He blinked, unsure of what had roused him. The room was silent, the only sound a low hum from the single bare bulb. Well, now that he was awake... He kicked his legs, trying to get them out of the rope or perhaps break the chair his legs were tied to. Either one would work.
He stopped. What was that? He strained his ears, listening. There was something... Yes, voices. They came from outside the door and grew louder as they neared. Was Roche returning so soon?
The voices continued to grow louder, and James strained to hear what they were saying, but it was impossible to make anything out through the thick door. Suddenly, the door rattled hard as something slammed against it, and he heard a dull thud. A moment later, the door opened.
Light filled the room, and he squinted. A flashlight beam swept over him, and the figure holding it stepped into the room. The light clicked off, and James’s vision cleared, allowing him to see the scene.
Agent Banks stood before him, having swapped his usual suit for an all-black outfit of combat pants and a tight T-shirt. Just behind him, a body lay motionless—one of the guards, his face pressed into the floor.
“What is thi—” James started, but Agent Banks interrupted him.
“Shh!” He approached James and dropped down, working furiously to untie the restraints around his hands and legs. When they fell to the ground, he ushered James to his feet. “Quickly now. He won’t be out long.”
James followed Agent Banks, bewildered. He stepped over the unconscious guard. Was this some ruse by Roche? A way to coax more information out of him?
They walked quickly down the quiet hallway. Agent Banks checked each corner before signaling for James to follow. Finally, they reached a door in the side of the building and pushed out into the cool night air.
As soon as the door shut behind them, Banks whirled on James. James stepped back, expecting an attack, but Banks just put a hand on his shoulder.
“I don’t have time to explain, but I need you to trust me.” His face was earnest, so unlike all the other agents. “Just follow my lead. If I tell you to hide, do it. If I tell you to run, do it. If anything happens, just trust me.”
“I—”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes,” James said without thinking. Oddly, it wasn’t a lie. Something about this man made James trust him. He would soon find out if it was a mistake.
“Good,” Banks said, straightening. “Follow me.”
They set off around the outskirts of the compound, staying in the shadows of the buildings. Occasionally, Banks held up his hand and they stopped, crouching in the shadows, as voices passed nearby. But they made it across the camp. At the main entrance, two guards looked into the road, flashlights in hand, guns slung across their backs. Banks directed James off the path, into the nearby foliage. James stepped carefully over sticks and leaves as they went around a boulder and past the entrance of the compound. They continued that way, stepping quietly through the foliage next to the road, until they finally reached the silent village.
Still, they stayed in the shadows, skirting between buildings. Banks walked faster now, occasionally glancing back, and James soon found out why.
Shouts tore through the air behind them, and an alarm began to scream in the distance. Evidently, the knocked-out guard had awoken. And they weren’t happy that James Bolt was missing.
“Time to run,” Banks said, glancing back.
They jogged down the street of the village, all pretense of stealth gone. James thought he heard the distant sound of engines roaring to life. Banks sped up, and James hastened to follow.
They were coming.
They tore through the village, turning down side streets, leaping down stone staircases. They reached the outskirts of the village and ran toward a thicket of trees. James panted, trying to keep up with the taller, much more fit Agent Banks. Where were they going? Was the plan to hide in the woods?
Banks plunged into the trees, and James followed. Branches snagged his clothes and leaves slapped his face, but he pushed through, afraid of losing Banks in the darkness.
A moment later, they emerged from the trees. James stopped. Before him was a small dirt runway, stretching like a long scratch on the green terrain. Fifty feet away, a small, single-engine plane sat on the runway. A tall, thin man stood next to it, and he looked up as they neared.
“Thank the lord. As soon as I heard the siren I wondered where you were,” the man said with a Cockney accent.
“Let’s just go,” Banks said, hurrying to the passenger side. He opened the door and ushered James into the plane. It was cramped, but James climbed to the rear, just behind the pilot’s seat.
The other man climbed in and started flicking at the controls. The plane roared to life and the propeller began to turn.
“I’m Tom, by the way,” the man said jovially, glancing back at James. “Nice to meet you.”
“Yeah,” was all James managed to say as he fought to catch his breath.
The plane began to inch forward. At that moment, the opposite end of the runway flooded with light as two SUVs tore around the corner. They turned hard onto the runway, throwing up clouds of dirt. They accelerated toward the plane.
“Get this thing in the air, Tom!” Banks yelled.
“I’m going, I’m going,” Tom said.
The plane accelerated, heading straight for the two SUVs. The cabin shook slightly as they moved, and James wondered how safe this little plane was. He searched for a seat belt but only found a frayed hole in the seat where the belt had once been. Great.
“C’mon, baby,” Tom muttered, hunched over the control wheel.
They blasted down the runway, the whole plane shaking. The SUVs were
