by Alex Archer
“I said sit down,” she told him as his eyes grew wide and his hand clamped over the injury on his cheek. From where she stood, Annja could see the blood well up between his fingers and run in little rivulets across his hand.
He sat.
“What’s your name?” she asked him.
“Theo. Theo Owens.”
“What do you do here, Theo?”
He shook his head, wincing at the resulting pain from the cut on his cheek, but he ended up answering her anyway.
“I’m the assistant lab director.”
“Lab director, huh? Sounds pretty important.”
He looked at her, his eyes blazing. “Don’t you mock me! You have no idea what we’re doing here!”
But she did, and she let him know it in no uncertain terms.
“You’re kidnapping women and using them against their will in an illegal drug trial. Something I fully intend to put a stop to.”
“You wouldn’t dare!” he said, sitting up straighter and glaring at her.
Annja smiled. “Try me.”
“No, you can’t. You don’t understand. What we’re doing here has worldwide significance.”
Annja nearly laughed, but she decided that he might just stop talking out of spite, and that was the last thing she wanted. Instead, she said, “Do tell.”
“The prion research we’re doing here can literally turn back the clock. Solve problems such as cancer, senility, simple old age. With the products we’re developing, we’ll be able to ensure that the best and brightest of us live lives considerably longer than we do now.”
“The best and brightest?”
His brow furrowed in confusion. “But of course. Who else would you give it to?”
She ignored the question; if he didn’t already see the “us versus them” theme inherent in his statement, she wasn’t going to educate him.
“You’re using those women against their will.”
Owens missed her tone apparently, because he said, “Yes! Yes, we are, I know that! But you don’t understand—we need to do it! We’d be morally remiss if we didn’t!”
Morally remiss? Are you bloody kidding me?
Somehow she didn’t think he was.
He went on. “This is clearly a situation where the good of the many outweighs the civil rights of these few individuals. The prion we’re studying is only found in those of a particular bloodline that dates back to the 1600s, a bloodline that’s becoming more and more diluted with each passing generation. If we don’t act now, the prion may very well be altered through genetic changes that we have no control over, breeding out the one quality that we need to solve the problems plaguing our society today! We must act, and we must act now!”
Annja couldn’t believe what she was hearing. That anyone could have so little respect for the lives of others made her sick, and she had to look away for a moment to keep her temper in check and not carve him into little pieces for his arrogance.
When her attention shifted away from him momentarily, Owens made his move.
He surged up out of his seat, shouting something incoherent as he tried to get to the door, perhaps thinking that if he could get out into the hall he might be able to summon help.
For a split second Annja was caught off guard. She hadn’t imagined that Owens had it in him, and yet here he was, making a break for it. Instinct caused her to raise her sword, but she realized even as she did so that she was probably going to need this sick son of a gun to get out of this place, especially if she intended to rescue the women.
So she stuck out her foot just as he went rushing past.
Owens’s shin hit her outstretched ankle, and he toppled over like a runaway freight car, slamming face-first into the carpet.
To his credit, he didn’t stay down, but immediately rolled over and tried to get back to his feet. Unfortunately for him, Annja reacted quicker than he did. She stepped in front of him, blocking his way with her sword.
“You really shouldn’t have done that, Theo,” she told him.
A few minutes later Owens was back in the swivel chair, though this time his hands were bound behind his back with the cords Annja had cut from the window blinds.
30
“Got her!” Gregor crowed.
Radecki was out of his chair and next to Gregor’s in a heartbeat. “Where is she?” he demanded.
“Coming out of Director Stone’s office,” Gregor said, pointing at the screen where Annja could be seen emerging from the room behind a man in a white lab coat.
“Who’s she with?” Radecki asked, tapping the image with his finger. “And is that a sword she’s carrying?”
The newcomer turned out to be Theo Owens, one of the geneticists working on the project under Stone. His hands were tied securely behind his back. As Radecki looked on, Creed gave Owens a shove that sent him stumbling down the hall. She was clearly forcing him to take her somewhere.
And the instrument she was using to enforce that request was, indeed, a sword. Where it had come from or how she’d gotten it, Radecki didn’t know. He didn’t remember anything like that being in Stone’s office, but perhaps it was a new addition. Maybe Creed had picked it up from somewhere else in the complex before getting to Stone’s office. Either way, the game had changed now that she was armed.
“Keep them in sight. I want to know where they’re headed.”
Gregor did as he was told, using the cameras to keep an eye on the duo as they made their way down the hall. Rather than taking the elevator, they headed for the stairs, which allowed the security officer to keep them in sight at all times as they descended to the floor of the medical ward. Once there, they made a beeline for one of the patients in pod three.
Radecki crossed the room to the weapons cabinet, took a set of keys from his belt and unlocked the door. He removed a pistol in a shoulder holster and a stun baton, keeping the former for himself and giving the baton to Chovensky before relocking the cabinet.
“Where are they now?” he asked as he slipped the shoulder holster on and checked that the gun was loaded.
“In the medical ward,” Gregor replied.
Radecki nodded. That would make sense; Creed seemed to have a hero complex. Must be going for the donors.
He took a pair of two-way radio headsets from the rack below the cabinet and tossed one to Chovensky.
To Gregor he said, “We’ll be on channel nine. I want you to keep her in sight at all times and radio me if she starts to go anywhere, understood?”
Gregor nodded. “Got it.”
“Chovensky, you’re with me.”
The big man grinned and nodded.
Time to put an end to this, Radecki thought as he swept out the door with Chovensky in his wake.
* * *
ANNJA KEPT HER sword low but still pointed at Owens’s back as they headed down the corridor. He appeared docile now, perhaps having learned his lesson back in the office, but Annja was taking no chances. He was going to help her get Csilla and then lead them out of this place, or he was going to get hurt. It was that simple.
Owens led her back down the stairs she’d come up only a short time earlier and into the medical ward.
“Now what?” he asked, glaring at her over his shoulder.
“Over there. Pod three,” Annja said, pointing with the tip of her sword.
He hesitated. “What do you want at...?”
She gave him a shove to get him going. “This isn’t Twenty Questions. Move!”
Owens did as he was instructed. He did it reluctantly, but he did it. When they reached the patients’ beds, he looked at her and raised an eyebrow as if to say, Well?
Annja inclined her head toward the last bed in the pod. “Over there. Csilla Polgár. I want you to turn off the machine and unhook he
r from it.”
“Now, just a minute! You can’t...”
Annja didn’t let him get any further. She backed him up against the bed and shoved the tip of her sword under his chin, forcing his head back as far as it would go. “I can’t what?” she asked in a low, menacing voice.
Go on, give me a reason, she thought.
Theo must have sensed how close to the edge she was, for he clamped his mouth shut and didn’t say anything more.
She leaned in. “I’m getting tired of having to ask for everything twice, do you hear me?”
He nodded. It wasn’t much of a nod, but then again it was hard to nod vigorously when the blade of an ancient sword was thrust under your chin.
“So do it.”
She stepped back, pulled the sword away from his throat and used the edge of the blade to cut the bonds from his wrists.
His hand immediately went to his throat, is if to prove that it was still intact. He coughed once, and then moved to do as she’d asked without another word.
As Annja looked on, Theo went to work. First he checked Csilla’s vitals by looking at the monitors she was hooked up to. Then, apparently satisfied with what he saw there, he moved around to stand next to the pumping device attached to the side of Csilla’s bed.
He glanced at Annja, seemed about to say something, and then decided against it. Instead, he flipped the switch on the side of the pump.
The pump ran through another cycle and then stopped.
Annja nodded with satisfaction.
“First the leg tubes, then the IV,” she told him.
She did her best to keep an eye on him while also watching the entrances at either end of the ward. It wasn’t easy. But she didn’t trust him enough to turn her back on him. For all she knew he’d slip Csilla something when she wasn’t looking, and all this would be for nothing.
The incoming transfer tube was attached to Csilla via a plastic port that had been surgically implanted in the vein of her left thigh. Theo donned a pair of latex gloves and removed the line, but then he hesitated.
“I don’t have the equipment I’d need to remove the port and suture the artery properly closed,” he told Annja.
“So leave the port in place for now. Just be sure that it’s sealed and capped properly,” she replied.
“You’re the boss.”
Annja let the sarcasm slide. The important thing was getting Csilla out of here before anything else happened to her.
She glanced around at the other patients, wishing she could take all of them with her. She simply didn’t have the manpower—or the transportation—to pull it off at the moment, but she made a vow that she’d be back for them before long.
Just stay alive until I can get help, she told them silently.
A glance toward the entrances at either end of the ward showed them still empty.
When Theo was done with the intake tube, he turned his attention to the outtake one. Again, he carefully removed the tubing and then sealed and capped the access port. After that it was a simple matter to take out her IV.
“Done,” he said, stepping back. He stripped off the surgical gloves and tossed them on top of the pump.
Annja looked around the room, finally spotting a wheelchair in the pod next to them.
“Go get that chair and bring it over here.”
Theo did as he was told.
“Gently lift her up and put her in the chair, please.”
Annja looked on as Theo slid his arms under Csilla, lifted her out of bed and put her down in the wheelchair. Csilla’s head lolled to one side, and he did his best to make her comfortable.
“What’s the best way to get out of the facility?” Annja asked.
Theo didn’t have to think about that one. “There’s a garage down on sublevel three, with a ramp that leads up to ground level. You should be able to get a vehicle from there.”
“Then start pushing the wheelchair in that direction,” she told him.
31
As Radecki approached the door to the medical ward, he keyed the microphone on his headset.
“Talk to me, Gregor. Are they still inside the ward?”
The microphone gave the guard’s voice a tinny cast but Radecki had no problem hearing him. “Yes. Creed just forced Owens to remove the transfusion gear from one of the patients, and now they’re putting her in a wheelchair.”
Radecki gritted his teeth. Not only was Creed planning to escape, she was trying to steal one of their subjects.
There was only one logical way to do that.
“Are the cameras in the garage operational?” he asked Gregor.
“Yes.”
In an instant, Radecki decided to get there ahead of them. He explained as much to Gregor, adding, “Keep following them with the cameras. If they’re headed in a different direction, let me know immediately.”
“Understood.”
With a signal to his companion, Radecki turned and headed back the way they had come, taking the staircase at the end of the hall down three floors to the garage.
If Creed expected to find a huge garage—with plenty of vehicles to choose from—she was about to be disappointed. The highly sensitive nature of the work being doing here meant that those involved with the project, with the exception of Stone, Radecki and one or two others, were housed in the complex. As a result, there was no need for an extensive garage.
Stone and Radecki parked their personal vehicles in the garage, and Radecki and his team maintained three Suburbans for the collection work they had to do periodically.
The keys were routinely left in the ignitions, so Radecki sent Chovensky to collect all of them. Then both men stepped into the small office to the left of the elevator, leaving the lights off and the room shrouded in darkness, to watch for Creed’s arrival.
* * *
THE GARAGE WAS rectangular, with the elevator at one end and the exit ramp at the other. Parking spaces ran down either side of the room, with the center open for travel. There was space for ten, maybe twelve vehicles, but at the moment there were only five—three dark-colored Suburbans, a deep crimson-colored Mercedes and a silver Land Cruiser. All five were parked next to one another close to the elevator.
Almost there, she thought. Just a few minutes more and they would be free. Then Annja could get on with the business of making Stone and her colleagues pay for what they’d done. Annja couldn’t wait to see the look on the woman’s face when the authorities came to take her away.
Of course, there was the little issue of not knowing who she could trust among the local authorities. If men like Tamás and Petrova were in on the conspiracy, it stood to reason that others were, as well. If she went to the police, she’d be putting herself and Csilla at risk until she knew just who those “others” were.
First things first, she reminded herself. Get Csilla out of here and then worry about bringing the law down on Stone’s head.
The fastest way of getting out of here would be to steal one of the automobiles, preferably one of the SUVs as there’d be room for Csilla to lie down in the back. Unlike the Mercedes or the Land Cruiser, which looked like personal vehicles, the SUVs, with their identical configuration and color, seemed like corporate vehicles. If they were, the keys would probably be around here somewhere, as the company would want to make it easy for its employees to gain access.
Television shows might make hot-wiring a car look easy, but this was the real world and Annja certainly hadn’t mastered that particular skill. She needed those keys.
Owens was apparently thinking the same thing, because he looked back at Annja and said, “The security team usually just leaves the keys in the ignition.”
Annja smiled; that was the first bit of good news she’d had all day.
“Lead on, then, Theo, lead o
n.”
Owens headed for the trio of SUVS, pushing the wheelchair ahead of him. When he reached the first one, he parked the wheelchair behind it and walked over to try the driver’s door.
Anxious to be out of there, Annja did the same with the second one in line.
She found the driver’s door locked, so she bent down, using her hands to keep the glare out of her eyes, and peered in through the window.
She couldn’t see the keys.
Damn!
She straightened, and in that instant her instincts kicked in. Annja jerked her head to one side, and the punch that had been intended for the back of her head glanced off the side of her skull.
It was enough to spin her around so that she ended up with her back to the SUV.
She put out a hand to steady herself against the side of the vehicle, shaking her head to try to clear it.
Her opponent came into focus even as he rushed toward her in another attack. He was a big Slavic-looking individual with close-cropped hair and arms that looked as big around as Annja’s thigh. Annja recognized him as one of the guards who’d accompanied Radecki to her cell.
The man threw a whopping left haymaker that would have done some serious damage if it connected, but Annja was alert now and she saw the blow coming. She waited until the last second and then jerked her head to the side.
The guard’s fist shot past the edge of her cheek and hammered into the car window, shattering it into fragments.
Annja didn’t hesitate, but went on the offensive. She spun forty-five degrees toward her opponent and delivered a punishing strike to the thug’s kidney, then followed that up with a heel stomp to the top of his foot.
The guard howled in pain but didn’t go down. He turned to her with rage in his eyes.
Annja expected him to lash out with his fists, and she prepared herself to block, only to have the man move in on her instead. He stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her in a big bear hug, lifting her up off the ground.
Then he started to squeeze.
Annja knew she was in trouble the minute he wrapped those meaty arms around her. His biceps were like cords of steel, easily able to crush her ribs if given the opportunity, and with her feet off the ground there was no way for her to get the leverage she needed to break his hold.