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Which was true.

Friedrichs aimed the Colt the moment the round was chambered, the tip of the silencer almost touching the back of the small man’s bald head. He squeezed the trigger before the Honduran had even said a word. The silencer’s baffles hid much of the sound. Nevertheless the
crack-snap
from the motion of the slide as the weapon cycled was surprisingly loud in the still of the desert.

Not that de Souza would have heard it, Friedrichs thought, looking down at the man’s limp form. Blood was already spreading from where the bullet had exited, mixing with the dust to form a small dark brown puddle under the Honduran’s head.
Der Eckzahn
had told him to kill the man inside. But that would just have caused a mess, and as there were only a couple of doctors at the facility apart from him that would have meant he would have had to clean it up. Besides, there was no one way out here in the desert to witness anything. He grabbed the man by the back of his jacket, lifting him easily with one hand, and dragged him over to the nearest outhouse. He might as well bring the woman out as well. He would fire up the incinerator and dispose of both bodies at the same time. But first he needed to report back that de Souza had been dealt with. He picked up the bag containing the money on his way back to the main building. 

36

HE
KEPT
HIS eyes closed, controlling his breathing, forcing himself to remain still in spite of the commotion going on around him.

Once they had taken him off the epinephrine drip his body had quickly metabolized the adrenaline and he had started to concentrate on slowing his heart rate, using techniques he had learned in the mountain jungles of Thailand over thirty years before. He began by concentrating on his posture, on the alignment of his limbs, his torso, his head, becoming aware of everywhere his body was in contact with the thin mattress on which he was lying, every place the restraining straps touched his skin, relaxing each muscle in turn. When he was comfortable that he had released as much tension as he could he started to focus his mind on his breathing, examining each inward and outward breath, analyzing it as the air flowed into his body, deep into his lungs. Satisfied that his mind was in tune with his breathing he slowed it down, increasing the length of each inhalation and exhalation, lengthening the pause between. With each breath he felt his heart slowing in his chest, until he could count only an occasional pulse. Somewhere in the distance he heard an alarm sound, some part of his mind recognizing that it was the monitor in his room. He pushed the thought away. He needed to hold this state for as long as he could.

He was aware of other people in the room now, their voices excited but muffled. Someone was shaking his shoulder, leaning over to call his name. His mind wanted to go to the voice, to escape to consciousness, but he willed it to stay focused on his breathing, now almost imperceptible, on the occasional beating of his heart. The voices in the room receded, once again becoming distant. He felt a weight in the center of his chest, someone pushing hard, repeatedly, compressing his chest cavity in an attempt to force his heart to beat faster. On some level he realized that it hurt but he pushed the pain away, forcing his mind to remain where it was. He was waiting for something else.

The pressure on his chest suddenly stopped. Then he felt the straps across his arms and chest being loosened, his left arm being moved off to one side.

There.

That was what he had been waiting for.

He released his mind, willing it back to consciousness. He knew it would take a few seconds to come around, for his heart rate to return to normal after being that far under. He felt the cold of the pads, one in the center of his chest, the other on the left of his ribcage, the side he had gambled that they’d have to remove the restraining straps to expose. He wasn’t certain now that he could come around quickly enough. Would the defibrillator work or would its sensors detect that his heartbeat was returning to normal? If it did work would the shock incapacitate him? He waited, bracing himself, forcing his mind back into the room. He could hear the activity around him more clearly now, the sounds from around him no longer muffled and distant. Just a few more seconds.

  His eyes opened and suddenly he was back. His entire ribcage ached from the chest compressions but he ignored it, quickly looking around. To his left one of the men was leaning over the crash cart, his back to him while he frantically tried to get the defibrillator to activate. To his right the second man was simply staring at him, eyes wide, mouth open, for a moment too shocked to do anything.

Cody wasted no time. With one hand he grabbed the two wires lying across his chest and ripped the pads free, sitting up. With the other he struck out, hitting the doctor as hard as he could underneath his nose with the heel of his hand. The man howled in pain and grabbed his shattered nose. He collapsed to the floor, blood already pouring from between his fingers. Cody ignored him, bending forwards to release the straps that were still holding his feet to the tablet

The other doctor spun around when he heard the cry, finally noticing that the man on the table was no longer unconscious. He reacted faster than his colleague but it wasn’t enough. His feet were finally free, and Cody swung them around, bending his knees and planting them in the center of the man’s chest, pushing him backwards over the crash cart. The cart toppled backwards with a crash, the man landing awkwardly on top of it. He was on him in a second, knocking him out with a blow to the temple. He moved around the table where the other man was on his knees, whimpering as he held his broken nose. Soon he too was unconscious.

He rolled both men on to their sides, quickly binding their hands and feet with bandages he found in one of the drawers. When he was done he leaned back against the table, gathering his breath. He felt light-headed. Dealing with the doctors had been easy; it shouldn’t have affected him that much. Maybe the effects of coming back that quickly from being so far under. Then he remembered that they had taken a couple of units of his blood. His body would replace the hemoglobin quickly, but it would take a little while longer for him to return to normal.

He certainly couldn’t wait around for that. He glanced up at the camera on the wall. Whoever was watching would already have raised the alarm. He had no idea where he was, or how many other men, no doubt better trained than the two doctors, were already on their way. He needed to find Alison and get them both out of here. He had noticed a packet of disposable scalpels in one of the drawers while he had been looking for something with which to tie up the doctors and he took one, slipping it into the waistband of the pants he was wearing. Then he headed for the door. A quick look told him there was no one outside in the corridor. He closed the door behind him.

He made his way down the hallway, checking doors on both sides as he went. The place was like a small hospital. He passed an operating theatre and an ICU, as well as several other rooms with beds, medical supplies and monitoring equipment. None of the rooms on this floor had windows, which suggested he was underground. The last room contained a row of lockers and he found a pair of boots and some overalls that fit, but no weapons. He shoved the scalpel he had taken into the pocket of the overalls and moved on. So far his luck had held and he had encountered no one. The place, or at least this level, seemed eerily quiet.

There was a lift at the end of the corridor. The panel confirmed he was on the lower of two underground levels. He found the stairs and climbed quickly to the next level, checking carefully before emerging into a corridor similar to the one he had just come from a floor below. He crept forward, straining for any sounds that might alert him to the presence of anyone else in the facility.

Halfway down the corridor he opened a door to a small room similar to the one in which he had been held. Against one wall, lying on a gurney, he found her. He closed the door behind him, flicking the light switch, gently calling her name. Her eyes were open, as if she were staring at the ceiling, but she didn’t respond, her jaw slack, mouth slightly open, her lips tinged with blue. Her breathing was labored, coming in irregular gasps. Occasionally her throat would convulse weakly, as if she were having trouble swallowing. He quickly checked her airway. She didn’t resist. Her mouth dropped open as he rolled her onto her side, placing one arm under her head. Saliva slowly dripped from the corner of her mouth, running down her forearm, pooling on the gurney.

He didn’t know what to do. He was used to dealing with battlefield traumas, with gunshot wounds, injuries caused by fire, by explosions, by shrapnel. He knew what to do to treat men who were bleeding profusely, who had spinal injuries, broken bones, even those who had lost limbs. But there were no external signs of trauma here. Whatever they had done to her seemed to have caused damage to her central nervous system that had impaired even her most basic functions.

And she was deteriorating rapidly. If he didn’t find a way to help her soon she would simply stop breathing. He had no idea where this place was but he doubted it was anywhere near a population center. Assuming he could even get them out of here it could be hours before he might get her to a hospital. He looked at her again. It was time she didn’t have. He could go back to the doctors he had left on the floor below, force them to help. But where would that get him? Whoever had brought him here had done this to her. He had to assume that person was already aware of his escape and would by now be sending others to make sure he was apprehended. He needed to get them out of this facility before they arrived.

The thought of the doctors in the room below gave him an idea. He had no way of knowing whether it would work, but he was out of options. He opened the door a crack, checking there was still no one outside, and wheeled the gurney into a room at the end of the corridor close to the stairwell, leaving her there while he ran back down the stairs. The two doctors were still lying on the floor, unconscious, as he had left them. He grabbed what he needed and sprinted back towards the room where he had left Alison, taking the stairs two at a time.

It took him less than a minute to set up, and then he stood, his right arm by his side, a tube snaking from the needle just above his elbow to the blood bag resting on the gurney, waiting for it to fill with his blood. Her breathing was getting more and more labored. He leaned over to check her pulse with his left hand, opening and closing his right, flexing and relaxing the muscles to increase the flow of blood, willing it to come more quickly. The bag was almost full. Just another minute.

As he waited for the bag to fill he looked around, noticing for the first time a chair in the corner of the room, bolted to the floor, thick velcro straps for wrists and ankles telling him that this was where they had interrogated her. On a bench opposite sat what looked like a defibrillator, next to it a small vial and two syringes, one full, one spent. Was this what they had given her? He grabbed the full syringe and the vial and placed both in the pocket of his overalls. Like all the other rooms he had been in there was a camera mounted high on the wall. With the door closed and the lights off the room was almost completely dark, but he had no idea whether they could see him. There was enough light for him to see well enough, which told him that if the cameras had image-enhancing capabilities his attempts to hide their position were probably in vain. He couldn’t worry about that now. It was all he could do.

He sat in the darkness while the blood bag filled, listening for any sounds from outside the room. So far it seemed they were alone, but he knew others would be coming. How long they had simply depended on how far they had to travel to get here. If whoever had abducted them managed to get men to the building before he could get them out they were probably finished anyway.

At last the bag was full and he pulled out the needle. He worked quickly to set up the transfusion, placing the bag high on her shoulder, checking that the blood was flowing into her arm before taping it in place. Now he needed to get them out of here.

He opened the door a crack, checking the corridor was still empty. Satisfied, he returned to the gurney, gently taking Alison in his arms and carrying her out. The elevator was waiting, but if the lifts could be locked down remotely he would have delivered them back into the hands of their captors. He took the stairs, climbing as quickly as he could. When he reached the top he stopped, once again feeling light-headed. The weight of the woman wouldn’t normally have bothered him but with what he had just given her he had lost three units of blood. He gave himself a second to rest and it passed.

The door at the top of the stairwell opened into another corridor, like the two below. But this time at the end of the corridor there was a door.

He made his way towards it.

37

FRIEDRICHS
SAT
ON the dusty ground, his back to the building, cupping his hand around the match as he held it to the end of his cigarette. He took a long drag, holding the smoke in his lungs for a moment before slowly exhaling.

His earpiece lay on the ground beside him, turned off. He had removed it after reporting back to
Der Eckzahn
that de Souza had been taken care of. Gant was secure and the woman, well after her last session with the Honduran she was a vegetable. She wouldn’t even be able to lift herself off her gurney without help, let alone escape the facility. There was nothing left for him to do but dispose of the bodies. He checked his watch. Fifteen minutes since he had lit the burners. It required fourteen hundred degrees to properly dispose of a human body. By the time he got the woman the furnace would be up to temperature. He took a last drag on the cigarette and flicked the butt into the dust. He picked up the comms unit from where it lay on the ground, switched it on and placed it back in his ear.