Folding his arms, Gage closed his eyes.
Cutler’s taunting voice floated over the headphones. “Whatever, dude. You might’ve been taken in by that face and body, and I can’t say I blame you, but our guys will get the truth out of her—one way or another.”
Gage bunched his fists against his biceps. He’d have no authority over what happened to Randi once they got to Panama. Cutler was right about one thing—the CIA had set its sights on nailing Zendaris just as much as Prospero had. And that compound in Panama would be crawling with company men and women, outnumbering Gage and any objectives he had.
He’d do his best to stand up for Randi. Someone had to.
They skimmed unmolested through Colombian airspace on their way north. The Colombian government had struck a number of deals with the U.S. government and the CIA and FBI in particular, in an attempt to curtail their drug trade. Gage assumed those secret handshakes allowed for air traffic in and out of the country. And he was grateful for that.
The tap on his shoulder made him jump. Randi had scooted forward in her seat, leaning toward him.
Slipping his headphones around his neck, he tipped his head toward her.
She cupped a hand around her mouth and her lips almost touched his ear. “Everything okay?”
He nodded.
Her dark eyes shifted to Cutler and then back to his. “Is he taking us to Panama?”
Gage nodded again. She must’ve sensed the tension between him and Cutler, even if she hadn’t heard their conversation.
He pressed a finger against her jaw to turn her head. Then he whispered in her ear, “We’re almost there. It’s going to be okay.”
She gave him a wobbly smile and slumped back into her seat.
Sooner than Gage expected or wanted, Cutler began his descent over a cluster of three or four buildings in the middle of a clearing in the jungle.
“Home, sweet home.” Cutler smirked at Gage in a way that gave him a strong desire to punch him in the face.
The chopper settled on a landing pad, and Gage pushed open the door. He jumped out and took Randi’s arm. “Careful.”
When she was standing beside him, Gage pulled the bags from the back and slung them across his body. Then they both ducked and jogged toward the nearest building.
A man with military bearing and close-cropped silver hair met them at the entrance, barring their way. “You’re Booker. I recognize you from our intelligence file. I met your father a few times, too. I’m Lawrence Jessup.”
If he expected any recognition from Gage, he’d be disappointed. Gage’s father had stopped discussing issues with Gage once he understood his son’s contempt for the way he did business.
“Sir.” Gage shook his hand and then gestured to Randi. “This is...”
“Zendaris’s whore.”
Randi stumbled back as if slapped, and Gage instinctively curled an arm around her waist.
“Sir, this is Randi, my witness, and she needs immediate medical attention. I’m not absolutely sure what role she played at Zendaris’s compound. I do know they left her for dead, and she wants to do whatever she can to help us.”
Jessup’s hard eyes raked Randi’s form, and she shrank against Gage’s side.
“We’ll find out what role she played there, but you’re right. She needs to see the doctor first.”
“I’ll take her. Where do we go?”
Pointing to the left, Jessup said, “The doc’s in that building.”
With his hand on the small of her back, Gage steered Randi toward the two-story building Jessup had indicated.
When they moved out of the man’s orbit, Randi gripped his arm. “He has me tried and convicted, doesn’t he? What are they going to do to me here?”
“They just want to get to the truth, Randi, but I’ll make sure you’re not harmed.”
“These aren’t your people, are they?” She swept an arm behind her. “That guy in the helicopter, that hard-ass back there... You don’t work with them, do you?”
“They’re CIA.”
“And you’re not.”
“I told you. We’re an offshoot, but the CIA is not our parent organization.”
“So they can’t tell you what to do?”
“Exactly.” Well, not exactly, but he didn’t want to spook her. Lawrence Jessup had already done a good job of that.
Gage pushed against the door to the medical building, but it wouldn’t budge. Backing up, he tilted his head and waved at the camera. The door clicked and he shoved it open.
Jessup must’ve already contacted security in this building, notifying them of their arrival.
They stepped into the hallway and the antiseptic smells of a lab assaulted his nose. This facility looked and smelled more suspicious than a simple medical facility. What kind of work were they doing out here?
Randi’s feet shuffled on the floor. “Which way do we go?”
A voice from a speaker droned, “Medical office is down the hall. Take your first right.”
Gage looked at the ceiling. “Thanks.”
Randi huddled against him as their shoes scuffed down the shiny linoleum. “I don’t like this place.”
He didn’t like it, either.
He shrugged. “I don’t like hospitals. That’s what this reminds me of.”
They turned right into a short corridor with restrooms on the right and two windowed doors on the left. Gage twisted the handle of one and nudged it open with his hip.
A couple of chairs functioned as a waiting room with a window into an area with a couple of cots and scales and blood-pressure cuffs.
A female voice called from the back. “Gage and Randi? I’m expecting you. Give me a minute.”
In just about a minute, a short woman in a white lab coat bustled into the waiting room, running her hands through her fluffy blond hair—making it fluffier.
“I’m Doctor Murdoch.” She squeezed Gage’s hand in a firm grip, and then turned to Randi. “And this is Randi, our patient?”
“Sure, I’ll be your patient. Beats being a whore.”
Dr. Murdoch smiled and cocked her head, looking like a bird with blond feathers.
“Never mind.” Randi stuck out her hand. “Nice to meet you. Are you a medical doctor or a psychiatrist? Because I need both.”
“I’m the psychiatrist. Dr. Coolidge will be here shortly to examine your injuries.”
“And you’re going to examine my head?”
“I’m going to help you regain your memory.” Dr. Murdoch patted Randi’s arm.
The outer door burst open, and another white coat charged into the room. The man jerked his head up and reached for the glasses perched on his thinning gray hair.
“Is this the patient?”
“That’s me.” Randi waved.
“I’m Dr. Coolidge.” He joined them in the examination room, and didn’t seem interested in further introductions. “Do you mind leaving us, Dr. Murdoch?”
The psychiatrist ducked her head. “Not at all. Send Randi over to my area when you’re done, and make sure you do a thorough examination. I’ll want your report.”
She patted Randi’s arm again before she left them with the gruff doctor.
“All I got was a summary on this damned thing.” He held up a smartphone before stuffing it into the pocket of his lab coat. “So tell me face-to-face what happened and the nature of your injuries. I know you have memory loss. I’m more interested in the head injury that caused it. I’ll leave the rest of it to that quack, Dr. Murdoch.”
Gage recited the details of Randi’s injuries and what the medic at the Zendaris compound had done to treat her before they took off.
Then Randi took over and described how she felt, her level of pain and how often she needed medication.
Dr. Coolidge listened while scribbling. “You have some injuries, too, Mr. Booker?”
“Me? No. Just what you’d expect from a few nights in the rain forest.”
“Bug bites?”
“A couple.”
“I’ll have a look at those and give you some cream.” He turned toward the sink and cranked on the water. “Miss...Randi, please undress completely and slip into one of those gowns on the shelf. You can use the restroom and leave your clothes in there. While you’re in there, pee in a cup.”
“Is that necessary, Dr. Coolidge?” Gage grabbed a gown for Randi and handed it to her.
He tapped his pen against his clipboard. “I have my orders.”
“Blood tests, too?”
“Yes.” Dr. Coolidge finished washing his hands and yanked a couple of paper towels out of the dispenser to dry them.
“What kinds of tests are you running on her? Pregnancy test?” Gage gritted his teeth.
Dr. Coolidge peered at the clipboard he’d slapped down on the counter. “Yes.”
Randi sucked in a breath and almost dropped the gown.
“I have my orders.” Dr. Coolidge pushed past Gage to enter another room.
“I’ll be right here.” Gage took her hand and squeezed her stiff fingers.
Randi’s dark eyes took up half the white oval of her face. “I didn’t even think... I didn’t...”
“I’m sure you’re not pregnant. Just get through this part. Coolidge will make sure none of your wounds are infected, and then we can work on your memory.”
She gave a half smile and then shuffled into the bathroom.
Dr. Coolidge returned to the examination room with a tube of ointment. “For your bug bites. Not allergic to anything, are you? Nothing festering?”
Just his anger at what Randi had to endure here.
“I’m fine. Are you sure you don’t want me to disrobe so you can poke and prod me, too?”
The doctor’s shaggy, gray brows shot up. “Only if you want me to.”
“I’m going to wait on the other side of this window, if that’s okay with you.”
“Okay by me.”
Randi emerged from the bathroom with the blue gown hanging shapelessly around her body, clutching a clear plastic cup with yellow liquid.
She held up her urine sample. “What do you want me to do with this?”
“You can put it on that plastic tray. No need to label it. You’re my only patient today.
“Hop up on the table. Agent Booker is going to be in the waiting room. Do you want me to close off the window between the examination room and the waiting room?”
“No.”
Gage tossed his tube of ointment in the air and sauntered to the waiting room. He pulled one of the chairs around to face the window into the examination room.
Dr. Coolidge performed the basics—blood pressure, ear, nose and throat, reflexes. He listened to Randi’s heart and lungs through his stethoscope, and then examined her wounds, cleaned and re-dressed them.
He had her recline on the table and checked her ankles and pressed on her abdomen. He seemed satisfied.
“You can sit up now, Randi. I’m going to take some of your blood and then you’re free to go, or rather, free to see the shrink.”
Gage called from the other room. “Everything look okay, Doc?”
“That army medic did a good job. Her physical injuries are minor, and everything else seems fine.”
As Dr. Coolidge withdrew the needle from Randi’s arm, the door to the clinic swung open.
Dr. Murdoch poked her head into the room holding a foam cup in one hand. “Almost done in here? I’d like to get started. I didn’t get up this early for nothing.”
“Hold your horses, Murdoch. I’m done.” He had Randi hold a cotton ball against her inner arm while he stuck a Band-Aid over it.
Randi hopped off the table and turned toward the bathroom.
“I got you some coffee.” Dr. Murdoch handed the cup to Gage and then bustled into the examination room. “You can come with me, dear.”
“My clothes are in the bathroom.”
“Those filthy things?” Dr. Murdoch brushed her hands together. “I’d like to get started and then you can have a nice shower, and we’ll have some clean clothes waiting for you. Sound good?”
Randi glanced back at the bathroom door and nodded. “I guess so.”
Dr. Murdoch ushered Randi through the waiting room with an arm curled through hers, like they were besties.
After the blunt manner of Dr. Coolidge, Randi seemed to relax a little, and Gage expelled a long breath and took a sip of the strong Panamanian coffee.
He opened the door for the women. “I’m coming with you.”
“That’s fine, but I’d like to get to know Randi one-on-one. You can sit in on some of the later sessions if you like, Agent Booker.”
Dr. Murdoch guided Randi down a short hallway and turned into another room with a similar setup to the clinic. They entered a small waiting room, but this one didn’t have a window to the back rooms.
Gage hesitated next to one of the chairs as Dr. Murdoch led Randi to the second door. A sudden chill gripped the back of his neck. “Are you good, Randi? Do you want me to come with you?”
“I’m fine. Maybe the next time I see you, I’ll know who I am.”
The door closed behind them, and Gage dropped into the chair clutching his coffee cup. He fished out his cell phone to send a message to Prospero that they’d landed at the CIA bunker in Panama, but he couldn’t get any reception—probably the thick walls.
He pulled a book from the side pocket of his bag and skimmed the pages, glancing up every few minutes at the closed door. He had to start over since he didn’t have a clue what he’d just read.
After several more minutes he gave up and dropped the book. He tried his phone again—no luck.
He pushed up from the chair and paced the room, downing the rest of the coffee. He picked up a magazine, thumbed through it and tossed it aside.
He opened the outer door and peered into the deserted hallway. Too early for many people to be up and about.
He sat in his chair and tilted his head back. His eyelids drooped and he gave in to the lethargy stealing over his body like a warm blanket. Maybe the next time he saw Randi, she’d be someone else. Someone free.
His head jerked up. Blinking, he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. How long had he been sleeping? He rubbed his eyes, and the closed door came into focus. They weren’t done yet?
He checked his watch and his stomach lurched. Two hours—Randi had been in there with Dr. Murdoch for over two hours. What could be taking that long? Dr. Murdoch had assured them she just wanted to get started and then Randi could shower, put on some clean clothes, eat and sleep.
Maybe she’d already done those things and they’d left him here conked out in the chair.
He rose and stretched, running his tongue along the inside of his dry mouth. He prowled toward the door to the inner sanctum of the office and pressed his ear against it. He rapped his knuckles against the wood. Silence.
With his pulse racing, he grabbed the handle of the door and tried to twist it. It wouldn’t budge. They’d locked him out.
He banged his fist against the door and shouted, “What’s going on in there? Randi?”
He took two steps back and barreled into the door, shoulder first. It shook beneath his weight. He tried again, this time leading with his right boot.
He managed to splinter the wood. Punching his fist against the cracked wood, he widened the hole in the door and reached in to unlock the handle.
He stumbled into the empty room and almost fell across a chair. A small couch faced the chair, and another closed door mocked him.
He charged toward that door and stopped abruptly when it swung open.
“What is going on out here?” Dr. Murdoch’s feathers were ruffled.
“What’s going on in there? Where’s Randi? Why have you had her for so long?”
Dr. Murdoch clicked her tongue and steepled her fingers. “You didn’t really think we’d let Prospero take charge of Nico Zendaris’s whore, did you, Agent Booker? Randi’s ours now.”
Chap
ter Seven
Randi smacked her lips as her head rolled to the side. Had they stuffed her mouth with cotton? She tried to run her tongue along her teeth, but it cleaved to the roof of her mouth instead.
Fog rolled through her brain. She wanted to rub her eyes to clear the fog, but she couldn’t lift her hand. It felt like lead. She curled her fingers and jerked her arm.
The restraint dug into her wrist. She couldn’t lift her hand because her arm was secured to the table. She wiggled her toes and tried to draw her knee to her body. The restraint dug into her ankle.
She screamed but a choked gurgle was all she heard.
Gage. She needed Gage. But he’d brought her here. He delivered her to these maniacs.
As soon as Dr. Murdoch had gotten her alone, the friendly, fluffy psychiatrist had disappeared. She’d led Randi to a second room off that first one and sat her down at a table, taking the seat across from her.
She’d asked Randi a hundred questions about Nico Zendaris, obviously not believing she had amnesia. After Randi’s hundredth assertion that she didn’t remember anything about Zendaris or what she’d been doing at the compound, Dr. Murdoch had slapped her hard across the face.
When she’d jumped up from the chair, a man burst into the room pinching a hypodermic needle between his fingers.
Now this.
Randi tilted her chin to her chest and gasped at her nakedness. They’d taken away her hospital robe. What else had they done to her?
The sound of tapping heels drew closer, and Randi strained against her bindings. These people could do anything they wanted to her. What recourse did she have? She didn’t even know if she had family to call on. Jessica was in Houston. Who knows where her grandmother was? What good would it do her, anyway? Her own government had turned against her.
And Gage. Had Gage turned against her, too? Had he been playing her from the get-go?
The door swung open and Dr. Murdoch’s chattering filled the room. Was the woman even a doctor? More likely a mad scientist.
The man who had greeted them off the helicopter, Lawrence Jessup, came close on Dr. Murdoch’s heels.
Randi cringed and tried to sink into the table to hide her nakedness. Jessup didn’t even seem to notice. In fact, neither one of them even glanced at her as they walked into the room.
Trap, Secure: Navy SEAL Security Page 8
