The hair stood up on Franco’s neck. “It has to be a mistake,” he said. “Probably isn’t calibrated right.”
Serena calibrated the camera every single day. Deep down, she knew there was no mistake. “Franco,” she said, her voice shaking, “there’s something out there.”
“It’s nothing,” Franco said, fighting the superstition clawing at his mind. “There’s a man trespassing, and he doesn’t know how bad he’s screwed up. It’ll be the last mistake he ever makes.”
Feeling suddenly claustrophobic, he left Serena and went back outside. The infrared camera was out of his pouch in an instant, and he resumed his patrol of the fence. “Stay sharp,” he said to a passing guard. “There’s a man out there somewhere.”
Pressing the button on his watch, he repeated the message to the rest of the security team, adding, “I don’t care who he is, I want him dead.”
Franco circled the entire perimeter, then wove his way through the concrete buildings. Nothing was out of the ordinary, and there were no reports of any sightings. Gradually, he began to wonder if their electronic security was failing, or if Serena had played a trick on him. Still, he found himself wishing the compound had spotlights as the sun slipped beneath the horizon. The only lights were indoors, to avoid drawing the attention of passing aircraft.
He paused as the guard towers checked in. Each gave the all clear, except for Tower Four. Frowning, he got on the radio and said, “Tower Four, status report.”
There was no response. He hit the button again. “Tower Three, can you see what’s taking Tower Four so long to check in?”
After a pause, Tower Three gave an uncertain response. “I can’t really tell…it looks like something might be wrong with their hydraulics.”
“I’ll check it out,” Franco responded, “Give me a second.” He jogged toward the fence and lifted his infrared camera. The tower appeared dull gray through the camera, and something small and white fell to the ground. As he drew closer, he saw that it was a hot liquid dripping from the platform and forming a warm puddle. Tilting his head back and cupping his hands around his mouth, he said, “Everything okay up there? Looks like you’ve got a leak.”
There was no response. The only sound was the steady drip of the warm fluid. Stooping, Franco touched the puddle and lifted his gloved fingers to his nose. He recoiled at the coppery scent and fumbled for his pen light. The narrow beam came on, illuminating the sticky red substance on his fingers.
“Tower Four is down,” he barked into his radio. “We have an intruder in the compound.”
When he let off the button, someone in the darkness started screaming. Franco rushed toward the sound. He passed Tower Three and brought his camera up. The guards on Tower One were slumped against the railing, their hands clutching their throats.
What the hell is going on?
As he passed Tower Two, a tremendous roar thundered overhead and a light flashed like a strobe. He spun around; the .50 caliber machine gun was spraying the ground. He watched in horror as the tracer rounds crept to the base of Tower Three, then shifted upward.
“No!” he shouted. The stream of gunfire pounded its way up the tower and tore apart the men at the top.
He turned and stumbled toward the main building.
“What the hell is going on?” A voice shouted through the din. It was Sven, standing outside the communications hut.
“Get inside,” Franco shouted, “and torch the comms!”
Sven disappeared inside the building, giving Franco a brief sense of relief. At least their most sophisticated equipment wouldn’t fall into enemy hands.
The .50 caliber machine gun stopped abruptly, casting the compound into eerie silence. Franco took a few more steps and yanked the door open, flooding the area with light. He stopped short before going inside. Someone behind him was moaning.
Even from behind, Franco recognized the guard as Miller, a former member of the Italian Special Forces. “Miller!” he shouted. “Get inside!”
The moans stopped, and Miller tilted his head, as if following the sound of Franco’s voice.
Franco’s stomach turned at the sight. The guard’s lower jaw was gone, and his top lip twitched in a futile attempt to form words. His eyes had been torn out, and twin trails of blood poured down his cheeks.
The sight shattered the last remnant of Franco’s courage. Abandoning Miller, he ran inside, pulled the door shut, and locked it.
A moment later, there was a pounding on the other side, followed by a garbled moan. Franco pinched his eyes shut. He reached for the latch with trembling fingers, but he couldn’t bring himself to unlock it.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I can’t. I can’t. I can’t—”
A noise in the adjacent room made him spin around. Creeping forward, he said, “Serena, is that you?”
The diminutive RAID tower expert was slumped on her stand-up desk. A small hole at the base of her skull leaked blood and spinal fluid onto her back.
Without another thought, Franco’s hand shot into his pocket and depressed the twin buttons on the fail-safe.
“What’s that?” a quiet voice behind him asked.
Franco whirled, coming face to face with a dark figure—a muscular man covered with a substance that looked like dirty motor oil.
“S-s-stay back,” Franco said.
“What is it?” the dark man repeated.
“It’s a f-f-fail safe. Don’t come any c-closer. If I let go of these buttons, a cloud of Ebola gets released in a h-hospital.
“Interesting,” the man said, staring down at the device. “But what does that have to do with me?”
Franco hesitated. The fail-safe was designed to keep law enforcement or the military at bay, not a lone intruder. Suddenly he remembered the glass vial Dedrick had given him. Before he could even reach into his pocket to retrieve it, the man in front of him said, “Whatever it is, leave it there.”
Franco blanched, wondering how the man had read his intentions.
“I really don’t want to hurt you,” the black figure said, “but someone destroyed the communications array, so you’re the best source of intelligence I have.”
“What…the hell…are you?” Franco asked, taking a step backward.
“Impatient, among other things. Who paid for this facility?”
An interrogation, seriously? Franco thought. His mind flashed to Miller, who was probably still outside, struggling to navigate without eyes. The image made him sick, and he knew he would do anything to avoid sharing the same fate. Franco was, if nothing else, a survivor.
“Emperor paid for it,” he said.
“Code names don’t do me any good,” the man shot back. Give me something better.”
Franco shook his head. “I can’t. We all have code names. Every single one of us.”
“Clever. Where’s Dedrick?”
“I don’t know,” Franco said, taking another step away from the dark figure and stopping near Serena’s corpse. “He left earlier today, but he wouldn’t say where he was going.”
“How many of these facilities exist?” the man said with a sweeping gesture.
“Maybe one or two.”
“Lying to me will get you nowhere.”
Franco swallowed. “There are two in this country.”
“Better,” the man replied. “How many globally?”
“I have no idea,” Franco said honestly. “I’ve only ever been to four of them.”
“Why do you support militant groups and child slavers?”
The questions were getting too specific. Franco would never get away with divulging such information. Even if he survived, Empress would somehow find out and have him killed.
“I—I can’t tell you that. She would kill me.”
“Who?”
“Empress. She directs operations at all the bases, and she’s got assassins all over the world.”
“Describe her to me.”
Franco shook his head. “Never seen her. I alway
s get my instructions written down or passed along from Dedrick.”
The dark man took a step closer.
Not knowing what else to do, Franco held up the fail-safe as if it was a shield. “There are kids in that hospital,” he said. “You don’t want to be responsible for them catching Ebola, do you? If you hurt me, I might accidentally let go of this. And the hospital’s miles away. There wouldn’t be enough time for you to save them.”
The man’s black, featureless visage betrayed no emotion.
“Please, let me go,” Franco begged. “I’m no use to you. My job is to run this compound, write schedules, things like that. You need someone like Dedrick, not me.”
The ebony head tilted forward in agreement. “I will talk to Dedrick, eventually. And I don’t think we can continue this conversation while you have that in your hand.”
Franco eyed the intruder suspiciously.
“And you’re right about one thing,” the dark man continued. “If you trigger that device, I won’t have enough time to save anyone in the hospital. What you don’t realize, is that I have more than enough time to stop you from triggering it.”
Franco drew the fail-safe closer to his chest. “What are you talking about?”
“Reaction time,” the man replied, his voice growing deep and ominous. “Before you even feel the pain, I will have what I need.”
Confusion spread across Franco’s face. Then a searing pain shot up his arm. He stared in shock as his own blood spurted across the room with every beat of his heart. His hand was still clenching the fail-safe device, but it was no longer attached to his body. His vision blurred, and he dropped to the floor, unconscious.
24
Agent Ford leaned forward, trying to get a better view of the Little Bird helicopter buzzing overhead. The small but heavily armed aircraft had escorted the minivan from the remote campground all the way to Bethesda. Agent Ford rode shotgun while San drove. In the rear of the vehicle, Maria sobbed quietly while Susana and Anita whispered words of comfort.
Ford glanced over as they passed a street sign, then said, “That was our turn. Take the next left and we’ll circle around.”
San nodded, and put on his blinker. He frowned as he eased the van into a luxurious neighborhood of three-story brick homes. “This is where the safe house is?” he asked.
Ford put a finger to his lips and nodded at the upcoming street. Following his lead, San maneuvered the vehicle around two more turns and stopped at a sprawling stone manor that looked like a cross between a Japanese Buddhist temple and a medieval castle.
“Inside,” Ford said.
Without a word, the family exited the vehicle and followed him up the winding flagstone path. As they approached, a woman with black hair in a tight ponytail pulled the front door open and ushered them in.
“This is Agent Janson,” Ford said. “She’ll be watching over you and the other protectees for the duration of your stay.”
“Other protectees?” San asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Janson can fill you in on the details,” Ford said. “Please, give her your complete cooperation and don’t leave for any reason. I’m sorry I can’t tell you more, but I have things to attend to. The boss will be here shortly.” Ford turned to leave, felt his pockets, then held his hand in front of San. “Keys.”
San hesitated, then dug into his pocket and gave Ford the minivan keys. “Who’s your boss?”
Ford didn’t answer. He peered out the window next to the door, then slipped outside. When he had gone, Janson said, “Daron Keeler. I believe you are acquaintances.”
Relief surged through San’s body, leaving a tingling sensation in his fingertips. “Yes. Yes, we are.”
Janson nodded and crossed her hands in front of her waist. “I can show you to your room, if you’d like. There should be time to clean up before he gets here.”
“Thank you,” San replied.
The family followed Janson down a wide hallway to an ornate marble staircase. They crossed a landing overlooking one of three dining rooms, then entered a comfortable bedroom with a private bathroom. Three wooden bunk beds lined the room’s outer walls.
“I hope you don’t mind sharing a room,” Janson said.”
“Not at all,” said Anita. “This is wonderful.”
Janson gave a servant’s bow and said, “I’ll be in the kitchen if you need anything.” With that, she excused herself from the room.
San was happy to see that Maria had stopped crying, undoubtedly distracted by the palatial safe house. “Why don’t you three clean up while I discuss some things with Agent Janson?” he said.
“I think that’s a good idea,” Susana said, taking Maria by the hand. “Come on, sweetie, let’s see if they have a bathtub. Or better yet, a jacuzzi.” She led her niece away, leaving Anita and San alone in the room.
When Maria was out of sight, Anita broke down. She collapsed into San’s arms and began to weep.
San held her for several minutes, fighting back his own tears and whispering softly. “It’s going to be okay. We will find Philip. He will come back to us.”
Finally, she pushed away and wiped her bloodshot eyes. “What can we do?” she asked. “Do we really have to stay locked up here while he’s…out there?”
“Yes,” San said, rubbing the outsides of her arms. “But that doesn’t mean we’re useless. When Daron gets here, we are going to give him everything we can. He’ll find Philip and bring him back safely.”
Anita nodded half-heartedly.
“Why don’t you take a hot shower?” San offered. “It’ll help you feel better. I’ll see what I can find out from Janson before Daron arrives.” Holding both of her hands, he leaned in and kissed her cheek, then left her alone. He wandered around the luxurious home for a few minutes and found Janson in the kitchen. He crossed the polished quartz floors and took a seat next to her at the breakfast bar.
“Coffee?” she asked.
“No, thank you,” he said. “My heart is pumping hard enough already, with my son missing.”
She nodded and stared at the dark liquid in her mug. “I’m sure he’s fine, wherever he is.”
San regarded her for a moment, studying her hard features and muscular frame. She had a long scar along her chin and her ears were bulbous in the manner of a collegiate wrestler. Her round shoulders and ropey forearms stood out in her lightweight sweatshirt, and her powerful thighs stretched her sweatpants to the limit.
“I’m sorry,” San said, “but you look familiar. Do we know each other?”
She tilted her head and gave a half smile. “You know, statements like that make me realize I worked way too hard at Hillcrest.”
San’s eyebrows shot up. “We worked together?”
She shrugged. “Sort of. I was on the security staff.”
San was dumbfounded. “I worked there for years. I’m surprised we never met.”
“Don’t worry about it,” she said. “I was brought on as ‘Alpha Two,’ the lead shooter for Team Two. I essentially lived underground and spent every day training in Sub-Level Six.”
San nodded thoughtfully, then said, “And Agent Ford? Was he on the security team, too?”
“He was Alpha One,” she said, “probably the best shooter I’ve ever seen. He spent most of his time running drills with me, so I’m not surprised you two didn’t meet, either.”
There was silence for a long moment, then San said, “He saved my life today.”
Janson nodded and took a sip from her coffee.
Feeling suddenly uncomfortable, he added, “It’s kind of like a Hillcrest reunion, isn’t it?”
“You don’t know the half of it. We’re rounding up as many of Hillcrest’s brainiacs as we can. No offense.”
San smiled. “None taken. Does that mean Doctor Wagner is going to stay here?”
Janson wrinkled her nose. “He was the first one we brought in. He’s staying in the room across from yours.”
San blinked. “Oh. That’s, uh, nice
.”
Janson chuckled. “You don’t have to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Pretend to like him. You don’t work for him anymore. None of us do.”
“True.” San sighed. “I know he isn’t easy to get along with, but I’ve always admired his determination.”
“Yeah, well, his determination landed us all in a big pile of shit. Forgive me if I don’t cut him a break.”
She was right. Wagner’s overzealous approach to Projects Nerium and Lateralis had ended in disaster. Jarrod Hawkins, the subject for Nerium, had become increasingly volatile as the experiments went on, eventually escaping and injuring several guards along the way. The warning signs were everywhere, and Wagner had a dozen chances to pull the plug before everything went wrong.
“You blame him for Marcus’s death, don’t you?” San asked softly.
The stony look on the woman’s face spoke volumes. She stared at the wall and gripped her mug so tightly San thought it would shatter.
San stared down at his feet. “Did you know him well?”
“I…yes. He was a great guy, friends with everybody. When he was put in charge of the Lateralis test site, I went with him. I supervised the night shift, so I wasn’t there when…”
Her words trailed off. The security team at the Lateralis test site had been obliterated in an attack led by Emily Roberts. The corpses had been so disfigured that it took days to identify the bodies. San wondered if she felt guilty for not being there for them. His mouth went dry, and he licked his lips before speaking.
“I can’t defend Wagner. But I think people should be punished for their own sins. The results of Nerium and Lateralis are my fault as much as anyone else’s, and the atrocities I helped create haunt my dreams.”
Anita’s words rang in San’s ears as he continued, “But I won’t blame myself for what Emily Roberts did. Not anymore. And you shouldn’t, either.”
Janson looked away and brought a hand to her eye. San stood, patted her gently on the arm, and walked away. He was almost to the spiral staircase when he heard a pair of familiar voices in the foyer. Reversing direction, he hurried back down the hallway and followed the voices to a private study. The door was shut, so he knocked.
The Path Of The Nightmare Page 16
