“See? Still with the threats. Look. I just offered you a million dollars to do what you’ve done for almost free for the Mossad for years. I’ll look after your daughter like she was my own while you’re gone. You’ll never have to worry about anything again once this is over. I strongly suggest you consider this carefully. You’re not going to get a better deal. Ever.”
With that, Arthur spun on his heel and knocked on the door. One of the men outside opened it, and then he was gone. She heard the bolt slide back into place, and then the footsteps moved down the hall to wherever they’d come from, leaving her alone with her thoughts.
For all his experience, Arthur had made a mistake. Two, actually. The first was that he had tipped his hand. He needed her. That gave her power over him. The second was more subtle. He’d left the light on, which gave her the ability to see. That might not have seemed like a huge advantage, but it was enough.
She set to work on maneuvering her left arm, a millimeter at a time, up towards her shoulder as she exhaled, decreasing the expansion of her ribcage to the extent possible. The skin tore against the sharp edge of the strap, but she ignored it, forced even more air out of her lungs, and pulled.
~ ~ ~
Arthur stood in the deserted lobby of what had once been a mental institution in rural Virginia, long since abandoned and condemned for demolition. As the state fought with the federal government over the property and the ultimate use of the land, it sat empty, chain-link fence with razor wire ringing it, keeping looters and vandals out, and presenting the agency with one of several facilities where it could detain sensitive subjects in complete privacy.
Three men stood out of earshot, murmuring among themselves. All wore suits and had weapons in shoulder holsters.
He took a few more steps towards the main entrance, a glass and iron affair with two oversized doors that were scarred from decades of grim traffic entering a facility few ever left unless in a body bag. Plywood had been mounted across both glass panels to prevent breakage, and an armed guard patrolled the grounds day and night. The locals had considered the woods around it a damned place for generations, so it was natural that the facility no community wanted anywhere near it would wind up there. Built as part of Roosevelt’s New Deal construction boom in the 1930s it had been shut down in 2001, the last of the patients transferred to modern hospitals, where they could get more compassionate care. Its history was one marked by questionable treatments and controversial approaches, and it had gained a certain professional notoriety in the Forties and Fifties following a propensity for performing lobotomies on a far greater percentage of its population than anywhere else in the country — fully double the national average.
A pool of rank rainwater glazed the uneven tiled floor of the foyer, and a furry form scurried into a corner as he approached. The place was perfectly suited for this sort of detainment. That it had a certain medieval quality was icing on the cake. He wanted those he was ‘negotiating’ with to hate and fear it, and want to be anywhere else in the world. As he was sure the woman named Jet wanted to be free of her grim imprisonment.
He flipped open his cell phone and placed a call, staring off into the near distance as he waited for it to answer.
“We have her. I gave her the ultimatum. I expect an affirmative response within the next twenty-four hours,” he said quietly.
“Then what?”
“Then our friend gets his comeuppance.”
“Why are you so confident in her when your best men couldn’t make it happen?”
“She’s…different. Hard to explain it. If anyone can pull this off, it will be her. That, and we’re sort of out of options, aren’t we?” Arthur observed.
“There’s that.”
“Which, I thought I would mention…we aren’t having much success with the new group that took over since he killed the old one. Apparently they feel that there’s substantially more risk associated with dealing with us than there was before. So the cost is considerably higher. Which makes it far less interesting for us.”
“I understand. Perhaps they will see reason once we have rid the jungles of the white devil.”
“That’s our hope. Right now they’re talking to others, and you know as well as I do, that if anyone else does a deal it will disrupt everything we’ve built. That cannot be allowed to happen,” Arthur underscored.
“We are in agreement. It can’t. You really think she can do this?”
“I’ve never met anyone I am more sure about. You know her history.”
“The jungle is a different environment than the desert.”
“True enough. But she’s got ten times more experience than our next option. Honestly, she’s scary to be in the same room with. And you know I don’t scare.”
“Very well. Do whatever it takes, but make it happen. We’re running out of time.”
“I know.”
Chapter 6
The sound of a banshee wailing reverberated off the asylum walls and brought the guards at a run. The shrieking was horrifying, pure terror, ending with a yowl of pain and then silence.
“Move. Come on. But remember what we’re dealing with. She’s extremely dangerous,” Fred reminded his men.
All three gripped stun guns. They were not to use deadly force if it could be helped. The orders were clear.
“What do you think happened?” Jim asked.
Fred rubbed his nose and sniffed. “Could be rats. I never thought it was a good idea to leave her down here unguarded. Some of them are the size of minivans. If a bunch of them got to her…it could be ugly.”
“Or it could be some kind of a trick.”
“She’s lashed to the bed. You helped me do it. Nobody could get out of that. Especially not after getting shot full of rhino tranquilizer.”
Fred beamed his flashlight on the rusting steel door. The area was completely quiet other than their breathing. Whatever had caused the commotion was over. The single industrial fluorescent lamp in the hallway flickered, its glow inadequate to provide more than slim illumination to the windowless space. The other four lamps had long ago stopped working, lending the area the feeling of a dungeon.
“Jim, you slide the bolt open. Carl, you go in first. I’ll follow,” he whispered.
The two subordinates nodded and tensed in preparation.
The bolt slid open with a
The room was dark. They could just make out the shape of the ancient bed, but it was indistinct. Carl, in the lead, reached to his side and felt for the tripod lamp. He found the stand and groped up to the control at the top and flipped the switch, but nothing happened.
Annoyed, he pointed his flashlight at the bed. The beam played across the empty surface just as a bolt of yellow swung across his field of vision and a hard metallic rectangle slammed into his head with the force of a hammer blow. Warm blood streamed freely from a gash in his forehead, and he cried out as he dropped the light. The room swirled in blackness, and he lost consciousness, sinking to the floor with a groan.
A short length of metal smacked into Fred’s skull, and he went down like a bag of rocks, landing heavily at Carl’s inert feet. Jim stood frozen just outside the door, staring dumbstruck into the room’s inky depth, trying to process what was happening. Jet swung down from the ceiling, gripping an overhead pipe like a gymnast and propelled herself into his chest with both legs, her feet striking him with startling momentum. His stun gun clattered harmlessly by his side as he collapsed onto the cold cement floor, his ribs shattered. She watched him as he struggled for breath, then she reached down and pulled his pistol loose from his shoulder holster, pausing to inspect the Colt 1911.45 caliber semi-automatic before tucking it into the waist of her jeans.
Fifteen seconds had passed since the door had opened, and all three agents were incapacitated. She shook her head. If this was any indication of the level of expertise at Arthur’s disposal, it was no wonder he needed
