The wheels were already turning to bring staffing on-site.
But, again, timing was critical.
Performing even the simplest of the proposed procedures required a minimum number of skilled staff working around the clock.
“We need extra hands,” he concluded. “Capable, skilled hands. At this point, I’ll take
Petra nodded, fully aware. “I’ll make a call. We may have what we need already here.”
1:45 P.M.
Dr. Lisa Cummings paced the length of her cell. She left her lunch untouched on the small tray. A turkey club and a small bag of Doritos. There was something obscene about the ordinariness of the fare. She stared around her cell as she made another pass from front to back.
The dull ache from her sprained ankle kept her focused.
The walls were a seamless white plastic. The door was made of a hard glass polymer, framed in steel. She had pressed her cheek against that glass, trying to see as much as she could past her threshold. All she saw was a hall of similar cells, all appearing empty.
The worry ate at her and fueled her pacing.
The cell had only a few amenities: a cot with a foam mattress and a stainless-steel commode with sink. The only luxury was a flat-screen television molded into the wall. But Lisa could not escape the feeling that someone was watching her through it.
Or maybe it was just a paranoia born of the aftereffects of the drugs.
After they were caught last night by the helicopter, four uniformed men had skimmed down on lines from the cabin of the aircraft. They had tied Kat and Lisa up, then injected them intramuscularly with a sedative. She guessed from the stabbing ache in her eyes and the stiffness of her leg muscles that they’d given her some form of ketamine.
She had regained a groggy consciousness at one point during the trip, enough to tell she was in the back of the Ford explorer. Kat lay sprawled next to her, eyes rolled back, snoring slightly. Lisa was too weak to move, but through the back window, she watched dark woods and tall cliffs roll past, suggesting they were in the mountains.
She guessed the Blue Ridge Mountains, but she couldn’t be certain.
She had faded away again and suspected she had been given a second injection at some point.
She scratched absently at them through the thin gown she wore. Someone had stripped her and dressed her in a featureless cotton dress, like a hospital gown but closed in the back. It was pulled over the head and cinched in place. She also wore slippers and an ill-fitting bra and a pair of panties. The garments were clean but not new. From the slight fraying, someone had worn these clothes before-and that added to her nervousness.
A sharp buzz sounded from the television. It drew her attention around. On the screen, the view of a small hospital ward appeared. Two figures in scrubs moved across the screen, working in what appeared to be a NICU, a neonatal intensive care unit.
A computer-altered voice spoke, eerily flat and disjointed. “DR. LISA CUMMINGS, IT HAS COME TO OUR ATTENTION THAT YOU HAVE BOTH A MEDICAL BACKGROUND AND A PH.D. IN PHYSIOLOGY. IS THAT CORRECT?”
“Yes,” she said tentatively, unable to think of a good reason to lie. They clearly knew who she was, likely pulling her records based on her fingerprints.
“USEFULNESS IS A VIRTUE HERE,” she was coldly instructed.
Lisa processed this and came to one conclusion. “Why should I help you?”
“IF SAVING THE LIFE OF A CHILD IS NOT ENOUGH, PERHAPS THE LIFE OF A FRIEND.”
The view swiped away, and a room similar to hers materialized on the monitor-only its walls were a dark red. It was like looking through a window into a neighboring cell. But that room could be anywhere in the complex. The woman seated on the bed burst to her feet, rushed forward to fill the screen, placing a hand against it.
Lisa laid hers there, too, matching finger for finger. She imagined the warmth of the electronics came from the palm of her best friend.
“Kat…”
“Lisa, are you okay?”
The connection cut, and the screen went black. The voice returned. “EVERY FAILURE OR DISOBEDIENCE ON YOUR PART WILL BE EXACTED UPON THE FLESH OF YOUR FRIEND. PROVE YOUR USEFULNESS, AND YOU BOTH CONTINUE TO LIVE.”
She swallowed hard, suddenly finding it too chilly in her thin gown. “What do you want me to do?”
The electronic door lock clicked loudly.
“GO OUT TO YOUR RIGHT. END OF THE HALL.”
The screen went dark.
Lisa hesitated a few breaths, but she knew she had no choice. Cooperation would buy extra time-
That last, more than anything, gave her the strength to keep moving.
She stepped over to the door, pushed it open, and headed to the right. The hall held a dozen cells. She searched for Kat among them, but they all appeared empty, at least as far as she could tell.
“Kat,” she called out softly, walking slowly, swiveling her head.
No response, no face appeared pressed against a glass door.
Several of the rooms had their mattresses rolled up, giving the entire wing a feeling of disuse, but also a sense of expectation, like an empty boarding school waiting to be occupied for a new semester.
Maybe that came from the low murmur of voices ahead.
Reaching the end of the hall, she pushed through the far door into a small medical ward, the same one from the television. Crates and boxes filled one half of the space, some open, others spilling packing material and showing plastic-wrapped medical equipment inside.
The other half held the neonatal unit. A woman in scrubs spotted her and motioned her forward to join them, like one colleague greeting another.
Before she could step closer, a door on the other side of the ward opened, and a broad-shouldered older man entered, dressed in a somber gray suit, his white hair neatly combed, his manner genteel as he strode over to Lisa.
She had become rooted in place, recognizing him.
The man held out his hand, his Carolina drawl warm. “Thank you, Dr. Cummings, for agreeing to help my grandnephew.”
Lisa shook his hand, dumbfounded.
He was the former ambassador to Southeast Asia, now secretary of state-and brother to the president.
Robert L. Gant.
1:55 P.M.
Washington, DC
“Tell me,” James Gant demanded, staring off to the next room, where his daughter rested on the hospital bed. “Who’s behind all of this?”
