He doubted they meant to attract much attention down here. A cool, musty draft floated down the hall. In contrast to the muggy summer heat outside, it almost felt refreshing.
“It’s this way, I’m sure.” Robin pointed down another corridor cloaked in darkness. Only a fraction of the overhead LEDs appeared to be on in an effort to conserve energy in the unused halls. Chris guessed they’d passed from under the main hospital building and headed into the passages situated under the tall Maryland Medical Research Tower.
From his visits to the research complex, he was accustomed to seeing messenger drones floating between labs to deliver supplies and samples. Hologram posters and presentations lit up the walls between doors. Each holoprojection displayed the latest medical research and findings the scientists had discovered or developed. Holograms of rotating DNA spiral helices, globular models of human stem cells, and blown-up images of tiny nanoparticles and nanobots glowed throughout the building like a dazzling display in a scientific art gallery.
But only shadows decorated these walls, accompanied by the echoes of air pushed through ducts and vents.
“I wasn’t sure before,” Chris said, “but now I can see how easy it would be for a hospital employee to set up camp down here.”
Robin gestured at one of the empty labs. “They shut down most of these labs for remodeling. The administration promised they’d be state of the art when they reopened. Of course, without additional research funding, there was no money to pump back into the place, so they can’t be used in modern research for anything more than a haunted house.”
“Never been a fan of ghosts.” Jordan straightened his suit-jacket lapel. “You don’t think the security drones share that fear, do you?”
The question caught Chris off guard. He’d been so focused on finding Reed and Ana. He’d neglected to consider the hospital’s own beefed-up security and its lack of presence down here. “I suppose if Reed is down here somewhere, he wouldn’t be interested in any nosy bots interrupting his research.”
Robin’s hand shot to her side, under her button-down shirt, to grip the handle of her stunner. “If he—or one of the bastards working for him—can hack into the secure intrahospital messaging system, then I suppose he can control the security around here.”
“That would be my guess as well.” Jordan motioned for them to stop and cocked his head in an apparent attempt to listen for any incongruous sounds. He relaxed and gestured for them to continue. “And I have a feeling he’s installed a little security of his own.”
Chris’s skin crawled as they followed Robin around another corner. They plunged deeper into the basement labs.
“Are we close?” Jordan asked in a hushed voice. They paused at a dimly lit four-way intersection.
Robin pointed down another hall. “I’m certain the old microscopy and imaging facilities are that way.”
“Seems like we’ve been walking for miles.” Chris stepped forward, nervously eyeing the closed doors nearest them. “But I suppose these places have to be well insulated from any vibration from the streets, huh?”
“Right.” Jordan strode in beside Chris.
They trudged forward. Robin pointed at a plastic placard, a remnant of a time before holosigns and holoprojections. It read Imaging Facilities Research. They were on the right track.
They tiptoed forward, careful not to make a sound. If Reed was here, they must be close.
A low humming echoed toward them. Chris’s pulse quickened, and he whipped his head around. Which direction was it coming from?
The noise grew louder until a black and white softball-sized security drone hovered near ceiling height around a corner at the opposite end of the hall.
Robin’s face went pale. “I don’t have my comm card anymore. I can’t even identify myself as a hospital employee.”
Chris yanked on a door handle. “We’ve got to hide.”
Jordan and Robin joined him, twisting handles. None of the doors gave.
They sprinted back the way they had come and pulled on locked doors. The humming followed. With each corner they took, they drove farther away from where they thought Reed might be, wasting precious time. The drone seemed to follow, seemed to be hot on their scent.
Its humming grew more frantic, louder. As it gained on them, a series of muffled clicks emanated from the drone. A growling smack of metal against metal sounded as a slew of bullet holes pocked a door near Jordan.
“That’s no hospital drone.” Robin readied her stunner.
Chris and Jordan followed suit with their handguns. A fresh spray of silenced gunfire flew from the drone. They rushed toward another intersection and took positions hidden from the drone.
Its buzzing filled the silence as Chris held his breath. He signaled for Robin to get ready, to take the bot down when it approached them. She had the sole weapon with a modicum of covert ability. Any loud gunfire from him or Jordan would attract more unwanted attention.
But as the mechanical whir of the drone’s props grew, a clatter of footsteps joined in the foreboding cacophony. The security drone must have been connected to another network and called for reinforcements.
The lab doors sank back a foot or so from the corridor walls, giving Jordan, Chris, and Robin a sliver of cover. Robin ducked into one of these spaces as she waited for the drone. Chris and Jordan took neighboring nooks and readied their pistols for the fresh attackers.
There was no doubt in his mind they’d found the right place.
Now that they were here, he hoped they’d be able to leave. His palms grew clammy, and he tightened his fingers around the pistol grip.
“Ready, my man?” Jordan whispered.
Chris nodded and looked at Robin. His heart fluttered, and he swallowed hard. She should be upstairs, back in the hospital, treating her patients. Not down here, not chasing a bioterrorist with schemes of corporate and government corruption. “You can handle that drone?”
“Wouldn’t be the first time today I shot a drone with this guy.” She patted the stunner before stepping out of her hiding spot. A flash of light scattered the shadows as an arc of electricity blasted from the stunner.
In response, a flare of unexpected gunfire smashed against the wall behind her. She drew back under cover. “Missed.”
More bullets sprayed into the walls, sending plaster and bits of plastic coating flying amid clouds of dust. Footsteps grew louder, closer.
Chris could hardly see her silhouette, but Robin lunged out again. Another blue flash reflected off the dust motes and debris. This time, a loud clunk echoed down the hall. Robin disappeared beyond Chris’s line of vision. He followed, heart pounding.
“Robin!”
He rounded the corner, and she stood before him with the white and black security drone in her hand.
“Got it.” She rushed back toward him. Then three bulky individuals approached with machine pistols in tow. The first man, clad in a pale-blue custodial uniform, raised his weapon and sent forth a cutting spray of gunfire.
Chris grabbed Robin’s hand and pulled her back toward cover. She yelled out but followed.
Her face was white, sweat covering her forehead as she palmed the paralyzed bot. “Wanted to try my old trick again.” She caught her breath as a hail of gunfire spattered near them. Jordan returned two shots.
“Don’t have many more rounds,” he said.
Robin gulped hard. “I think when the drone’s on, it enables surge protection. The stunner provides enough of a surge to power it down but not destroy it. But when it’s off...”
“You think you can overpower it, make it explode like at Reed’s place,” Chris finished for her.
“Worked before, should work again.” She crouched. The color seemed to be draining from her face.
Chris took two quick shots to suppress their attackers. At least the three gunmen didn’t know how few rounds Jordan and he had left. “We don’t have much time. Might as well try it.”
Licking her lips, Robin tossed t
he drone down the hall and fired her stunner in one fluid motion. She ducked back as a flash of fire filled the corridor. Three distinct voices called out in agony. The tongues of flame dissipated. Jordan sprinted toward the gunmen, his weapon drawn. He kicked away their guns as they writhed in pain.
Chris gathered up the three dropped machine pistols. Between the storm of gunfire and the blast from the exploding drone, he had no doubt additional forces would be mobilized.
Another spate of gunfire shot out. Chris whipped around. Jordan fired off two shots into one of the burned gunmen. The man’s movements stilled, and a pistol fell out of his hand. He must have retrieved the weapon from a holster when they weren’t looking. He patted down the other two men and took away the knives and handguns they had stowed.
Cursing under his breath for his ignorance, Chris turned to Jordan. His friend’s brow furrowed, his eyes clenched closed, and he grabbed his leg. Blood trickled out between Jordan’s fingers.
“Let me see it.” Chris knelt beside Jordan. “Robin!” She didn’t respond.
“It’s just my leg, my man. I’m going to be okay.” Jordan tried to stand, but his leg crumpled beneath him.
But as crimson covered Jordan’s fingers, worry overcame Chris. “Robin! Jordan’s shot.”
No footsteps or voice came from where she’d been holed up.
Her unresponsiveness panicked Chris. She couldn’t be hurt, couldn’t leave him like this. His heart sank. Overwhelmed by concern for Robin’s well-being, he feared the worst. “Don’t go anywhere.” He pressed one of the machine pistols into Jordan’s free hand.
Jordan examined the weapon. “Don’t worry. I’m not quite fit to run a marathon.”
Chris sprinted toward where Robin had been. His vision swam for a moment when he saw her chin tucked against her sternum, her hair draped over her face. Her chest rose and fell slowly, but her hands had fallen to her side. A red stain blossomed across her abdomen. His stomach churned, and he traced his fingers along her cheek. “Robin.”
He tore the bottom of her shirt back to reveal the wound. She must have been shot when she’d tossed the drone back at the gunmen—he couldn’t let her die like this, not after everything they’d been through together and everything they might have to look forward to. After ripping the sleeve off his own shirt, he tied it around her waist. He shredded the rest of his collared shirt and fastened a bandage across her wound. Examining his inept attempt at stanching her bleeding, he wished it was him lying unconscious and being tended by Robin.
She’d know what to do; she knew how to save lives.
“She needs help.” Jordan lowered himself beside her and brought out his comm card. He’d wrapped his suit jacket around the wound in his thigh. His face still seemed full of his usual warm color, though he clenched his jaw. “And she’s not the only one.”
“We’ve got to get her to a hospital, a doctor.” Chris flipped the card out of Jordan’s hand. Their plan had been foiled, ruined.
He didn’t care. He wanted to see her alive, awake, breathing, and joking again. Despair burgeoned in him like a dark pit threatening to swallow him whole.
Jordan shook his head and patted the machine pistol. “You have to find Ana. We’re close.” A wave of pain appeared to wash over him. He caught his breath. “We’re close to Reed or else we wouldn’t have dealt with these guys. We have no idea how many other people are roaming these halls, acting as employees and waiting to be activated, waiting to attack.” He closed his eyes for a moment and then exhaled. “We don’t know if they’re already whisking Ana away. We’ll never be able to find her.”
“But I need to make sure you and Robin are okay.”
“We will be.” Jordan indicated the weapon again. “Let me call the hospital, tell them to send an ambulatory drone down here with some paramedics. She needs help, Chris, and you can’t do anything else for her, but you can do something for Ana. You’re the only one who can.”
Chris pressed his eyelids closed and slapped his palm against the wall. He hated leaving Robin, hated leaving Jordan, both injured and vulnerable. But Jordan was right. He was the only one that stood a chance of catching Reed now, of finding Ana.
If they were still even here.
Turning away from his two wounded comrades, Chris reared his leg back and slammed his heel into the opposite door handle. The door burst open, splintering wood and paint chips.
“You two at least need better cover than the hall.” He cradled Robin and carried her into an empty laboratory.
Jordan hobbled, favoring his right leg.
Brushing back Robin’s hair, he kissed her forehead and squeezed her hand. “Take care of her.”
“I will.” Jordan tapped a couple of numbers on the comm card. “But you better find Reed in a hurry. If you don’t have him, if you don’t have any evidence, we are going to have a hell of a time explaining this mess to the hospital.”
Chapter 38
Chris sprinted down the dark halls toward the Imaging Facilities Research labs. He no longer cared about the loud smack of his shoes against the tiled floor. Pistol in hand, he prepared for any obstacles on his way to find Reed.
The familiar buzz of another security drone caught his attention. He lingered at another corner and aimed down the hall where he thought the bot would show up. When the disguised drone appeared, he let loose a spray of bullets. Most plugged harmlessly into the wall.
But pure numbers were on his side. Hit by a round, the globular drone sparked and careened into a door before clattering across the floor.
He charged forward, past the old sign marking the Imaging Facilities Research area. If Reed was down here, if he wanted solitude, these would be the labs where he’d be found.
The corrupt anesthesiologist’s illegal manufacturing activities, any noise from his production equipment, would be muffled by the same infrastructure that had once protected the integrity of the imaging research conducted in those labs. Even the slightest vibration, imperceptible to human senses, could have jostled the machines enough to disrupt the images when scientists tried to discern objects as small as molecules.
But the insulation wasn’t perfect and probably only muffled the gunfire that brought down the drone.
But maybe, just maybe, Chris could catch the man off guard. He scanned the entrances to the defunct laboratories. No light spilled out from the cracks under the doors. His heart pounded quicker, ticking off each passing second, each moment Reed might be using to escape.
Then a quiet noise piqued his interest. It sounded almost like a teakettle spewing steam far away.
Chris closed his eyes and focused. The noise stopped. Or at least, he thought it did.
Again he glanced between the doors. He brought his leg up and slammed his heel against a metal handle. The handle hung limp from its socket, like a broken wrist.
He pushed through the door and led with his gun.
No voices barked out, no lights turned on. His eyes adjusted to the darkness, and the meager light provided by the hall LEDs illuminated nothing of interest.
Moving to the next door, he tried his heel maneuver again. It took two heavy kicks.
Again, nothing. Three more labs, three more empty spaces.
Something caught his ears again, and he stopped. That sound. Like...whistling.
No. Screaming.
Fear gripped his heart. It was human. Distant but distinct.
He rushed to another lab and pressed his ear against the cool metal. The sound, the screaming, resonated through it.
Ana.
He’d never heard her scream, never heard her so terrified, in so much agony.
He felt certain it was her. A lump formed in his throat, and he swallowed hard.
After bringing up his foot, he lowered it. If he burst in and someone was hurting Ana, what would happen to her? He had no idea how many gunmen or drones were waiting for him.
Maybe it was a trap.
The scream, almost a whisper’s volume on this side o
f the door, hit him again.
He couldn’t wait. He brought his heel down hard on the handle. It wobbled. With another kick, the door swung open, and he leveled his gun, his finger lightly touching the trigger.
Expecting gunfire, drones, a tableau of obscene torture...he hadn’t predicted the scene unfolding before him now as the full brunt of the screaming assaulted his ears.
Reed, arms folded across a black tie, turned toward him. The doctor wore his typical business attire, slacks and a collared shirt. Besides the droplets of blood across his left sleeve, he appeared ready to attend an IRB meeting or prepare for a consultation regarding an upcoming automated robotic surgical procedure.
The man’s eyes were cold. His mouth twitched into a slight frown, the only visible appearance of any emotion.
Beside the man, Ana, strapped to a chair, yelled out in agony. She didn’t pause to look at what had interrupted her torture. In fact, it didn’t seem as though her torture had ceased at all.
Perspiration matted her hair across her pale face. Her lips tore back with each cry, and her eyes were pinched closed. Secured to the chair’s armrest, one forearm had been cut open, the red muscle underneath her skin exposed.
“Stop!” Chris stepped forward.
Reed cocked his head and cupped one ear as though he couldn’t hear Chris. Then he made a facetious smile, an expression of understanding. He used a syringe to deposit a clear liquid across the open wound in Ana’s arm.
Ana’s body slumped. Her chest heaved, and intermittent whimpers escaped her trembling lips. She opened her eyes and cranked her head. “Chris...” Her eyelids shut again.
He wanted to shoot Reed, to watch him bleed after hearing Ana’s cries. But he needed the bastard alive for when they might bring him in to some feds that weren’t paid off. “What the hell are you doing to her?”
Reed smirked and set the syringe on the tray near Ana. “I wanted to have a conversation.” He walked toward Chris.
“Stay back.”
Reed held his hands up. “No problem. I’m surprised to see you here.” He glanced at a holoprojection that appeared to be displaying a map of the basement laboratories. Several red dots blinked, while a couple of green ones continued moving about. “I must’ve gotten a little distracted with my charge here and neglected the security, huh?
The Black Market DNA Series: Books 1-3 Page 74
