Hell's Corner (Camel Club 5)

CHAPTER 99

FINN AND KNOX MADE THEIR WAY carefully across the catwalk that was suspended over a tank of foul-smelling liquid. They knew this for two reasons. One, because they could smell it, even if they couldn’t see it. And two, it was on the plan Stone had given them. But it was Chapman who’d told them the secret of passing safely over it. Stone hadn’t done so, because he had never intended for them to get inside this place.

They had to keep their weight in the center of the metal walkway. If they made a misstep and touched the sides, only bad things would happen. They had nearly reached the end of the catwalk when they heard it.

A groan.

Both men looked around, guns pointed at obvious threat points.

Another groan.

Finn whispered to Knox, “Sounds like it’s underneath us.”

“Thinking the same thing,” replied Knox.

“I recognized it.”

“The groan?”

Finn nodded. “Keep a lookout.” He dropped to his knees and put his face against the floor of the catwalk that was only inches from the top of the tank. “Caleb?” he said softly.

Another groan.

“Caleb?” he said in a louder voice as Knox gazed anxiously around.

Another groan and then, “Harry?” The voice was weak, the mind obviously muddled.

Drugged, was Finn’s first thought.

He looked up at Knox. “Remember what Chapman told us?”

Knox nodded and glanced around. “Got an idea.”

Keeping to the center of the walk, he headed back the way he had come. He couldn’t go back out the door they had come in. It had locked behind them and it was thick and made of stainless steel. But there was an old packing crate set against the wall. He slipped his gun in its holster, hefted the box, which weighed about fifty pounds, and carried it back over to where Finn was, again keeping to the center of the catwalk.

Each man climbed up on the railing of the catwalk. This was difficult for Knox with the weight of the crate, but he managed it. He looked at Finn and told him his plan.

“You ready?”

Finn nodded.

Knox counted to three and then dropped the box on the side of the catwalk. The floor immediately tilted down on that side while the other side tilted up, revealing a blackened strip of empty space on each side. The crate fell through the opening on the right side and they heard a splash. The foul smell got even fouler.

Finn, still holding on to the railing, dropped down until his foot was squarely in the empty space. As the floor tilted back up and into place, he jammed his foot against it, holding it open. Knox reached into the rucksack he carried on his back and slid out a length of rope. He tied one end to the railing and let the other drop through the opening.

Knox switched places with Finn and held the floor open with his foot. Finn grabbed the rope and lowered himself through. He landed in knee-deep muck.

“Caleb?”

“Harry?” the voice said groggily.

“Are you alone?”

“Yes. At least I think I am.”

Finn switched on his flashlight and quickly found Caleb trussed up and sitting in the muck, which was up to his chest. Finn cut him loose and helped him through the opening and up to the catwalk.

“You okay?” Finn asked as the three men proceeded on into the next room.

Caleb slowly nodded. “Just a little woozy. They gave me a shot. Made me fuzzy. And the stench down there. I don’t think my sense of smell will ever be the same.” His face paled as his mind cleared. “Annabelle? Is she all right?”

“We’re still looking for her. Any idea where she might be?”

Caleb shook his head. “I just want to get out of this place. All of us.”

“That’s the plan,” said Knox.

“Where’s Oliver?” asked Caleb.

“In here somewhere,” replied Finn.

Stone passed into the next section. It had a mock street, building façades, a rotting 1960s-era sedan and mannequins filling in for real people. The mannequins all had bullet holes in their heads. He cleared this space and kept going.

The next room was the last one on this section.

The lab.

Stone cautiously pushed open the door and went inside. No lights here. Using his NV goggles, he checked the room methodically. He kept one hand on his goggles, ready to rip them off if he saw any hint of others using similar equipment, since the red dot would give away his position and probably his life as well.

As he looked around he noticed something odd. There were long tables set up against one wall of the lab. These tables were new. Various pieces of sophisticated-looking equipment were set up on these surfaces. Glistening metal contraptions with power cords trailing off to the floor. And test tubes in racks lining the walls. Elaborate microscopes and other equipment were centered on another table. On the floor in one corner was a metal cylinder about six feet in length. It had a digital readout screen and a square of glass in the center.

None of this was here the last time Stone had visited Murder Mountain. He had no idea what it represented or who had placed it here. And right now he didn’t have time to explore the issue.

Next, his gaze went to the cage that normally hung from the ceiling but now was on the floor. The cage had fallen due entirely to Stone’s marksmanship when he’d last been here and an enemy who had been trying to kill him had died when the two-ton cage had fallen on him.

But Stone had another recollection of that cage. When he’d been training here all those years ago he and three men had been placed in the cage together. A flame had been ignited under the cage and every ten seconds was increased so that it grew nearer and nearer the metal. The goal was for the men to get out before the heat became unbearable. Added to the problem was that Stone and his colleagues had seen the other team that had come before them. They had failed the test. And two men had suffered crippling burns.

While the other men in his group had started to panic as the metal grew too hot to touch, Stone had focused all his energies. Why four men in the cage at the same time? Why not three or five, or six? Four men. Four sides to the cage.

He’d barked out his orders. Each man was to take off his shirt, wrap it around his hands and simultaneously apply pressure against his side of the cage. They did so. The cage door had sprung open. His leadership actions had earned Stone the praise of his instructors. At the same time he had wanted to kill them.

But this recollection stayed with Stone for only a moment. He could hardly believe what he was seeing.

“Annabelle?”

She was inside the cage, gagged and tied up.

He moved forward, checking the room again for threats but seeing none.

The cage door wasn’t locked. Stone swung it open. Annabelle’s eyes were closed, and for one terrible moment Stone wasn’t sure if she was alive or not. But you didn’t gag and tie up a dead person. Annabelle had a pulse, and with Stone’s touch against her neck she slowly came around.

He untied her, took off the gag and helped her out of the cage.

“God, is it good to see you,” she said drunkenly.

“They drugged you?”

“I think so. But it’s wearing off.”

“Can you walk?”

“I’ll crawl if it means we can get out of

here.”

He smiled as her feistiness returned.

“Are you alone?” she asked.

“Yes.”

“Any sign of Caleb?”

“Not yet. Have you seen Marisa Friedman?”

Annabelle shook her head.