“I think the bad guys just left.”
Before he could step down, there was a rattle at knob. A shiver ran through Colby and he took hold of Olivia’s arm, as gently as he could to not frighten her, and pulled her behind him. Who could this be? An assassin left to do them in? What part of the plan had changed?
The door burst open and Colby exhaled, dropping his hands to his knees.
Regan. Olivia ran out from behind Colby’s legs to hug her.
“I don’t know how much time we have, but let’s start looking around this place,” Regan said.
“You didn’t see anyone between the lab and this room?” Colby asked.
Regan shook her head. “No. We should leave...right now.”
Colby shook his head. “That’s not going to work. There’s still one guard in the tower with likely a three-hundred-and-sixty-degree view of the complex. All we’d be is target practice.”
“Then we need to figure out what we can use inside this building. Figure out some contingency plans.”
Colby couldn’t help but smile. My thoughts exactly.
Regan turned for the door, but before Colby could take a step forward Olivia reached back and took his hand. It halted his steps at how natural it felt—the trust she was placing in him to protect her.
Regan caught the gesture and her eyes spoke volumes, as if it pleasantly surprised her that Olivia could trust an adult male so easily after what she’d been through. It didn’t surprise Colby. Kids were smart. They were instinctual creatures. Often times, they could get the real lay of the land before most adults.
“I think we should check out that hallway where I thought the firearms might be kept. Let’s see what kind of arsenal we have access to,” Colby said.
“Good idea.”
“By the way, how did you get in here?”
Regan raised her hand. “I found a master key in the lab.”
Colby frowned. Interesting. Either Regan had really earned their trust with her ruse or they had become careless for some reason. Colby was beginning to think it was the latter because of their hasty departure.
Reluctantly, Colby let go of Olivia’s hand. “Let me go first.” He stepped in front of the duo. “Stay behind me. I’ll motion you forward if the coast is clear.”
“But you don’t know the way,” Regan pointed out.
“It not hard. We’re in a basic cross shape. The lab is directly ahead. The forbidden hallway is to our left, correct? Our old cell was to the right.”
Regan smirked. “Right. Or correct. Or whatever the proper former-military-bounty-hunter lingo might be.”
“Affirmative,” Olivia said. “That’s the word you’d use?”
“Affirmative,” Colby said, and eased the door open.
The first hallway was clear. Colby moved with light feet but the clicking sound from Regan’s high heels was like Morse code tapping away an announcement to their location. Colby turned back, pointed to her feet and sliced his index finger across his neck. Regan responded with a quizzical look.
He mouthed, “Shoes. Off.”
Regan slid the footwear from her feet and tucked them to the side. There wasn’t really any place she could hide them. Olivia wore tennis shoes, and her footsteps were silent.
Colby proceeded forward. They came to the cross section. The hallway he was interested in investigating was closed off by a set of heavy metal doors, but they had mesh windows he could look through. Colby motioned for Regan and Olivia to stay put.
After checking in both directions—he didn’t see anyone—he bounded forward to the door and glanced through the window, his heart hammering in chest. This whole outing was risky. If they were caught, not only could their only decently crafted cover story be blown, but the betrayal their captors would feel could be enough to incite them to murder.
Colby exhaled slowly. No one was present. He nudged the door gently—it gave way and no alarm sounded.
He pushed the door open wider and waved Olivia and Regan forward. Both sprinted in his direction. Once they’d come across the threshold, Colby eased the heavy metal door closed. A faint whoosh sounded as it seated into the door frame.
From the hall, there were no windows outside. Before them were four doors. Three had round doorknobs. One had a punch code.
Colby pushed away from the wall and tested the first door. It opened easily. Regan and Olivia followed him inside.
A staff lounge. At least, that was what it reminded Colby of. Two round, white, Formica-topped tables. Five plastic chairs at each. A row of lockers. Some with combination locks. A large television was mounted on one wall, and the first thing Colby wanted to do was to turn it on to see if he could find any local news that discussed Regan. Had the media at this point tied the two of them together?
There was a large picture window. He peered outside. From his vantage point, he couldn’t see the guard tower. Hopefully the man was still watching the perimeter and had little interest in what was happening inside.
There was a closet with a bifold door. Regan stepped up and pulled it open.
“They look like employee mailboxes,” she said. She riffled through some papers and then closed the door. “Nothing too interesting. Paycheck stubs.” She picked one up and scrutinized it. “They look to be issued by a legitimate bank.”
“We should write down all the information on that check,” Colby said.
“Don’t you think it would be odd that they’d be paid by something so easily traceable?” Regan asked.
“Maybe they’ve maneuvered themselves through a legit company. Hard to know at this point. All we’re really gathering is a few pieces to the puzzle. Abrams probably has a lot of the big picture, but he’s not going to let us in on it. Not yet, at least. Maybe never.”
Regan nodded and began scanning for pen and paper. Colby began to go through the open lockers. Mostly warm-weather clothing. Either remnants from staying there for a few months or they were prepping for a long stay.
He tried some simple combinations on the locks. One he successfully opened just using one-two-three-four. A jacket. At the bottom, a leather wallet. One handgun without bullets. A coil of detonation cord. All useful items but without the necessary components to make them functional. He pulled the wallet out and opened it. A driver’s license was present.
Regan had found a small tablet and pen.
“Might as well add this information to your notes.” Colby flipped the license onto the table.
Once she was done copying the information and had placed the items back, Colby motioned them into the hall. The door to the room directly across from the staff lounge was unlocked, as well. Colby peered into the darkened room and palmed the wall by the door frame for a light. He turned it on.
What he saw looked like some medieval torture chamber.
Regan stood on her tiptoes and peered over his shoulder. “Medical equipment.”
Colby stepped aside. “Anything we can use in here?”
“Looks like they did quite a bit here at one point—medically speaking.” Regan slapped the top of a metal box with numerous numbers and dials. “This is a ventilator. An old one. Probably one of the first ones ever made, which seems consistent with the time frame of this facility—the 1970s.” She motioned beside her. “These are defibrillators. Seems to be that whatever they were doing they didn’t necessarily want the experiments to end in death.”
“That’s not exactly comforting. What, they infect something and...?”
“See if the cure works and, if it doesn’t, can they resuscitate and try something else. Sometimes treatments have a synergistic effect. Give one thing in isolation, it doesn’t help. But add two things together and they help the other one work even better.”
“Like you and me.” The sentence slipped from Colby’s lips before his m
ind engaged as to what the consequences of those four words might be. He froze.
Olivia stepped up next to him and laid her head against his side. “What about me?”
“A cord of three strands...” Regan said softly.
“Is not easily broken,” Colby replied.
The verse he’d once learned came to the forefront of his mind. How long had it been since he’d heard it? Years. Maybe a decade or longer. Of course, there was the biblical meaning of two with God, but as Colby looked at the three of them, it was beginning to feel more and more like God had put them in this instance together. For a reason. His skill set. Regan’s knowledge. Olivia’s upbeat spirit despite what she’d been through. Together they had the skills to survive this.
Regan turned away and began rummaging through the equipment. She opened one large metal cabinet and pulled out a tranquilizer gun. “There are four of these in here as well as what appear to be darts. Would you know how to use them?” she asked.
“Anything that shoots something out of it has basic functions that translate from weapon to weapon.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
Colby smiled teasingly. “What I meant to say in a somewhat intelligent way was that I can figure it out. Did you find any medication to go with it?”
“Not that I see for now. Maybe in the lab. We still need to go through everything in there.”
“Anything else in the cabinet?” Colby asked.
“Bags of IV fluid.” Regan picked one up. “Not even expired.”
Colby’s skin prickled. At first, finding old medical equipment wasn’t surprising, but to find medications that weren’t expired meant to him that they were planning for a lot of contingencies. On possibly keeping injured people alive.
But there were other things those IV bags of solution could be used for.
“We can make bombs,” Colby stated.
Regan eased the door closed—her face slightly pale. Colby understood her plight. Living through violence was one thing. Causing it, especially as a physician, was another thing.
“Out of IV fluids?” Regan asked.
“Those bags combined with the det cord I found in that guy’s locker would build a rudimentary bomb. We’d just need to find something to light it.”
Regan peered back into the space. “There’s nothing like that here. All that remains is resuscitation equipment. Syringes. Needles. A fully stocked medical supply cabinet minus the medications.”
“Either they’ve been here awhile or planned to stay awhile. Hard to know for certain. Let’s figure out if there’s anything of value in the other rooms.”
Colby leaned back and checked down the hall. No one visible. He motioned them out. The next room was empty. The fourth one was locked with a punch code.
Regan stepped up and tried a few combinations without luck. “Time for the lab,” she said.
* * *
Regan pushed through the lab doors.
First thing to search through was the bank of freezers. There were vials and petri dishes. Some had unidentified specimens growing in them—nothing likely airborne, or at least nothing with a short incubation period, or she’d already be sick. Olivia and Colby hovered near. “The two of you should step back just in case I spill something that could cause an infection.”
Or flat-out kill us.
Colby took Olivia’s hand and walked to the widows near the back of the lab.
Regan’s heart fluttered wildly. He was so natural with her, and Olivia seemed to trust him implicitly. Her normally pensive wall around men crumbled in Colby’s presence. Was the guard still in the tower? Colby didn’t give any indication that he was worried.
Turning her attention back to the freezers, she continued to scan their contents. Most were empty. One cabinet held drugs—a few vials of a paralyzing agent were present. Regan pocketed one, hoping that leaving the rest would seem like she hadn’t pilfered one from the stock. It could be beneficial if loaded into a dart if they used one of the animal tranquilizer guns. The problem was it would be death for whoever was injected with it unless lifesaving medical treatment was provided. The drug ceased all muscle function—including the muscles used for breathing, but the person remained awake. The victim suffocated to death with full awareness of what was happening.
It went against everything she believed in as a physician, and a dark pit of fear began to seed itself in her chest. There was no denying that at some point she might have to actively participate in hurting someone else to save Olivia.
To save Colby.
Could she do it?
Pushing the thought from her mind, she hit more cabinets that sat above the sinks next to the freezers. There were more medications. Morphine. Ketamine. These could knock a person down and, if administered in the right dose, shouldn’t stop their breathing. In a drawer, Regan found several syringes. The ketamine was probably the best choice: it could be given in the muscle. But the problem was that it took time to act. As long as ten minutes before a person was incapacitated, but at least the person’s life would be spared.
The question was, could she keep herself alive until the drug kicked in? Regan put a syringe and the drug vials in her pocket and pulled out her tucked-in shirt to cover it.
The next room was Brian’s office. Colby had taken a chair and found a piece of paper and a pen and was engaged in some sort of game with Olivia. From inside Brian’s office, Regan couldn’t help but smile. He was so natural with her. Unlike her ex-husband who’d always seemed so uncomfortable around Olivia—even before the abuse started.
I want this picture as part of my life. The three of us together. Can it ever happen? Will we be able to get through this?
Regan leafed through the papers on Brian’s desk. When she opened one manila folder her heart stalled and she felt light-headed. She pulled the chair out from the desk and sat, her fingers trembling as she scanned through the pages.
It was easy to view Brian as weak because physically he was slim and of average height. He seemed easy to take advantage of because of his quiet nature. She’d never witnessed a hint of deviousness in him the whole time they’d worked together—only her suspicions.
Perhaps it was true what they said about the quiet ones—that they were always hiding something.
Sometimes good things.
Sometimes evil, nefarious things.
Regan held photos of Polina in her hands. One was marked with a heavy black X crossed through her face. Regan pressed her arm against her stomach. He had to pay for this. Had to pay for all of it. For Polina’s death. For risking Olivia’s life. For risking the lives of her patients and the treatment that could save them. Anger smoldered.
Another folder held news clippings and internet articles about Regan’s career. Wherever her name had been printed, someone had inserted text next to Regan’s name. Handwritten, like an editor’s correction, that said “and Brian Hollis.” The notations resembled Brian’s handwriting. Almost as if he wanted his name forever paired with hers. Definitely professionally, but could he have had some romantic interest in her, as well? Is that why he was so willing to let her in on this deal?
Other folders held documents written in languages she couldn’t understand. Some of the type looked Russian. Others Arabic. Evidence that Brian was speaking the truth about his intentions. He really was lining up buyers for whatever weapon they could create.
Suddenly she saw Colby stand and back away from the window. He waved frantically to her. “The guard is climbing down off the tower. We need to get back to where we were.”
Colby and Olivia ran through the lab doors. Regan followed, pulling the key from the opposite pocket that held the syringe and needles. They ran down the cement hall back to the room that had held Colby and Olivia.
Olivia ran through first. Colby turned and cupped Regan�
��s face with his hand. “Stay safe.”
What she wanted was to feel his closeness again, but she backed away, pushed the door closed and heard the click of a heavy lock engaging. She was steps from the lab door when she realized that her shoes were still in the hall outside their prison cell.
Turning on her heel, Regan sprinted as quickly as she could on quiet toes and grabbed the shoes. She could hear boot steps on the concrete. When she came to the cross of the two main halls, the lab doors immediately in front of her, she peered down the hall, her hearing muffled by the sound of blood rushing, and she saw one man walking away from her toward the animal enclosures.
She sprinted across the hall and into the lab and settled herself on one of the stools. From a distance came a steady thump-thump of helicopter blades. According to her and Colby’s calculations, the military wasn’t arriving until tomorrow midday.
Could they be coming now? Could this whole ordeal be over? Regan went to the window where Colby had previously held his vigil and fingered open two slats of the cheap metal blind. A military-type helicopter landed. Brian, Baldy and Ice Man stepped out while the blades still whirled. They hustled their way into the building. Doors opened. Banged closed.
Regan was walking back to the desk that held her notebooks when she remembered the piece of paper Colby and Olivia had been drawing on.
Quickly, she ran back and scooped the sheet up, folded it, and quickly tucked it into the back pocket of her slacks.
She ran back to the lab table and sat, whisked open one of the notebooks and tried to act as if she’d been pouring over them the whole time Brian had been gone.
He burst through the doors so hard they clanged against the walls.
“We need to pack up. We’re leaving.”
“Why?”
“Some of my informants are concerned that this site has been leaked to the military and that an assault on the compound is coming in the next couple of days.”
Regan swallowed hard. How was it possible? Who could have leaked the information? One of Abrams’s men? Did Nicholas have a mole he didn’t know about? Or was it the trackers they had swallowed? Had that alerted their captors?
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