Chapter 52
With a tight jaw, I scanned the horizon, looking for Antonio and his boat.
He was nowhere to be found.
Dread twisted my stomach.
I pulled my phone from my pocket and dialed his cell number. We had good service out here, which was surprising.
It rang a few times. Someone picked up. It wasn't Antonio. "It seems you’re in a bit of a predicament."
There was no mistaking the kidnapper’s voice.
My stomach twisted.
"I suppose I have you to thank for the destruction of the lab?”
I said nothing.
"There was a considerable dollar value associated with that facility. If you were trying to get on my good side, you have failed miserably.” He paused.
"There's no way off this island, unless you want to swim 50 miles. I realize Antonio might not be that important to you, but even if you could get off this island, would you really leave him to die?”
It was about that time the goons caught up with us. They emerged from the jungle and surrounded us with assault rifles.
"I’ll offer you a deal,” the voice said. “Give me the prototype, and I will let you all go.”
I scoffed. There was no way he would let us go.
"The cost of the facility pales in comparison to the dollar value associated with the prototype. It's worth billions of dollars. What do you say? Do we have a deal?”
At this point, we didn't have much choice.
We surrendered our weapons, and the goons took the case and marched us back through the jungle.
We climbed up the ridge and reached the main compound.
The blaze still smoldered, the caustic stench still infusing the air with noxious chemicals.
The thugs marched us past the burnt-out shell of a warehouse, past the storage shed, to the main house.
One of them opened the door, and we followed him into the foyer. He led us to the living room.
The American greeted us with a smile. His brown-haired companion wasn't so enthused.
"Gentlemen, please come in. Make yourselves at home," the American said. "So glad you could join us. You've made the right decision. I really hate that it has come to this, but it is what it is.”
It finally clicked, and I remembered where I’d seen him before.
A goon handed him the case, and he marveled at it. He moved to a dining table not far from the living room and set the case atop it. After studying it for a moment, he let it be. "It looks undisturbed. Have you managed to glimpse inside?”
I shook my head. "You got what you want. Let us go."
The dark-haired man grumbled in Spanish, "They do not leave the island!"
The American smiled. "Don't mind Raul. He's a little upset at the moment. But he will be compensated handsomely.”
"It's not about compensation. It is about timelines and deliveries. I have a reputation to protect, clients waiting on product. Product that will not be delivered now. That makes me look bad. I don't like to look bad."
The American continued to smile. "Raul, you should be overjoyed. We have the prototype. I don't think you understand the full magnitude of what we have in our possession."
Raul glared at him, and I got the impression that if Raul had his way, he would put a bullet in all of us right now. He didn't care about the case or what was in it. Not yet, anyway.
The American snapped his fingers, and a goon darted off. He returned a moment later with another small briefcase and handed it to the American. He unlatched it and pulled out a silicone hand.
"A carbon copy of Nathan Mercer's hand,” the American said.
“It's really remarkable technology.” He flipped a switch on the back of the hand.
"In a few minutes, it will come up to temperature.
98.6°. It also simulates pulse. I paid a lot of money for this.
It should open the case. If it doesn't, I will be one disappointed customer.
But I will get into it, don't you worry.”
"You got everything you want. Let us go."
"As soon as I verify the integrity of the prototype, then I have no need for you anymore."
His ominous tone and equivocation let me know exactly where he stood on the matter—we were never leaving the island.