Chapter Thirteen #2
Breathing hard, Bryn scrambled to his feet and retrieved the gun.
He checked the guard’s pulse. He was unconscious, not dead.
Bryn searched him and found the key to his handcuffs.
He took off the cuffs then rubbed his wrists.
Gunnar’s going to need to get some fur-lined ones if he wants to get kinky.
Now for the phone. Bryn clambered onto the chair and reached for the vent cover.
It was screwed in place, but loose, and he managed to pry the cover down on one side.
There, wedged in the duct, was the phone and a key card.
Bryn snatched them and jumped down from the chair.
He stripped the guard of his uniform shirt and cap, putting them on over his own clothes. They were a bit big, but he hoped they’d get him where he needed to be. Best of all, he took the man’s shades. His eyes would be a complete giveaway without them. Gloves he would have to manage without.
He considered restraining the unconscious guard but decided against it.
It would take time he didn’t have. Taking a deep breath, he swiped the key card to exit the interrogation room.
Here goes nothing. The corridor was empty.
He moved with purpose, trying to look like he belonged, and headed for the nearest stairwell.
He hoped he was going in the right direction because his recall from earlier was vague at best.
Voices approached from around the corner.
Bryn squared his shoulders, tilted his hat down and continued walking, adopting the confident stride of a typical self-important security guard.
Two men in lab coats passed him, indifferent.
He kept walking, heart pounding. He wondered how long it would be before the energy from Frost’s drugs wore off.
A door ahead had a stairwell sign but when Bryn tried the handle it was locked. He swiped the stolen key card but nothing happened. Don’t panic, don’t panic. He tried the card again. This time, the lock clicked open. He slipped through, closing the door behind him.
The stairwell was dim and it was a relief from the bright light in the corridor.
Bryn leaned against the wall, gathering his thoughts.
He assumed he was underground so had to go up.
He started climbing, taking the steps two at a time.
One flight, then another. He had reached a landing marked G, presumably for ground level, when an alarm began to blare throughout the building.
“Security breach, security breach,” announced a mechanical voice over a PA system. “All personnel initiate evacuation procedures.”
The key card didn’t work on the door out of the stairwell.
Come on, Frost…override the lockdown system.
Bryn counted to ten then tried again. To his relief, the door opened onto a carpeted hallway.
This level looked like ordinary office space.
Cubicles, meeting rooms, even potted plants.
People rushed about, responding to the alarm.
Bryn moved with the crowd and kept his head down. He needed an exit, now.
He followed the biggest procession of people down a side corridor to a security checkpoint near what appeared to be a staff exit. Two guards were checking badges as employees left. Bryn slowed, heart pounding. He had a key card but no badge.
He scanned the area for alternatives and spotted a service door marked Maintenance just before the checkpoint.
Bryn veered toward it, swiping the key card.
Beyond was a narrow utility corridor housing pipes and electrical conduits.
He followed it, the alarm still blaring behind him.
The corridor turned, then ended at another door.
He went through it into a loading dock with trucks parked in several bays.
A guard stood by the external door, checking credentials as people left.
Bryn joined a group of workers moving some equipment.
“Need some help?” he asked, grabbing one end of a heavy crate.
The worker on the other end nodded, not questioning the presence of a security guard offering his help.
Together, they carried the crate to a truck parked near the exit.
“Thanks,” the worker said, wiping his brow.
“You security guys don’t usually get your hands dirty. ”
“Emergency situation,” Bryn replied with a shrug. “Everybody helps.”
The worker nodded toward the guard at the exit. “Johnson’s checking everyone out. Better go do your security thing.”
Bryn nodded and walked purposefully toward the exit as if reporting for duty. “Hey, how are you doing?”
“Don’t recognize you.”
“New transfer from Boston,” Bryn replied.
Johnson frowned. “ID badge?”
“Left it in the locker room when the alarm went off,” Bryn said, injecting annoyance into his voice. “Look, I’m supposed to secure the perimeter. You want to explain to the boss why I’m standing here instead of doing my job? It’s my first day, man, don’t drop me in the shit.”
Johnson hesitated, then nodded toward the exit. “Go on. But get that badge situation sorted out.”
“I owe you.” Bryn stepped out into the open air, fighting the urge to run.
He was in a parking lot, delivery trucks on one side, and cars on the other.
Beyond stretched a perimeter fence topped with razor wire.
The other side of it was where he needed to be.
Easier said than done. No way am I get over that without shredding myself.
He walked toward the employee lot, scanning for options.
He either needed a vehicle or a way through the wire.
A short distance away, a maintenance shed stood near the fence, partially obscured by overgrown bushes.
Bryn made his way toward it. He tried the door.
It was locked and needed an old-fashioned key.
Bryn looked around and spotted a window, small but possibly big enough for him to squeeze through.
Using his elbow, he smashed the glass. The alarm sounding from the building masked most of the noise.
He cleared the worst of the jagged shards and hauled himself through the narrow opening, cutting his arm in the process.
The pain registered but it was muted by Frost’s drugs.
Inside, the shed was cluttered with gardening tools, machine parts, and miscellaneous equipment. Something here has to be useful.
A pair of bolt cutters caught his eye. “Jackpot.” Bryn grabbed them and moved back to the window, scanning the area. The guard was focused on the building entrance, not the perimeter fence.
He slipped out of the window and pushed his way through the bushes to the fence.
As fast as he could, he cut a line up the chain-link fence, just enough to create an opening he could squeeze through.
He pushed through the opening, tearing his shirt and scraping his shoulder.
He was beyond caring. Once through, he darted across an access road and into a stand of trees beyond.
Only when he was concealed in the underbrush did he pause to catch his breath.
Where the fuck am I? The building he’d left had been a squat three story.
Nothing special unless you noticed the beefed-up security.
Through the trees, he could see a commercial area.
It was a strip mall with shops, restaurants, and people going about their normal lives.
If this is still Philly, it’s not downtown.
Bryn checked the cell Frost had left him. Two signal bars now, which should be enough to make a call. With shaking fingers, Bryn dialed the GCR’s emergency number while blood ran in a sluggish rivulet down his arm and across the back of his hand.
A familiar voice answered after a single ring. “Operations.”
“Emmett,” Bryn said, “it’s me.”
“Bryn? Where the hell are you? Everyone’s been looking…”
“I escaped the building Russo had me in but I don’t know where I am,” Bryn interrupted, keeping his voice low. “There’s a strip mall, I’m in the woods behind it. Can you trace the phone?”
“Are you hurt?”
“Nothing serious. But I need a ride. They’ll be looking for me and I’m not far enough away.”
“On it,” Emmett said. “Stay put and I’ll get someone to you. The driver will use the word ‘starling’. If he doesn’t, run like hell.”
“Oh, that’s reassuring…”
“Good to hear your voice.”
“Gunnar…is he?”
“The worst patient in the history of hospitals? Yep. Gotta go.”
The call ended. He’s hurt but alive! Bryn laughed, his relief tinged with hysteria.
He slumped against a tree, breathing hard.
Whatever Frost had given him was wearing off.
His body ached and his head was fuzzy but none of it mattered because Gunnar was still breathing and from the sounds of it, well enough to be a pain in the ass.
He forced himself to move, edging through the trees parallel to the commercial area, finding a position where he could observe the strip mall without being seen.
Every car that pulled into the lot made his heart race.
Every distant siren sent a surge of adrenaline through his system.
His hands wouldn’t stop shaking. Eighteen minutes after the call to Emmett, the longest eighteen minutes in Bryn’s life, a black sedan pulled into the far corner of the parking lot.
Bryn watched as it idled there, positioned for a quick exit. A lone figure sat behind the wheel.
Bryn gathered his remaining strength. He scanned the area for any sign of Russo’s men. The parking lot seemed clear. He stepped out of the trees and walked toward the sedan, fighting the urge to run.
The driver’s window lowered as he approached. A face he recognized from Gunnar’s security team looked out at him.
“Starling,” the man said.
Bryn nodded then slid into the passenger seat.
“I’m Solomon. Ed Solomon. You look like hell,” the driver said, pulling away from the curb.
“I feel worse,” Bryn managed. “Thanks for coming.”
“Are you kidding? Law enforcement’s been tearing Philly apart looking for you.”
“I’m still in Philly?”
“Yeah. We’re heading straight back to Boston. Do you need medical attention first, ’cause you’re bleeding on the upholstery?”
“No. Don’t stop. I’m sure Warden will stump up for a valet.”
“I won’t. Recline your seat and get some rest if you want to. Ride’s gonna take us about six hours.”
Bryn closed his eyes, finally allowing himself to relax. There would be debriefings, medical examinations, questions about Russo. He didn’t care about any of it now he knew Gunnar was alive.