by Vanessa Kier
All right then. Maybe this once he would just go with it. Let ‘em see him cry.
Just a little.
Two Days Later
Kaufmann’s Compound
Blue Ridge Mountains
Rafe lowered his binoculars from his lookout point over Kaufmann’s new compound. God, it seemed like a million years ago that he’d stared down at the first compound, wondering how deeply Gabby was involved in Nate’s disappearance. Now here he was, struggling to pull out mission-critical details from his memories of this place, while suppressing echoes of pain, degradation and forced obedience.
He stifled a sense of déjà-vu and slipped farther into the trees. In the end, he’d had to turn away SSU agents who’d volunteered to join this mission. The result was three assault teams, headed by Rafe, Chin and Niko. A fourth team lead by Kai would collect Kaufmann’s data and securely store all chemical and biological samples.
As Rafe moved over to a new observation spot, he tried not to think about the responsibility of leading so many people into a danger he wouldn’t wish on his worst enemy. But yeah, part of him was totally freaked. Kaufmann had trained him to follow orders instead of giving them. Before his capture, leading men had been second nature to Rafe. Then Kaufmann’s conditioning convinced him his job was to submit, not to think.
He continued to fight against the urge to give in and let someone else take control. Having two dozen men and women looking at him with trust and respect went a long way toward restoring his confidence, even though he didn’t fully deserve their respect yet. His men might not have had time to recognize all Rafe’s differences, but he was acutely aware that he still wasn’t free of side effects.
His job, in addition to keeping his team safe, was to see that the man he’d become earned their respect. Which meant he had zero room for error.
He took a deep breath. Good thing he’d always loved a challenge.
Checking the compound from this new angle, Rafe raised his brows. Kaufmann must have been damn confident that Rafe’s mental blocks would hold, because security hadn’t changed all that much. Two electrified fences topped with barbed wire enclosed the facility. According to the data leaked by Tonelli, Kaufmann hadn’t installed any advanced security measures such as infrared or radar.
Kaufmann had never been able to use guard dogs as part of his defenses. The animals sensed something different in the altered men, something that made aggressive dogs attack and timid dogs slink away. Kaufmann hadn’t wanted to waste time overcoming the guard dogs’ reactions, so he’d banished them from the premises.
All the better for Rafe and his team.
Rafe studied the patterns of the teams of normal men patrolling the perimeter. The only time Kaufmann’s subjects ever left the compound was their weekly shift as part of the security team. Whenever Rafe had joined a patrol, the regular guards had treated him with the same caution they’d use around a feral dog. Rafe had barely acknowledged the guards’ existence. All that mattered was the mission Kaufmann had given him. Which sometimes included killing a guard who wasn’t living up to expectations.
After watching for half an hour, Rafe motioned for Andersen and headed back to base.
Gabby panted and fought to remain conscious through the haze of pain. Kaufmann and his prize torturer had dumped her on the floor after this latest session, and the chilled concrete felt good against her overheated, oversensitive cheek. Her body still tightened with residual spasms from the electric shocks they’d given her. Her mouth tasted like sour eggs and although she still couldn’t get her eyes to open, she smelled vomit close by.
During this round of torture, Kaufmann had questioned her about Rafe and the SSU. Did Rafe remember his time at the compound? Could he find his way back here?
“No,” Gabby had screamed, giving him the truth while she fought back hopelessness. Because if Rafe didn’t remember this location, then how could he possibly rescue her?
She didn’t know how much longer she could stand Kaufmann’s abuse. Each day her body grew weaker, eroding her resistance. Yet perversely, the casual way Kaufmann and his scientists hurt her gave her the strength to continue to say no to the most important question—would she cooperate? These weren’t the type of people she wanted to be in the same room with, let alone provide them with critical research to allow them to make their subjects even more monstrous.
What terrified Gabby all the way to her soul was the fear that in Kaufmann’s attempt to force her cooperation before his deadline, the worst was still to come.
Rafe knew it was going to be bad when Niko cornered him the moment he returned to camp.
With a nod, Rafe dismissed his team, then let his brother herd him farther into the forest. When Niko finally stopped and turned around, his grave expression caused Rafe’s world to freeze. He knew in his gut Niko had bad news. And only one topic would make Niko bring Rafe so far from camp no one would hear them.
“No.” The denial was out of his mouth before Rafe could take it back. “Gabby’s alive.” She had to be.
“Yes, but—” Niko shot him a look of pained sympathy. “I’m sorry, Rafe. One of Chin’s scouts overheard two guards talking as the shift changed. They were joking about a female prisoner. Someone Kaufmann has been torturing. The guards placed bets on whether Kaufmann would give the woman to the normal guards or the freaks when she breaks.”
“No!” Rafe shoved Niko away from him. He knew. Ah, Dios, he knew what it felt like to be in Gabby’s shoes. The pain…
He shuddered. The pain had almost been too much to bear, and he’d been trained to resist torture. The thought of Gabby’s delicate, feminine body suffering a fraction of that agony, or even the bone-numbing chill of the water chamber, made him want to throw his head back and howl.
Rafe stood in a tiny, tile-lined cubicle just tall enough for him to stand upright and so narrow that he couldn’t sit or lie down. He’d lost all track of time.
“Tell me what I want to hear, Mr. Andros,” the Voice crooned through the overhead speakers. “Then you can go back to your room.”
This was the dangerous voice. The voice that wanted his agreement to do something bad. This voice he had to ignore, even though he knew what the consequence would be.
“Still no answer? Very well, then.”
The pipes groaned and Rafe braced himself as a deluge of icy water spurted out of the hole directly over his head. He clamped his teeth together and closed his eyes. The water sluiced over his body, pooling at the bottom of the chamber until it reached his knees. Then the water stopped and a new voice came out of the walls.
“Do you feel tired Mr. Andros? Do your muscles hurt? Do you feel cold?”
“Cold.”
“Nothing else?”
“No.”
“Thank you.”
It bothered Rafe that he wasn’t physically tired. Somewhere in the back of his brain he knew he’d been standing here for too long. At least a day, maybe longer. His muscles should hurt. He should feel sleep deprived.
Instead, all he felt was cold. But that ice was layered over an inferno of molten rage.
Rafe pulled himself back to the present with difficulty and let fury wipe out his fear. Anger would give him additional strength to take down Kaufmann. But right now he had to think. “I want to hear the report directly.”
Niko nodded, his expression wary. “You…okay?”
“What the fuck do you think? No, I’m not okay.” He was as far from okay as he’d ever been. Out of his head with terror and the nearly overwhelming need to hurt the ones holding Gabby. But losing control wouldn’t help him save her. “After I talk to Chin’s scout, we need to prepare the teams. We’re going in tonight.”
Niko opened his mouth as if to speak, then shrugged. “It’s your call. You know I’ve got your back.”
“Thanks.”
Niko clapped Rafe on the shoulder, then led the way back to camp.
As he followed, Rafe felt his brain working overtime, weighing and discardi
ng options with abnormal speed. The backs of his eyes ached and a spot at the base of his neck tingled. The sensations still freaked him out and made him want to check in a mirror to see if he had smoke coming out of his ears like a cartoon character. Worse, a hot, painful pressure built in his skull until he thought his brain might explode. Relief only came when his brain finished processing the data and slowed down again.
At moments like these, Rafe could understand why so many of Nevsky’s subjects had committed suicide. But he had to hang on. His increased intelligence was his strongest advantage. Kaufmann believed his mind control to be iron clad, and would never consider that Rafe could break it, let alone retain enough intelligence to communicate the location of the compound to anyone.
He looked forward to seeing Kaufmann’s face when he realized he was wrong.
Chapter 25
Washington, D.C.
“I agreed to your request to kidnap Dr. Montague,” Jamieson said into the phone. “Because you promised it would result in the complete stability of your men. So where is my new team?” He drew the heavy gold silk drapes tighter against the picture window in his home office. He suspected someone had been following him and no longer trusted the security of his office phone at Langley.
Here, at least, he was guaranteed not to have some underling walk in on him. Plus, he had the best security system, including top-of-the-line anti-eavesdropping equipment.
Nevertheless, he resented the need to skulk around like a common thief. He was working at the behest of the President. He should be immune to scrutiny. Yet he couldn’t shake the feeling that there were forces closing in on him. Forces determined to see him fail.
“Dr. Montague is proving to be more of a challenge to crack than we anticipated,” Kaufmann explained in his arrogant voice. “Don’t worry, you’ll have your team.”
Jamieson stared down at the executive order in his hands. The President had demanded that the team be ready to move into place two weeks before the main event. That gave Kaufmann a little over a week to get the formula tweaked so that the men would still be stable by the anniversary demonstration.
“If I order you to break Dr. Montague’s resistance by the end of tomorrow,” Jamieson asked, “what’s the quickest you could have the new team ready?”
The men on his current team were already showing signs of deterioration. In a week they would start losing coordination and balance. By the time three weeks arrived, they’d be either insane or dead.
“I can’t give you a definite time,” Kaufmann explained with a hint of impatience. “I don’t know what techniques Dr. Montague used to reverse the side effects in Rafe Andros. Gene therapy, drug formulation…each option poses different challenges. Assuming nothing goes wrong, we’re talking ten days at the minimum to incorporate the changes into our program, strengthen the desired effects, and run tests. Two to three weeks is more likely.”
Jamieson squeezed the phone so hard the plastic groaned in protest. “Unacceptable. The President needs the new team ready to deploy in a week.”
“Impossible!”
“Make it possible,” Jamieson said. “Or I’m going to destroy you. And then I’ll throw you to your subjects.”
He slammed down the phone and stood at his desk, hands fisted to stop their trembling. Years of careful planning, of lying and manipulating to achieve his dreams, and it all stood on the verge of collapse because of Kaufmann’s incompetence.
Kaufmann should have killed Dr. Montague months ago. If she didn’t provide the necessary information immediately, Jamieson would make certain to rectify Kaufmann’s oversight.
Kaufmann’s Compound
Blue Ridge Mountains
Dr. Kaufmann stared at the unconscious body of Dr. Montague through the one-way glass in her cell. She’d proven to be remarkably resistant to both the pain of poison and of physical torture. Oh, she’d given up data about Andros and the SSU, but she still refused to reveal how she’d broken Kaufmann’s mind control and cured Andros of his rages.
Kaufmann tapped his foot. He had to get her cooperation by tomorrow, or he’d never be able to implement the changes to his formula before Jamieson’s deadline. His latest batch of men was scheduled to go to Kerberos in one week. The President’s demonstration was in three weeks.
Unfortunately, Kaufmann didn’t have any fresher subjects to send to Kerberos. He had a few men who, like the current subjects serving with Kerberos, had already been at Level 1 for a little over three weeks. Even under this new, accelerated regimen four weeks was the longest a subject remained at Level 1, where the mind control was strongest. In three weeks, the men would be entering Level 3 with its uncontrollable rages.
Kaufmann had managed to slow most of the physical deterioration, delaying full body breakdown until the eighth week. But the subjects’ mental deterioration was more rapid than before. They experienced increasingly violent rages as the mind control eased, lashing out at anyone within reach. Including their controllers.
No, worse than that. The subjects targeted their controllers.
Kaufmann pressed his palm over the stabbing pain in his lower abdomen. When the mind control was in effect, disobedience was met by excruciating headaches that disabled a man. But just last week, one of the subjects had beat his controller to death, his extraordinary strength making it impossible to contain him. When even tranquilizers hadn’t slowed him down, the guards had been forced to kill him.
If Jamieson sent the current, unstable team to the anniversary demonstration there was a strong possibility one or more of the men would break free of their handlers and go on a rampage. Then Kaufmann could kiss his career good-bye. He’d worked too many years to fail now.
Which meant he needed to force Dr. Montague today to reveal how she’d countered the mind control and rage in Rafe Andros. Kaufmann had just enough time to rework the formula, inject it into his current subjects, and send them to Jamieson in hopes the changes would make the men more stable.
Unfortunately, the scientists in charge of her torture believed Dr. Montague had reached her physical limit. If they hurt her any more, they couldn’t guarantee her mind wouldn’t snap.
So Kaufmann had to try another way.
He pressed the intercom button to the left of the cell door. “Has Cygan returned?” he demanded of his assistant.
“He’s just entered the compound, sir.”
“Good. Have him meet me in the Sector 3 interrogation room.”
The sound of a metal door sliding open roused Gabby from her stupor. When she’d woken up after the last torture session, she’d found herself shackled to the cold rock wall in this cell with her arms over her head and her legs slightly spread.
Footsteps echoed down the corridor, silencing the moans and cries from the other prisoners. When she heard the rattle of a key in her cell door, Gabby raised her head and squinted against the faint light coming in through the bars. Even that small motion made her senses spin. She didn’t remember when she’d last eaten. Couldn’t imagine ever wanting food, or even water, again after the poisons had turned her insides into a writhing, biting mass of agony. But she knew Kaufmann needed her clear-headed. So she suspected they’d been giving her intravenous sustenance while she was passed out.
How had Rafe found the strength to survive? How had any part of his sanity remained? She was lucky, Kaufmann didn’t want to break her mind. And he couldn’t give her the mind control drugs because interfering with her independent thinking would defeat the purpose of having her able to manipulate the formula to achieve the results he wanted. She couldn’t imagine how much worse it had been for Rafe to have his will taken away and be forced to kill his teammates. Yet he’d not only survived, he hadn’t lost his ability to laugh. To love.
Gabby clung to the memory of that last night with Rafe as she braced herself for more pain. So far her torturers had been careful not to damage her eyes or hurt her so badly she couldn’t work. Still, Gabby didn’t know how much more pain she could take before her
mind broke. She swallowed thickly, hearing the echoes of her screams in her mind. Feeling the throbbing on her back, belly and thighs from where strips of skin had been torn or burned off. The thin hospital gown she wore did nothing to protect her from the chill that seeped out of the rock behind her, but at least the cold numbed the pain, making it almost bearable.
The door opened and Kaufmann stepped into the cell. He regarded her with the intensity of a man determined to crack a particularly difficult puzzle. “You have proven to be much more resistant to pain than I expected, Dr. Montague. My deadline looms near and we are no closer to a resolution.”
Gabby held her breath, knowing he would make her pay for interfering with his plans.
“So I have decided to try another method of persuasion.” He crooked a finger over his shoulder, and one of the security guards entered, dragging a kicking, twisting, gagged young boy no more than ten or eleven years old.
Oh, no.
The weight of defeat threatened to smother Gabby as the boy was brought further into the cell. The poor child was little more than skin and bones, and in desperate need of a wash. His clothes were stiff with dried mud and other unidentifiable substances. His hair was a brown rat’s nest. His eyes, wide with fright and pain, pleaded with her for help. Gabby saw the unmistakable bulge of a collarbone out of place and wanted to strangle the guard with her bare hands.
Where had Kaufmann found the boy? He didn’t allow children at the compound.
A female scientist stepped into the cell holding a syringe in her left hand. At her nod, the guard raised the boy’s arm and pushed back his sleeve.
“No!” Gabby had barely survived the poisons. They’d kill a child. She swallowed against a lump of bitterness, aware that everyone in the cell watched her with anticipation. They knew what her response would be. What any decent human being’s response would be.
“Don’t hurt him,” she said, forcing the words through vocal chords shredded from screaming.