Hot Intent (Hqn) (17 page)

It took the two of them nearly a half hour to horse the equipment Alex would need back into the smaller lab. But he finally donned a disposable plastic chemical suit and went to work. He was deeply conflicted about what he hoped the tests would show. On the one hand, he’d love to be right with his diagnosis out of professional pride. But on the other hand, he’d give anything to be wrong. His life and Katie’s were going to get so complicated he didn’t even want to think about it if the results came back positive for sarin or some other chemical weapon.

He set up the first sample and put it in the machine. In a few seconds, the machine beeped completion of the test. He took a deep breath and looked at the readout.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“A
M
I
UNDER
ARREST
?” Katie demanded.

“No, ma’am.”

“Then can I go now?”

“Where are you going to go?”

“I need to see my partner.”

“The doctor? Um, your paperwork will need to be all in order. I’ll have to go check on that....” Her captor’s voice trailed off vaguely. No matter how polite this Marine was being, he was detaining her. And as far as she could tell, the guy was doing it illegally.

“What’s the holdup? I’m an American citizen here.”

“This is Guantánamo. We do things differently down here—”

She cut him off. “Is this American soil?”

“Yes.”

“Then I have certain rights. Look. I grew up on military bases. I know the deal. I’m going now.”

“Ma’am, you can’t just barge out the door and bomb around the base.”

“Why not?”

“It’s the middle of the night.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

The poor guy had no answer for that and merely sputtered. She took pity on him and asked more temperately, “Who gave you the order to keep me here? Maybe I can have a little talk with him or her.”

He answered reluctantly, “Base intel officer. Just a little while ago.”

That startled her. The MPs had turned her over to the intelligence outfit down here? Someone must have reported their presence up the chain of command, and an order had obviously come back down to hold them here. What she didn’t understand, though, was why they weren’t allowing her and Alex to see each other.

She asked, “Did the intel officer also tell you not to let me see my partner?”

“Yes, ma’am.” The guy sounded deeply relieved to confess that. As if she would now cooperate fully with him. She snorted mentally. Wild horses were not going to keep her away from Alex.

“Are they interrogating Alex?” she asked lightly.

“I don’t think so. Last I heard, he was at the hospital.”

“Is he hurt?” she demanded sharply.

“Not that I’m aware of. They killed the guy with him, but he’s all right.”

They who? Why did Alex come in with someone? And the Americans killed that someone? The mystery deepened. One thing was for sure. She was getting out of here and finding him as soon as she could figure out a way to do it.

She sighed in feigned resignation. “Okay, so I’m supposed to stay here until further notice. Is there anywhere I could maybe lie down for a while? It’s been a rough couple of days and I’m exhausted.”

“Yeah, sure. We’ve got a break room with a couch in it. Come on.”

She followed the soldier docilely down the hall and made sure to give the guy a big yawn as she stretched out on the couch. Oh, Lord, it felt good to lie down. She suspected that were it not for the stim pill Alex had given her, she’d be unable to move right about now. As it was, real exhaustion tugged at her, coaxing her to close her eyes for just a few minutes.

The guy turned out the lights and pulled the door shut for her. She figured he would give her a little while to fall asleep before he would think about peeking in to check on her. Which meant she had to go right now.

She opened the window behind the couch and was relieved that it was properly greased and slid up silently. She had to shove out the screen and winced at the faint screech it made as she punched it out.

Feetfirst, she slid out the window and landed in a bush. It scratched the heck out of her calves and she bit her lip to keep from making any sound. She reached up to pull the window shut before she finally extricated herself from the attacking bush.

Now, to find Alex.

Hospital. Where was the base hospital? She figured it would have emergency power, so she headed for the nearest lit building at a jog. Unfortunately, it turned out to be some sort of operations center. She picked the next nearest building with lights and headed for it.

A few jeeps passed her. She dived for cover when she had time, and when she didn’t, she pretended to be out for a late-night jog and waved jauntily at the drivers. Without exception, they whistled or called back. Not many girls in these parts apparently.

The third lit building, sitting high on a hill overlooking the bay, turned out to be the hospital. The orderly at the front desk was completely unwilling to grant her access to the building, however. Unlike Alex, she was a terrible liar, and worse, she was too stupid tired to come up with a brilliant lie on the spot.

She finally retreated from the front entrance and made her way around the far side of the building to the emergency entrance. She crouched outside in the dark to ponder what illness or injury she was most likely to succeed at faking.

A police car was parked in front of the emergency room’s double doors, and as she failed to think of anything halfway believable, a military cop stepped outside. Two more cops came out, hustling a fourth man along between them.

Oh, my God. Alex. And it looked like he was under arrest.

The car pulled out from under the portico and she ran after it. Of course, she couldn’t keep up with the speeding vehicle, but she did see that it went back to the first lit building—the operations center.

Cursing under her breath, she jogged back that way. Now what?

*

A
LEX
STARED
AT
the walls of the holding cell and could scream in frustration. He’d gotten to the very end of the tests before the cops—led by the lab tech from before—barged in on him and bodily dragged him out of the lab. At least he’d managed to turn off the chromatograph and erase the results it had recorded before he powered it down. He’d swallowed the flash drive holding the only other evidence and prayed the lunging Marines didn’t see him do it before they grabbed him.

Who in the hell had known what he was testing for? And why would the Americans stop him from completing the damned tests? Wouldn’t they be the most eager of all to know if the Cubans were secretly storing chemical weapons smuggled out of the Middle East? It made no sense whatsoever.

Apparently, he was under arrest, too. By whom, no one had bothered to tell him. And of course, there was no mention of exactly what he’d done to merit being thrown in here and locked up in the dark.

None of this made any sense. He was an American government employee. He’d given his real name to the MPs who’d picked him up and had given the bastards André’s phone number to verify his identity. Sure, an ID might have to go up through channels, but how hard could it be for an American military installation to get a yes/no answer from the CIA on whether or not Alex Peters was one of the good guys?

He felt his way around the windowless cell and located a sink, toilet and concrete bench in under a minute. He retired to the bench to make himself comfortable. God knew, he had plenty of experience with incarceration. Four years’ worth in his early twenties. He’d gone on a drunken joyride with the express intent of getting himself locked up rather than taking up where his father had left off as a spy against the United States.

What were they doing to Katie? Was she locked up, too? Were they interrogating her? If he were in charge, she’d be the one he tried to break. The untrained female civilian was a much softer target than the hardened, field-experienced spy.

Unable to sit anymore, he paced the cell in the dark, swearing colorfully in a variety of languages. Not even a strip of light crept in under the door. Either it was weather-stripped or the hallway outside was darkened, as well. He suspected the sensory deprivation was intentional, meant to disorient and unnerve prisoners. He snorted. His prisoner training had included many days of blindfolds and light deprivation. Except, of course, for interrogations, which were conducted under blinding spotlights.

As time stretched on and no one came to let him out, his alarm mounted. Why hadn’t the CIA given the Marines a green light to release him? Why the delay? His finely honed instinct for dealing with intelligence agencies told him something was afoot. Surely, the CIA wouldn’t have spent a full year training him with the intent to throw him to the wolves on his very first mission abroad for them. And why the forced separation from Katie?

The trick, besides not panicking, was to keep an accurate sense of time. He set a mental alarm for four hours from now and lay down to catch a nap while he waited for his captors to make their next move. He expected it would come in the wee hours of the night when his biological clock was set for sleep.

He was right. He’d been lazily dozing for less than a half hour after he’d woken from his nap when the overhead lights were thrown on. He swung his feet to the floor as his cell door banged open loudly.

“Get up! Get up! Get up!” the guard yelled aggressively.

Alex, already seated on the edge of the bed/bench, gave the guy a sardonic smile and stood up casually.

Irritated not to have surprised him, the guard grabbed Alex’s arm roughly and attempted to throw him through the door. Not only was Alex expecting something passive-aggressive like that, but he’d studied martial arts basically since he could walk. It took more than a hard shove to knock him off balance. Apparently, this was not a polite visit to release the fellow American asset. What in the
hell
was the holdup with the CIA?

“Left or right?” Alex asked blandly.

“Left, asshole.”

“That’s Dr. Asshole to you. I’m a surgeon.”

Not that he thought the guy cared, but it was good to establish a certain status with thugs like his guard. Sure enough, the guard walked a little farther behind him and didn’t “accidentally” slam him against any walls as they walked down the long corridor.

The guard directed him up a flight of stairs, down a short hall and into an interrogation room, complete with cameras and a lie-detector machine sitting on a small, rolling table in the corner.

“Are you a lie-detector tech?” Alex asked pleasantly with feigned surprise.

“No,” the guard admitted, scowling.

Mission accomplished. Chasm in their status emphasized for good measure. Now to play the twerp like a violin. “It’s interesting work,” Alex said in a conversational tone. “Decent hours. Good pay in the civilian world. High-demand job. More and more private companies are using lie detectors on their employees or during job interviews. Which means there aren’t nearly enough trained techs. It would be a good career move for you if you ever decide to go civilian.”

The guard nodded thoughtfully. “Thanks, man.”

Amateur.
The guy had no clue that Alex had just neatly diverted him from playing bad cop for whatever interrogator was right now standing on the other side of that two-way glass. He’d bet the “good cop” knew what he’d done, though. Should come in here any second to try to regain control of the situation.

Assuming the guy wasn’t working over Katie, already. He cringed to think of her undergoing a professional interrogation. Physically cringed. If he was lucky, they would make a run at him first. He could keep the bastards busy for a good long time and away from her. Long enough, hopefully, for André Fortinay to pull her out of this hell hole undamaged.

The door opened. A man in a neatly starched white shirt and pressed slacks walked into the room.

Psychologist.
Alex eyed this man warily.

“Have a seat, Dr. Peters.”

“And you would be?” Alex asked.

“John Doe.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Dr. Doe,” Alex murmured as he took his seat. He planted both feet on the floor and both palms flat on the table. It was an unnatural pose, but designed not to give the interrogator any unconscious body language signals.

Dr. Doe’s mouth curved up sardonically. At a gesture from Doe, the future lie-detector tech retreated into the corner out of Alex’s line of sight.

Not that it succeeded in intimidating Alex. He would hear the guy coming long before the guard could lay a finger on him. He might absorb the blow, or he might move to block it, depending on how the interrogation was proceeding. Either way, he had control of that element of the game.

“What brings you to Guantánamo, Dr. Peters?”

“I’m afraid I’m not at liberty to discuss that with you, Dr. Doe.”

“Who do you work for?”

“I gave a contact number for my superiors to the MPs earlier. Feel free to call my headquarters and verify my identity for yourself.”

Interestingly enough, John Doe’s mouth tightened slightly. So. Doe had been in contact with the CIA already. Which meant the fuckers in Langley had told this jerk to go through with this interrogation. What the
hell?

“What kind of tests were you running in the hospital’s lab earlier?”

“I can’t discuss that.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

Alex answered politely, “Let’s just say it’s not on the approved list of conversation topics and call it good, shall we?” After all, there was no sense pissing this guy off more than he had to.

Doe leaned forward and planted his hands on the table to match Alex’s. “Just so we’re clear, you’re not getting out of here until you talk. I’m a specialist. You will tell me what I want to know before I’m done with you. I’ll respect your decision if you choose to resist me, but any...discomfort...you experience will be purely your choice and not mine.”

This guy knew he was a spy. Knew the kind of training Alex had undergone. And Doe still thought it was possible to break him? Bastard had a big surprise coming. Alex leaned forward and stared the guy directly in the eyes. He spoke slowly, enunciating each word clearly. “Try me. I dare you.”

And those were the last words he spoke. For the next hour, Doe pummeled him with questions, taunts and outright threats. For the most part, the guy disguised his growing frustration well. But Alex was better. By subtle nuances of expression, he conveyed his amusement and contempt for the man’s efforts to make him talk.

Finally, Doe threw up his hands. “You leave me no choice. We’re going to have to drug you.” The bastard said that like he was relieved to have gotten to this point. Were those his orders all along? Put on a show for Alex that culminated in drugging away his inhibitions until he spilled his guts to this guy?