Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
A loud humming dragged Brock out of the depths of unconsciousness.
The hum turned into a dull buzz behind his ears, reminding him of the sizzling zap that had instantly debilitated him.
He blinked his eyes open and stared at white ceiling tiles.
His body lay flat and a bright light was directed at his face.
He grunted, turned his head, and heaved his body forward to sit.
He couldn’t move. His arms remained at his sides despite his pushing.
What the hell? He blinked until his eyes adjusted to the white fluorescents and then brought his attention to his arms. Brown leather straps were coiled around his wrists and a larger one was strapped across his legs, restraining him to a medical examination bed.
Fear jerked through him, and he yanked and bucked against the restraints.
“Please, don’t waste your time.” The sharp click of high heels approached, and pale, slim fingers swung the light away from him. Brock studied the middle-aged face, and recognition fired through his still-muddled brain.
The woman from the train.
Her blonde hair skimmed her collarbone and her stony brown eyes moved over his bare chest.
Who had taken off his shirt?
“What the hell do you want?” he said through clenched teeth.
She pursed her lips. A hint of a smile flared in her eyes then disappeared. “I have what I want.” She reached into the pocket of her white lab coat and held the flash drive between her thumb and forefinger. He lurched toward her. She didn’t flinch.
“Thank you for delivering it. Even though you had to complicate things so much.”
“Who are you working for?” he growled. “Giles Artis?”
Some of the color left her cheeks. She broke eye contact, paced to a desk at the other side of the small room, and placed the flash drive on it. A younger woman, also wearing a lab coat, sat at a desk in front of a computer.
The blonde snorted and picked up a clipboard. “No. Giles worked for me. He’s . . .” She tilted her chin thoughtfully. “No longer employed with us.”
She killed him. Brock opened and closed his fists. “Who’s us?” He had a pretty good idea, but the need to keep her talking and delay whatever sick activity she had planned made him ask.
“That’s enough questions.”
Indignation singed the back of his neck. “What do you want with the formula?”
She rolled her eyes and made an impatient sound. “I don’t want to have to gag you, so mind your tongue. Though I see I’m going to have to explain some things to you in order for you to cooperate.”
He closed his mouth. This whole thing was useless.
He needed to get to Dani before Ubrigg returned.
He glanced around at the bare walls until he found a clock near the steel door: 1:22 a.m. He was half an hour late.
By now, Dani would be frantic. Ubrigg would be back soon.
He had to get the hell out of here. “We saw you on the train and at our hotel. How did you find us?”
Her cheeks puffed with an impatient breath. “Danielle was very elusive, but once we secured a good image of her face from a street camera leaving Ubrigg Lichti’s building, we could follow her throughout the city, although it took a lot of time and effort keeping track of her.”
His blood turned to ice. “The Interpol agent, Rudolph. He was working for you.” It was the only way she’d have access to that kind of technology other than an advanced hacker, but it explained Rudolph’s involvement and attempt on Dani’s life.
“That will be enough.” The older woman’s eyes turned small. “How much do you know about the formula?”
Her question made him shift his stare to her.
He’d tell her everything she wanted to know if it got him out of here sooner.
“I read through the formula and documents. I know Chrisolicom is a deadly virus that has no cure. I know Giles planned to release it on several major European cities to wipe out half the population.”
She leaned back against the desk. Her assistant lifted her lashes and glared at him, deadpan, before returning her attention to the computer screen.
“You’re not far off. Giles got a little ahead of himself, which is why he was . . .” She cleared her throat. “Terminated. I’m not stupid enough to release a deadly virus with no recourse. I have a family of my own, and we need a cure before this sees the light of day.”
He worked his jaw back and forth and slid his gaze to the clock and then back to her.
“Genevieve,” she said, gesturing to the younger woman, “has come up with a theory for an anecdote. The thing is, we don’t have a test subject.”
A lead ball formed in Brock’s chest. His breath stilled in his lungs.
“We have lab rats, of course, but for something of this magnitude we need a human host. And because of the nature of this disease, we can’t test on volunteers.”
Ice prickled his skin. “Fuck you.”
She cocked her head. “I know this isn’t ideal, but think about all the lives you’ll be saving. Dr. Lichti plans to sell this virus to the highest bidder. There’s a lot of organizations who’d like to see the population reduced. If we have the cure, we’ll—”
“Be incredibly rich,” he said with a hiss. “You won’t get away with this. I’ve been working with the FBI and Interpol. They know who Giles is, and it won’t be long before they tie you and your whole team”—he nodded at Genevieve—“to him. You’ll spend the rest of your life in prison.”
She shoved her hands in her pockets and shrugged.
“That’s a risk I have to take. Genevieve is going to ask you some questions about your medical history before she injects you with the virus.
It will be in your best interest to answer honestly and accurately.
” She strode to where the young woman sat and passed the clipboard to her. “Call me if he gives you any trouble.”
Genevieve accepted the questionnaire and the older woman marched to the door, opened it, and slipped out.
The sound of steel banging off the jamb echoed in the room.
Genevieve rose from her seat. Keeping her gaze down at the clipboard and a pen poised in her hand, she approached.
The ball of lead moved into his throat. He was going to die as a fucking lab rat.
Out of all the reckless, dangerous events in his life, this was going to be the end of him? Strapped down and injected with some kind of twisted concoctions by a group of power-tripping sadists?
Hell no.
He couldn’t leave Dani waiting and wondering. He stared at the corners of Genevieve’s drawn-down mouth. Her brow puckered between her eyes, and she held herself perfectly erect.
“How old are you, monsieur?”
“Please, you don’t have to do this.”
She didn’t look at him but scratched the pen on the paper.
“Date of birth?”
“I have a friend you can call. If you just tell him where I am, he’ll send—”
“Do you have a heart condition?”
“Dammit!”
This time, her gaze snapped up and her lips made a small O.
“For god’s sake. Please, don’t do this.”
Her throat bobbed on a swallow. She went back to the desk, pulled on a pair of latex gloves, and turned around with a vial and sealed needle package in her grasp.
“There’s a camera above the door,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
She placed the items on a small metal table next to his bed.
She picked up a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a cotton swab.
Every muscle in his body turned rigid. The tendons in his hands squeezed, ready to catapult him off the table with the slightest give from the belts.
He heaved against the restraints, lifting his knees in an effort to get at least one leg free.
That’s all he’d need to knock her out. One solid kick to the head.
“I have—had—a friend. She worked here. Giles and Dr. Lafontaine did to her what they want me to do to you. She died last week.” Her dark green eyes flicked over his hands.
She squirted the rubbing alcohol onto a cotton pad and swiped it over his wrist before wheeling an IV rack from the corner.
She checked the bag of fluid then opened a separate package of plastic hose and connected it to the IV drip.
Confusion raced through his brain. Her words, terse and calculated, contradicted her actions. He rolled his lips together and jerked again when she brought the IV to his skin.
“Just saline,” she whispered. She dug the IV into his vein and taped the tube to the top of his hand.
“I’m going to go over some side effects you’ll expect to experience from Chrisolicom XII.
” Her voice came out strong, louder than necessary.
“Mild side effects are dizziness, dry mouth, bloodshot eyes, nausea, and vomiting. The effects will come hard and suddenly, as the disease takes over your nervous system. More serious side effects are convulsions, seizures, blindness, loss of hearing, paralysis, and heart failure.”
He bared his teeth and curled his hands into fists. He’d kill them. All of them. “Thanks for the fucking warning.”
She glanced at the IV bag and her mouth tensed. “Mild side effects will occur within the first twelve hours. The serious ones will hit you after that. My team and I will work around the clock for an anecdote and hope you won’t have to see the serious side effects.”
“Oh, and I suppose Ms. Kevorkian will let me walk out of here after that?”
She leaned toward the IV in his arm as if checking it. “I have to make this look legitimate. They’ll kill me if they know I helped you.” She spoke so softly the sound barely reached his ears.
Hope erupted in his chest, but doubt dug in its heels. “Why are you working for her?”
She lowered her gaze and blinked several times, as if dashing away tears. “I don’t have a choice. I know too much now. Are you ready?”
He gave one sharp nod and she continued.