No elevator down this one; it led to living quarters from when the base was fully staffed.
The majority of the facility was to the west, so if there was any activity, that’s where he would find it. Quinn ducked back into the hallway where he’d left Nate, then motioned for his apprentice to join him near the door.
“I’m going to see if I can find Peter’s friend,” Quinn said.
“You want me to come with you?”
“No. Stay here and watch my back. Let me know if anyone comes down the hallway.”
Nate didn’t look happy with the answer.
“Problem?” Quinn asked.
“No. It’s fine.”
“Good,” Quinn said. “I’m not sure how well our radios are going to work down here. If we lose contact for more than twenty minutes, get back into the tunnel. Give me another fifteen, then get the hell out of here.”
As Quinn started to open the door again, he heard a metal groan somewhere in the distance. Immediately he pulled the door closed, leaving the barest of cracks so he could hear what was going on.
A door farther down the hallway shut, then there were steps moving toward Quinn’s position from the east. The person’s pace was steady, not rushed. Quinn soon became aware of a voice, too.
“… him now. Have two men meet me there, then the rest of you should go downstairs and help get things ready to go.” Male, with an accent. Australian, and unforgettable.
“Okay,” a second voice said. It was tinny, coming over a radio.
Tucker was close now, within twenty feet.
“Once I finish with him, I’ll join you in the lab,” Tucker said.
“Petersen and Linden are on their way to you.”
“Good.”
Quinn wanted to peer through the crack to see if he could get a look at what was going on, but he resisted the urge, and instead held the door steady so that Tucker would have no reason to notice it wasn’t closed.
Tucker continued past without breaking stride. Quinn waited until the footsteps began to recede, then pulled open the door and looked out.
Tucker had almost reached the west end of the hallway where it turned to the south.
Quinn looked back at Nate. “Twenty minutes,” he whispered, then began following the Australian.
Tucker couldn’t help feeling a bit of respect for his captive. The man was good. He’d clammed up tight and was refusing to speak again.
“Torture, is that what you’re waiting for?” Tucker asked the man. “Maybe some bamboo shoots under the fingernails? A few good kicks to the kidneys?”
The man did what he’d been doing for the last fifteen minutes. He smiled, a grotesque fake smile that made Tucker want to pistol-whip him.
“Well, hate to disappoint,” Tucker said. “But torture’s not something I’m into.”
This time he was the one who smiled, then he moved his gun away from his side and shot the man in the knee.
“Oh, wait,” Tucker said as the man howled in pain. “I forgot, I am into torture. I just don’t like to work at it.”
He shot the man in the other knee.
The prisoner screamed, then fell off the chair onto the floor.
“Who the fuck are you?” Tucker said.
The man writhed in pain, unable to respond.
“Perhaps I’ll do your elbow next. Is that what you want?”
“No,” the man gasped. “Please.”
“You answer my questions, and we’ll bind those up for you. Give you a little something for the pain, too. How’s that sound?”
“Please,” the man repeated.
“Who are you?”
“Furuta,” the man said, his voice labored. “Kevin Furuta.”
“All right, Mr. Furuta. This is progress. Who do you work for?”
“Please. My legs. Help me.”
“You answer my questions first, remember? Questions with an
“The Agency,” Furuta said. “I work for them.”
“Now, that’s interesting. Why would the CI-fucking-A have an interest in us?”
Furuta said nothing.
Tucker raised his gun and pointed it at the man’s arm.
“Come alone, did you?” Tucker asked.
“No,” Furuta said.
But the answer came too fast, and Tucker knew it was a lie.
“There’s a strike team waiting close by. If they don’t hear from me soon, their orders are to attack.”
“Oh, Jesus Christ. Where did you get that line? Out of some fucking Bruce Willis film? You’re alone, Mr. Furuta. And you’re royally screwed.”
“No. Really, they’re there.”
“Enough,” Tucker said.
He shot the man in the left elbow. Furuta screamed again, then fell silent. Tucker kicked him to see if he was still conscious, but the man had passed out.
“Patch him up?” Petersen asked.
“Fuck no,” Tucker said. “Let him bleed out. He’s no use to us anyway. Even if the CIA is interested in us, we’ll be gone before they can do anything about it. You’ve got to love bureaucracy.”
Linden opened the door and let Tucker pass through first. Once they were all in the hallway, Tucker glanced back at the room Marion Dupuis was in.
“Are we bringing her along?” Petersen asked.
“No,” Tucker said. “Leave her to rot. She’s caused us enough problems.”
“
“Thanks for noticing.”
They exited the short hallway and shut the door behind them.
CHAPTER 31
Marion had heard them bring the other one in. At first she thought they were coming for her again. Either they had decided it was time for more questions, or had realized she had nothing to offer so were coming to get rid of her. Oddly, it was the former she feared most. At least if they had decided to kill her, she’d have nothing to lose. She could fight with all she had left, and if by some miracle she freed herself, she could try to find Iris. She knew there was zero chance of that happening, but she clung to the idea, thinking maybe, just maybe …
She had pressed her ear against her door, hoping to hear what their intentions were. But the men had not come to her cell. Instead, she heard another door open down toward the main exit. Feet scuffled across the floor, then someone barked, “Get the fuck in there.”
This went on for over a minute. A struggle of some sort. That much was obvious. It ended with a smack and a grunt. Then the door slammed closed.
“Asshole!” someone yelled. The voice had come from inside the hallway.
“Chill,” a second voice said.
