Mind Games

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Mind Games Page 13

by Laura K. Curtis


  “Sure, we were friendly, but that’s not the same thing. I didn’t tell you when Alvaro came back, didn’t share the important things. And since I’ve been here, Bryan’s told me stuff you and I never talked about, like how your mom died. If I’d been more open with you about my crap, you would have trusted me with that. I assumed your father lived far away, like mine, because you never mentioned him, but I didn’t realize you were actually estranged.”

  A chill set the hairs on Jane’s arms on end. “Why would he tell you about my family?”

  “He asked me who you cared about. They wanted a relative to threaten, the way they’re holding Alvaro over me. Bryan said you were a sucker, that if they could find the right person, they wouldn’t even need to bring them here; they could just take a few pictures, maybe kill a pet, and you’d fall in line. But you have no siblings, and by all appearances you’re estranged from your father, and you never date—” She huffed a laugh. “That pissed him off, by the way.”

  “That I don’t date?”

  “That you wouldn’t date him. He tried to get your attention long before he settled for me.”

  “He did?”

  “Totally.”

  “I never even noticed. He was probably only interested because I had access to more data on the project than anyone else.”

  “I wonder whether he planned all along to steal the research and come out here, or whether he was approached once he was at AHI because he already had access.”

  Time to change the subject. If Bryan was listening, she didn’t want to spend too much time discussing his motives or possible employers.

  “Speaking of access . . . I need access to a pad and some pens. I mean, I understand why they wouldn’t want to give us a computer, which would be really useful, but I often come up with questions—and answers—in the middle of the night. Remind me to ask for that tomorrow.”

  “You can ask tonight.” Dani checked the ornate clock hanging on the wall. “Dinner’s in about an hour. Every night at seven thirty, we’re expected to meet Bryan and assorted others in the dining room.”

  “Others?”

  “Yeah. They’re not always the same people. A lot of times, it’s guys you’ll recognize from around the house, but occasionally others show up. I never ask who they are or why they’re here. Doesn’t seem too smart to pry.”

  “I imagine not.”

  When the time came, Dani led the way to the dining room. Along the way, they passed armed men meandering through the house. Although the men gave them only the briefest of glances, each one sent a needle of fear up Jane’s spine. Even if Eric did come for her, how could he possibly get her away? He wasn’t Superman, and while HSE might be willing to let him take off on his own to rescue her, Nash Harper had no reason to expend the kind of resources in both men and equipment it would take to bring this place down. She needed to find an escape path for herself and Dani and Alvaro. . . . If they could get free of the mansion, Eric could get them home. And then she’d spend every penny she’d saved to hire HSE to bring Bryan down.

  At dinner, they were joined by four men, all dark haired and dark eyed, ranging in age from mid-twenties to mid-forties. At least two of them, the oldest and the youngest, were undoubtedly related. Both had classically Mexican, even Mayan features, with flat-bridged noses, widow’s peaks, and the same slightly elongated jawline. Father and son? Uncle and nephew? Crime was a family business, apparently. But then, Eric had said they were in cartel country, and the cartels were big on family.

  The older man examined Jane with a disturbing and acquisitive thoroughness, and she mentally thanked Bryan’s superior for instructing she not be harmed. Bryan himself, she felt certain, would turn her over in a second for profit or power.

  The meal was served by two silent women Jane hadn’t seen either in the lab or on their way to it earlier that day. When she thanked one, the girl damned near jumped out of her skin. Her eyes flicked over to the older man before she ducked her head in acknowledgement of Jane’s words. Interesting. Was this Bryan’s boss? The home’s owner?

  She drew breath to ask, to introduce herself as if this were any other dinner, but beneath the table, Dani kicked her. Hard. Okay, then. No introductions. But how was she to gather information if she couldn’t speak? Patting Dani’s thigh in reassurance, she started again.

  “Bryan, is it possible to get a pad and some pencils or pens sent to our room? I’m one of those people who wakes up with ideas that flit away if I don’t get them down right away.”

  Say yes, say yes. But she kept her expression carefully bland. Paper would allow her to communicate with Dani even if the room was bugged.

  Bryan’s eyes narrowed, and all four of their guests scrutinized her.

  “I’ll think about it,” he said at last. Then he returned to his meal, signifying the conversation’s end.

  Although the food smelled spicy and Jane’s stomach demanded she eat, she could taste nothing. Mechanically, conceding the need for nutrition, she shoved bites into her mouth, chewed, and swallowed, all the while watching the dynamic among the men. They spoke in low tones, mostly in Spanish, which she could not understand. Could Dani? She glanced at the other woman, but she appeared totally absorbed in her dinner, cutting the meat into ever-smaller pieces before forking minuscule slivers into her mouth. She chewed each sliver so long Jane was certain it had liquefied by the time Dani swallowed.

  Damn. Dani was losing it. No surprise, really. It was amazing she’d held up as well as she had. But they needed to get out, and soon.

  • • •

  “DO YOU KNOW who those guys are?” Jane asked the minute she and Dani were back in their room. Bryan would expect her to be curious. If the room was bugged, she needed to keep to a normal script.

  Dani shook her head. “Some bigwigs in the cartel. They don’t address each other by name, but they’ve been here a couple of times.”

  “Could you understand what they were saying?”

  “Not really. The accents and dialect . . . It’s Spanish, but it’s like asking a Texan to eavesdrop on a Brit. Without context, it’s tough. From what I understand, there are a couple of investors in Warlock. One’s an American, who just puts up money but doesn’t come down here; the other is the head of the Hijos cartel. This is his place.”

  Interesting. Jane wanted to know more about the American investor, but she didn’t dare ask. “It’s a beautiful house. Have you had a chance to look around the grounds at all?” Was there any chance for escape? Dani seemed to understand the question she didn’t ask aloud.

  “A bit. Bryan wasn’t kidding when he said we were in the middle of the jungle. There’s a big road that runs in front of the property, and they truck in supplies every few days. There must be a city or town relatively close, because I’ve heard the guards talk about going drinking and picking up prostitutes, but you wouldn’t know it from what you can see here.” She frowned. “You can’t be considering running?”

  Oh, how Jane wished she could explain, but she didn’t dare. She had to wait until she could be certain no one would hear.

  “I’m not considering anything. It’s always good to know your options, though.”

  “I wish we had any. But even if I thought we could escape the house and grounds, I couldn’t leave my brother.”

  “You said he was in a cell?”

  “In the basement. You can see the little windows from around the back of the house. There’s a door in the kitchen, but any time I’ve gone through there I’ve seen at least one guard hanging out.”

  “And what about the . . . subjects?”

  “I’m sure Bryan will take you to see them tomorrow.” Her lips twisted into a grimace. “They sleep on the main floor in what used to be, I think, a ballroom. Half of the second floor was converted into a sort of medical center. That’s where they get physicals, meds other than those in their IVs, an
d where you’ll interview them.”

  “The file says they get HGH and vitamins as well as the hallucinogenics?”

  “Yeah. The steroids are to help with their physical training but also to increase their aggression—which seems ridiculous to me, since they’re all plenty aggressive when they join up. They train constantly. Running, lifting, weapons. You’ll see it on the grounds during the day. And they’re totally focused. It’s part of having all their other emotional connections chemically erased. They give me the creeps.”

  “I can totally see that. How much humanity do they have left?”

  “Not a lot. I know failure to stabilize them could get us killed, but I almost hope you can’t figure it out. Because I’m not sure who Warlock is worse for—the kids who sign up to be ‘enhanced’ because it gets them out of poverty, or the world they’re unleashed on.”

  No need to worry on that account. Jane would kill herself before she contributed to such a project. Again she squelched her desire to tell Dani the truth.

  “I caught up on what was done with Group One in my reading today, and Bryan said they all died. Were you treating them? Do you know what happened, exactly?”

  “Yeah, I was. They’d ‘graduated’ from the first phase, and Group Two was starting out. They went off the compound for four days. No one would tell me where they were going, but it was the second week they’d been off IVs and out of the dormitory. Bryan had moved them into one of the cabanas instead, and we were dosing them daily with what was supposed to be a maintenance series of medications in pill form.

  “Anyway, they went away, and when they came back Bryan spoke to them at length without me. I was watching them train the next day, taking notes on physical changes from the drug regimen, when one of them put his gun under his chin and blew the top of his head off.” She swallowed hard. “I’ve never seen anything like it. It was horrible. And the others . . .”

  “What did they do?”

  “Nothing. The other two who were doing weapons training with him just kept firing at their targets. The three who were running didn’t even pause to see what he’d done. They ran right by.”

  “Jesus.”

  “I couldn’t breathe. I stood there and thought I was going to throw up. It was like the world suddenly stopped.”

  “What happened to the others?”

  “Within a week, they were all dead. Two of them stopped eating and drinking. We put them on IV nutrients and rehydration, but they’d given up. After a couple of days where they simply wouldn’t move, Bryan euthanized them. The other three all used weapons.”

  “Good God. But surely you talked to them?”

  “I did! For that week, it seemed like that was all I did. I monitored their levels, of course, but I also spent hours and hours talking to them about what they were feeling. The thing is, I don’t think they knew. The regimen kills their emotions, punishes them for feeling anything except fear and loyalty.”

  Jane had seen that in the notes. The combination of strobes and electroshock was used to supplement the chemical suppression of normal emotions.

  “So they couldn’t tell you what they were feeling, or why. What would you guess?”

  “Bryan says during their four days away, they invaded a house run by a competing cartel. By their accounts, the job was a success. Two of them were injured, but not seriously, and they killed the eight guys who were there and brought back a ton of cash, drugs, and weapons. Apparently, that had been an Hijos stronghold before it was taken over, and Velasquez wanted it back.”

  “So it could have been guilt over killing the other men, or shock at the brutality of which they were capable, or self-disgust, or even plain-old depression. Or it might have been something more chemical, having to do with taking them off the IVs.”

  “Exactly. If Group Two were to follow Group One’s schedule, they’d be off the IVs next week and onto the maintenance meds. But I suspect he’ll want to do some stress testing with them before they transition to pills to see what happens, how effective the drugs are against emotional overload. Of course, that means sending them out to kill again.”

  “Hell.” What could she do to stop him? She’d have to tell him the IV drugs needed tweaking, buy a couple of days for the new formula to kick in before sending the guys out, and then hope she could continue to stall from there. “Has he spoken to you about his plans?”

  “No, but I bet that’s part of why those guys were here tonight. They came before Group One went on their mission, too. But they don’t discuss particulars at dinner, as far as I can understand. Bryan gets his orders later.”

  “Okay.” Jane touched Dani’s hand. “Just hang on. I promise, I won’t let him hurt you.”

  “You’ll do your best. I believe that.”

  “I will.”

  Chapter 8

  THE NEXT MORNING, when Jane and Dani descended the stairs and entered the dining room, they found Alvaro seated at the table, a guard standing right behind his chair. Jane had never met the boy before, so she leaned over to introduce herself, holding out her hand. Alvaro glanced over his shoulder at the guard before taking it.

  “Are you feeling okay?” she asked, allowing her gaze to drop to the splinted finger on his left hand. The bandage was clean, at least, and other than that injury he seemed unharmed.

  Again, he checked with the guard. “I’m fine.”

  “They’re treating you all right?” Dani asked.

  “Yeah. Fine.” Alvaro began shoveling food into his mouth. Dani watched him for a couple of seconds, then served herself from the platters on the sideboard and sat down to eat.

  Jane followed suit. A couple of times, she tried to start conversations with Alvaro, but the boy concentrated on his food and answered in monosyllables. As soon as he was done, the guard ushered him away. Not, much to Jane’s surprise, toward the kitchen and the stairs Dani had noticed down to the basement, but out of the house entirely. Did they allow him exercise time? She’d hoped by insisting on the breakfasts that he would be kept alive, at least, but it had never occurred to her that Bryan might be seeing to it that Alvaro was kept healthy. Did they have long-term plans for Dani that required having him on hand?

  After breakfast, Jane and Dani made their way back to the lab. At the kitchen island, an armed guard sat drinking coffee and reading a newspaper. Dani flicked her eyes at a door in the corner that stood cracked slightly open. The basement. Dani didn’t need to explain, couldn’t if she’d wanted to, for the guard’s eyes followed their progress until they exited down the corridor to the lab.

  Bryan was yelling in rapid-fire Spanish when they came in, gesturing to one of the stations where something had clearly gone amiss. Shards of glass littered the counter along with grains of white and tan dust. At the sight of Jane, he wound up his tirade with something she assumed meant “clean it up and don’t let it happen again.”

  “We lost one of the Group Two subjects this morning,” he said. “Dr. Santiago autopsied him and said it was heart failure. Congenital problem, nothing to do with our treatments. So it’s not our fault, but it is our problem. Velasquez likes six-man teams. Once the program is in full swing, it will be easy to replace a man when we lose one. But for evaluative purposes, we can’t do that. They all have to be at the same stage. So for the next couple of days I’ll be interviewing candidates for Group Three.

  “We will need new dormitory space, so we’ll be gutting a couple of the rooms on your floor and building them out into a dorm with the appropriate electronics and medical supplies. Don’t let the construction give you any ideas: every man on the crew is completely loyal to Velasquez. They won’t help you.”

  Maybe not intentionally. But disruption could only benefit her, especially if the noise masked any conversation she wanted to have with Dani.

  “I’ll have to examine the remaining members of Group Two before I start fiddling with the chemica
l or psychological routines,” she said, as if the news of yet another set of young men signing away their souls was of no consequence. “You’ll arrange it?”

  He nodded and called over one of the lab rats. “This is Liandro. He’ll be your liaison to the subjects while I am gone. Tell him what you need and he’ll set it up. I will be back no later than six every night, so you can report your findings. And needless to say, any and all contact with the subjects will be recorded.”

  “Of course.”

  “Daniela, show her to the clinic. Liandro and I will send up the first subject.”

  Dani took her back down the cement-floored hallway, past the hard-eyed kitchen guard and the still-ajar door to the basement, and up the stairs to the second floor. The first door at the top of the stairs opened into a large space remodeled out of a couple of bedrooms. The beautiful hardwood floors had been covered with cheap, easy-to-clean vinyl, and the plaster walls had been drywalled over and painted a pale gray. In two spots, she could see where the paint had been scrubbed but rusty stains remained. Why would there be blood on the walls?

  Two hospital beds took up the space in one half of the room, while an exam table and workstation dominated the other.

  “The interview room is across the hall,” Dani said.

  “I don’t suppose the computer’s hooked up to the Net?”

  “No. There’s an intranet so you can access the men’s medical records and the research data, but you can’t get to the outside world.”

  But someone had to. She could accept that Wi-Fi was too insecure, but the data had to be backed up off site—no way would they risk losing it to a fire or a raid. Which meant she might be able to get a message out if she could figure out which computer was wired for access. Of course, it also meant that even if she and Dani managed to escape, the results of all the experiments Bryan had conducted would still be sitting out there for Velasquez and his investor to pick up. They could disappear in the night, set up half a world away, and be up and running again in no time.

 

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