The cart moved through the door. “Morning, Ferguson,” Andrew said after a moment, as if he’d simply been out for a stroll—plausible since we figured that only Nicole and her Special Security Team would know Andrew was missing. After all, the bastards didn’t want cops snooping around.
“Morning, Mr. Saber.”
Another set of doors, a long roll, then the beep and ding of an elevator. Bump-bump going in, then silence while the car descended. According to Andrew, they’d converted old maintenance offices into a temporary holding area. Nothing fancy, but serviceable—a secure door to a corridor with a half dozen rooms, and a closed camera system to monitor a few makeshift cells.
“I’ll take care of the retina scan, Gentry,” Andrew said as the elevator doors opened.
“Yes, sir.”
I kept my eyes closed, barely daring to breathe as the cart moved. Things beeped, and a heavy door swung open with a slow metallic creak. I heard a scrape of metal on plastic, then a pop that was Pierce jamming the latch to make sure we couldn’t be locked in, and I only knew that because he’d told me he was going to do so.
A couple of seconds later we passed through. The air smelled different in here, antiseptic and rotten, along with something else that made my hair stand on end.
“Mr. Saber! Gentry!” A scrape of boot on linoleum was most likely a guard near the door. “I didn’t know you’d returned.”
“Now you know,” Pierce replied, tone hard and clipped. “Has the older Ivanov specimen been recaptured?”
“Not yet,” the guard replied. “No fucking leads either.”
“Are Marcus Ivanov and,” disgust filled Pierce’s voice, “Griffin secure?”
“Locked down tight.” The guard gave a sharp and nasty laugh. “Griffin’s been getting a lesson in loyalty. Ms. Saber’s orders. And, with the Dallas lab tech here, it’s been pretty entertaining.”
Brian tensed behind me while I trembled. Holy shit, did I ever want to leap out of the bin and tear off the ugly smile I heard in this guard’s voice.
“I have two more,” Pierce said with a note of triumph. I forced myself limp again as he pulled the hinged bin lid up and let it fall open with a loud plastic clatter. “Crawford and Archer. But we have a change of plans. We’re moving them all out of here. With Pietro Ivanov on the loose, and no clue how he got out, we can’t risk him returning to free Griffin and his nephew. Mr. Saber, you can arrange the plane to Dallas?”
Andrew cleared his throat. “Yes. Of course.”
“Thank you, sir,” Pierce said and pushed the cart farther along. “I’ll check the condition of the specimens and prepare them to move.”
“After yesterday’s bullshit in the conference room, this one got his arms broken and no brains,” a different guard said as the cart came to a stop. I carefully opened my eyes a thin crack and peered through my lashes, relieved that it was enough to allow me to see nearby people over the lip of the dumpster. A brawny, bald guard stood in front of Pierce. “He’s chained up now, and a rotting mess,” he added without a trace of compassion in his voice as he nodded toward the door beside him. “Griffin’s another story.” His smile widened, cruel and vicious. “The tech tested some new shit on him that supposedly keeps them aware and slows the rot when they get injured and hungry. It worked like a fucking charm.”
Brian’s hand curled into a fist against my back. I bit the inside of my cheek, quivering with rage.
A small frown crossed Andrew’s face. “I hope my mother is taking care not to do irreparable damage. They’re useless as test subjects if they become unstable, like Philip Reinhardt.”
I held back a growl with effort. Fuck you too, Andy.
“Bring out whatever brains we have left,” Pierce ordered. “We’re going to need to get them into shape to move.”
“Yes, sir.”
As the guard stepped out of my thin field of vision, Pierce dropped a quick glance down and gave us a very slight Not Yet head shake. I fought to look limp and tranqed, and focused on running through the plan in my head. At Brian’s signal I was to leap out with him right behind me, then he’d get through the door, mod up, and kick some serious ass. The effect of the mods didn’t last very long, so activating it before the time was right would only waste it.
The bald guard returned with a Ziploc freezer bag, presumably containing brains. He handed it to Pierce then turned at the sound of the entrance door swinging open.
“Yes, ma’am.” It was the head of security, Thea Braddock, and it sounded as if she was talking on the phone. “I’d just gone off duty when I heard. I came back to check it out.” A pause. “Crawford and Archer, or so I’ve just been told, ma’am,” she continued. “I’ll call you back as soon as I know more.”
Shit shit shit shit. She was on the phone with Nicole Fucking Saber.
Approaching footsteps. “Good to have you back safe and sound, Mr. Saber,” Braddock said, sounding genuinely pleased that he’d returned. “Gentry? You’re the one who got him back?”
Pierce offered a tight-lipped smile. Having Braddock show up complicated things that much more. “Yes, ma’am. And took down these two as well,” he said, flicking fingers toward us. “Lost Reinhardt and Comtesse though.”
Braddock peered into the bin and gave a low whistle of appreciation. She wore an emerald green hoody, a bag strap over one shoulder, and a hospital-blue sling supporting the arm Philip had injured. “Solid work, Gentry,” she said. “I need to call Ms. Saber back and let her know it’s confirmed. She’s on her way in now.”
“Leave off calling her for the moment, please, Thea,” Andrew put in quickly. “With Pietro Ivanov in the wind, we can’t risk staying in New York. This section wasn’t meant to be anything more than a temporary holding place for specimens.” He made a noise of aggravation. “I’m shocked the other two haven’t escaped as well, considering how quickly this floor was refitted for this purpose. We’re moving the lot to the airport for transfer to Dallas. No one escapes from there.”