Chapter Thirteen
Bryn awoke at the click of the door lock disengaging.
He’d had a restless, exhausting night, his body ached and he really wanted to hit something or someone.
Two guards came into his cell. They were different ones from the previous day, both wore dark glasses and tactical gear with no identifying badges.
One held a tray that sported a plastic cup of water and a granola bar.
Wannabe special forces. Probably failed the psych eval. “Is that it? I’m a growing boy.”
“Eat it, don’t eat it. You think I give a fuck?” The guard tossed the bar in Bryn’s direction.
Bryn caught it. “Don’t like being a jumped-up server then?” He held a hand out for the water. “Gimme.” He thought he might get an unwanted bath but the guard handed over the drink rather than throwing it at him. “There’s a good boy.” That’s it, genius, antagonize the nasty man with the big gun.
He choked down the pathetic excuse for breakfast, mind racing. Would Russo be moving him today, and where to? How could he find out whether Gunnar was alive? I need to get out of this place, wherever it is.
“Let’s go,” the larger guard said after Bryn had drained the last drop of water. “Hands.”
The guard secured the restraints then Bryn was escorted back through the maze of corridors to the same interrogation room where he’d first met Salvatore Russo.
The same metal chair bolted to the floor awaited him.
The guards secured him to it and took up positions by the door.
The room felt colder today, or maybe that was the impact of minimal sleep and lack of food.
He didn’t have to wait long. The door opened to admit Dr. Frost, who wheeled in a cart laden with medical equipment. Russo followed close behind.
“Wow. I’m honored to be getting your personal attention, Russo,” Bryn said.
“I trust you had time to reflect on our conversation,” Russo said, his tone casual, as if they were discussing the weather rather than Bryn’s imminent fate.
“Wasn’t really in the mood for introspective reflection.”
Russo blinked. “A shame. We can all benefit from understanding ourselves.”
“I understand myself just fine.”
“We’ll see.”
Frost busied himself arranging instruments on the cart, still avoiding eye contact.
“Is Detective Ericson alive?” Bryn asked.
“Your partner? Why? Is he important to you?”
Bryn schooled his expression. “He’s a colleague. You had him shot and beaten, so yes, I’m fucking interested.”
“He’s probably dead. One less annoyance for me to consider. Prepare him for transport, Frost. Our flight leaves in three hours.”
“Transport where?” Bryn demanded, though his guts were churning.
“Outside the reach of US jurisdiction or your agency’s interference.
That’s all you need to know.” Russo moved toward the door.
“The doctor will handle the preparation process. I suggest you use these last few hours of relative comfort to reconcile yourself to your new reality. We’ll talk again at our destination.
We won’t be traveling together.” With that, he was gone, leaving Bryn with Frost and one of the guards.
He said ‘probably dead’ so he doesn’t know for certain. I’d know if Gunnar was gone, I’m sure I would.
“I need to begin pre-transport protocols,” Frost announced.
The guard maintained his position by the door, hand resting on his holstered weapon.
“What does that mean?” Bryn asked. “I’ve had all my shots.”
“Keep your mouth shut, or I’ll shut it for you,” the guard snapped.
“Charming.”
“No one said I couldn’t damage you, smart ass.”
“Did they say you could? I doubt you take a piss without a direct order.” Bryn grinned.
The guard took a step toward him but Frost began taking Bryn’s vitals, recording each measurement on a tablet. “Subject shows elevated stress markers but is within acceptable parameters for air travel,” Frost stated.
Of course I’m fucking stressed. Like he’d be chilled in this situation. “You don’t have to do this.”
Frost paused for a second or two but then prepared a series of syringes.
“This first compound is a stabilizer,” he explained as he swabbed Bryn’s arm with antiseptic.
“It prevents rejection of the subsequent medications and reduces the risk of adverse reactions during altitude changes.” The needle slid into Bryn’s vein.
The liquid burned as it entered his bloodstream.
“Next, a mild anxiolytic to prevent panic responses during transit. I can’t risk full sedation due to potential respiratory complications at altitude.
” He administered another injection, this one causing a cool sensation that spread from Bryn’s arm throughout his body.
“Anxiolytic…are you giving me Xanax?”
Frost didn’t respond but fitted a monitoring device to Bryn’s ankle. “This will track your vital signs throughout the journey.” The band locked in place with a click and a green light began pulsing.
Bryn noticed that Frost wasn’t wearing gloves.
Unusual for a scientist handling medical equipment.
His bare fingers made contact with Bryn’s wrist as he checked his pulse.
He broke contact before the guard could notice.
“The final injection will make you compliant for transport while maintaining consciousness,” he said, preparing another syringe.
“You’ll remain aware but relaxed and cooperative. ”
“Screw you.”
“He’s ready,” Frost told the guard. “Alert me immediately if his monitoring device flashes red. Fifteen minutes then you can take him back to his…room.”
“You mean cell, you fucking traitor.” Bryn rattled his restraints.
The guard nodded, and Frost left with his equipment without looking back. The door closed behind him and, though Bryn wanted to scream after him, instead he focused on himself. He felt strange, like he was wide awake and hyper alert.
Bryn’s thoughts kept circling back to Frost’s touch.
The brief contact had been deliberate and enough for Bryn to read his memory and intent.
His strongest memory was of coming into the room hours earlier, during the night when it was empty, standing on the same chair Bryn now sat in.
He had removed a vent cover, placed a cell phone inside then replaced the cover.
A maintenance badge clipped to his coat told Bryn how he’d gained access.
He’d been terrified of being caught. His head had been full of panic and remorse.
Bryn had only had a moment to glimpse his intent, which was, as far as he could tell, to attempt to override the security system, though Frost wasn’t certain he could do it.
It wasn’t random information, it was a plan and the doctor had wanted Bryn to see it.
Frost had taken his job for the money but he hadn’t known what he was really getting into.
Now he was in too deep, complicit in things he couldn’t stomach. He wanted out.
Braver than he looks. Bryn glanced at the guard, still standing motionless by the door, then at his ankle monitor flashing green.
Whatever Frost had injected him with wasn’t what Russo had ordered.
It wasn’t a compliance drug, it was something to keep him awake, alert, and functioning through fatigue.
How long has it been since Frost left? Five minutes?
Ten? Bryn had no way to track time in the windowless room with its unchanging light.
But the hidden cell, that was his lifeline.
He tilted his head back, marking the ventilation grate in the ceiling.
He thought he could see the end of the device, resting against the metal slats.
A wave of light headedness washed over him, followed by an odd surge of energy. His heartbeat accelerated and the monitor light flashed faster. The guard glanced over, frowning.
“Hey,” Bryn said. “I don’t know what he gave me but I think I’m going to be sick.”
The guard’s expression hardened. “Not my problem.”
“Do you want to clean it up?” Bryn asked, letting his head loll forward. “Or explain to Russo why his valuable test subject choked on his own vomit?”
“Fine. If you’re gonna puke, do it here.” The guard kicked a metal trash can toward Bryn.
“Need to lean forward,” Bryn mumbled, making retching sounds. “Can’t…with these restraints.”
The guard cursed under his breath. “If this is some kind of trick…” He drew his weapon and aimed it at Bryn’s head.
“One wrong move and you’re dead. Russo can find another test subject.
” With his free hand, he reached for a set of handcuffs on his belt.
“I’m going to undo your restraints, then cuff your hands in front.
Try anything, and I shoot you in the head. Understand?”
Bryn nodded, continuing to make gagging sounds.
The guard kept his weapon trained on Bryn as he unlocked the chair restraints. As soon as Bryn’s right hand was free, he snapped a handcuff around it, then secured the other wrist before removing the remaining chair restraint. The ankle monitor pulsed yellow.
“There,” the guard said, stepping back. “Now puke if you’re gonna puke.”
Bryn lurched forward, making violent retching sounds over the trash can. Nothing came up but he made it convincing, his body heaving.
“Gross,” the guard said, his weapon still aimed but his attention momentarily diverted.
It was enough. Bryn launched himself sideways from the chair, crashing into the guard’s legs. Both of them went down hard, the guard’s head cracking against the concrete floor. His weapon skittered away.
Before the guard could recover, Bryn brought his cuffed hands down on the man’s throat with all his strength.
He choked, eyes bulging, hands clawing at Bryn’s face.
Bryn struck again, this time against the temple.
The guard went limp. Thanks, Gunnar, that worked.
I’ll never complain about your self-defense tips again.