Brett Battles - The Collected

As soon as they disappeared, Quinn and the others jogged over to the door.

“Everyone ready?” Quinn whispered.

The three others pressed themselves against the wall, off to the side, holding their guns in front of them.

“All set,” Nate said.

Quinn raised his fist and knocked. In Spanish, he said, “Open up. I found one of the missing men. He needs help!” He knocked again. “Hurry, hurry! He needs medical attention!”

Something that sounded like a bar moved on the other side. The latch turned.

A soldier opened the door and looked out. “Where is he?” he asked. He then seemed to realize Quinn wasn’t who he expected. “Who are you?”

“We’ve come to pick up our friends.”

“What?”

The other three stepped out to where they could be seen, their guns pointed at the soldier. The man’s eyes widened. He reached for the rifle on his shoulder, but before he could pull it off, Quinn stepped inside and twisted it free.

The man seemed to suddenly find his voice, and started to yell as he ran toward the interior door. Quinn jabbed with the rifle, knocking the man down and cutting off the warning. He rolled the guy over with his foot.

“You open your mouth again, it’ll be the last time. Sit up against the wall. Hands on your knees.”

While Quinn dealt with the soldier, the others stepped inside. Daeng immediately closed the door and dropped the locking bar in place.

“You down here all by yourself?” Quinn asked the soldier.

“Go to hell,” the man said. He spat at Quinn.

Nate came up next to Quinn. “I know you. You were one of the guys who helped escort me to your boss’s office yesterday. Bet you also helped take some of my friends out of their cells.”

The man’s look of defiance slipped. “I…I was just doing what I was told.”

“Did you watch as they whipped us?” Nate asked.

The man blinked and looked away.

“Maybe you were the one who hooked my hands up.”

“No. That wasn’t me.”

“But you were there.”

A slight nod.

“And you did nothing.”

“What could I do?”

Nate placed the end of his suppressor against the man’s forehead. “I guess we’ll never know.”

“No! No! Please!”

There was a pop , only it wasn’t from Nate’s pistol. It was from the vaccine gun Orlando shoved against the man’s arm.

“So which way from here?” she asked Nate.

“Up.”

Harris returned to the courtyard just as Janus finished whipping Peter. Leaving the prisoners dangling from their hoists, he escorted Romero back to the old man’s suite.

“When Quinn is found, I want him whipped fifty times,” Romero said once they reached the room.

“Whatever you want,” Harris said, though in his mind, Quinn would be dead the next time either man saw him.

Romero turned his wheelchair toward the bed. “I’m going to take a nap. Don’t bother me until it’s time for the prisoners to have their electroshock.”

“Yes, sir.” Harris walked out of the room.

Unraveling , the voice said in his head. It repeated the word over and over.

“It’s not unraveling,” he whispered.

But what if it does unravel?

The question made him pause. If it did, what about the money Romero promised him? The money he’d been waiting for?

You can’t spend money if you’re dead.

That wasn’t going to happen. If things truly spun out of control, it would be time to think about his own skin.

The boat.

Yes. Right. Romero’s boat. It was tied off to a small covered dock behind the fort. He’d take that.

When he got back to his room, he’d gather the cash he’d been stashing away and put it in a bag by the door, easy to grab. It was nothing compared to the amount he was due, but it would hold him over for a while.

I won’t need it, though. It’s just in case. Everything is going to be fine.

He headed toward his room, his pace quicker than normal. As he neared his door, he saw two soldiers farther down the hall, walking away.

“You, there,” he called out.

The soldiers kept going.

“Hey, I’m talking to you.”

They finally stopped and one of them turned.

“Tell your commander that I’ll be in my room and am to be notified the moment the fugitive is brought in.”

“Yes, sir,” the soldier said.

Once inside his suite, Harris poured himself another whiskey, this time savoring it as it went down.

To surviving , he thought. One way or another.

A quick search of the room at the base of the wall revealed a separate storage area filled with extra gear for the soldiers.

The men each donned one of the spare uniforms. None was small enough for Orlando.

“You two stay here while Daeng and I do a recon,” Quinn told Orlando and Nate.

“You don’t know the place. I do,” Nate said. “I should go.”

“I’m guessing you’re a pretty hot commodity around here right now. As much as I’d like you to come, best if you stay under wraps as long as possible.”

“Don’t you dare cut me out,” Nate said.

“Not cutting you out. Just making the smart play.”

Nate locked eyes with him for a moment before he reluctantly nodded. “Okay, okay. I’ll stay for now.”

Daeng’s Asian features would be impossible for anyone to miss if they got too close. But at a distance and with the bill of his cap pulled down far enough, his dark skin and black hair would actually be an asset.

They took a stone stairwell up to a hallway on the next level, and, after a few minutes, located the hallway with the rooms where Nate and the others had been held. Since there were no guards around, it seemed a pretty good guess that the prisoners weren’t around either.

Just to be sure, Quinn made a quick trip down the block, while Daeng stood guard outside, and checked the cells. Though it was obvious they were being used, all were empty.

Quinn and Daeng followed Nate’s directions on how to get from there to the courtyard. A few times, they heard footsteps down intersecting halls but had yet to cross paths with anyone.

Upon reaching the courtyard door, Quinn eased it back a few inches and peered out. He realized why they hadn’t seen anyone else. Most everyone who was still in the fort was in the courtyard. He could see a portion of the top of the wall. There were three soldiers spread out along it, and in the actual courtyard were four more. There was also a big blond guy sitting in a chair, soaking up the sun. He had to be Janus.

“Watch out for him,” Nate had said as he briefed them. “He’s a tough son of a bitch.”

The most shocking sight was the four figures with black bags over their heads. They were dangling in the air by arms hooked to chains. Their backs were the worst part. They were even more chewed up than Nate’s. It was clear from the blood dripping down that they’d just been whipped again.

Peter, Lanier, Berkeley, and Curson.

Quinn watched each man for a moment to be sure they were all still breathing, then moved to the side and let Daeng take a look. When the Thai man was done, they shut the door.

“Back downstairs,” Quinn whispered. “We need the others.”

On the way back to the stairs, they made a wrong turn and ended up in a hallway they hadn’t been in before. Realizing their mistake, they turned around and started back they way they’d come. A moment after they made the U-turn, they heard a door open. Footsteps in the hallway behind them.

There was a part of Quinn that wanted to pick up the pace and get out of there as quickly as they could, but he knew doing so would bring unwanted attention, so they continued on at a purposeful, but non-rushed pace.