No Man's Land

by David Baldacci

  He looked down at the asphalt drive. “That looks like a fresh oil spot,” he said, pointing to a dollop of liquid.

  They stepped to the side of the front door and Puller gave it a nudge with his foot. It swung open and he did a quick look inside.

  He eyed Knox and motioned with his head.

  She ducked into the house, her gun pointing center left. Puller followed her performing his arc center right. They cleared the first floor and then checked the garage.

  “That’s Myers’s BMW,” said Puller. “I don’t know whose Maserati that is.”

  Knox opened the door to the Maserati, popped the glove box, and took out the registration.

  “Josh Quentin.”

  “Okay, this is starting to make sense.”

  “Do you think they’re here?” asked Knox.

  “We have more house to search, but I didn’t hear anything.”

  “You think they’re dead?”

  “I think we’d better check.”

  They moved up the stairs and went room by room on the second floor. In a bedroom, Puller reached down and picked up a length of rope and a balled-up washcloth.

  Knox said, “Looks like someone was restrained. Who do you think it was? Myers?”

  “I don’t know.”

  They split up, with Knox taking half the floor and Puller the other half. Knox cleared her section and then found Puller in one of the bathrooms.

  “Find anything?”

  He pointed around the toilet. “Looks like someone was sick to their stomach.”

  Knox wrinkled her nose. “Smells like it too.”

  “And then there’s this.” He led her over to the shower. “Check out the pipe.”

  She looked at it. “Someone nearly crushed it. Did you check for a tool mark?”

  “It doesn’t look like a tool was used. From what I’m seeing it was someone’s fingers.”

  "That pipe is metal and it has to be thick enough to withstand the water pressure.”

  “I can think of only one guy who could make metal seem like putty.”

  “Paul. So he was here. Do you think he was the one tied up?”

  Puller shook his head. “That rope never would have held him.”

  “So he had someone tied up. Myers?”

  “It’s her house. But it could be Quentin.”

  “I wonder how Paul found out about this place?”

  “I don’t know. But he apparently was here.”

  “But why would he think Myers has anything to do with Jericho?”

  “I don’t know, Knox! Unless he stumbled onto what they’re doing in that upstairs room at the bar.”

  “I guess he could have. He worked there.”

  Puller examined the couch and then focused on something. “It’s a few strands of hair fiber.” He picked them up. “Doesn’t look like Myers’s. Maybe Josh Quentin’s? His car’s in the garage too.”

  “Maybe that’s who Paul was looking for? Maybe he followed Quentin down here. And didn’t even know Myers was going to be here.”

  “That could be.”

  “And we know he and Myers are working together to pass secrets. It would make sense that they might meet here,” noted Knox.

  “So Paul, Myers, and Quentin were all here together. And people tied up with washcloths balled up in their mouths so they couldn’t cry out and warn someone.”

  “So Paul was holding them both? And now where are they? Did he take them somewhere?”

  Puller nodded. “It’s certainly possible. Maybe to get to Building Q? To get to Jericho?”

  “Okay, but if so, how do we get in there without an invite?”

  “Maybe we need to make our own invitation.”

  “How?”

  “We have a two-hour drive to come up with one.”

  Chapter

  64

  ROGERS SLOWLY OPENED his eyes. He felt like a tank round had been fired right next to his brain. Cloudy, fuzzy, unfocused. Like he and Johnnie Walker Black had been on a drinking binge for a month.

  And he couldn’t move his arms or legs.

  Slap.

  The hand hit him lightly on the jaw.

  He blinked rapidly and focused on the person next to him.

  Claire Jericho stared back at him.

  He was lying on a gurney. He was not bound, but he couldn’t move. He licked his dry lips.

  “What did you do to me?” he asked quietly.

  “Nothing too remarkable. Anesthetic gas. How are you feeling?”

  “I can’t move my limbs.”

  “Nerve blockers. Brachial plexus and femoral nerve, among others. We used those before on you.”

  “And why did you do that?” he said, his teeth gritted.

  “Well, there aren’t many restraints that can hold you. I thought this best. It’s not painful. And it does wear off.”

  He looked around. “What is this place?”

  “This place is safe, Dimitri.”

  “My name is Paul.”

  “That’s right. Paul Rogers.”

  She pulled up a chair and sat down next to him.

  “How did Quentin tip you off?” he asked.

  “He didn’t. He followed your instructions to the letter.”

  “How did you know I’d be there, then?”

  “Josh Quentin never summons me,” she said simply. “But I was already on my guard.”

  “Why?”

  She slipped a small notebook from her jacket pocket and opened it to the first page. “You were convicted of second-degree murder. You served ten years of a fifteen-year sentence and then were paroled. Unfortunately, you were paroled a day early because of a clerical error.”

  “How did you know? They couldn’t take my prints.”

  “DNA,” she interjected. “They took DNA from you. And when that DNA sample was eventually picked up by us four years ago we knew where you were.”

  “If you knew four years ago why didn’t you come for me then?”

  “We couldn’t very well do that. You had killed someone. But we kept watch and we are very glad to have you back.”

  “Why?”

  “For testing, of course. When we designed the system we had no real idea of its longevity. But with you here now, we can run precise tests that will tell us exactly the durability of what we placed inside you.”

  Rogers said, “I’ve been back to Building Q. Nothing has changed.”

  “If only that were true, Paul. What we’re doing now is mundane and unimaginative and, quite frankly, dull. Exoskeletons? Nano–muscle fiber for a paltry thirty percent strength boost? We more than quadrupled your strength metrics. And exos are cumbersome, heavy, severely limited. Better NV goggles? Who really cares? Now, the liquid armor concept is something different, but not that terribly innovative. With bionic boots we get past the limiting factors of the spaghetti strap we call our Achilles’ heel, but, again, that’s not a game changer.” She rubbed her hand over his immobile arm. “Nothing comes close to what we did with you, Paul. You fulfilled our mission of creating a meta-biologically dominant soldier.” She removed her hand. “But the Pentagon shut down the whole program. It really was the most misguided decision and has set us back decades. The wars in the Middle East would have been far different if we’d had a division made up of soldiers like you. Far different.” She reached up and touched the spot on his head. “And this, this was the crowning achievement. This made everything else we did to enhance you secondary.” She paused and then added in a reverent tone, “A fighting machine who has no fear. It was the greatest attribute one could bestow on a soldier.”

  “Fear is necessary in a war, if you’re the one fighting it,” said Rogers through clenched teeth.

  “Nonsense. Fear makes one weak. A soldier who feels is not a real soldier.”

  “I wasn’t aware you knew what it was like to be in combat.”

  She shook her head again, her expression now one of disappointment. “That’s hardly the point, is it?”

&n
bsp; She looked back at her notebook. “Two people were found murdered in an alley near the depot where the bus you took from prison dropped you off. We also found your parole papers in the trash can. Then you no doubt made your way across the country. Stolen cars, probably. And then we come to West Virginia.”

  She turned the page.

  “A gun dealer, Mike Donohue, was murdered in West Virginia. The police report said that a knife had been driven through his chest with such force that it had pinned him to the wall of his trailer. An astonishing feat of strength. Donohue was a large man with a deep, thick torso.”

  She reached over to a table and picked up the M11-B. “And this was the only thing the police could find that was missing from Donohue’s truck. I take it you were going to hold it against my head, as I did you that one time. Revolver versus semiautomatic. You obviously didn’t want to leave my death to the whims of chance.”

  Rogers said nothing. He just stared at the ceiling.

  She put the gun down and turned back to her notebook.

  “The one thing that truly disturbed me, Paul, had to do with the boy. Donohue’s son, Will.”

  “I didn’t kill him.”

  “That’s what disturbs me.”

  With a roar of rage Rogers managed to flip himself off the table. He landed at her feet but couldn’t move an inch after that.

  She stared down at him. “Now what did that accomplish? Really?”

  She pulled a phone from her pocket, made a call, and four men arrived. They lifted Rogers back onto the gurney and this time strapped him down. With a wave of her hand she dismissed them and they were alone once more.

  “Are you able to have a civil conversation now?”

  “What the fuck do you want with me?”

  “I already told you. Testing. I can’t stress enough how critical this is.”

  “Why? You’re not building freaks like me anymore.”

  “Granted, we’re not building soldiers like you now, but I strongly feel that we should. And you will help me to make others see that.”

  “I went out of control. I murdered people.”

  “That was unfortunate. But every grand vision has sacrifice.”

  “Those women? I was murdering you over and over. Because I couldn’t get to you.”

  “I’m well aware that the killings were symbolic. But those women were all doing their jobs, Paul. We lost a lot of talent. I was very disappointed that you did that.”

  “You were disappointed!” he screamed. “You made me a fucking killing machine!”

  She put a calming hand on his shoulder. “You’re right. It wasn’t your fault. It was an error on our part. But we were in brand-new territory. That comes with risk. Look at the science of flight. Do you know how many pilots died so that we can now safely travel from one side of the world to the other in a matter of hours?” She paused. “But now, with you back in the fold, we can find out where we went wrong. If we find the right answers and make the required adjustments, then we can restart the program and do this the right way. You know, for the longest time I thought you were dead. And then to find you in prison, well, it held a lot of potential. We just had to get you out of there.”

  “I was paroled. I got me out.”

  “Well, that’s not exactly how it happened. Your first two parole hearings did not go well, as I understand it. But we pulled a few strings and made sure the third time did the trick.”

  He stared over at her.

  “We really wanted you back, Paul. But then we lost track of you. After you escaped you must have gone underground. And it’s not like we had the resources back then that we have today to find you. And we couldn’t very well call the police and list you as a missing person.”

  “I got as far away from you as I could.”

  “I didn’t realize you were working at the bar as a bouncer until very recently.”

  “You sent those men to kill me.”

  “No. I sent them there to bring you to me.”

  “They were trying to kill me!”

  “No, at least not at first. One of them managed to get away. He later told me that things got out of hand. Someone tried to stop them before they got to the bar, a very large older man.”

  “His name was Karl.”

  “Yes, Karl. Then when they got to you, well, you started killing them. And then it was kill or be killed. I thought I had sent enough men, but I was wrong apparently. His description of your fighting prowess was quite detailed. If this had been a test, you would have passed with flying colors. It was quite exciting.”

  “Innocent people died,” he snapped. “Because of what you did.”

  “Yes, well…as I said, sacrifice.”

  “Go to hell!”

  She patted his shoulder again. “I want to understand how you came to control the impulse to kill, Paul.”

  He looked away from her.

  “Please, this is very important.”

  She waited but he said nothing.

  “How did you not kill the boy, Will Donohue? If you can explain to me your process for doing that I believe that we can make the necessary adjustments that will ensure we will never have that problem again.”

  He looked at her. “A super soldier that doesn’t want to kill? How exactly does that work?”

  “You misunderstood me. I meant programmed to kill only the enemy.”

  “And who exactly decides who the enemy is?”

  “That’s not part of my mission. Others decide that. Political leaders.”

  “That makes me feel much better.”

  “It needn’t be complicated, Paul. Just tell me how you did it.”

  Rogers suddenly moaned, and if his limbs hadn’t been useless he would have clutched at the spot on his head.

  An excited Jericho rose from her seat, raced across the room, and rolled a monitoring machine over to the gurney. She hurriedly attached electrodes to Rogers’s temples, and then opened his shirt and placed sensors on his chest and one at his neck.

  She turned on the machine and studied the screen. She clicked some buttons on the attached keyboard and studied the results. All the while Rogers moaned and screamed. Then he turned his head to the side and threw up.

  Jericho did not appear to notice.

  “Fascinating,” she said. “But we really need to hook you up to 3-D imaging, body scanners, that sort of thing. The equipment we have today is light-years ahead of what we were using thirty years ago. That will give us the clearest picture of what is going on. And a full blood workup, of course. It will take a long time, but I’m going to get this right. I promise you that.”