Debra Webb - Colby Core

She didn’t release the air in her lungs until she reached the landing. Repeating a silent mantra for protection, she dared to lean over the railing just far enough to view the stairs that wound down to the second, then the first floor.

Clear.

Holding her breath, she glanced upward to the fourth floor— his floor . No one was allowed up there unless personally invited by the Master.

Her gaze dropped back to the stairs winding downward. Whatever was going on, the trouble had apparently settled in the questioning room.

Another shudder rattled her bones as she considered that room … the basement.

He’d turned it into a chamber of horrors. Steel bars had been erected at both ends of the massive area for using as cells. Every square foot of the floor space between acted as a stage for terror.

Torture devices.

Tessa closed her eyes and summoned her fleeing courage yet again. The silence closed in on her, crumbling away at her fragile bravado.

Just go.

Blocking the warning voices inside her head, she descended quickly to the second floor. She hesitated on the landing. More of that consuming silence. The soldiers who used the second floor for sleeping quarters were either rallied for whatever was going on or adjourned to their rooms. It was past curfew, but until a short time ago there had been much coming and going. That she could not be certain of their status made her decision to get a closer look at what was happening even riskier.

Had the Master summoned his entire team for some impromptu action?

Perhaps the police had finally discovered his identity and this hidden compound. Tessa had prayed for years that the police would come, that somehow she and the others would be rescued.

But he was too smart for the police. Eventually she had realized that no one was coming. There would be no savior … no rescue.

Unless she stepped into the role and organized her own rescue.

The first floor proved equally quiet. She made her way from room to room and from window to window, using her memory as her guide since she didn’t dare turn on any lights. Her breath hitched when two dark figures moved past a rear window. The perimeter guards. Two men walked the grounds twenty-four/seven. The Master never relied solely on security cameras or other gadgets.

So … whatever was happening was in the questioning room. Her gaze lowered to the wood floor. She moistened her lips and swallowed back the confirming lump of fear that had lodged in her throat.

Trouble.

Someone had either been identified as a potential informant or an enemy had been captured. Only once since she’d been with him had an informant been uncovered. He had forced her to watch the slow, agonizing torture and ultimate murder of the man.

Two other times an enemy had been brought here. Most of the time anyone presumed to be the enemy was simply killed on the spot. But if there was information to be gained, the enemy was interrogated. Always here. Always mercilessly.

Tessa returned to the wide entry hall and held her breath. She listened, straining with the effort. Silence. They had to be in the questioning room. That level had been meticulously insulated to ensure no sound escaped or invaded the space.

The original entry point had been in the hall, but the Master had long ago closed that access and created a hidden entrance in his library.

Directly across the entry hall from the parlor, the library had provided hours of escape for her in the beginning. It had taken almost a year for her to accept her new lot in life, then she had turned her attention to gaining trust and responsibility. One day, those years of planning and praying would provide freedom.

Inside the library, bookshelves lined the walls, floor to ceiling. A massive desk sat in the middle of the room, flanked by four chairs. This was where he held his strategy sessions. Only recently had she been allowed to attend the sessions. She had not gained a chair as of yet, but she was allowed to sit on the floor in one corner. A trusted member of the family was assigned a corner and eventually a chair.

A section of the shelving, four feet wide and nine feet tall opened, revealing a wide staircase that led down to the questioning room—or dungeon as she preferred to call it.

There would be only one place she could hide from view and that was about one-third of the way down. She would be able to see around the wall that ended at that point while still concealing her presence—if no one stood at the bottom of the stairs or happened to be coming up as she started down.

She removed the book that concealed the button, then pressed. The section of shelving with its faux books slowly, quietly moved open via its hydraulic hinges. Raised voices vibrated on the cool air. The temperature down there was kept at a steady sixty degrees, adding to the discomfort of those imprisoned and/or being interrogated.

The instant Tessa moved down to the first step she pressed the closing mechanism. The door crept closed behind her. She shivered, as much from the cold as from the fear.

She stood very still and listened.

The Master and his two deputies were grilling a fourth man. Tessa didn’t recognize his voice. She needed to see. She bit the inside of her jaw and considered whether she dared.

The timing was too close to her plans to ignore the situation. If operations or schedules were about to change related to the capture of an informant or an enemy, she needed to be aware.

Easing forward, she peeked around the wall. A man wearing gray coveralls was secured to the interrogation chair. Her heart bumped her chest. His face already showed signs of torture. The Master stood back and watched as his deputies, Brooks and Howard, questioned the man. The man looked young. Brown hair. Definitely no one she had seen before.

She waited a moment more for her heart to stop pounding, then she moved.

Without daring to take a breath she descended the steps and moved around to hide beneath the stairs. Supply containers provided cover for her crouched position. She willed her heart to slow once more, thanked God the fabric of her gown hadn’t so much as whispered against her skin. She inhaled slowly, soundlessly until her breathing returned to normal.

She wrapped her arms around her knees and maintained her balance on the pads of her feet. They called the man “Smith.” Tessa knew no one named Smith.

“Considering your fear of capture,” the Master said, his deputies falling silent as he spoke, “why make contact with us? Why not go into hiding?”

Smith stared up at the Master as if he had no fear at all. Tessa’s eyes widened in expectation of retaliation.

“I had no place else to go,” he said with no humility whatsoever. “That’s why I took this job in the first place. I’d run out of other options.”

Brooks, the taller of the two deputies, backhanded Smith, almost toppling the chair.

“You believe,” the Master went on, “that we have an obligation to take you in? “ He laughed, that deep ugly sound that haunted Tessa’s dreams far too often. “This is no halfway house, Mr. Smith. In fact, in your case, it’s the end of the line.”

The Master turned and started toward the stairs. Tessa held her breath.

“Finish this,” the Master ordered, “and feed him to the alligators.”

Howard, the bald man with the big nose, who leered at her whenever the Master wasn’t looking, chuckled. “Guess you aren’t as smart as you thought, Mr. Smith.”

“I’m smart enough to know when I’ve grown overconfident. Maybe your Master would be better served to recognize that in himself.”

Silence fell over the room. The Master paused before reaching the stairs and turned to face the man who dared to challenge him.