by Regan Black
She savored the sweet, freeing sensation of mind lifting away from body, wishing she could remain in the bliss forever. Exhaling, she let her hands drop and sat back on her heels.
Father's blessing or no, she opened her eyes. She committed the scene to memory. The bloody floor, the broken map box, the tumbled books and candles, and the bits of aged parchment trailing away like so many breadcrumbs.
"I'll make it right," she vowed to whatever spirits might linger. Maybe the angels who watched over her Guardian clans were listening. It'd be wonderful if they were also preparing to assist her in the days ahead.
She'd been raised in a family who knew the supernatural existed, both light and dark sides. She'd been taught every nuance of faith and free will. She knew all the old stories of heroes, both reluctant and bold, and she wondered which category scholars would eventually lump her into. The answer most likely depended on the outcome.
Kelly smiled a little. If she failed, reluctant or bold wouldn't matter because the most precious and powerful of God's relics would be in the wrong hands and no one would care enough to study her exercise in futility. If she succeeded, no one outside the family would ever know and she still might be classed as reluctant, simply because she was a woman.
The age-old bias brought her to her feet. She retreated without turning her back on the altar, until she was seven paces away. Then she did a slow visual inventory of what the intruders had left behind.
Swords, knives, and a cache of guns in the near corner had gone untouched. She gathered a short sword in its scabbard the compliment the dirk she kept strapped to her ankle. Neither would be enough for a prison break, so she added her favorite rifle and a 9mm pistol. As an afterthought, she took the .357 and ammo for Nathan. Crossing to the opposite corner, she had to crawl through a cramped access tunnel to reach a smaller storage room.
She lit the room's torch, hoping for the best. As the light grew, so did her hope. This room had escaped the intruders' notice. And this room held an arsenal of alternative weapons.
She didn't need a mirror to know the smile creasing her face was eager – and lethal.
She would free Nathan and together they would find whoever was hunting the maps. God's grace would have to suffice if she failed. But she'd be sure God's vengeance visited those she took with her in the attempt.
* * *
The cell door burst open. Sounds and light and strong hands on his weak body assaulted Nathan's frayed senses. There was relief in the human contact even with such rough treatment. His eyes burned, tearing up against the full light of the hallway as they dragged him from his dark cell. He shivered as the recycled air pressed his damp clothing to his skin, chilling him. Wherever Kelly had been, she’d reacted quickly, and he wouldn’t complain about a little thing like wet clothes.
The guards didn’t shackle his wrists or ankles, another courtesy Nathan assigned to Kelly’s influence and implementation of their plan. He praised himself for cultivating his connection to her during this assignment. She was turning into a valuable asset.
His hopeful bubble burst when the guards shoved him into another cinderblock box. This room was bigger and well lit, but as his eyes adjusted, he discovered he was only one steel table away from the primary target of the case profile.
Dr. Leo Kristoff extended a hand in greeting. “Ah, Nathan. You’re all grown up." He dropped his hand, seeing Nathan's shackles. "Pardon me if I point out you're in a rather tight spot from the looks of things."
Nathan struggled for composure as he willed his spine back into correct alignment, feeling the pop and sigh of each vertebra. Standing tall, he remained mute against the latest twist of his floundering mission.
What did it mean that Kristoff could come and go at will? The latest intel said the vile doctor had been forced into hiding. Unfortunately, with no idea how long he'd been in solitary confinement, Nathan couldn't know how things had changed on the outside.
"I’d offer you a seat, but they seem to think you’d use it against me."
Nathan ignored the lack of furniture and stared at a seam in the wall to the right of Kristoff’s head.
"None of this ordeal was necessary, son."
Nathan knew the gentle voice was designed for strategy rather than comfort. He wouldn’t take the bait, no matter how well presented. For fun, he pushed at the table with his mind, just enough to scrape it an inch along the floor.
Sympathy softened Kristoff’s aristocratic features. "They’ve weakened you." He shook his head. "I don’t condone these sorts of measures. You can be sure I’ll file a complaint as soon as you’re out of here. Wouldn’t want any backlash beforehand, would we?" Kristoff paused for a dramatic, shuddering breath. "They tell me you’ve been down there nearly a month. A month! I couldn’t believe it. A day is too much in such squalor. That's why the Special Housing Unit was outlawed, you know. But a month for you must be an eternity."
Kristoff's brand of comfort only exacerbated the agony. Nathan almost fell for the concern and exaggerated time line. At least he hoped Kristoff was fabricating the time. Though he recognized the tactic, he was ashamed at how hard it was to resist. He fisted his hands, digging his nails into his palms. The sting squelched the surge of gratitude that threatened to place Kristoff on the liberator's pedestal. More, it depressed Nathan to have slipped so far from the man he'd been. It should’ve been effortless to hold himself apart from such obvious manipulations. Instead, this meeting was another energy-sapping trial.
"What do you want?" Nathan snapped. It was all getting to him. Even with the light and the cleaner air, the room was too small. The walls were starting to close in on him. This was the contact they’d hoped for in planning the mission, but after his time in solitary, he couldn’t remember how to capitalize on the opportunity. This simple encounter overwhelmed his senses and diffused his normally relentless focus.
Kristoff’s head tilted, his brows drawn over saddened eyes. "What did they do to you, son?"
Nathan gritted his teeth, focused again on the wall. "What do you want?" he repeated. Anything further would reveal too much. Kristoff was the enemy.
"I want to help you."
"How?"
"I got you up here didn’t I?" He spread his hands. "Up into the light and air. Just what you needed. Here you are, back among the living. That helps doesn’t it?"
Nathan nodded, but for different reasons. Being out of solitary would help Kelly, would ease the escape if she was close enough. How far was she? He didn't dare reach out, Kristoff was too dangerous. Yes, being up top helped, but he wouldn’t give Kristoff the words.
"I can take it one step further."
Nathan’s gaze jerked back to Kristoff. The older man’s eyes blazed with the excitement of a hunter closing in on his prey. Kristoff was an expert at knowing which buttons to push, how hard, and when.
"I’m listening," Nathan admitted, though it wasn’t necessary.
"You can leave with me. Today. Right now, if you’d like."
If? Hell yes he’d like. It was the price that concerned him. He knew enough about body language to understand Kristoff was leaving out too many important details. Time to risk a little mental probing to determine just how malignant the offer was. The doctor's reputation and penchant for genetic research pushed the envelope and meant Nathan would have to balance cleverness with caution.
"Well, son. What’ll it be?"
"What’ll it cost me to leave with you?" Nathan used the quick and direct question to distract from his mental prodding. His first impression was a mind guarding huge secrets. No surprise there. He ventured further, vaguely listening to Kristoff’s litany of the rigors of prison life while he searched for clues to the man’s intent.
A cold, vicious spike of pain in his temple jerked Nathan back into himself.
"I knew you’d try to poke around." Kristoff tapped his forehead, then leaned across the table until Nathan could feel his breath fanning his face. "And you should’ve known I’d be ready for you."
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Nathan saw the plan unfold too late to move or resist the hypospray aimed at his arm. He watched the room spin slowly into a dark haze as his body slid into a strange paralysis.
He heard Kristoff summon the guards with a concerned voice, heard the excuses given and accepted. He knew he was being lifted and moved only because the view changed. He stretched his mind through his nervous system, head to toe, yearning for any of his muscles to obey. No response. He stretched his mind again, this time reaching for Kristoff, a guard, even Kelly, but there was no one. He saw what his unblinking eyes took in, but his mind was in lockdown now. He was more alone than he'd been in the hole.
A hand passed over his face, lowering his eyelids. He swore a blue streak, but his vocal cords couldn't push out the words. Left with only his hearing, he listened as another voice muttered, swore, and then pronounced him dead. Then even his hearing was impaired by whatever they used to cover his body.
He wasn’t dead. He tried to scream, to move, to will a nearby mind to look closer, but nothing changed. Nathan forced himself to relax. He had to think. He had to find some way to break through because he sure as hell wasn’t going to survive a month in the hole just to get buried alive by his primary target.
* * *
Kelly surveyed the terrain surrounding Leavenworth Federal Prison. She'd get no help from the flat landscape that provided armed guards with miles of visibility. If she'd harbored any hope of an easy or conventional breakout, that was history now.
"When will you learn to say no?" Kelly asked herself as she cruised along the two-lane stretch of highway running parallel to the east wall. Nathan's Mustang purred across the open road. It would've been fun to really let the engine off the leash, if there weren't police cruisers and the occasional tractor on the same road.
It was her third day in town and she felt a little guilty that she hadn't let him contact her. Whatever they’d been putting him through, she was sure it wasn’t getting better. He had to be beyond antsy, but his anxiety didn't help her confidence or planning, and she wanted to break him out without taking innocent lives if she could.
Based on what he’d shown her, she did the research to confirm he was being kept in an outdated, illegally punitive cell known as the SHU – Solitary Housing Unit. In her sheltered life experience, prisons and prisoner conditions never mattered much to her. She'd learned about the reformations during her required studies in school, but prison systems never topped her list of major concerns.
Now there was no reason to delude herself that it wasn’t a deeply personal issue. Though they'd met only once in person, she'd recognized Nathan the first time he'd reached out telepathically. It may have started as a fun, mental pen-pal sort of thing, but experience soon proved their connection was special. Until she'd had to shut him out.
So the gut clenching fury she felt for the system that was hurting her friend shouldn't be all that surprising.
Except you’ve worked all your life to diffuse your temper, Calisto.
It was only right to lecture herself since neither her father nor her brothers were alive to provide the service.
Shaking off the grief that threatened to swell into tears, she turned at the next intersection and then turned again several minutes later onto a dirt track scratched out between cornfields. The escape plan was far from ideal. And the timing sucked. Not even the local farms could provide much cover. The fields had been harvested weeks ago and the grazing cows were munching their way through the dried stalks.
She thought about the double fence topped with razor wire and the sheer prison walls in her immediate future. What was one more challenge? Hadn't trying to out-train her brothers prepared her for anything?
She didn’t fight the anger or resentment, needing the emotional heat to spur her forward through one more sleepless night. She did fight off the regrets, they would only slow her down and, if all went well, there’d be time for them later.
Coming to a stop mid-field, she shielded the car from view with a net woven with leaves and debris from the field. Not foolproof, but certainly better than nothing.
Kelly crawled beneath the netting and leaned over the front seat. Tripping the lock under the lip of the rear seat, she prayed Nathan would overlook this latest modification to his antique Mustang. Raising the bench seat revealed her stash of escape-assisting equipment and she put her mind on task.
What would serve her best?
The guns were definitely out. She refused to multiply her troubles by killing anyone, or giving Nathan a chance to blindly exact revenge. The guards couldn't know Nathan was an undercover operative. They saw him simply as a violent offender bent on escape. The men of her family had died in the line of duty and she wouldn't make more widows of honorable men tonight.
She clipped one tranquilizer hypo-spray onto her ankle boot and a second on the back of her waistband. Eyeing the modest assortment of weapons, she wished for a Keris. With that unique blade she could've made any lethal result look like Simon, Dr. Kristoff’s pet killer, had been in town.
Kelly reminded herself death wasn’t the point tonight. Anyone could kill with the proper training or motivation. While she might have both, at heart she wasn’t the "kill 'em all and let God sort it out" type. She'd been trained to rise above primal instinct to exact potent, appropriate, and immediate justice.
And she'd start by freeing an innocent man who was drowning on his assignment.
Muting her internal analyst, she finished outfitting herself and loaded her 9mm with non-lethal rounds. The modified ammo would allow her to neutralize any opponent without wasting energy on hand-to-hand combat.
After securing the back bench again, she swiveled around to the passenger seat and pulled a thin makeup case out of the glove box. A few swipes of dark paint blurred her features and she was nearly ready.
Climbing out of the car, staying under the net, she rounded the trunk, popped it open and peeled back the side wall liner to reveal two new license plates.
Switching the plates only took a minute. Making the new plate as dirty as the rest of the car took a little longer. She shook her head, imagining Nathan’s face and certain misery over the car’s appearance. She'd ease his shock with a promise to help him detail it as soon as they were far away from here. Then she’d move on with her own agenda, hopefully with Nathan's help.
As dusk fell, she gathered up the camouflage netting and drove closer to the prison. Better to leave the car at a safe distance, but she wasn't sure how mobile Nathan would be. She couldn’t expect to waltz out with an unhealthy prisoner as easily as she expected to waltz in to the facility.
With the car hidden once more, she scooted closer to the west wall. Clouds scudded across the sky and slivered moon, helping the cause, if not her mood. She could blend with the shadows, the grounds, everything outside. It was all the things Nathan didn’t know about the inside environment that gnawed at her.
A review of security patterns, a hack into the system and her onsite efforts these past days led her to break in through the prison infirmary on the west edge of the facility. Security was a bit lighter there since access was restricted from the inside. According to the blueprints, the original solitary confinement cells were under the medical wing. On the designs, the SHU looked like a series of wells. It didn't take a vivid imagination to understand why prisoners referred to solitary as 'the hole'. Creeping closer to the fence, she said yet another prayer that none of the recent wardens had been industrious enough to dig new cells elsewhere.
Using wire cutters and a looping circuit, she bypassed the electric fencing and slithered under it. She waited for the next slash of the flood light, then followed in its wake to the bottom of the southwest corner guard tower. Cleated gloves and toe clips made ascending the impossibly smooth wall almost easy. Almost. Catching her breath, she palmed the tranquilizer, and withdrew the security card she’d ripped from an amorous guard in the local bar two nights ago.
Staying low, she swiped the card through the
reader, paused, then pushed inside. She had the hypo-spray pressed to the guard's neck before he could turn. As he collapsed, she eased him to the floor, and secured him with his own plastic cuffs. Then she helped herself to his access card.
Swiping it through the reader on his computer, the prison systems opened like a book, ready to tell her everything.
Familiar with the system from her preliminary hacking, she found and skimmed the inmate database for Nathan’s record. The latest entry had been filed less than two hours before her arrival. Next to his inmate number was the single word: Deceased.
Kelly's body quaked with the shock. She couldn't deal with being late one more time. Couldn't cope with the loss of another good man. Was she cursed to fail everyone? Tears she didn't know she was shedding fell from her eyes into the guard's keyboard. DNA evidence was a distant concern. There was no record of her existence anyway. She was truly alone. One warrior against a lethal and unidentified enemy.
Her parents should've named her Futility.
Behind her the guard groaned, forcing Kelly to make a decision. She could accept the prison’s record, or see its truth for herself. Not wanting to believe the report didn’t automatically make it wrong. Then again, this was the same system that officially didn't impose archaic measures like solitary confinement on inmates. She stilled her shaky hands and selected the option of viewing the full report on Nathan’s demise.
Supposed demise, she amended while the computer system worked to load her request.
'Inmate B2117 died in conference room four during routine meeting with staff counselor. COD cardiac arrest determined by infirmary physician #11-1205.'
