Instead a broad figure stepped from the darkness and Bridget thought, oh bloody hell. “I don’t suppose there’s a quick way out of here,” she said. “Directions?”
Bridget turned and sprinted in the other direction. His footsteps pounded behind her and suddenly she turned, gripping the rope between her fists. As he reached, she caught his hand in the rope and twisted and yanked as Riley taught her. The man stumbled but didn’t go down. She let go of the rope and took off. The floor disappeared under her feet and she fell on her arse, slid down an incline and hit a wall. He was there and grabbed her by the hair, pulling her up.
“Oh alright. Bloody freaking hell. Stop!”
“Yes, stop,” a voice said calmly.
The man spun toward the sound, pulled Bridget back against his chest and pushed a gun in her throat. Then a green light stick tumbled through the air, hit the ground and rolled.
“We have a visitor,” he said, sounding delighted.
Safia forced herself to remain calm when the man of her nightmares held Bridget against his chest, a gun in her throat. “I have a job to finish, remember?” She kept her body hidden beyond the wall, her aim steady.
He visibly stiffened. “You are better than I thought.”
Safia hated the sound of his voice, the way it made her cringe and focused on the face that looked nothing like the bruised mess she’d glimpsed before. “I know who you are now, and who holds your leash.”
“You think you’ll stop him?” He scoffed, inching closer. “He is most helpful. How do you think they possessed the canister? Or bypassed surveillance, the satellites?”
A chill swept over Safia and she realized Adam had done more than use this man as an interrogator. What did this guy pass along to other enemy combatants? He took another step. “Careful, I’m really trigger-happy today. How about you release her and we can end this, hum?” A useless request, she knew.
“But I’m not done with her.” He dug the gun in Bridget’s artery, forcing her head to the side.
“I am, in case anyone is interested,” Bridget croaked.
“Bridget.” He held her as a shield, moving constantly and it was too dark to get a good shot.
“Yes,” she gasped, and Safia heard the terror in her voice.
“No sudden moves, alright?” She nodded, but Safia knew Bridget was insignificant to this man, and she searched for a way to disarm him, or at least get Bridget out of his grasp enough to shoot. But he wasn’t letting go of his only insurance.
Carefully, she drew the Ghurka knife and pinched the blade. She inhaled and threw. It missed her mark but hit his thigh, sinking deep enough to make him flinch.
Safia didn’t hesitate and fired. The bullet impacted his shoulder. Blood splattered Bridget’s face. He grunted, firing repeatedly, but Bridget hit his arm, going wild. He wrestled her for a second, but before Safia could put one in his forehead, he pulled Bridget in front of him and emptied his weapon.
Safia felt two bullets impact her chest.
The woman flew back a few feet, struck the ground and didn’t move. Oh sweet lord, no. Bridget yelled, calling him names as she struggled in his grasp, jamming her elbow into his gullet over and over. It had no effect and he twisted her, cupping her face, his fingers digging into her jaw. She felt the heat of the weapon still in his hand.
“Now who will save you?” he said and her anger magnified.
His bloody shoulder glistened and she slammed her fist on the wound and kept pounding. He groaned, grabbed her by the throat and shoved her away. Then he backhanded her. She hit the wall, the breath knocked from her lungs and she slid to the wet floor. He clamped his wound, glancing at the body and muttering in a language she didn’t understand. Then he faced her, raising his weapon.
“You are no use to us now.”
Bridget stared down the barrel of the gun. Oh God save me, she prayed, trembling, thinking of her husband, her family, and what this would do to them. She inched to her feet, the gun barrel following. If she were to die today, she wasn’t doing it on the ground.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement. The woman shifted a fraction, then a wee more. How? Her captor spun, dragged her with him and took aim. But the woman was faster, rolling to her back, something clenched in her teeth. Bridget heard a thip sound, but didn’t see anything, yet her captor stiffened, his hold going lax. Bridget twisted, but he held on, staggered a couple feet, banging into the stone wall and taking her with him.
The woman stood, rushed near, her weapon drawn, and Bridget saw the small blowpipe as she spit it aside.
“You’re going to die slowly,” Safia said, peeling his hands off Bridget, then motioning her back. “It’s not a full dose.” Her captor tried to speak, his lips working without a sound. His back hit the wall and he tried to remain upright, but his legs buckled. Safia looked down at him and when he tried to reach his gun, she kicked it aside. The Ghurka was twitching on the ground.
Safia knelt, her braid swinging over her shoulder. She flipped it back as she said, “You’ll convulse for a while, then your skin will burn, as if its peeling off, I’m told.” She tilted her head. “The rest you’ll discover soon enough.” The man spat at her, tried to talk, but couldn’t. He choked, blood bubbling from his lips. The shoulder hit nicked his lungs. She leaned in close, wrapping her fingers around the knife still buried in his thigh. “I told you I’d find you.” She gave the knife a hard twist and he howled without a sound. She stood and grasped Brid-get’s hand, pulling her away. Bridget glanced back and inhaled.
“Don’t look,” Safia said, moving further away and leaving a chunk of her past with him. “Are you hurt?”
“No, not enough to bother. Who are you?”
“Safia Troy. CIA. I’m a friend of your brother’s.”
“Riley’s here? Well, of course he is.”
Safia stopped, met her gaze. “He’s a little busy right now and said to tell you Travis and your crew are unharmed. Not a scratch, and they are in Guam, safe.”
Bridget sank a little, her eyes tearing. She covered her mouth, gripped Safia’s arm. “Thank you. I thought they killed them like the policeman.” Bridget patted her chest, trying not to cry out her joy, then with a few deep breaths, quickly pulled herself together.
Safia led her further down the corridor and felt her demons fade with each step. She glanced back once. The asset quivered on the ground and she felt no remorse. She had scars no one could see because of that bastard.
“What did you use?”
Safia urged her ahead. “Thai poison, highly effective. Ya Pit plants, a little fire cobra venom. I’ve handled it enough that I’m immune.” Or she wouldn’t have held the blowpipe in her mouth so long. Safia stopped at the edge of the stone corridor, then withdrew her spare pistol. “Take this.”
“I can’t, I can’t.” Bridget shook her head violently, and Safia could see the shock of the last moments working to a head. It was just too much to handle. Witnessing the very bad was tough for the good people. They just couldn’t assimilate that some were inherently evil.
“Listen to me.” Safia smoothed her hand over Bridget’s hair and saw Riley in her pretty features. “Take a breath, let it out slow. Focus on me.” She pointed two fingers to her eyes. She had little time to make Bridget understand just how much danger they were in right now. The gunshots would bring the guards. “My plan was to find you and get you to shore first. But we’ve seen what’s out there, its not an option. This isn’t just a kidnapping, it’s bigger. They’ve manufactured state of the art bombs and two have already killed thousands.” Bridget’s scalp pulled tight and Safia was damn impressed when her shoulders went back.
“I’m alright. I am.”
“There are children here. Don’t trust them. They’re brainwashed to deliver the weapons.” And God knew what else.
Bridget’s green eyes widened. “Maary mother take the bastards.”
“You need to protect yourself in case
we get separated.”
“I won’t be plannin’ on that, I tell you.”
Safia’s lips quirked. “Have you ever fired a gun?” Bridget shook her head. Safia put her fingers around the weapon. “Use two hands. It kicks back a little, so tip your face out of the way. Aim for the center of the target. Not the head, or heart, just get a couple shots into them. That will stop them.”
“It didn’t stop you.”
She patted her stomach. “Liquid body armor. Great for holding in those unsightly bulges and to get the target to drop his guard.” She flashed a smile though she could still feel the impact and knew she’d be bruised. “Keep shooting till they don’t move, Bridget. You won’t get a second chance.”
Bridget looked down at the gun, then flipped the safety as she’d instructed. Safia showed her how to tuck it away for the fastest retrieval. “Ready?”
“I keep thinking of that poor police officer and yes, I’m ready.”
Safia lead the way, water rivering around their feet. She searched for a new way out, a fresh chem-lite glowing in her palm. They moved carefully, weapons drawn and she took a corner, then spotted a break in the rock. Water flowed toward it and they rushed past cells. Then a timid voice said, “Take me with you.”
She froze and backtracked. Inside a cell was a child about six or seven huddled in the corner. Bridget moved up to look. “Oh my God. She’s just a baby.”
Safia grabbed her hand and led her away, but Bridget yanked free. “We can’t take her with us,” Safia said sternly. “She’s safer here. We will come back for her.”
“Release her to head to shore.”
Safia shook her head, and recalled the mass grave and the animals. “It’s not safe there either.”
Bridget’s brows knit, but she didn’t question. She turned back to the girl and said, “We will get you out.”
The child simply stared, then suddenly lurched from the floor and swiped wildly at Bridget, claws catching her clothing. Safia rushed to break the hold, then pulled Bridget down the wet corridor.
“Oh my lord. She’s wild, completely feral.”
More than that, Safia thought, and they climbed to the surface.
“I will not disobey again.” Bridget looked back at the hole in the prison. “What is going on here?”
“The evidence you found on the island is the same that’s here, I think. But newer.”
Bridget’s skin paled. “So it’s real, the DNA genome mix?”
“Not my field, but from what I saw, yes.”
“The Island of Doctor Moreau,” she whispered and Safia agreed. This was the strangest operation she’d ever worked. Safia climbed down off the rocks, using her knife to scrape the moss and give Bridget a better foothold. She shouldn’t have bothered. Accustomed to climbing the side of a ship, Bridget was agile and sure-footed. They neared the first building. Half of it covered by the jungle, it was the only one this close. Safia suspected they released the experiments from there.
They crossed the grounds, from cover to cover. Bridget tapped her and Safia looked where she pointed. She shined her laser light. “Cages?” They inched nearer. Tall and narrow, no more than a dog walk, the cages were under the trees. She examined the frame, the ground.
“Those are paw prints,” Bridget said softly. “A very big cat, I’d say.”
“But no locks.” She spied the laser over the cage. The latch was electronic. “Geez, the fence is down. Let’s go.”
She approached the building, and ordered Bridget to remain outside and concealed. She was surprised to find it unlocked and entered, clearing the first few yards inside, then motioned Bridget to follow.
“We’re looking for a container.” She showed her the RZ10 canister on the TDS Recon. “If you see it, don’t touch it.” Bridget nodded and Safia was three steps ahead of her, clearing the first two rooms. One step into the next and she knew today would not improve.
“Is that a birthing room?” Bridge murmured behind her.
Safia entered slowly, her gaze flicking over the surgical table, the storage cabinets filled with instruments as she checked the corners of the room. The laser sight on her weapon touched on the lab equipment stretching the length of the wall. But it was the table with stirrups like an ObGyn that made her muscles clench.
“Not so unusual.”
“On an island of children?” Safia said. “There is only one grown woman here.” The only one mature enough to develop babies, she thought and moved around the surgical table. How bad did your life have to be to submit to this, she thought, moving into the next room. Inside she stopped, her gaze darting over the glass cubes that lined the wall, each filled with clear liquid and holding the remains of an infant in stages of uterine growth. Some of them had eyes shaped like felines, the iris long and narrow. On another Safia recognized the clawed hands and feet, the dusting of hair covering the entire body. One had a tail.
Bridget moved beside her and the scientist was calmer, more clinical than she expected. “There was one on the Sonsoral Islands, a survivor that attacked Jim,” she said and looked at Safia. “Why would he do this? I’ve never seen anything so horrid.”
“Neither have I.” Safia suddenly looked away, struggling to slow her breathing and not vomit. The twisted shape of the babies, the incision that said he dissected them was painful to see. “This guy needs to be six feet under,” she said.
“The children?”
She shook her head and turned back into the birthing room. “He’s used them to breed creatures.” Safia took a breath, managed to push the images aside as Bridget moved up beside her, peering. Safia handed her a monocular. “It’s got a digital camera. Will you photograph it?” Bridget nodded and took several. Safia blotted the sweat on her throat and forced herself to look at it all again and grow accustomed. A dozen years at her job, she knew she never would. Not with this. She searched cabinets for the canister.
“It’s alright to have a soul, Safia,” Bridget said softly, photographing. “And one that hurts when others are abused.” She tilted her head. “I suspect that’s why you’re a CIA agent, hum?”
She smiled weakly. “Riley does not realize how knowledgeable you really are.”
“Let us keep it that way, hum? Wouldn’t want himself to get a big head over it.” Bridget stooped to look more closely at the specimens. “I found the discards.” She told her about the cases, then flicked a hand at glass cubes. “This is more proof.”
Safia went to a storage locker, opening it, finding lab coats and surgical scrubs. “He’s left some beyond the fence too. Some survived.”
“The scientist in me wants to know. But the mother—” she shook her head. “This is the making of nightmares.” She handed back the monocular, then picked up a file, flipping through it.
“Do you really want to know?” Safia said.
Bridget closed it, shaking her head. “I’ve read enough.”
Safia checked the last possible spot, then led them out and to the next building. She hurried toward the entrance on the east side, making Bridget wait as she cleared each section for occupants. They searched, but it was empty and she stopped at a window. The moonless night kept shadows down to a minimum and she scanned for the teams, then looked down at the Recon.
Bridget tapped her and gestured to the computers. She shook her head. Thibaut’s work needed to be destroyed, all of it, she thought. “F35 Raptors are going to flatten this place in a very short time.” She turned her wrist so Bridget could see the counter. Safia put the PRR in her ear. “Raven to Finn, come back.”
“Roger that.”
“I have the red haired package.”
She heard his shuddering sigh. “Thank God. I owe you.”
“And I’m collecting, don’t think I won’t.” He chuckled, and Safia pulled out her ear mic and held it for Bridget.
“Ri-Finn, the package is fine.”
“I love you,” Riley said and Bridget smiled. “And I’m s
orry.”
“Ahh, every life needs a wee bit of adventure,” she said, then handed it back to Safia and she slipped it back in her ear.
“We’re two kilometers southeast of you. The asset is terminated.”
“Feel better?”
“Yeah, he tried to kill your sister. I’m good with taking him out.”
“That’s my girl.”
Safia smiled and glanced at Bridget. Riley’s sister gripped her hand and squeezed. “We found cages, empty. Be on guard for some big cats. Finn, I searched a lab, the experiments are worse than we thought, but no canister.”
Riley didn’t respond and her worry peaked when she heard him grunt. She shelved it, and moved back from the door, then went left, overtaking another corridor to a door at the end. Bridget was her shadow. Safia paused at the doorway, slipping down night vision and studied movement. She could barely make out the satellite dish and checked her thermals. The teams were moving fast, D-3 was at the dish.
Suddenly, she worked off the night vision and the pack that shaped to her spine to pull out a spare PRR. She was glad she had the chance to use it and explained the personal roll radio. “It’s voice activated. You’re going to hear things you won’t understand or don’t want to, but be careful, talking will give up our position. Tap the pad at your throat to turn it off.”
Fight Fire With Fire. Page 36