To Steal a March (Surviving the Fall 11)

“That’s got to be where Mom is. Isn’t it?” Mark looked over at Jason, then at Tina, who finally replied after a long second.

“Let’s go find out, shall we?”

Chapter 10

Washington, D.C.

Rick sat on the floor next to Jane in a glass-enclosed conference room, their hands bound in front of them with zip-ties. Outside, in the hall, Carl stood on watch, his flashlight pointed at the pair to make sure they couldn’t go anywhere. Even if Rick and Jane had wanted to try and fight back, though, the removal of their filtration masks had made doing so nearly impossible. The smell was still as unbearable as when they first cracked the place open and both of them had vo

mited the full contents of their stomachs. Every movement was both nauseating and, thanks to their dehydration, painful as well.

Rick turned his head from the light and closed his eyes, taking a slow breath through his mouth to try and ward off any further nausea. “How long’s it been?”

“Why would I know? It feels like days.”

“Weeks.”

“You think they let Dr. Evans and the techs keep their masks?”

“I don’t see how they could work down here without them.” There was a long pause before Rick spoke again. “I wonder why they haven’t just killed us already.”

“You’ve worked with stuff like this before, like Dr. Evans. They probably want to make sure they don’t have a use for you first.”

“What about you?”

“Oh, gee, thanks.” Jane snorted and quickly regretted the swift intake of air that followed. “Way to make me feel useless.”

“No, that’s… no, sorry. Not what I meant.”

“I’m jerking your chain. I know exactly what you meant. I don’t know, though. Maybe they think I know more than I do.”

Rick’s eyes fluttered open at the statement. His mind started to race, connecting more dots and wondering if maybe—just maybe—there might be a way for them to get an advantage over the Russians after all.

“How much have you and Dr. Evans discussed Damocles? On a technical level?” Rick asked, still keeping his head to the side and moving his lips as little as possible.

“He’s talked a lot about it, in great detail. I’ve tuned a lot of it out, though.”

“Do you think you could bluff your way through some of it? Repeat a few things he said?”

Jane’s face crinkled in confusion. “Why would I do that?”

“If we stay here, in this room, they’re going to kill us eventually. If one or both of us can get mobile, though, maybe we can take advantage of a slipup. Grab a gun, free Dr. Evans or the techs… something. Anything’s better than sitting here waiting for death.”

There was silence for a long moment before Jane’s whisper came through, barely audible even in the silent room. “I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“I’m… that’s not me. I can’t do that kind of thing.”

“Yes you can.”

“No, I—”

“Remember Vegas? And then, after you got hurt coming into the city? You’ve been incredibly strong. And you can do this.”

“Why can’t you?”

“They already know I know about the system, but they know my knowledge is limited. You can play yourself off as his assistant. Start a scene about him needing medication or something, then talk about Damocles to sell it. Just make it seem real. They’ll take you to him, I’m sure of it.”