by Debra Webb
“Maybe, maybe not. Either way, you’re missing the big picture, old man.” Smith strode toward him. “How much longer do you believe you can continue to rule these people like a dictator?”
“You believe you would be better as the head of Council.”
It wasn’t a question. Smith purposely made no bones about his feelings. He wanted Prentiss to know that his days were numbered. Far more so than he realized. Smith had to bite back the smile. Everything was going to change and this greedy bastard had no idea what was coming.
“You’re the only one left who believes in your vision. No one on the Council agrees with your methods. They merely tolerate you out of respect for what once was.”
Anger sparked in the old man’s eyes. “You mean your father? I’ve gone too far beyond his vision of what the Resurrection was?”
Smith gritted his teeth for a moment. “Don’t compare yourself to my father.”
Prentiss moved in closer, glared up at Smith, his fury barely held in check. “You were gone for ten years. You only came back when you heard he was dead. If he hadn’t named you to the Council with his dying breath, you would be in the tunnels where you belong.”
The one thing that had gotten Smith through the past two years was knowing that in the end—when this was all over—he would be able to look Rayford Prentiss in the eyes and tell him the truth that no one else could know. The shock alone would likely kill the old son of a bitch.
Smith lived for that day.
Prentiss cleared his face of emotion. “You would have me change my decision about the woman.”
Another statement. “You can do as you please, including change your mind.”
No one questioned Prentiss. At least no one except Smith. His first month here, Smith had drawn the line in the sand. So far, Prentiss had not crossed it. He blustered and stomped all around it, but he was careful not to push too far. There were too many who remained faithful to the memory of Avery Flynn. Prentiss wouldn’t risk a rebellion. Not at this crucial juncture.
“And why would I change my mind?”
“Buchanan could prove useful,” Smith said. “She didn’t pull that name out of thin air. Consider how few people know what that name stands for.”
Smith had him there and he knew it. Trenton Pollard had been an ATF agent. He was the only one to burrow in so deeply without being discovered. Fury roared through Smith at the memory. Pollard had burrowed deep into Resurrection. Almost took them down and then he disappeared. Except he hadn’t gone far. Like the FBI agent Jack Kemp. He’d ended up buried not far from here. But Prentiss didn’t know that for sure. No one except Smith knew. Although Kemp had been a casualty of the Winters family, he and Pollard had been after the same goal: the end of the Resurrection.
They weren’t the first but they were the most memorable—the ones who had infiltrated the deepest.
Until now.
Prentiss made a face of dismissal. “I have my doubts as to any potential use she might prove to have.”
“Are you willing to take that risk?” He wasn’t. Smith was well aware that his bravado was merely for show. Particularly now that the possibility had been publicly brought to his attention. He would never give Smith that kind of ammunition to use against him if he turned out to be wrong. “At the very least she could prove a valuable bargaining chip in the future.”
“Very well. For you, I will change my mind. But the risk is yours. If she becomes a liability, she will be your liability.”
The two stared at each other for a long moment. Smith imagined Prentiss wished him dead. The feeling was mutual.
But not just yet.
“One day, old man, you’ll learn to trust my judgment.”
Prentiss made a scoffing sound. “Perhaps.”
The old man walked out, leaving Smith staring after him. Rayford Prentiss would know soon enough.
Smith summoned the guard who had been assigned to Buchanan’s security. He wondered if she would ever understand that she owed her life to him. If the two of them survived what was to come, he would see that she recognized what a serious error in judgment she had made coming to this place.
What the hell had she been thinking?
What had the Bureau been thinking?
He supposed it was possible this was some sort of rescue mission. Maybe for Levi Winters, though Smith didn’t see him as a valuable enough target to risk the life of an agent.
Whatever had brought her here, she had put a kink in his timeline.
Now he was left with no choice but to make drastic adjustments. Otherwise everything could go wrong. The past two years of his life would be wasted.
That could not happen.
Chapter 6
Sadie did as she had been ordered and kept digging but part of her attention remained on the man coming toward her. Most of the other workers glanced her way but none dared to stop and stare. They wouldn’t risk being caught slacking. The men in charge, George and three others, didn’t mind bopping a slacker on the head with a shovel or nudging them in the kidneys with an ax handle. Judging by the scars on some of the workers, things could get a lot worse.
Whether it was survival or just the hint of control that came with being in charge, George and his peers appeared to take their positions very seriously. Maybe there were perks not readily visible. Obviously it wasn’t clothes or a good hot bath or more to eat. Everyone in this hole looked the same as far as their state of health, ragged attire and level of filth went.
George stopped a couple of steps from her. “Come with me.”
The best she could estimate she’d climbed down that ladder about two hours ago. Already blisters were forming on her hands and her muscles ached from hefting the ax. As much as she didn’t look forward to days or weeks or months of this sort of hard labor, she would take that any day of the week over becoming the rest of the crew’s dinner.
“Why?” Might as well know now. The whole crew would hear the news soon enough. Why keep everyone in suspense?
“They want you back up there.” He jerked his head upward.
Sadie’s knees almost gave way on her. “I have to go back up the ladder?”
She framed the question in a less than optimistic manner since the rest of the workers were listening. No need to rub in the idea that she was out of here. If she sounded hesitant or worried maybe they wouldn’t feel so bad that they weren’t the ones climbing out of this hole. Then again, there was no way to guess what waited for her up there.
There are some things worse than dying.
Still, she preferred continuing to breathe over the alternative.
“Let’s go,” George said rather than answer her question.
She tossed her pickax to the ground and followed the man back through the long, dimly lit tunnel. He didn’t speak, just walked along, his newly attained flip-flops clacking in the silence.
When they reached the ladder, he squinted his eyes to look at her. “Somebody up there must have plans for you. Once you’re down here, you don’t usually go back up.”
She thought of the man who had visited her in the dark and then of Prentiss. If either of them wanted her back, it couldn’t be good. She would know soon enough, she supposed. If Levi Winters was still alive, he was obviously up there. She hadn’t seen him down here.
“Guess so.” She shrugged.
He nodded toward the ladder. “Thanks for the flip-flops.”
She resisted the urge to tell him that if she had anything to do with it, he and the others would not be down here much longer. But she couldn’t take the risk. Not to mention, at this point she couldn’t guarantee anything. So far this mission had been an epic failure.
“Sure.”
She climbed the ladder. As she reached the upper rungs the hatch-type door opened. The guard—the same one from before—waited for her. She blinked repeate
dly, then squinted against the brighter light. Maybe it was coming up from the dim lighting, but she realized that the lighting was very similar to sunlight. More so than she had realized. Maybe there were solar tubes or some other discreet way of pumping in sunlight without being easily detected by anyone flying over the area.
The guard closed the hatch and glanced at her feet. He didn’t ask what happened to her footwear. He probably had a good idea.
He ushered her away from the small field of domes. She decided since she’d only seen one access point while she was down there, all the other domes must be for pumping air into the tunnels.
“Where am I going now?”
He probably wouldn’t tell her but it didn’t hurt to ask.
As she’d expected, they continued forward without him responding. When they reached the detention center, they kept walking. Once they were beyond the Council building where she’d been questioned, they reached the area with the row of smaller buildings. He steered her toward the one marked with a number nine. At the door, he knocked and waited.
Sadie’s fingers and palms burned and she wished she could wash her hands. The blisters stung. Her gaze drifted down to her feet. And they were filthy. Her pink toenails looked out of place on those feet.
The door opened and the blond man from the group who’d questioned her today stood in the threshold.
He nodded and the guard walked away. “Come inside.”
This he said to Sadie. His voice was deep, curt. His silvery gaze unflinching.
Sadie did as he ordered, crossing the threshold and entering unknown territory. Nothing new. Encountering the unexpected was a major part of her mission history. If she and Levi Winters were lucky, this mission would flounder its way to success while they were both still breathing.
Her host closed the door behind her. The cabin-like structure was basically one room. A bed, table and chairs, and a small sofa were the only furnishings. On the far side of the room was a small kitchenette. A door beyond the kitchenette likely led to a bathroom. Next to the bed was a smaller table that appeared to serve as a desk since a laptop sat atop it. All the comforts of home, she mused.
He pulled out a chair from the larger, round table. “Sit.”
She sat.
Rather than secure her in some manner as she’d expected, he moved to the other side of the table and sat down, his clasped hands settled on the tabletop.
“You present quite the quandary, Sadie Buchanan.”
She had been told this more than once, usually by a superior at the Bureau. The words rarely turned out to be a compliment. More often, she was reminded of proper procedure and other prescribed protocols.
“Tell me what I need to do to rectify whatever the problem is.” She placed her hands on the table, wanted him to see the blisters. “I’d like to know I have a place here.”
He stared at her for a long while without saying more. She decided he was even closer to her age than she’d first thought. Thirty-five or thirty-six, maybe. He was tall, looked strong and his skin was unmarred by scars, unlike many of those she’d seen above and below ground in this compound. Obviously, he’d never been in a lower-level position.
“I don’t trust you.”
He said this in scarcely more than a whisper and still the sound startled her. He hadn’t spoken in so long, she was caught completely off guard. And there was something else. The harsh whisper was somehow familiar. She studied his blond hair and then she leaned forward, putting her face closer to his, and she inhaled deeply, drawing in his scent.
It was him.
The man who had visited her in the darkness. Smith Flynn.
She eased back into her seat. “If it makes you feel any better, I don’t trust you, either, Mr. Flynn.”
He smiled. The expression was so scant she might not have noticed had she not been staring at him so intently.
“You would be wise to be grateful for my intervention on your behalf.”
She met his intent stare with one of her own. “So you’re the one who had me yanked back out of that hole.” She hummed a note of surprise. “Interesting.”
Made sense, she supposed, since she’d been brought directly here.
“Is that your way of saying thank you?”
She stared directly into those silvery eyes for a long moment before she answered, opting to give him a taste of his own medicine. “Should I be thankful?”
He glanced at her blistered palms. “I can send you back, if you prefer. The rest of the Council recommended you for emergency supplies.”
Damn. She moistened her lips, tried her best not to show how immensely grateful she was not to still be in that hole. “That won’t be necessary. I am thankful you rescued me, Mr. Flynn. I suppose I’m a little worried about why you would go against all the others.”
“You need a bath, Agent Buchanan.”
He pushed back from the table and walked to the door. When he opened it, her guard still waited on the other side. “Get her cleaned up and put back in her cell,” Flynn ordered.
“Yes, sir.”
Sadie didn’t wait to be told what to do next. She pushed to her feet and headed for the door. When she stood next to this man who had saved her for now, she hesitated. “Will I see you again?”
“If you do as you’re told, you will see me again.”
She walked out, followed the guard in his camo uniform. As usual, he said nothing. Relief sagged her shoulders. She was tired and hungry. Maybe after the bath she would be allowed to eat.
She decided to go broke on information. “I haven’t seen Levi Winters. Is he in solitary or something?”
The guard didn’t respond.
“He’s been here longer than me,” she went on, as if he’d spoken. “Maybe he’s already assigned to a job. I didn’t see him at the big dig.”
At the door to the detention center, he finally looked at her. “You don’t need to worry about anyone but yourself. That’s the way you stay alive. You do what you’re told and you don’t ask questions.”
She nodded. “Got it.”
Inside, he took her to another room, not her cell, and ordered the female in the white uniform there to see that she got cleaned up. This was only the second time she’d seen another woman. When her guard had left, Sadie turned to the other woman. “Hi.”
The woman looked her up and down. “After your bath we’ll do something for those blisters.”
Sadie followed her to a large room that was mostly a huge shower. Three freestanding tubs sat to one side. Hooks along the wall were likely for towels. The other woman turned on the water in one of the tubs and then she left the room. More than ready for cleaning up, Sadie walked over to the tub and started to undress.
The woman returned with a towel, more of the ugly sweats and a pair of sneakers. “Size seven?” She glanced at Sadie’s feet as she asked the question.
Sadie nodded. “Yes, thanks.”
“Don’t linger too long,” the woman said. “When you’re done, come back to my office.”
Sadie nodded and thanked her again. The woman disappeared.
The extra-warm water felt amazing as she stepped into it. She ignored the burn when it covered her hands. A sigh slipped from her lips as she permitted herself a moment to relax. She had earned it by God. The woman had said not to linger so she didn’t. She washed her hair and smoothed what appeared to be homemade soap over her skin. When she was finished, she dried off and pulled on the clothes. Still no underwear and no socks, but she was grateful for something more than flip-flops.
She exited the shower room and walked in the direction she’d come. The only other door went into the woman’s office. It looked more like an exam room. The woman got up from her desk and gestured for Sadie to sit in the only other chair.
Sadie watched as she gathered gauze, tape and some sort of salve. “
You’re a nurse?”
The woman glanced at her. “I am.”
She was young. Midtwenties, Sadie decided. “They let you go to nursing school?”
The woman paused in her work of applying salve to Sadie’s palms.
Damn, she’d obviously asked a question she shouldn’t have. “Sorry. I was just curious.”
“I had just finished nursing school in Tullahoma when they brought me back here.”
Sadie held her gaze. “Oh.”
The other woman’s attention flitted away as she wrapped gauze around Sadie’s right hand. “I thought I didn’t want to come back but then they told me I’m getting married this year.” Her face lit with a smile. “I was happy then.”
Sadie moistened her dry lips. The young woman had gotten a taste of freedom during nursing school and she hadn’t wanted to come back so they had dangled a carrot. “Who’s the lucky guy?”
“His name is Levi. We met a long time ago but then he left. I never forgot him. I always told my father I missed him.”
“Levi Winters?” Was that possible?
She nodded. “You know him?”
Sadie gave her head a slight nod rather than flat-out lie. “Who’s your father?”
“Rayford Prentiss.” She beamed another smile. “The head of the Council. He has many children here. Of course, we’re all grown up now. My father says it’s time for more children.”
The picture cleared for Sadie. The Resurrection numbers were dwindling and Prentiss intended to plump up the population.
“Are there lots of married couples here?”
“Some, yes. But more are getting married this year. Some of us will be moving out, integrating into the outside communities. It’s—” She snapped her mouth shut and her face paled as if she’d only just realized she had said way too much to a prisoner.
“I understand,” Sadie said quickly. “It’s a great plan. Mr. Prentiss is a visionary.”
The other woman’s smile returned. “He is. I didn’t want to see it when I was younger, but I see it clearly now.”
Sadie wondered if the powers that be at the Bureau and the ATF had any idea what Prentiss was planning.
