Damn. I really had been out for hours. A quick check of my phone showed it was ten in the morning, and I had a text message from Viv. I opened it and read:
Missed you last night. Where were you? Got some info, call when you can.
I’d forgotten all about asking her to check into Milus Dei and the Scrolls of Gideon. Whatever it was, it’d have to wait. Sadie had been in there far too long, and I was getting her out, right now.
I even had a plan. Sort of.
My van was stashed in a different garage, in case the cops were still watching the one where they’d taken her. I headed there, plugged my nearly-dead phone in to charge, and then hit a few stores. It took a while to find what I wanted.
Finally, I went to my home garage and parked on an upper level. The first step was to call Abe and ask him yet another question that wouldn’t make any sense to him—or maybe it would, considering recent events. Just not the same sense it made to me.
He answered on the second ring. “Did you find your body?”
“Right where you said it was,” I told him. “How’s it hanging, Detective?”
“Situation normal.”
“All fucked up?”
“You know it,” he said. “So what’d you call for? And don’t tell me you thought up another body for me to track down.”
“Well, it’s a live one this time. Just wondering if you knew where Chief Foley is today.”
Abe paused for a beat. “Because you’re staying the hell away from wherever that is,” he said, with a touch of suspicion. “Right?”
“Exactly.”
“Good. In that case, he’s holed up in a conference room with the city planners. Be there all day.”
I grinned. “Perfect. Thanks, Abe.”
“Gideon, what are you up to?” he said. “Should I worry?”
“Nah,” I said. “In fact, I’m just about to crash for the day. Maybe I’ll see you on the night shift.”
“All right, kid. Take care.”
“You, too.”
I hung up, went to the back of the van and plugged my laptop into the generator pack. My wrists still stung, so while that booted up, I got the first-aid kit and cleaned and wrapped them. Then I plopped on the bed with the laptop and ran an image search for Chief Nigel Foley, NYPD.
I wanted a shot of him full-length, preferably in his civvies. Not surprisingly, there were plenty of pictures to choose from. The chief spent far more time pandering to the media than running his police unit.
Once I settled on an image of the chief in casual dress, looking faintly disgusted beneath his camera smile at a community event, I propped the bathroom mirror I’d bought against the wall of the van.
I’d teach myself how to use glamour, and walk straight into the place as Foley.
It was a risk, and not just because I couldn’t be sure he’d stay in meetings all day. I didn’t have confirmation that he was actually Milus Dei—just a gut feeling and some very convincing actions on his part. Still, I’d take the chance.
I stared at myself in the mirror. Nothing remarkable there. Ordinary guy, ordinary face, pretending that a life of being alone and hiding everything from everyone was worth living. So, a pretty pathetic specimen.
But one with a hell of an opportunity to change.
I thought about Nigel Foley. Early fifties, brown eyes, brown hair from a bottle. Shorter and stockier than me, but hard-edged and watchful. Frown lines etched in his brow and the corners of his mouth. The man only smiled when it was required of him.
The image in the mirror changed.
Surprise flooded me, and whatever I was doing instantly stopped working. My frustrated reflection was just me again. I tried to refocus and managed to get only the hair and the clothes. Chief Foley wearing my face like a mask.
I had to relax. I could do this.
With another look at the photo for reference, I faced the mirror and concentrated. I am Chief Nigel Foley. And for an instant I saw something disturbing—me, but not me. A little taller, my face slightly gaunt and more angular. Gold rings around the blue of my eyes and a faint blue tinge to my skin. It was like nothing I’d even try to imagine.
Then it was gone, and Chief Foley stared back at me.
The illusion was perfect this time. I moved, and Foley’s reflection copied me. Watching him look at me from inside a mirror was disturbing—especially when I tried on his cold scowl.
I could hardly believe I was doing this.
After a few minutes of turning the glamour on and off, just to make sure I had it, I went back to the laptop and hit YouTube. I’d watch some videos of him, interviews and news clips, so I could try to copy his movements and mannerisms.
I knew I’d only get one shot at this. And I intended to make it count.
The three-story brick warehouse at Forty-Sixth and Tenth looked abandoned.
Half the windows were shattered or boarded over, and the first floor seemed to be painted entirely with graffiti. Grass grew in the cracks of the sidewalk that ran in front of the place. The front doors had windows, but they were painted black from the inside. There was no name on the building, either. Just the word RECEIVING with an arrow pointing to the back of the building, painted in faded yellow near the roof.
I’d parked at a meter three blocks away and doubled back on foot. As I approached the front door, Chief Foley disguise in place, I noticed a security camera above the entrance that looked a lot newer than the rest of the building. I had a sudden, strong feeling that going in through the front would be a mistake. Had to look like I belonged here, and security cameras usually watched for unexpected guests.
I kept walking and went around the back. The wide double receiving doors had been padlocked shut, but there was a smaller, solid metal side door in a recess to the right of them. It had a doorbell.
Without letting myself think, I pushed the bell.
For a few minutes nothing happened. I’d started to consider trying the front entrance after all when the door opened from the inside, and a guy who looked like a linebacker stuffed into a suit glared at me from the doorway. He had a gun at his side, and his hand was ready on it.
A knot formed in my gut. Maybe the glamour wasn’t as perfect as I thought.
Before I could react, his challenging expression flickered into surprise. “Mr. Foley,” he blurted. “I…you weren’t expected. It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”
“Yes. Let’s do this inside.” The knot eased as I responded in Foley’s brusque, self-assured style. I’d gotten lucky—whoever this was didn’t know the chief personally. He’d also called him sir, and that said something by itself. Foley was important around here.
The goon stood aside and I strode past him, careful not to touch him. I had no idea how this spell worked. Didn’t want to risk anything that might disrupt it. “What’s your name, son?” I said, still walking down the hallway the door opened into like I knew exactly where I was going.
“Hullman, sir. Tom Hullman.” I sensed him catching up to me. “Uh, Mr. Foley. You pushed the wrong button out there, sir.”
Damn. What, did they have a secret member doorbell somewhere? “I’m in a hurry,” I fired back, hoping I sounded annoyed enough to convince. “Goddamn city planner meetings all day. Took an early lunch.”
I didn’t realize I was holding my breath until Hullman said, “Not a problem, sir. Just thought I should mention.”
“Fine. You mentioned it.” I let the breath out slowly. Just ahead, the corridor opened up, and I stopped when I came into a large area set up like a shipping room. Three other big guys, Hullman clones, were stationed around the place, and two girls sat in front of side-by-side workstations, typing away. Another pair of workers, a guy and a girl, stood at a long counter sealing cardboard boxes with tape guns.
Nothing about this place said they were currently torturing a bunch of paranormal creatures. It just looked like a shipping room.
Hullman stepped cautiously past me and cleared his throat. “Can I he
lp you with something, sir?”
Damn it, now what? They couldn’t have anything going on in the floors above this one. The building was practically crumbling up there. But Sadie had escaped them before, and she’d said this was where they did their thing.
I had to take control of the situation. Fast.
“My team brought in a subject last night.” The word subject just popped into my head, so I used it. Seemed to fit better than girl, or werewolf. “I want her. Got some questions.”
Hullman’s brow furrowed. “She’s on the Lower Levels, sir,” he said. “Already being questioned. We’re following protocol—”
“Well, I have different questions!” I snarled. “Take me to her. And make it fast, son. I’m on a schedule here.”
“All right, sir,” he said. “Follow me.”
Relief filled me as he started deeper into the building, and I strode after him without looking around. I figured Foley wouldn’t bother noticing the grunts.
But there was a lot I’d still have to figure, if I wanted to get Sadie out of here.
CHAPTER 24
If the shipping room was stage dressing, it was the only camouflage they’d bothered to set up. The rest of the first floor was long deserted, empty and dusty and silent—at least the sections of it I saw until we got to the elevator.
It was a huge steel contraption, also much newer than the rest of the building. Hullman used a passcard clipped alongside a ring of keys on his belt to open the doors, and I walked in first to prove how much of a hurry I was in. The inside of the elevator was eight by ten feet, easy.
And the control panel showed six floors below this one, marked S1 through S6.
Hullman entered the car and pushed S3. As the doors closed, he said, “Sir, I hope you don’t mind me asking, but…is it true what they say about you and Subject Seven?”
Great. I had to get a talker. Weren’t goons’ vocabularies supposed to be limited to grunts, growls and the occasional curse word? “Don’t know what they say,” I grumbled without looking at him. “I don’t put stock in rumors, Hullman.”
“Well, they say you took two full-bloods down by yourself. Subject Seven and his son, the one who escaped.”
Christ, was this thug talking about Taeral? Because if he was, then Subject Seven was his father—our father. I had to try and find out. “Course I did,” I said. “But that was a long time ago.”
“Yes, sir. Before my time…twenty-six years. You’re a legendary Hunter.” Hullman was grinning. It made me want to break his teeth. “I’ve studied all of your captures, sir. Can’t wait to take my field test.”
Son of a bitch. Chief Foley had taken down Taeral and Daoin. Maybe that explained my instinctual hatred of the man—after all, I’d held it long before I knew any of this existed.
And it explained a few things about Taeral. He’d said his father was dead. Milus Dei must’ve killed him.
“Anyway, it’s a shame about Subject Seven,” Hullman said. “I guess he’s kind of like your nemesis, right? I mean, I know you don’t come down here much anymore. But you’d think Doc Garrett would let you do the honors yourself.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” I snapped without thinking.
My foot-in-mouth panic only lasted a second. Hullman flinched, and said carefully, “You don’t know, sir? Seven’s a wash. He was crazy before, but he’s really flipped his shit—pardon my French—in the past month or so. No one can get anything out of him.” He frowned. “Doc’s giving it a few days, but he’s going to terminate his protocol.”
Everything in me froze. Daoin was alive…he’d been here for twenty-six years.
And they were going to kill him.
There was no way in hell I could get him and Sadie out by myself. I doubted I could even find Daoin—if he’d been here that long, Foley would know right where he was. I couldn’t risk asking Hullman to bring me to him. I’d have to grab Sadie now, and then make Taeral come back and help. He wouldn’t be able to say no to rescuing his own father…would he?
The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open onto a corridor with hospital-white walls and a green tiled floor. I followed Hullman past a few blank, closed doors and an open area that looked like a lab. We passed a room that chilled me to the core—it was dominated by an autopsy table outfitted with restraints.
Dead people didn’t go anywhere. That setup could only have one purpose.
We turned the corner at the end of the hall. This corridor had a lot more doors, all of them metal with barred windows and electronic passcard locks, labeled with numbers. The numbers started at 250 and went up from there.
I tried not to think about how many “subjects” they’d gone through.
Faint moans and harsh breathing came from behind more than one door. I heard someone sobbing, another one muttering something over and over in a flat monotone. I stared straight ahead—if I caught a glimpse of anything inside those rooms, I’d react. And it wouldn’t be pleasant.
Hullman stopped in front of a door labeled 262. “She’s in here, sir,” he said. “Should I wait for you, or do you want to call up when you’re done?”
Sadie. I didn’t dare look in there yet. There was a problem I hadn’t anticipated—these rooms had to be locked from the inside, too. They used a passcard, which I didn’t have. I couldn’t have Hullman wait, because he’d hear me telling her I was here for a rescue.
So I’d have to improvise.
“Tell you what, son,” I said. “This won’t take long. Why don’t you come in and watch me work?”
His face lit up. “You wouldn’t mind, sir?”
“It’ll be good for you,” I said, feeling sick with every word. “Show you how it’s done.”
“I’d like that, sir. Thank you.”
I nodded. As he swiped the card and opened the door, I tried to steel myself for the worst—but it wasn’t enough.
The worst I could think of was better than this.
Sadie was unconscious, stripped to her underwear and tied upright to a metal frame at the back of the room. Leather straps secured her wrists and ankles. Her body was bruised, her face bloodied. There was a long, crudely stitched gash in her side. Around two dozen electrodes were attached to her skin, with wires leading to a machine that wasn’t designed for monitoring. It had a voltage meter.
She’d been here for less than a day, and they’d already done that to her.
I had to force myself not to immediately kill the goon. I tried to tell myself it was because I wasn’t a murderer, and Hullman hadn’t hurt her directly—but mostly, it was just that I’d need him for a few more minutes. “Close the door,” I said through clenched teeth, not bothering to hide my anger. I figured he’d think it was directed at her.
He did. The instant the latch clicked shut, Sadie opened her eyes.
And she started to laugh.
“Haven’t seen you before,” she rasped. “Wait…you’re that cop, right? Big Chief what’s-your-name. You two morons gonna play good-cop, bad-cop now?”
Hullman tensed and started for her.
“No,” I said sharply. “I’ll handle this.”
He backed down, and I started slowly across the room. There was a table off to the side, laid out with…implements. Dental hooks, needle-nose pliers, surgical needles, syringes filled with silver liquid. And an aluminum baseball bat propped against it.
I picked up the bat.
Sadie let out another round of splintered, gut-wrenching laughter. “Not very elegant, Chief,” she said roughly. “Guess that’s why you’re not in charge of the torture.”
I grinned at her. It hurt to see her flinch from Foley’s cold expression. “Oh, it’ll do for my purposes,” I said.
I strode back toward Hullman. Shock registered in his eyes for a split second as I raised the bat and cracked him in the head.
He dropped like a stone.
The blow probably hadn’t killed him. There was a chance, but a cold and very angry part of me didn’t care. I gr
abbed the clip from his belt with the keys and passcard, then took his gun for good measure before I turned to Sadie.
She stared at me, wide-eyed and motionless.
“Never liked him,” I said. “Come on, we have to move. I’m sure there’s an alarm.”
As I approached her, she struggled fiercely against the restraints. “Don’t touch me, you lunatic!” she shouted.
“Hey. Whoa.” I held up a hand. “I’m not who you think,” I said. “I’m the guy who promised to get you out of here. Taeral wasn’t any help, by the way.”
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “Gideon?”
I nodded. “Let’s get you down.”
She shuddered when I touched her. I took the electrodes off as fast as I could, and then worked on the wrist restraints. Once both arms were loose, she collapsed against me. “You shouldn’t have come,” she murmured weakly. “You can’t let them take you.”
I groaned. “Not you, too,” I said. “Look, I promised. So just let me rescue you, and then you can call me a hundred kinds of idiot when we’re out of here. Okay?”
Without waiting for an answer, I crouched carefully and kept her supported while I unfastened the ankle straps. Then I straightened and held her. “I’ll carry you, if you can’t walk,” I said.
“Mmph. I’ll walk. Gimme a minute.”
We probably didn’t have a minute. But before long, she tensed and pushed away from me to stand on her own. “Okay, hero,” she said. “Let’s go.”
“Yeah. You’re welcome.”
She smiled. “I meant that to come out a lot nicer, you know,” she said. “Thank you.”
“You’re still welcome, then. In a nicer way.” I smiled back, and suddenly realized she was only wearing a bra and panties. “Uh. You want his clothes?” I said, jerking a thumb at the unconscious thug.
She crinkled her nose. “No, thanks. Besides, werewolves can’t afford modesty. But I do have a small question,” she said.
“What’s that?”
“How the hell are we getting out of here?”
“Uh…in the elevator?”
“Come on,” she said. “I mean, you look like the chief guy, but even he couldn’t just walk out of here with me. Where did you get that glamour, anyway?”
Wrong Side of Hell (The DeathSpeaker Codex Book 1) Page 12