by Linda Hawley
Charlie must be the GOG contact.
Since his cover was now blown, he would be a fugitive. As my thoughts turned to Grace, I was full of confusion.
She’d been in the room when I saw the fake video of Elinor being abducted. She’d also seen Humpty hold the knife to my neck and never reacted in the slightest. Grace had seen Chow waterboarded. If she was with our enemy, then why did she help us escape? How did she die?
I’ve never seen someone’s eyes fill with blood before.
Grace had helped Charlie get us out, and if she hadn’t helped Chow, he wouldn’t have made it.
She saved our lives.
I suddenly realized that I had it backwards. Grace wasn't the enemy I thought she was.
The car moved through curves and onto rough road. I guessed that we were in the country somewhere. As the car pitched us around, I tried to stabilize Chow, unsure of what his injuries were. I didn’t know what was ahead of us, but I knew it was certainly better than the facility we’d just been in.
Eventually the Caddy slowed and then gently stopped. The engine remained idle, but the car began to slowly drop. The sensation felt like being in an elevator, but much slower. The movement continued for a short time, and then the Caddy moved forward a bit, then stopped. The engine was finally turned off.
At least we won’t die from carbon monoxide poisoning, I thought, unsure about the trunk sealing in the fifty-eight-year-old car.
Looking in the direction of the trunk latch, I hoped that it would be Charlie opening it, and not some government agent.
After hearing the driver’s side door close, the trunk hatch opened seconds later, and I beheld Charlie’s ordinary face. He seemed relieved, and so was I. Beside him stood an older man, about seventy. He was rugged and tanned, with white, thinning hair. He nodded to me. As Charlie reached in to help me out, I exhaled the breath I’d been holding.
“Y’all are safe,” he declared.
Both of the men’s attention was fixed on Chow. They each took a side of him, struggling to get him out of the trunk.
We were in some type of fancy garage that could easily hold a dozen cars. There were three other antique beauties parked on the polished concrete, which had been finished in a rich red. It reminded me too much of Grace’s eyes.
We’d been in an elevator—a car elevator—and had descended below ground. The garage was artificially lit, illuminating a glass wall forty feet in length and at least twelve feet tall, which stood between the garage and what looked like a residence.
After wrestling Chow out of the trunk, the men carried him together, moving towards a door to the right of the glass wall.
“Ma’am, can you mash that button on the wall there?” the older man asked me, nodding to a wall panel.
I moved over to the wall.
“Mash the one marked Office,” he said, breathing heavy as they carried Chow.
Pushing the button, the door they stood in front of opened, and the hall lit up automatically. The three of them passed through, and I followed. They moved to another door that was already open, not ten feet away. It was a doctor’s office about twelve feet square. There was something odd about the room. The table was different than I’d seen before; it was flat and straight, not curved upward like most examining tables. The older man was obviously a doctor, because he began to examine Chow as Charlie and I stood by.
I looked around the room, noticing a picture of a black Labrador on one wall. The room looked just like Lulu’s veterinarian’s office.
Oh my goodness, he’s a vet, I realized.
“Gimme some space, son,” the man said to Charlie as he remained focused on Chow.
Charlie nodded as he moved out of the room, pulling my arm along with him. I lingered, then moved off.
As we moved into the hall, I asked, “He’s a vet?”
I knew he’d heard concern in my voice. Charlie gently slipped his arm around me, leading me down the hall and away from the room.
“He’s in good hands.”
“Well, he certainly knows more than I do about medicine,” I said, reassuring myself.
Charlie moved me into what looked like a waiting room, with a black leather tufted couch with nail-head trim along a long wall. The couch—with matching black leather chairs alongside—faced a reception desk. As I looked at the room, I noticed that all of the fine art on the walls was of the same dog, a black Labrador.
“That’s Abbey,” Charlie said to me.
“Who is?”
“The dog. In the pictures. It’s Abbey.”
“She’s the vet’s dog?”
“All her life.”
I nodded. “Man’s best friend.”
I looked at the pictures again, fully understanding that level of connection to a dog, and missing Lulu.
Charlie deposited me on the couch and then took a seat next to me. He seemed to anticipate my first question.
“Doc will come out when he knows somethin’.”
I nodded.
“I feel like a gnat in a hailstorm. I can only imagine how y’all feel,” he said, exhaling a loud breath.
“I’ll live,” I said, looking into his eyes. “Thank you for helping us escape.”
He tipped his head.
I had some pressing questions that I needed to ask him.
“What happened to Grace?”
He exhaled, looking down. “Kill switch,” he said quietly.
“What?”
He looked up into my eyes.
“They flipped the kill switch in her brain,” he said, snapping his fingers loudly.
The sound rattled me. I was shocked.
Charlie continued. “Clauberg invented a microscopic robot—”
“A nanobot that turns the brain to mush,” I said, explaining for him. “I’ve heard of it,” I said flatly, remembering what Vanessa had told me in the future.
He nodded.
“Why her?” I asked him.
“Clauberg injected all the remote-viewing team—”
“Because the information they hold in their brains is too valuable to get out,” I said, finishing his sentence.
He nodded. “One more day in there, and y’all would’ve been injected too. Ya end up dumb as a box of rocks, or dead.”
An involuntary shiver struck me.
“Y’all are safe now,” he said, patting my knee.
I was reluctant to ask, but I had to.
“And you?”
He was quiet for several seconds.
“Yep. Me too. Everyone under Smith has a kill switch, except Clauberg.”
“Oh, Charlie,” I said, tears beginning to fill my eyes.
He would die—just like Grace—because he’d rescued us. What they had both given to get us out was like a bolt through my heart, and it humbled me. I couldn’t stop the tears that dropped from my cheeks. Charlie reached out, silently holding me to his shoulder.
I heard him swallow heavily, and then he said with a shaky voice, “If they flip my switch, it can’t activate till I’m at ground level.” He took a breath and then said spryly, “As long as I’m down here, I’m happy as a gopher in soft dirt.”
* * *
“We've howdied, but we ain't shook yet,” the vet said to me, his hand held out.
Smiling, I shook his hand.
“Charles Ede, ma’am,” he said. “Everyone calls me Doc.”
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Ann.”
He tipped his head to me just as he had when I saw him from the trunk. It was as if he had a Stetson on his head.
“Thank you for helping us,” I said and then took a breath, preparing myself. “How’s Chow?”
“He’ll make it,” Doc said, motioning for me to sit. “No need for a hospital…I don’t think.”
I sat, and he followed suit to my right.
“Why don’t y’all tell me what happened to the boy? That way I can get a better feel for how I can best help him.”
Looking left, I searched Charlie’s e
yes, unsure what I could tell Doc without putting him in danger of being hunted by the government, too. Charlie seemed to understand my gaze.
“He’s my daddy,” Charlie said bluntly. “If y’all can trust me, y’all can trust him.”
I had no idea.
“Okay then,” I replied, plowing ahead.
I turned to Doc and explained Chow’s torture. He nodded throughout. When I was done, he paused, looking at the couch.
“If the boy’s endured all that, then he’s as tough as a boot,” Doc said emphatically.
Now I understood where Charlie got his Texas-talk.
“I’m sure you heard the rattlin’ in his lungs…”
“Yes.”
“I’ll keep an eye on him for pneumonia or pleuritis.”
“What’s pleuritis?”
“Inflammation of the lung lining.”
“Okay. What about his nose?”
“Yeah, I guess you could tell it’s broke.”
I nodded.
“Gonna have to set that. Best I do it now, while he’s already sedated.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Luckily, I just got trained on my new portable ultrasound gadget, so I was able to scan the boy and know what I was seein’. He’s bruised internally a fair bit, but nothin’ showed up that worried me bad. When he wakes up from the sedation they gave him, I’ll ask the boy some questions, and that’ll help me figure out more.”
“How long before he wakes up?”
“Hard to tell. I’ll stay there in the room till he wakes.”
“I can help,” Charlie offered.
“Okay, son. It is the middle of the night,” Doc said, looking at Charlie. “Now, let’s take a look at you,” he said, focusing his eyes on my bruised face.
Doc examined me, asked questions, and then came to the conclusion that my only injury was severe bruising to my face.
“Git Ann here a couple of gel packs and some towels,” Doc told Charlie. “Why don’t cha rest here? Y’all look wore out,” he said, patting the couch.
I lay back, the adrenaline gone from my system and exhaustion taking its place.
“Y’all have been through a lot,” Doc said compassionately. “You hangin’ in there?”
“Yeah. I know we look bad, but I’m so grateful to be outta that place,” I said.
“I can understand that,” he said, nodding repeatedly.
He’s a kind man.
“If it weren’t for Charlie, we wouldn’t have gotten out,” I said, wanting him to know that his son had saved our lives.
“Well, I thank y’all for telling me that. He’s a good boy.”
Charlie returned, and Doc put the icepacks on my face.
“Gimme two hours, then take your shift,” Doc said to Charlie as he stood face to face with him. Then he clapped him on the shoulders and, looking into his son’s eyes, said, “I’m proud of you.”
Charlie had been struck dumb with emotion.
Doc then left the room to return to Chow.
Charlie sat down in the chair facing the couch.
“Is your dad GOG?”
After a few seconds, Charlie said, “Nope. He’s just Doc.”
The answer surprised me. Then it occurred to me. “Are you GOG?”
“Nope.”
I sat up abruptly, staring at him. “You’re not?”
“Nope. Y’all don’t need to be GOG to do the right thing.”
His answer stunned me.
“Then how did you know about me when I got to the FEMA facility? You acted as if you knew me.”
His eyes looked sad.
“Grace.”
“What?” I frowned, feeling dumb and slow.
“Grace told me,” he said, taking a deep breath. “Grace was GOG.”
I recoiled.
“Oh my goodness,” I realized. “She was the GOG contact in Project Continuum.”
“Yep.”
As I lay on the couch, Charlie briefed me on a number of things. I learned that Humpty had suspected that Grace was GOG for weeks. That’s why he had her present when he showed me the video of Elinor and held the knife to my neck. Humpty was gauging Grace’s reaction. I also learned that she had manipulated the cameras in the interrogation room, the hall, the stairwell, and the parking garage, so they were on a loop replaying the same images, to mask our escape.
“She sacrificed herself to save us. Did she ever tell you why she was willing to do it?” I asked him.
He considered my question.
“She thought the project goals were all catty whompus—”
“Charlie, I can usually follow you, but I have no idea what catty whompus means,” I said, smiling at him.
He smirked. “Off-kilter…you know…not quite right.”
“Got it…catty whompus.”
“Like I was sayin’, she didn’t like the project goals, even though she was the leader. Grace tried to make changes, but Smith paid her no mind. After all those Chinese were killed from the earthquake her team caused, it was like she’d found God. By the time ya’ll got here, Grace was willing to die, if it would change things,” he said quietly, then took a deep breath. “She looked up to y’all. She told me that if she had a do-over, she’d never have gone to the Pentagon.”
“Her death will not be in vain,” I vowed.
“I hope not,” he said, looking intently into my eyes.
Neither of us said the obvious thing…that he too might be sacrificing his life.
It was time to change the subject.
“How safe are we here at Doc’s?” I asked.
“Safe. This place is built like Fort Knox.”
“Can peekers listen in?”
“Nope.”
“Is the building shielded, then?”
“We might not be GOG like y’all, but we’re not stupid. Yeah, it’s shielded.”
“That’s good. Is there any chance you’ve got a prepaid phone that’s never been used?” I asked, sure to be disappointed.
“Got at least a dozen in the safe.”
“No way!” I exclaimed.
He laughed. “Does a dog have fleas?”
Then I laughed.
Chapter 34
At a little after three a.m., Charlie shook me awake.
“Is Chow okay?” I asked.
“Awake and asking for y’all.”
I hopped off the couch. Charlie guided me to a different room than the one they’d first put him in. This one had a plush reclining chair, which Chow was lying back in at a forty-five-degree angle. Beside him stood Doc. When I saw Chow, I rushed over. His nose was taped, but his face was pretty swollen and beaten up.
“How are you?” I asked quietly.
“I am okay,” he said slowly, his voice still gravely.
“The boy’s a real trooper. I tried to realign his nose, but the swelling was pretty bad. Don’t know if it took. That’ll have to be looked at later by a surgeon. I don’t git to set dog’s noses, so it was kinda interesting,” he said, slowly enunciating the last word.
“We moved Chow to the chair ’cause the exam table’s a little short for a man,” Charlie said.
“He don’t seem to have serious internal injuries. I’d say he’s gonna heal just fine,” Doc said.
“See?” Chow said, motioning to the doctor.
“That’s great news,” I said with a sigh of relief.
“Son, let’s give ’em some privacy,” Doc said to Charlie. They quietly retreated to the hall.
“Are you okay?” Chow asked me.
“Grace is dead,” I told him.
“Charlie briefed me,” Chow said quietly.
“She died right in front of me!” I exclaimed, grateful that I finally had someone close to me to confide in.
Chow reached out for my hand. I lowered my voice to barely a whisper.
“That psycho-doc injected the whole team with a nanobot kill switch…even Charlie.”
Chow’s eyes darted to the door they’d gone out of.<
br />
“Does he know?”
“He’s the one who told me. If they’ve hit his kill switch, he’s only alive because we’re underground.”
Chow nodded slightly, then winced. “That is where he should stay until we figure this out.”
“I don’t think he’d volunteer for any runs to the 7-eleven for Coke,” I said sardonically.
Chow smiled. He still seemed a bit groggy.
“I know you’re hurt, but I’m so glad to be out of there,” I said.
“They were going to torture and kill us,” Chow said plainly.
“I know. I don’t know what’s ahead of us, but I’m so happy that you’re gonna heal and that we’re out of that FEMA center, that I’m almost euphoric. It doesn’t even matter that I’ve only slept two hours and haven’t eaten.”
“You must be happy,” he said with a grin.
I told Chow everything I knew up to that point. He was concerned that we were in danger, since Charlie would be suspected of helping Grace aid our escape.
I called Doc and Charlie into the room to discuss it.
“Chow and I are worried that agents will come here to find us,” I said to them.
“We were just chewin’ on that thought in the hall,” Doc said.
“And?” I asked.
“Like I said, this here’s built like Fort Knox,” Charlie said.
Doc nodded.
I really didn’t want to fight the government on American soil—with an unlimited arsenal—from below ground. We really needed to get out of here.
“Can Chow be moved?” I asked Doc.
“He needs to stay upright, but yeah,” Doc answered.
I nodded, relief written on my face.
Turning to Chow, I said, “Let’s use one of their prepaid phones, call GOG, and have them extricate us to a safe house.”
“Call it in,” Chow said in agreement.
Turning to father and son, my mind clicked through several scenarios.
“I’d suggest you call in sick this morning, Charlie. Think up some contagious disease, call them, and tell them you’ve got it, describing it in gross detail. If they don’t suspect you helped free us, they’ll likely believe you, and that will buy some time.”
“The filly’s got a good idea,” Doc said to Charlie, nodding to me.
“Best one yet,” Charlie agreed.
