Mark Young - Off the grid

Once they rounded the corner, he pulled out two radio transmitters. “Fire in the hole,” he yelled before triggering both. The ensuing blast ripped through the building, almost knocking them off their feet. As the dust settled, he peered around the corner. The explosion had caved in the entire entryway, leaving a pile of rubble. He was sure the secondary explosion inside the lab had destroyed most of the computers and servers.

“Time to get out of here.”

Alena and he ran down a long dark hallway. Gerrit yelled into his mike, “Willy, give me a fix on any security in the area.”

Willy’s excited voice came over the air. “I’ve got you in sight. Cameras are out, but our heat sensors show a lot of activity. Keep moving in the direction you’re headed. Off to your right, about twenty or thirty yards, a group of security personnel are huddled together. Looks like they’re confused.”

“And what about the locals-cops and firefighters?”

“On the scene. Firefighters are still back in some kind of staging area, but Albuquerque’s SWAT is moving in. They should be hitting the place any minute.”

“Thanks, Willy. We’re moving out and should be at the rendezvous site in about one minute.”

“Got it. Be careful.”

Gerrit smiled to himself. Bombs going off. Firefights ranging right and left. And Willy wants us to be careful. He tapped Alena’s shoulder. “Let’s go home.” Into the radio, he said, “We’re on the move.”

“Roger that.” There was a moment’s delay until Willy came back on the air. “SWAT is at your twelve o’clock. Move to your left about forty yards. Redneck and Mr. Stars and Stripes blew a hole in the outer wall and cut a path through the concertina wire in all the confusion. SWAT can’t see it from their location.”

Gerrit acknowledged Willy with two clicks on the radio and moved in that direction.

Willy came back on the air. “Update. Stars and Stripes moved back to the pickup site. Redneck will cover your retreat.”

“Ten-four.” Gerrit said, as he and Alena moved closer to the outer wall, weapons at the ready.

A huge figure loomed from the shadows as they drew near. Redneck emerged, cradling his rifle. “Took your sweet time, jarhead. Let’s get outta here.” He pointed toward a jagged hole in the wall. “Made it easy for you.”

Gerrit patted him on the shoulder and moved toward the door. He was about to step through when he heard a startled gasp from Alena. Whirling around, he saw Redneck holding a semi-auto handgun to her head.

“Easy there, Mr. G. Lower your weapon, slow and easy.”

Gerrit froze.

Alena gazed at her captor with an anguished look.

Redneck grabbed a fistful of hair and pressed the gun against her temple. “I’m not going to tell you twice, Gerrit. Drop it.”

He started to lower his rifle, never breaking visual contact.

It happened in a flash. One blink and he saw movement in Alena’s left hand. A flash of metal as she plunged a knife into Redneck’s upper thigh.

Before Redneck could react, Gerrit squeezed off two rounds straight at the giant’s head. His head snapped back and he fell, slamming into the floor with a thud.

Dead.

Alena looked at Gerrit as if in shock. Her expression seemed to ask the unspoken question.

Why?

Harrogate, England

Oh, God. Give me strength.

Another powerful blow snapped his head to the side. Joe tensed, waiting for another strike. And another. One of Kane’s goons kept pounding him with blows. Face, stomach, kidneys. His tormentor knew how to hurt someone.

Pain came in waves, each blow taking away his breath, making him cry out. Fear almost paralyzed him as he struggled to free himself from the chair. It was useless.

Kane emerged from the shadows and waved off the attacker. He moved closer, inches from Joe’s swollen face. “We are just getting started, O’Rourke. Remember Chicago?”

Just the mention of that city, that attack, made his heart jackhammer. God help me stay strong!

Kane looked into his eyes and leered. “This is going to get much worse. You’ll wish my boys had dropped you off the roof in the Windy City by the time I am finished. Unless you tell me what I want to know. Do you understand?”

Joe glared back, fighting his fear.

“Have it your way.” Kane stepped back and motioned for the attacker to continue. “I’m going to enjoy watching this.”

The next blow almost made Joe lose consciousness.

Joe slowly woke up, his arms still cuffed to the chair, eyes puffy, almost closed from the rain of blows. That had just been a warm-up. A pain in his side told him a least one or two ribs might be broken, and two of his fingers felt painfully swollen after Kane tried to force them in a direction they were never designed to bend.

Joe had finally passed out. How long had he been out?

Running his tongue over his teeth, Joe felt at least one tooth had been loosened. Amid all the pain, he enjoyed a moment of joy. He had not caved in.

The door opened and Joe acted as if he was still unconscious.

“Don’t insult my intelligence, Joe. You’re being watched 24/7.” Kane came closer and grabbed Joe’s swollen jaw. “Wakey, wakey. We have more fun planned for you.”

Joe opened his eyes, realizing his ploy wouldn’t work. The pressure Kane put on his face alone was excruciating. He tried to raise himself and face his tormentor.

Kane stepped back. “Uncuff him and put him on the table. It is time Mr. O’Rourke realized that we mean business.” The muscle-bound ape that slapped him around earlier waddled from the darkness and unlocked one end of the cuffs holding Joe to the chair.

Once loosened, he was jerked to his feet as the bigger man twisted his arms behind his back and forced marched him across the large room. Another light came on that illuminated what appeared to be a hospital bed. Flinging Joe on the mattress, Muscle Man quickly produced another set of cuffs. He immobilized Joe’s arms, securely anchoring the wrist restraints to two metal stanchions anchored to the concrete floor on each side of the bed. He pulled on each restraint.

Escape was futile.

His captor moved back into the shadows and Kane and another man in a white smock moved closer. Kane leaned over the bed, partially blocking the blinding light above, his face and shoulders silhouetted, his body a black outline like a paper target posted on a gun range.

“You are not going anywhere, O’Rourke. Make this easy on yourself. Tell me what I want to know and you just might live. Resist and I will kill you.”

Joe looked up at Kane’s unseen face and spit.

Kane slammed his fist into Joe’s face. “Get him ready,” Kane screamed, moving back into the shadows.

The man in the white smock wrapped a rubber hose around Joe’s arm to create a tourniquet. He disappeared for a moment, only to return with a hypodermic needle the size of which made Joe shudder.

One thrust into his veins and soon Joe felt a panicky euphoria creep through his limbs. His head started to spin. He was about to lose consciousness again. A moment later, he blissfully blacked out.

Richard watched Joe’s body slump as the injection took hold. “You used sodium pentothal, right?”

The medical technician nodded as he put the serum away.

“You idiot, he’s nodding off. You must have given him too much.”

Worriedly, the technician thumbed Joe’s eyelid to see pupil reaction, then felt for a pulse. The man glanced at Richard, concern tightening his face. “I’m sorry, sir. It’s hard to get the right dosage under these conditions.”

“I don’t want to hear excuses. Let me know the moment he can respond to our questions.” Angry, Richard made his way back to the office. A red message light flashed on his phone. Punching the code, he waited for the recording to begin.