Rex Dalton Thrillers: Books 1-3 (The Rex Dalton Series Boxset Book 1)

by JC Ryan

  He stood and reached for the dangling light socket. He’d remembered right. When he looked at it earlier, he’d noted that the bulb didn’t screw into the socket. It was a bayonet-type bulb, which meant there were exposed electrodes in the slots. What were the odds that the lights and the door lock were on the same circuit?

  Fifty-fifty, he figured. Either they were, or they weren’t. Like John Brandt always said, “the surest way to fail is not to try.” He took another look around, in case he’d missed anything in the bare room. Nothing else had magically appeared. His next move would either free him or leave him in the dark until someone came.

  He took the stick of gum out of his pocket and began chewing it. When he had it soft and juicy enough, he grasped the coins in his other pocket and came out with a handful of them. He picked one that looked about the right size, small enough to fit into the hole of the bulb socket if he unplugged the bulb and big enough to touch both electrodes.

  Then he located the light switch and turned the light out.

  He was plunged into darkness with the flip of the switch, but he’d counted the steps from the middle of the room where the light dangled to the wall. He carefully kept the same orientation, stepped back and swept his arm into the darkness in front of and slightly above his head, locating the socket and bulb with the second back-swing. He unplugged the bulb out of the socket and fitted the coin into the bulb socket by feel, holding it in place with his left thumb.

  He took the sticky chewing gum out of his mouth and used his right hand to smash the gum onto the socket, securing the coin. Then he sidled back to the wall switch and flipped it again. Sparks flew out of the socket and the telltale electronic click sounded nearby.

  The door was open!

  ***

  REX HAD NO idea how much time had passed. It had been about three-thirty in the afternoon when he was taken. He’d been unconscious part of the time since then, so his internal clock was almost certainly out of sync with real time.

  He’d probably missed the rendezvous with the women, but there were almost certainly guards on them anyway. He’d gathered that one of the seven had betrayed the plan. He also didn’t know where Digger was, or if he’d been captured.

  Finally, he’d like to have his cell phone and pricey new watch back, and if there was anyone left to rescue, it was probably imperative he get Rehka’s scarf back. This whole plan had gone belly up, and there was little doubt she was no longer in the harem. If he was to salvage anything, he and Digger would have to sneak into the harem the back way and from there into the rest of the compound to find the women themselves. No one would be leading them to him. Digger would need the scarf to be of any help to Rex in finding everyone.

  So, the first order of business was finding his possessions. In a mansion of this size, it was a crapshoot whether he could find anything before he himself became the object of a hunt and was discovered.

  He eased the door open a few inches, careful to keep it from squeaking on its hinges. He looked through the small crack, first with one eye. When he failed to see anyone, he opened it a little further, winced at the squeak it emitted, and stuck out his whole head, ready to fight his way out if necessary.

  The hallway was dark, too. Evidently, he’d taken out more than just one room’s electricity. But an emergency-lighting strip dimly lit the floor, so he could see where the hallway led, barely. He walked silently, casting his gaze far enough ahead to see any breaks in the dim strip lighting to warn him someone was there. Above about four feet, the space was dark as a moonless night.

  He’d gone about twenty feet down the hall and passed cross-halls without detecting anyone. Where was everyone? He’d expected to be guarded. He was also getting an idea of just how big this place was. The halls he’d traveled after dinner with Mutaib hadn’t stretched this far before the harem quarters. Maybe he was in another building than the main residence. Another thought intruded.

  The lights down here couldn’t possibly have been on the same circuit as the ones in my cell. This darkness is for another reason.

  His speculation was answered abruptly when he came to an L in the hallway, forcing him to turn left to continue. As soon as he turned, he could see an area with some light up ahead. He slowed, making no noise at all, though he still couldn’t see anyone. It was entirely possible the narrow view he had of the lighted area concealed a larger room, with any number of guards out of sight, but just around the corner.

  When he eased to the end of the hallway, he could see he’d been right about the larger room. It appeared to be a sort of lobby at the entrance to the building, because he could now make out the source of the light – a security light on a pole outside, shining through glass doors. But the lobby, or whatever it was, was empty. No guards in sight.

  As he grew more confident he was alone, Rex straightened from a precautionary crouch. The glass doors were the only vulnerability he’d have while he searched the room, so he kept an eye on them frequently. The room, not a lobby but an office or duty station of some sort, had lockers, a desk with a computer and keyboard, an intercom system and radio, and a set of keys.

  Careless of them to let me escape and then provide me with just what I need.

  Based on his assessment of the room’s function, he’d have bet his quest for his possessions would end here. Somewhere, in the desk drawers, or one of the lockers, he’d find them.

  He began with the desk, surmising the lockers probably held the guards’ possessions or tools of their trade. Maybe weapons, which could come in handy. But first, his things and hopefully Rehka’s scarf – the only thing he couldn’t replace.

  He seized the keys and examined them, selecting one that should work the locks on the desk drawers. The pencil drawer was of no interest, so he started at the top of the stacked side drawers. There was a set of handcuffs and not much else besides paper. He put the handcuffs in his pocket — they might come in handy at some stage.

  The next drawer held detritus of what looked like a month’s worth of snacks. It also held a couple of dead cockroaches and one very much alive sucker the size of his pinky finger. Rex slammed the drawer shut with a shudder. Something about those insects aroused a primitive revulsion in most people, and Rex was no different. Logically, he couldn’t be harmed by one, only startled.

  He opened the bottom drawer with more caution, half-expecting a legion of the disgusting things to swarm out at him. Instead, he found what he’d been looking for. His cell phone, watch, and Rehka’s scarf. The only items from his person that Mutaib’s guards had bothered to take. He was surprised the watch and cell phone hadn’t been appropriated by senior members of the guard detail, but he wouldn’t look a gift horse in the mouth. He put the watch on and the cell phone in the pocket that wasn’t stuffed with handcuffs. The scarf also went in that pocket.

  The next order of business was to get outside, figure out where he was, and find Digger. After that he could see about the women.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  REX’S IMMEDIATE PROBLEM was to decide whether the glass doors were alarmed, and if so, whether he could find the alarm system to disarm it. Stealth was his friend when it came to rescuing the women. The last thing he needed was a shootout with guards or any other commotion, including blaring alarms. Before he would risk it, though, it would be a good idea to search the bank of lockers for weapons and ammo. The other last thing he needed was being unarmed in a shootout with guards.

  He made quick work of the search, and he could not believe his luck when he found an Atchisson Assault Shotgun, known as an AA-12. In close quarters combat assault rifles are well and good, but if you really wanted to cut the enemy to pieces, nothing quite compares to a good shotgun. Especially if it was fully automatic like the AA-12, which fired five 12-gauge shells per second on full automatic from a twenty-round tommy gun-style drum magazine with so little recoil one didn’t have to be the Terminator to do it with one hand.

  He rejected several of the handguns he found at first,
but in another locker, he finally found what he was looking for. His hand weapon of choice. A Sig Sauer P226, with three spare clips fully loaded with fifteen rounds each in a belt that also held the holster for the Sig.

  He fitted the belt around his waist and made sure the pistol was easy to draw. The shotgun he’d have to carry in his left hand.

  Mutaib’s men were in for a nasty surprise. Now he was ready to search for the alarm system. It should be in a closet or small room, along with the telephone system. There were two closed doors beyond the desk, on the other side of the room. He tried the first one, and found it opened into a four-stall restroom with one filthy sink. The stillness in the air had convinced him this building was empty, so he didn’t bother to look in the stalls.

  The cleaning crew must be on vacation. Surprised there aren’t any roaches in here.

  Turning, he went out the way he’d come in and tried the next door. Locked. This must be it. He’d left the keys on the desk as he passed it after finding the weapons. Quickly, he retraced his steps.

  This was taking too long. Even a lone guard returning to his post would be a problem. Commotion he couldn’t afford.

  Several of the keys could have fit the door. He made note of the keys surrounding them, so he wouldn’t inadvertently keep trying the same one, and started inserting them each into the key slot. The third key turned.

  As he’d surmised, the room beyond that door was small, little more than a closet, but bristling with electronics panels and a breaker panel. One breaker was flipped off. Probably his erstwhile cell. He left it off. The others were in proper position, which meant that the darkness in the building was due to all lights being turned off at their switches.

  He looked at his watch for the first time. Yes, it was early in the morning of the day when he’d been scheduled to meet the women at two a.m. It was now 3:45, not long before sunrise. He had about an hour to get the women out or the opportunity would be lost for good. Knowing time was shorter than he’d realized kicked him into high gear.

  He examined the other electronics panels. One had telephone numbers penned on tape beside pairs of coiled cables. That would be the phone system. The alarm system was a large, shallow, rectangular metal box, locked. Was there a siren somewhere outside the building that would go off if he opened the door, or was it a silent alarm that rang somewhere off premises or in the house? Did it go through the telephone system? Where did the alarm system call – Mutaib’s guards, or the police?

  Not much to think about. Disable both.

  The neat coils of cables, if disconnected from their jacks, might signal an alarm just to alert someone to the problem. But there had to be a power source. He studied the panels.

  Best to disable the alarm system first.

  He found the key and opened the alarm box. Inside, as he’d expected, there was a battery backup in case the electrical system failed. He disabled it first by tugging one of the wires leading from the system motherboard out of the battery. Next was the electrical cord that descended from the bottom of the box and into the wall. With no time to trace where it went, he yanked the cord out of the bottom of the box and turned his attention to the phone system.

  The phone system consisted of another box, this one some kind of hardened plastic. A thick cable ran from it and disappeared into the wall, probably the power cord. From the top of it ran a normal-sized telephone cable upward and several others leading from the system to a cross-connect panel, which, from the number of cross-connects, he surmised the system served the entire compound.

  The simple expedient of yanking all the tiny wires in the cross-connect panel disabled the internal part of the system. None of the extensions would work, so cutting the main wire or the power cord wouldn’t be necessary. His incursion into the residence would be impossible to report to police unless there were cell phones inside. He’d have to risk that there wouldn’t be many.

  Once both the alarm and the phone system were disabled, Rex hurried to the doors. It was now or never. If he hadn’t done it right, a screeching alarm could sound, and he’d know it. Or a silent alarm might sound somewhere, and he wouldn’t know it. But he was out of time. In less than an hour, he wouldn’t have the cover of darkness anymore. He yanked the door open and scurried in a combat crouch to the nearest place he could see that was deep in a shadow created by the security light.

  Resting there only a moment, he scanned the surrounding area for guards. It was almost unbelievable, but Mutaib’s security was incredibly unprofessional. If Rex had been in charge, the duty station in the building where he’d been held would have been manned twenty-four-seven, especially if a prisoner were inside. There’d be patrols of this area, too. Instead, these clowns seemed to think the security light was sufficient.

  Careful what you wish for, he reminded himself. This was all to his advantage. Rex had never had to rely on luck. His training was superb, he was in top-notch physical condition, and he was always prepared. But lady luck had been smiling upon him tonight, and he was supremely grateful. He hoped he could rely on her goodwill further to complete his self-assigned mission.

  Having assured himself that he was alone between buildings, he needed to explore until he found the residence and the courtyard. If Digger was nearby, he’d probably be close to the last place where Rex had given him tactical commands, which was outside the walls, on the street nearest the side of the residence where the women’s courtyard was located.

  Rex looked up. The stars were no help. Already the heavens were brightening, making the stars fade from view.

  Time was short.

  He moved to the wall. Unless it attached to any of the outbuildings to impede his progress, following it would eventually lead to the residence.

  Five minutes later, Rex spotted a familiar-looking silhouette in a tree above the wall. Digger?

  He touched the coms unit in his collar. “Digger. Come.”

  The tree rustled, and a black shape oozed out of it. Digger was walking along the top of the wall toward him, maybe unable to see him yet. Then a muffled yelp of pain reached Rex’s ears through his earbuds. “Shit,” he whispered.

  Glass on the walls? Why didn’t I think of that?

  Urgently, he spoke in a low voice again. “Off, boy. Get off the wall.”

  The silhouette disappeared from the top of the wall, and seconds later, Digger almost bowled him over as he jumped at his chest. Rex didn’t have any experience with dogs – just Digger and that long-ago dog that had mauled him. But he was reasonably sure that the frenetic wiggles of the dog’s muscular body were a joyful greeting.

  He took Digger’s big head in his hands and held it while he kissed the top of it. “I’m glad to see you, too, boy! Let’s go get Rehka.”

  Digger’s ears went up at Rehka’s name. Rex had uttered it often enough that it was a familiar word to him. He’d never met her, but Rex had let him sniff the scarf often enough as he said her name that he was certain Digger would know the woman herself when he detected her scent.

  “Find Rehka,” he said while he held the scarf out to him.

  Digger looked at the wall. Rex realized too late what he’d done by commanding Digger to leave the wall. Digger couldn’t get back up. Not from the ground. Not only that, but there was glass at least on part of it. Or was there?

  “Digger, give me your paw.” Rex didn’t know where that had come from. Had he heard Trevor say it? He thought maybe he had. In any case, Digger knew the command. He sat and lifted his right front paw. Rex leaned the AA-12 against the wall, knelt, and gently felt along and between the pads. Nothing. He let go, and Digger immediately lifted the other. Rex repeated the process. There it was. Not glass. A thorn. He plucked it from between Digger’s pads and let go of the paw. Digger reached his head forward and licked Rex’s cheek. “Aw, you’re welcome, buddy.”

  Rex stood. He looked up at the wall, which was between eight and ten feet high. Hard to judge in the dark. He wondered. Nothing ventured, nothing gained. He stoope
d and put his arms around Digger’s body. “Up, boy.”

  He didn’t know if it was the right command, or if there was such a command, but Digger seemed to know what he wanted. The dog allowed himself to be picked up. Sixty pounds of dog was nothing for Rex. He could have lifted twice as much weight, easily. When he stood with Digger balanced in his arms and lifted him as high as he could over his shoulder, Digger dug his back feet into Rex’s chest and leaped for the wall.

  Rex staggered from the powerful thrust of the dog’s takeoff, but Digger had made it. Not for the first time, Rex marveled at his intelligence. Digger was already threading his way along the top of the wall toward the tree where Rex had first spotted him. When he reached it, he dropped out of Rex’s sight.

  Now all Rex had to do was figure out a way to reach the courtyard himself, and from there, how to get the women out. But that would involve scaling that wall and he didn’t yet know how he was going to accomplish that.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  REHKA WAS SLEEPING when Digger found her. She’d endured the beating, along with Zoya and Hande. She was sore, but she wasn’t badly injured. The three women expected more punishment to come and eventually they’d be sold or killed, but for now they’d been sent back to the harem. Not to their rooms or their beds, though. They slept as comfortably as they could among a few cushions they’d pulled from the furniture. They’d been told they weren’t allowed to seek the comfort of the chaise lounges, or even the chairs. It was the floor for them.

  They didn’t dare disobey, even when their guards left them alone.

  The restriction was psychological punishment only. It wasn’t even bad, given the number of available cushions. Only the humiliation of being seen by the others in the harem, beaten, dirty, not allowed to bathe or change their torn clothes or use the furniture. It was as if they were mongrel dogs. No one had spoken to them, either. Even the three other women who’d expected to escape with them were silent and avoided them as if they had a contagious disease, fearful that they’d be found out as co-conspirators.