow it to pieces. And that might mean Eugene goes down with the ship.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Janson stood and walked to the door. “Get some rest. I’ll pass the word along to Daron and send a doctor to take a look at you.” She paused in the doorway, wanting to say more, but holding back.
“Janson?”
She cocked her head to show she was listening.
“I’m glad you’re okay.”
She nodded and stepped into the hallway, then the door slid shut behind her. Santiago and Eli rushed to her side.
“Does he know where Eugene is?” San asked.
“Is he going to be alright?” Eli added.
“His wounds don’t seem to be life-threatening. And no, he doesn’t know where Eugene is.” Janson locked Eli in a cold stare. “I’m going to find him, and with Ford out of the fight, I’ll need a sniper. I’d like it if you came with.”
Eli didn’t hesitate. “Count me in, Alpha. You point, and I’ll shoot.”
Janson gave an appreciative nod, then grimaced. “As much as I hate to admit it, we need Daron. Head down to Operations and see if he’s there. If not, talk to CJ about—”
The elevator door slid open, and a big man in heavy boots stepped out.
“And the King of Rome appears,” San mumbled.
“What are you doing here?” Daron snapped, pointing a finger at San. “You have no business on this sub-level.”
“I’m here to support my friends,” San said, bristling.
Daron stood face-to-face with San. “If you had half a spine, you would—”
“Save the dick measuring for later,” Janson interrupted. “We have bigger problems. Eugene is MIA.”
Daron deflated, and the fire in his eyes went out. “Missing? How?”
“He was taken captive, and we have no idea where he is.”
Daron pondered for a moment, then said, “I do. Start prepping your gear; I’ll have a location for you in ten minutes.”
Eli and Janson exchanged curious glances, then Eli led the way to the elevator.
“What can I do to help?” San called after them.
Janson stood at the mouth of the elevator. Without looking back, she said, “Pray.”
Daron slammed the map against the steel table, pinning it down with his open palm. “The headquarters. Now.”
Audrey sighed and slid her legs off the side of the bed. She took two barefoot steps to cross the room and put her hands on her hips. “I’ve been more than cooperative. The least you can do is have some manners.”
Daron lashed out with the fury of a broken dam. He landed an uppercut that knocked her to the floor, then kicked her in the ribs. “I’m done playing games!” he shouted. “You’re alive because I let you live. Tell me where Roberts is hiding, or I’ll stomp your ungrateful ass to death right here.”
Audrey glared up at him, then pushed out a mouthful of blood with her tongue. “Who was it this time, Daron? Which pawn did you sacrifice?”
Daron gripped her by the shirt-collar and raised his fist, but she didn’t flinch.
“Not Ford…” she mumbled. “You wouldn’t even blink if he died, would you?”
The blow knocked her head into the concrete floor, and Daron barked, “Where is she?!”
“Keep going,” Audrey taunted. “Beat me like you’ve always wanted to. Cut off my fingers and pull out my teeth, I dare you. In the end, I still have the power, because you know damn well I won’t give you anything unless I get what I want.”
Daron leaned in until his breath was hot on her face. “Alright then. Name it.”
Audrey pried his hand off her shirt and sat up. “I want access to the hallways, and to the break room and library, if you have those.”
Daron’s eyes narrowed. “That’s it?”
Audrey dipped her fingers in her bloody mouth and flicked them at Daron’s face. “Yes, you ass. I’m going crazy in this hellhole. I need to stretch my legs and have a civil conversation. And in case you’re wondering, our little talks don’t qualify.”
Daron took a step back and glared down at her. “Done. Now, show me where your boss is hiding.”
“Next time, try asking nicely,” Audrey said as she dragged herself to the edge of the steel desk. “It’ll save time for both of us.”
Getting to her feet, she studied the map, then planted a finger on Siberia. “There. In the middle of friggin nowhere.”
“I need something more specific to give to the aircrew. What should they look for?
“A bunch of abandoned farm houses. Which narrows it down to…half of Siberia.” She plucked a red crayon from the edge of the desk and began scrawling numbers on the map. “These are the grid coordinates.”
Daron waited until she was done writing, then grabbed the map. “I’ll have CJ grant you hallway privileges by the end of the day.” He turned to leave, but Audrey stopped him.
“Wait, you can’t just show up at the Palace and knock on the front door. Its defenses make Normandy look like Daytona Beach.”
“I’ll come back to get the rest of the details.” He hesitated, then added, “And I’ll send a medic to stitch you up.”
“Thanks, asshole.”
Daron left the room and waited for the door to close before he smiled. Under different circumstances, he would have considered recruiting Audrey.
18
Kremnica, Slovakia
“You survived. Lucky you.”
The words echoed as if spoken in a vast cavern. Ashton tried to open his eyes, but a thick layer of mucus held them shut. He wiped his eyelids and tried again. This time, he was rewarded with a blurry, orange glow.
“What…happened?” he croaked.
“I removed the implant,” the voice said. “As you can imagine, it wasn’t easy. It took me thirty-seven tries to get it right.”
Slowly, the blur began to fade, revealing the details of Ashton’s surroundings. He blinked and rubbed his eyes once more. “Where are we?”
“So many questions. We are in the forest beyond Kremnica.”
The titian glow of the sunset illuminated sprawling canopies of deciduous trees, the grass between the trunks, and a picturesque hillside. Ashton turned his head and frowned at the sight of an antique coin-press. Then his eyes widened as a dark figure stepped into view. Ashton crawled backward, propelling himself on his elbows.
“Don’t do that,” the dark man said.
Ashton stopped and held himself up on shaking arms.
“You know who I am,” the man stated.
“Yes. You’re Jarrod Hawkins.”
“You were at the party last night, which means you also know what I am capable of.”
Ashton swallowed. “Yes.”
“Ar
e you also aware that I can read your thoughts as plainly as if they were written across your forehead?”
“I’ve heard…stories.”
“Good. Keep that in mind.” Jarrod stepped forward, gripped Ashton by the wrist, and lifted the Katharos Agent to his feet. “First question, what is your name?”
“A—Ashton.”
“Pleased to meet you, Ashton. Are you stationed here in Kremnica?”
Ashton hesitated. “I’d rather not say.”
“Ashton, buddy,” Jarrod said, draping an arm around Ashton’s shoulder, “don’t be like that. I know you’re afraid to give me any damaging information about Katharos. Your Empress probably threatened you with a ‘fate worse than death,’ am I right?”
Ashton nodded.
“Then let me put your mind at ease. I promise she won’t lay a finger on you.” Jarrod led Ashton in a wide circle around the coin press. “I’m going to tell you a secret, Ash. There’s a voice in my head, and the woman you know as Empress actually put it there. This voice gives me all sorts of advice. Right now, it’s telling me to give you a false sense of security. Then, it wants me to lead you to believe that I am your only hope for survival.”
Jarrod paused and stared at the smooth edges of the iron coin press, the broad stamp running through its center, and the wheel mounted to the top. “But I don’t always listen to this voice. For instance, the voice told me not to break into the museum and drag this machine all the way up here. It told me there were simpler, more effective ways to get what I want. But that’s when I realized, this is what I want. Sure, I could trick you into giving me useful information, or torture it out of you with my bare hands, but after what I saw last night…” He fell silent for a moment, then said, “Simple isn’t good enough.”
Ashton eyed the metal cylinder at the heart of the press. “What are you going to do?”
Jarrod turned and placed his hands on Ashton’s shoulders, then spoke in the voice of a friend delivering solemn news. “I’m going to hurt you. And then I’m going to kill you.”
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