She dug her fingernails in again, and the pain brought her a moment of clarity. She didn’t believe in heaven or hell; nothing would come after this life but empty blackness. The pain was proof she was still alive, and if she was alive, then she was still locked inside the damn closet by that asshole Eugene.
Footsteps in the hallway. She ignored them, assuming they were auditory hallucinations, like the ones she’d heard a few minutes, or perhaps a few days before.
But these sounds weren’t like the others. They didn’t bounce around in her skull and come from every direction, growing louder and louder until she wanted to tear her ears off. No, these footsteps were coming from somewhere beyond the door, and they were steadily getting closer.
She crawled on her hands and knees toward the sound, and her forehead collided with the steel door. Dropping to her stomach and turning her head, she savored the realness of the sound.
Then light flooded her tiny room, and she felt a stabbing sensation in her eyes. Her instincts urged her to pinch her eyelids shut, but she held them open with her fingers.
The footsteps stopped, and the room grew brighter—so bright that it felt like she was staring straight into the sun.
Her vision was nothing but a bright cloud, and she felt her pulse beating against her retinas, but still she held her eyelids open.
Then there was another sound, and not just a sound—words that she could understand.
“What are you doing?”
She pushed away from the floor with her hands and sat back on her heels. Slowly, Eugene Carver came into focus.
A flood of emotions washed over her. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to rip his guts out or kiss him.
After a moment of consideration, she decided on the former. She could always kiss his lifeless corpse afterward. Shakily, she got to her feet. Then she took a deep breath and threw herself at him, her hands outstretched and her teeth bared.
As if reading her thoughts, he took a wide step to the left. With a sweeping motion, he grabbed her shoulder and threw her onto the hard floor.
An explosion of pain ripped through every inch of her body, and she let out an animalistic scream. She bucked against his grip, frothing at the mouth as she tried to sink her teeth into him. But he was too strong, or she was too weak from her captivity. He held her down as easily as he would a frightened songbird and snapped handcuffs around her wrists.
“I have to say,” he said, hauling her to her feet, “solitary confinement is tough for some people. But you are an absolute mess. Honestly—and I’m not exaggerating—you’re an embarrassment to terrorists everywhere.”
He draped a lab coat over her shoulders then cinched it together by tying the sleeves in a knot. As he tightened the knot down, she tried to bite him, but he swatted her chin aside like an irritating housefly.
“Quit it,” he growled. He raised a hand, gesturing at the empty hallway, then gave her a little shove. “We’re going somewhere to talk, but you don’t need your teeth to answer my questions. Keep that in mind.”
Her knees wobbled as she started forward, and her tender feet slapped against the concrete floor. But with every step, she felt her sanity returning. At last, she had an opportunity to engage her magnificent brain.
She glanced over her shoulder at Eugene and smiled. Finally, she had a toy to play with, and she planned to enjoy every second of it.
The observation room door slid open, and Jarrod glanced at the barricade. He couldn’t see the man and woman on the other side, but he could hear them through the blast-shielded speakers embedded in the wall. The speakers were meant to allow engineers to communicate with explosives ordinance technicians in the blasting room, but he would use it to analyze Audrey’s voice. It wasn’t ideal—the microphones in the observation room wouldn’t pick up the minute vocal fluctuations he would normally analyze, but he would make do. Ultimately, Eugene would determine the success or failure of the interrogation. Jarrod was simply there to serve as a threat; he was possibly the only thing on earth that Audrey truly feared.
Not that she had any reason to fear him—Jarrod had no intention of harming her. As he paced the room, his clawed fingers clenching and unclenching, he thought about whether Deedee would approve of the ruse. He assumed she would not mind since Katharos was threatening so many lives, and Audrey could provide intelligence that would thwart an impending attack.
Still, he felt conflicted. Deedee would never have locked Audrey in a room and deprived her of food, light, and human interaction for over a week. But if the tables were turned, Audrey wouldn’t hesitate to torture and kill Deedee.
The thought sent a wave of heat through his body, and his mind automatically raced through strategies to escape the room and end Audrey’s life. He paused, allowing the physiological and psychological side-effects of the hypothetical scenario to subside. Audrey would pay for her deeds—for releasing weaponized Cholera in New Orleans and a multitude of other sins—but not by his hands. He would not jeopardize his relationship with Deedee for this woman’s sake.
The speaker let out a tinny reproduction of Eugene’s voice. “You know who that is? Who I locked in the most secure room in the building?”
Audrey didn’t reply, so Eugene went on. “Your goons call him ‘The Nightmare.’ I assume you know how he got that name.”
There was another pause, and Eugene’s voice came through again, this time at a whisper. “It started with the pimps, the pedophiles, and the human traffickers. He would break into their homes in the middle of the night and torture them in ways you don’t even want to imagine. Criminals around the world gave him that name because they didn’t want to believe he was real. But as you can see, he is most definitely real.”
Finally, Audrey spoke. “I hate to burst your bubble, but I’m not afraid of your little science project.”
Jarrod continued to pace. “It’s hard to tell with the audio quality, but I believe she’s telling the truth.”
Eugene didn’t miss a beat. “Really? Because I have to be honest, I’ve known this guy since day one, and he still freaks me out. You should have seen how he convinced your old boss to activate the kill switch in the brains of your terrorist friends. He pumped nanobots into the guy’s skull and ate his brain from the inside out.”
It was a gross oversimplification—Jarrod had fed millions of microscopic machines into the former Emperor of Katharos and used them to manually stimulate the man’s pain centers—but the final result was the same.
“He eats his victims,” Eugene went on, “and they’re usually alive until he gets to the juicy bits.”
This was an outright lie; if Eugene wasn’t careful, his prisoner would begin to doubt anything he said.
Audrey went on the offensive. “You’re not getting it. I don’t give a shit what he’s done or what he can do. I’m not afraid of him because I’m too important. You act like you have to keep him locked in that room to protect me, and you’re probably going to threaten to let him out if I don’t talk. But if he was so dangerous, if he could really read my mind and know all my sins, then he would have killed me in Atlanta, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Cut the charade, Eugene. I’m not buying it.”
A keyboard clicked for several seconds before Eugene responded. “Two Twenty-One Cypress Street. Ring a bell? How about Thirty-Three Belmont Avenue? Fredericksburg, Wilmington, Toronto, Detroit…We know the locations of all your weapons depots and safehouses in North America. Still feel important? Invincible? Face it, Audrey, I am the only person standing between you and brutal execution, or being locked in that hole until you wither away and starve.”
Audrey gave the briefest of pauses before retorting. “You think you can intimidate me by spouting off a bunch of bullshit addresses. My warehouses have zero records attaching them to Katharos.” She tapped her right temple. “The only connection between them and me is in here.”
“She’s lying,” Jarrod said without breaking stride.
“It’s the truth, and y
ou know it,” Eugene growled. “And I’m going to burn each of these locations to the ground. You have nothing left, Audrey. Whatever kingdom you were planning to build on earth—it’s gone.”
He paused then added. “Well, you still have your life, I suppose. And your health, for the most part. If you want to keep it, you’ll answer a very simple question: What biological or chemical agent were you planning to use in the next attack?”
Audrey’s stomach was doing somersaults in her abdomen. Where had Eugene gotten so much information? No single agent in her army knew where the safehouses were, and it was standard procedure to wipe all hard drives if one of the facilities was attacked. Someone must have broken under interrogation, and someone else must have slipped up during the ensuing raid.
Her dreams were crumbling into dust. Without the stores of experimental weapons, she would never be able to take control of the new world following the C-Virus outbreak. And without manpower and supplies, no one in Katharos would be able to rescue her from this hellhole. Eugene was right—she had nothing left.
Then a twisted grin spread across her face. If she was doomed to her fate, she would make sure she didn’t suffer alone. Lukas would pay for his idiotic decision to hoard the C-Virus activation codes, and Eugene would know pain unlike any he’d felt before.
“The next biological agent is a new design,” she said. “It’s some sort of mini-virus that causes sterility in human women.”
Eugene paused, and his gaze softened as if he was listening to a voice she couldn’t hear. “What components are used to manufacture the weapon?”
“Hell if I know,” she said with a shrug. “But I can do better than that; there are devices all over the world that can be used to spread the weapon, and Lukas Woodfall is the only stupid son of a bitch with the code to activate them.”
Eugene’s eyes widened. “Do you know where any of the devices are, specifically?”
“The closest one is at New York University. It’s in a hidden room, but I’m not sure where the room is. I’ve never been there.”
Eugene paused again, then narrowed his eyes. “Why are you telling me this?”
“There’s more,” she said, licking her lips and leaning closer, pulling against the chair she had been cuffed to. “A prototype of the weapon has already been released. It’s not as contagious as the final product. It has to spread through bodily fluid exchange, but it’s equally effective once it’s inside the body.” She glanced up, studying a cobweb in the seam where wall met ceiling. “It can spread through men, too, though they will never know they have it. And the effects in women are subtle.” She locked eyes with him. “No worse than a menstrual cramp—not that you would know what those feel like. Anyone who came in direct contact with patient zero is at risk.”
Eugene stood completely paralyzed for a long moment. Then he broke out of his trance and gripped her shoulders painfully tight.
“Who?” he barked. “Who is patient zero?”
She could see it in his eyes. He knew, but he didn’t want to know. Didn’t want to believe. Tilting her head back, she spoke in a soft, breathy voice. “Me.”
31
Eugene released his grip and took a step back. Every muscle in his body tightened, ready to pummel the foul woman into a pulp, but his mind refused to believe she was telling the truth. He raised a closed fist, lowered it, and shouted, “You’re lying!”
She glared at him defiantly, and the response came through the radio in his ear.
“She is not.” Jarrod paused. “Eugene, let me out.”
“No,” he said, both to himself and to Jarrod.
The earpiece whistled with feedback, and Jarrod’s shout was loud enough to be heard through the blast doors. “Let me out!”
Eugene tore out the earpiece and threw it against the wall then moved within an inch of Audrey’s face and said, “For your sake, I hope your lying.” With that, he brushed past her and left the room, breaking into a run. When he reached the elevator, he slammed his fist against the security terminal and said, “Felicity North.”
Her location flashed across the screen: Cafeteria, Sub-Level 3.
“Bring her to me.” He entered the elevator and paced in a tight circle. When the doors opened, he stepped out just in time to see Felicity leaving the cafeteria.
“Eugene? What’s wrong?”
“Come with me,” he said, clamping down on her wrist.
“That’s fine, but—oww—you’re hurting me.”
He let go, but he didn’t slow his pace until he reached the diagnostics room.
A pair of technicians sitting at steel desks glanced up, startled.
“Check her,” Eugene snapped, trying to gather his thoughts. “Check her…reproductive organs. Make sure they’re intact.”
Felicity wrapped her arms around her stomach. “Gene, what’s this all about?”
“I just—” Eugene’s voice cracked. He closed his eyes and counted backward from five. “I need to be sure.”
“Okay, Gene,” she said in a reassuring voice, though her eyes were filled with suspicion. “Whatever you say.”
One of the technicians, a woman in her mid-forties, took Felicity by the hand and led her into the next room.
Five minutes passed, and Eugene never stopped pacing. The technician emerged first, and her face was grim. Then Felicity followed her out, and there were tears in her eyes.
“What? What is it?”
The technician glared at him as she wrapped Felicity in a hug. It was nearly a minute before the young neuroscientist could get the words out, “I’m…sterile. Eugene, how did you know?”
He didn’t answer. Instead, he turned around and shoved the double doors open. He ran all the way back to the weapon’s testing room, and when he stepped inside, there was a loud banging noise coming from the blast doors.
Audrey glanced up at him, wide-eyed. “That thing is trying to get through!”
“And?”
“And you have to get me out of here.” She tugged against her handcuffs. “I know more secrets, and I swear I’ll tell you everything.”
He walked past her and stopped in front of the computer terminal.
“Please,” she whimpered. “I swear, I’ll cooperate. I’ll help you stop the attacks.”
Eugene didn’t reply. He stood with his chin tucked against his chest, completely motionless.
Audrey drew in shallow, panicky breaths. “I…I’m sorry. I never should have infected myself. Please…forgive me.”
Eugene closed his eyes. He imagined Susana, and the children they might have had together. His eyes opened, and he mashed his palm against the blast door release.
“What are you doing?” Audrey shrieked. “You can’t let him in here. You can’t!”
As the heavy, shielded doors began to open, Eugene left the observation room. He paused in the hallway and leaned against the wall. He ignored her cries for mercy, closed his eyes, and waited for the screams to end.
32
Santiago Torres sank into his chair as if he had just been knocked unconscious. He stared at the men standing in the center of his office, but his eyes seemed to focus on something beyond them.
“San, are you still with us?” Eugene asked.
The Director of Hillcrest nodded slowly. “I…think so. Could you repeat that last part again?”
Eugene scratched the back of his neck. “After I verified Audrey’s story, I kind of…let Jarrod into the room with her. It’s my fault.”
San blinked. His eyes rolled around in his skull for several moments before he managed to fix his gaze on the human weapon. Jarrod’s black armor had turned a rusty brown where the blood had dried, and damp bits of viscera occasionally dropped from his claws onto the floor.
The director shook his head. “You don’t need to protect him; he’s not a child, and he shares the blame equally.”
“But the whole thing was my idea,” Eugene shot back.
“Whatever punishment I decide upon will apply to
both of you, and that’s final,” San said, though the intensity of his voice failed to match his words. “Unfortunately, we can’t worry about that right now. We need to stop Katharos from doing to the rest of the world what Audrey did to Felicity. And to Susana.”
He exhaled, and a film of tears glossed over his eyes. “Have you…told her, yet?”
Eugene shook his head and had to bite his lower lip to hold back his own tears. “No,” he said, barely choking the word out. He took two deep breaths. “I told her to get checked out at the hospital, but I didn’t say why.”
“Put it out of your mind, for now. How long will it take you to prepare for your mission?”
“Not long. Yuri and Eli are getting ready right now, and the helo should be ready for takeoff in…” Eugene glanced at his watch. “Twenty minutes or so.”
San glanced at Jarrod. “You should probably use that time to take a shower.”
Jarrod faced Eugene, and the operative nodded.
“Go ahead. Meet me in the team room when you’re finished.”
When Jarrod had departed, San beckoned for Eugene to sit. The black-ops leader eased into one of three cushioned steel chairs across from him, rested his elbows on his knees, and supported his forehead with his palms. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I never should have involved Jarrod in the interrogation. And I never should have…”
His words trailed off, and San could guess what he was thinking. He was blaming himself for infecting Susana with the bio-weapon. At first, San wanted to blame him, too, but it wasn’t fair. Audrey had been the one to intentionally infect herself when she knew she would be taken into their custody. And before her, a group of Katharos scientists had developed the weapon for the sole purpose of sterilizing women without their knowledge.
San rose from behind the desk and took the seat next to Eugene. He rested his hand on the younger man’s back and said, “You know I don’t approve of you sleeping with Susana before you two are married.” He forced a weak smile. “I guess I’m old-fashioned that way.” The smile faded. “But you are not to blame for Audrey’s actions. You had no way of knowing she was infected. And she probably passed the weapon onto you while you were still in the field. I know you care about Susana and would never intentionally do anything to harm her.”
Heir to the Nightmare Page 17
