He needed to save any shock-and-awe tactics with Edwards for when they would be most effective. Luckily the call reminded him of one thing—to silence his phone.
Half an hour later he had reached his destination.
Caterina had traveled for miles after escaping the Wardwell labs and finding refuge at the Music Academy. He estimated it was only about a mile from the roadside rest area where he had stopped to the woods nestled against the Wardwell complex. The woods were one of the farthest western edges of the Pinelands. Because of the complex’s location close to the National Park and on top of the state’s largest natural aquifer, the Wardwell facilities had generated controversy amongst local environmentalists during construction.
The protests had resulted in quite a number of public meetings, which in turn had created lots of news about Wardwell, including various published versions of the physical layout of the facilities in relation to the nearby Pine Barrens. This made it easy for Mick to find a back way toward the labs through the woods.
The very muddy woods.
Mud was not good. It would provide too much evidence that someone had been there. Someone who shouldn’t be.
Mick was about two hundred feet away from the first Wardwell building when he noticed tracks in the soil. Booted footprints from one person.
Someone other than Mick had been reconnoitering the area. Maybe mud wasn’t so bad after all.
Given Franklin’s warning, Mick had an idea about who it was. Mad Dog might be keeping an eye on those places connected to Caterina until he had a lead on where she might have gone. He may even have been aware that Mick was working for Edwards and might also need information from the lab to locate Caterina. Mad Dog was mean, but he wasn’t stupid.
Easing on his night vision goggles, Mick perused the perimeter of the buildings. Aside from the faint signature of a night watchman in the guard booth at the gate to the complex, nothing registered.
Turning his attention to the woods, Mick caught a sign of motion close to the edge of the broad manicured lawn that formed a barrier between the trees and the building housing the medical complex where Caterina and the other patients had been kept.
He hunkered down, training his attention on the area. Another short rush of movement came, confirming that someone else was out there in the woods.
A glint of moonlight against glass—likely binoculars—became clear in the dark of night. They were pointed in his direction.
Shit, Mick thought as he hit the ground to avoid detection. He pulled his Glock from the holster tucked into the small of his back.
Someone was clearly waiting for him. Maybe had even known about Mick’s previous visit, since the person had positioned himself close to the area Mick had canvassed the afternoon before.
Mick crawled hand-over-hand, cautiously propelling himself forward. The soil was wet and cool against his body. The soft ping of a gunshot traveled across the night, but the harder thunk against wood that followed sounded far from his current position.
Whoever it was had lost track of him, but that wouldn’t last for long.
Mick pushed ahead more quickly, his attention focused on the blob before him, a person kneeling in a sniper’s practiced stance. When he was about ten yards away, it was time to act.
Reaching into his satchel, Mick pulled out a flash grenade, pulled the pin, and immediately tossed it forward and away from him.
As the grenade exploded, the shooter rose, turning toward the light for a moment, his back to Mick.
Mick charged, plowing forward like a fullback, body low. He connected with the shooter mid-spine at full force and the man flew face forward hard, losing his grip on the rifle. The weapon skittered off into the underbrush.
Mick jerked his gun toward the man, but his opponent half-rolled to his side and snapped off a quick chop to Mick’s wrist that deadened his hand.
Exerting force, he once again got the man lying flat beneath him, but the man followed up with a sharp jab toward his face.
Mick avoided it by rolling off and coming to his feet, training his gun on the weaponless sniper, who rose slowly from the ground, hands outstretched in a sign of surrender.
“Should’ve known you wouldn’t be an easy kill, Carrera,” Mad Dog said and took a step toward him.
Mick jerked the nose of the weapon upward in warning, and then steadied it with the hand that still had feeling.
“No need for bloodshed, Mad Dog. I just have to get something from the lab.”
“Guess you found Shaw, then. She must be really good in the sack if you’re willing to sacrifice the bonus to bag her.”
Bonus? The original check had possessed enough zeroes to tempt a saint and now there was a bonus?
“Haven’t found her yet, but thanks for the heads-up about the bonus,” Mick lied, but Mad Dog clearly wasn’t buying it.
“Let’s make this interesting. You want something from the lab?” Mad Dog said, slowly, carefully reaching down into his pocket. Just as judiciously, he pulled out some kind of card. As the moonlight illuminated the plastic, Mick realized it was a key card like the one he had used the day before to enter the facilities.
“What do you want, Mad Dog?”
A cold smile crept across his face. “What I’ve always wanted, Mick—a piece of you.”
“A piece of me in exchange for the key?” It almost wasn’t fair. He would gladly have a go at Mad Dog with no prize on the line. Getting the key out of the deal was gravy.
Mick took a step toward a fallen log and put down his gun, wanting it to be a fair fight.
“I’m all yours, Mad Dog. Mano-a-mano because I want to feel you break beneath my hands,” he said and urged the other man onward with a wiggle of his fingers.
“You always were too honorable,” Mad Dog replied. With a quick snap of his wrist, he suddenly held a small knife in his hand.
Before Mick could go back for his gun, Mad Dog had cut him off, the knife held out in front of him. With the repetitiveness of a pendulum swing, Mad Dog slashed back and forth, but Mick avoided the razor-fine point of the knife, his steps quick-footed and sure. Dodging each feint of the knife as he sought an opening to reach Mad Dog.
Finally Mad Dog pushed him back toward the edge of the lawn with a swift lunge. Mick stumbled on a tangle of roots, but quickly got his feet back under him.
Mad Dog immediately seized on that minute slip, swinging his hand in a wide arc that caught Mick on the forearm with the knife.
Heat erupted where the blade skimmed across his skin, but he didn’t let that deter him.
As Mad Dog’s arm swept by and he reversed the blade for another swipe, Mick moved in and grabbed hold of his opponent’s wrist. He jerked it against his knee and the blow loosened Mad Dog’s grip.
Mad Dog slapped out with his free hand, trying to get a hold on Mick’s head, but he yanked away. Slipping beneath Mad Dog’s arm, Mick delivered a punishing blow to the other man’s ribs.
His ex-colleague grunted and doubled over.
Mick drove up with his knee, connecting with Mad Dog’s face. Immense satisfaction came with the crunch of bone that followed.
The satisfaction was short-lived.
Mad Dog retaliated with an elbow that caught Mick close to his liver, driving his breath from him. He stepped back to avoid the blow he knew would come next.
He wasn’t fast enough.
A hard jab connected with the side of his face and Mad Dog followed with an uppercut that had Mick staggering backward.
“Slowing down in your old age,” Mad Dog taunted. He was clearly ready for action despite the blows Mick had landed.
But Mick was ready as well.
The night became peppered with their grunts as fists or legs connected. With the slap of a deflected blow and the scuffling sounds of their boots along the underbrush and fallen leaves in the woods and along the edge of the lawn.
Mick bided his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity. He would have to win the battle to get the key.
He knew Mad Dog would only consider it a win if Mick ended up dead.
The moment came sooner than Mick expected.
CHAPTER 19
Mad Dog lashed out with a high roundhouse kick, but missed badly and lost his balance on some slick leaves.
Mick took advantage, driving an elbow sharply into Mad Dog’s kidney.
Mad Dog groaned and dropped to the ground, grabbing at his side. Mick seized his arm and twisted it upward, and Mad Dog sagged even farther. With that opportunity, he drove his knee into the middle of his opponent’s back and flattened him against the ground.
“Ready to say uncle, Mad Dog?” he asked, leaning close to the other man.
Mad Dog glanced up at him sideways, one part of his face plastered against the wet leaves and mud. “You know me better than that, Carrera.”
Sadly Mick did know him that well. Someday he would have to kill Mad Dog if he was ever going to have any peace of mind.
But not tonight.
With two quick punishing blows to the side of Mad Dog’s head, he knocked him out, then trussed him up with the cable ties in his jacket pocket. Whipping the key card out of Mad Dog’s front pocket, he retrieved his gun and headed for the Wardwell facility.
With Caterina’s permission, Liliana had taken a second sample of blood for a twofold purpose.
The first was to find out if the abnormally speedy gene replication was ongoing.
The second was to determine if they could somehow re-create the parameters that her medical file indicated for the plasmapheresis. With that information, they could prepare the cell separator so that they could filter Caterina’s blood.
As Liliana hurried down to the pathology lab during her break, she hoped the latter could be delayed until they had the time to prepare it properly. That Mick would come through as he always did by retrieving the inhibitor drug.
At the door to the pathology lab, she paused, peering through the glass in the door to see who was within.
Only Carmen once again, pulling another late shift, head bent over the microscope at the back of the lab.
She walked in and her friend’s head popped up. A welcoming smile blossomed on her face as she approached.
“Amiga! Are you going to make my day again?” she asked excitedly.
Liliana shot her a puzzled look. “What did I do?”
“That last blood specimen—major-league interesting. High-tech stuff. Those GFPs, or should I say, YFPs and other amazing science.”
Liliana sat on the lab stool next to her friend, peered back around the lab to make sure they were alone, and whispered, “You didn’t say anything to anyone, did you?”
Carmen emphatically shook her head. “You asked me not to, but I couldn’t resist doing further analysis based on the results from the electropherogram.”
She tucked her hand into her lab jacket pocket and fingered the test tube there, worried that she possibly had made a wrong choice by involving Carmen. “You didn’t tell anyone else—”
“I didn’t,” her friend reiterated. “But I will tell you that what I found was a mix of human gene fragments spliced together with those from squamates and amphibians.”
“Squamates and amphibians? As in—”
“Lizards. Frogs,” Carmen quickly supplied and then added, “Probably because some amphibians have the ability to regenerate the tissues in their bodies in a way that’s identical to the original tissue.”
“So if someone had harm to a particular kind of tissue—”
“You join a little piece of the tissue before it was damaged with the right kind of amphibious genes and you could conceivably regenerate mounds of new injury-free tissue,” Carmen advised.
Which might explain why Caterina was now able to see. If the cancer had left behind even a small part of her optic nerve, it could have been regenerated to restore her eyesight. But that didn’t explain the skin thing or the weird auras that Caterina claimed to have experienced.
“Hola, Earth to Liliana,” Carmen said and snapped her fingers in front of her face.
“Sorry. I was just thinking about the possibilities.”
“Revolutionary,” Carmen said in awed tones.
She tightened her hand on the test tube, but then relented and pulled it out of her pocket. As she held it out to her friend, Liliana wondered if it was glowing a little more than it had the last time.
“May I?” Carmen asked as her hand hovered over the sample.
“Would you check this out? See if the replication is still as fast as you thought?”
“That’s easy. Ask me to do something hard,” Carmen quipped, clearly unaware of the importance of what was happening, much less of the real reason behind the request.
Something hard?
“Can you find out exactly what kind of lizard or frog? Let me know what might happen if those non-human genes keep on replicating.”
For the first time, Carmen grew serious. “This is more than some science experiment for you, isn’t it?”
Liliana narrowed her eyes and examined her friend, trying to decide just how much Carmen needed to know. After a hesitation, she finally said, “It’s much more than that. Life and death more than that.”
Carmen leaned against the edge of the lab bench and cautiously placed the test tube on its surface. Leaning forward, she took hold of Liliana’s hands. Carmen’s were smooth and slightly cold from the temperature in the lab, which explained why Carmen always wore a sweater—usually a funky one—beneath her white jacket.
“I’m sorry, Liliana. I didn’t realize it was something personal. Of course I can try to find out, although it may be a little beyond my expertise,” her friend said.
“I’d appreciate it, amiga.”
Liliana hugged Carmen, hard and quick, and then made a hurried escape from the lab. As she walked out she plowed right into Harrison.
His presence surprised her, since he normally had little to do with the pathology department. He snared her upper arms in a cruel grasp and jerked her to the side.
“Is that why you haven’t been around? Playing both sides of the field now?” he whispered through clenched teeth and shook her hard, rattling her teeth.
“Stop it, Harrison.” She pushed against his chest, trying to break free.
Her actions didn’t deter him. He shook her roughly again. Moved forward until her back was against the wall and he had boxed her in, preventing her escape.
“But that’s where you’ve been. With Carmen.”
She forced her forearms up between them and shoved him hard, regaining her space. Recapturing a piece of herself.
It surprised him that she was fighting back. He stepped away and stared at her as if seeing her for the first time. Strange considering they had been involved for two years. Engaged for the last six months.
Engaged until right now.
She pulled the ring off her finger and held it out to him. “This is over, Harrison. I won’t be your punching bag anymore.”
He stared at the ring in her hand, then returned his gaze to her face. He placed his hand over the ring, but grasped both the ring and her hand in his much larger one and squeezed painfully. The pressure forced the ring against her palm and as the strength of his grip increased, the sharp prongs of the elaborate diamond cut into her flesh.
She tugged to escape, but he only held on tighter.
With another sharp tug, she finally broke free and the ring dropped to the floor, pinging against the tiles until it came to rest.
Harrison only shot it a sideways glance as he drove her up against the wall once again. Bending down from his greater height, he warned, “I will not let you do this to me, Liliana.”
He stepped away from her, gracefully swooping down to recover the ring from the ground, and then headed toward the elevator bank. As the door opened and one of the other doctors stepped out, he offered them an engaging smile and warm greeting.
He received a genial response, which grew confused when the doctor noticed Liliana stan
ding down the hall.
She forced her own smile at the female physician as Harrison swept by her and into the elevator.
After a steadying breath, she took her first hesitant step to return to her rounds.
Her second step was more certain. Stronger.
CHAPTER 20
Now that she had the freedom to move around, Caterina could see that the home was one of welcome, filled with warm vibrant colors that reminded her of Mexico and of her own happy times with her mother.
Caterina ran her hand over the rough-hewn oak sideboard, regretting the roundish dents left behind by her fingers. She traced the rough edges of the crudely elegant cast-iron candelabras resting on the wooden surface. They were beautiful despite the lack of gloss or adornment. Simplistically functional, like the man who owned them.
Leaning toward the fat pillar candle on one of them, she inhaled deeply, but only a hint of the fragrance remained. She suspected Mick didn’t spend enough time in this place to use them or keep them fresh.
If the house was well-maintained, it was likely by someone else’s hand.
The rumble of the garage door alerted Caterina that Mick was back.
She walked to the kitchen and stood just a few feet away from the side door that opened into the garage. He came through a moment later and the alarm began its warning chirp. He quickly shut it down and as he turned, she realized he was hurt. A blood-soaked bandage was stark against his black shirt. His face bore a multitude of scrapes and bruises, as did his hands.
It would have been stupid to point out the obvious. Instead Caterina grabbed the top rung of a kitchen chair and swung it around. Motioned to it and said, “Sit. I’ll go get something to patch you up.”
His eyes narrowed as he said, “Since I’m the one who knows where everything is—”
“I’m sure I can find the supplies.” She jabbed her index finger at the chair again. “Sit before you bleed all over the kitchen.”
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