Sean Black - Lockdown

‘We’re running a skeleton staff through this phase.’

‘So why do you even need me here for this?’

‘Because you have to sign off on the data. Your name means a lot to the Food and Drug Administration, not to mention the Department of Defense.’

‘So do it and send me the clinical results. I can make a judgement based on-’

Stafford cut him off by grabbing his arm and squeezing hard. It hurt. ‘We don’t have room for any more ethical dilemmas, even after the trials have taken place. That’s why we’d prefer it if you were as hands-on as possible.’

Richard felt a low terror start to form at the bottom of his stomach. ‘So these test subjects. What are they exactly?’

‘Think of them as higher-level primates.’

A fierce crosswind buffeted the Gulfstream as it began its final approach towards the airstrip, visibility severely hampered by the fierce rain which slammed into the side of the aircraft. The ski masks worn by the pilot and co-pilot didn’t help either. Neither man knew the other’s name, or who he worked for. The same held for the other eight members of the crew.

In the cabin, the plush leather seats, usually used to cushion the already well-upholstered buttocks of senior executives, had been replaced with six gurneys. On each gurney lay a person. Six in total. Five men and a woman.

Their heads were hooded, a slit cut in the cloth two thirds of the way down to allow breathing. Their hands were cuffed, each cuff attached to a welded bracket either side of the gurney. Their feet were similarly secured. Their clothes consisted of bright red T-shirts and pants. Underneath their pants they wore adult diapers. None of them had been unshackled during the flight for a trip to the bathroom.

Not that they had much interest in moving anyway. Before departure they’d each been injected with an amount of Haldol, a powerful anti-psychotic. Pills could be slipped under the tongue or spat out, so intravenous delivery was deemed the most effective way to ensure that the drugs made it into their system.

Mareta Yuzik, thick-tongued and groggy, opened her eyes to darkness. For a moment she wondered if she’d been blinded. Then she remembered the hood. She could feel the fabric of it against her face. She smiled with relief.

There was a searing pain in her left side. She tried to reach a hand down to touch where it was tender but her hand wouldn’t move. The tightness around her wrists and ankles told her that she was shackled.

Not blind, only hooded. Not paralysed, merely shackled. And, miraculously, she could hear. Over the past few weeks, when she’d been moved from one location to another ear defenders had been placed on her head so she could only sense the loudest of noises, more through vibration than anything else. Being able to hear meant that she knew she was on an aircraft. It also meant she could hear the guards, even over the sound of the engines. She recognized their accents from the movies. They were American. She could hear two of them talking.

‘Man, it’s good to be home.’

‘How long of a layover you have?’

‘Week, maybe. Depends on how this goes. You?’

‘About the same. Let me tell you, I’ll be glad to get off this thing. These guys creep me out.’

‘Relax, they’ve got enough shit in their system to flatten an elephant.’

‘What’re they being moved back here for, anyway?’

‘Dunno. I heard something about a trial.’

‘Good. Hope they smoke ’em.’

‘I’d stick a bullet in them, save on the energy.’

The Gulfstream taxied to the end of the runway and turned right, heading for a remote hangar no more than five hundred yards away. The doors of the hangar were already open and more than a dozen men were inside, along with six SUVs. Like everyone onboard, all of the men were masked.

The aircraft inched its way inside the hangar and the vast metal doors were rolled closed behind it. A few seconds later the aircraft door opened and the steps were unfolded and lowered to the ground. One of the men walked up them and disappeared inside the aircraft.

Only one of the detainees had been unshackled. The woman. One of the guards unholstered his sidearm and passed it to his partner. He helped her off the gurney and on to her feet. She struggled to stand and it was as much as he could do to prevent her keeling over. They lumbered down the steps of the plane like lovers stumbling from a bar.

As she stepped on to the concrete, she sank down on to her knees.

‘She OK?’

‘Be careful, she might be faking it.’

‘Dude, you’ve got an overactive imagination.’

‘You read that bitch’s file? She’s snuffed more people than Bin Laden.’

‘This is bullshit. I didn’t take any kid!’

‘Then what were you doing there, Cody?’

Frisk was facing Cody Parker and his court-appointed attorney, a Hispanic woman in her late twenties, across a table in an interrogation room on the third floor of Federal Plaza.

‘I told you. I got a phone call.’

‘That’s very convenient. From who?’

‘I don’t know. They said they knew who killed Gray Stokes and that if I wanted to know I should meet them at that address.’

‘They didn’t give you a name? You didn’t recognize the voice?’

‘Nope. Look, if I kidnapped this kid then where’s the money, huh? Or did you plant it in my truck?’

‘Why don’t you tell us where it is.’

‘Someone set me up.’

Frisk rocked back in his seat, stretched out his arms and yawned. ‘Go on, then, I’m prepared to explore alternative scenarios.’

‘It was that company. They were looking to get back at me.’

Frisk laughed. Unprofessional, but he couldn’t help it. ‘They arranged a kidnapping of the child of one of their employees in order to exact some kind of revenge against you personally? OK, it’s certainly an interesting hypothesis. But it still doesn’t speak to motive. Why you?’

‘What do you mean, “why me”? I’ve been taking them on. And why aren’t you out there trying to catch whoever killed my mom?’

‘Because we don’t have any evidence that she died from anything other than natural causes. But it does bring us neatly to another event. Digging up Eleanor Van Straten’s corpse. That what you mean by “taking them on”?’

Cody glanced up at the ceiling. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Except we’ve found particles of soil on your boots which match the soil from Mrs Van Straten’s grave.’

Cody’s jaw tightened. He gave his attorney the briefest of looks. ‘OK, so that was me.’

‘Finally,’ Frisk said. ‘And who was with you?’

‘I was alone.’

‘Moving a body, even a little old lady, is a two-man job. Minimum.’

‘I told you. I was alone.’

‘So this friend of yours, he the one who blew up the car, get rid of any forensics?’

‘You got me blowing shit up to get rid of forensics and sitting across the street from that boy?’

‘Well, you have to concede you were there. I mean, no one teleported you or anything.’

‘I was there. And I told you why. Check the phone records at the house if you don’t believe me.’

‘We already did.’

‘And?’

‘You received a call when you said you did.’

‘Then I’m telling the truth.’

‘Records don’t say anything about what was being said. And as for telling the truth, how many times were you questioned about Mrs Van Straten?’

‘Don’t rightly remember.’

‘Three times. And three times you denied having any involvement. So allow me some scepticism when it comes to your record on honesty.’