There was an emergency exit map on one wall. Wished Chuckie was here—he’d have memorized it in two seconds. For me, it just looked like a lot of red lines on a rat maze. All I got was that we were “here” and our ability to get out “there” was going to be dependent upon making a lot of twists and turns. Awesome.
Gladys turned off the lights. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
“I wanted to be sure we weren’t sitting on top of bombs or Ronaldo.” Felt around in my purse for my Glock, patted the Poofs, found the Glock, flipped off the safety, put it on top of the Poofs. Figured it wasn’t wise to have it in my hand, but I wanted it close by and ready.
She made a quiet sound of disgust and slowly opened the door another crack. We waited. Didn’t hear anyone. “Let’s go,” Gladys said as she grabbed a nearby clipboard and opened the door. “Walk with purpose, don’t look furtive, and if we run into anyone, let me do the talking.”
“Check. Will do my best not to blow our total lack of cover.”
We stepped out as Gladys shot me a look that said she was regretting who she’d chosen for this commando raid and shut the door behind us. We were at the end of this hallway right by steps that led up to another level. There weren’t any here going down, so either we were on the lowest level, or the down staircase was elsewhere.
Gladys headed for the other end of the hall. Decided not to ask why. When you have no freaking idea where to go, one way’s as good as another.
Every door in this hallway indicated it was storage, which seemed odd. Then again, I wasn’t clear on how the military stored things. Maybe they were really anal about not mixing up the paper products with the bullets. Gladys used hyperspeed and checked every door, though. “All clear, just supplies.”
Reached the T-intersection without running into anyone. “Which way now?” I asked softly.
“No idea.” She stared right and left. “I think . . . this all looks vaguely familiar, more to the right than to the left. So, we’ll try the right and if that leads nowhere, we’ll come back.”
“Why aren’t we using hyperspeed?”
“Why use up the energy for nothing when we might need it later?”
Refrained from mentioning that all the Field agents I’d ever worked with used up the energy in part to avoid surveillance cameras and in other part to hurry the hell up. “Okay. I guess.” I saw no cameras about, but I still had to figure that time was going to be of the essence.
Gladys sighed. “We’re apparently in Cuba. In case we literally have to swim for U.S. soil, I’d rather have all my hyperspeed available, wouldn’t you?”
“Good point. Hate where your head’s at, but still, good point. We’re in a Naval base, though, so that means there should be a gate here somewhere.”
“Right, and if and when we find it, we can rejoice. We have little access to this facility—NASA Base is close enough and the American government likes to feel as if it’s got the upper hand in some areas. This is one of those areas. Now, can we go?”
“I’m not stopping us.” Looked around. Didn’t see the sparkling square. Figured that meant it was still in Supply Room #30. Hoped I’d remember how to get back there in case we didn’t find the gates on the base.
Which hopes were quickly dashed as we found the stairs going down. Naturally Gladys wanted to go lower—maybe it was some weird A-C thing, where they had burrowing creatures in their ancient DNA. But they sure had no issues being underground.
So down we went, into a much darker hallway system with a lot of twists and turns. I was officially lost within five minutes. However, I had a really good guess as to where we were heading, because we weren’t walking by storage rooms any more—we were walking by a lot of metal doors that had tiny windows with bars in them.
As we approached yet another intersection I was about to ask if Gladys had a clue as to where we were going when I heard voices.
We flattened against the near wall.
“Do you want out or not?” The voice was familiar—Ronaldo Al Dejahl was indeed in the house.
CHAPTER 66
CONTEMPLATED ASKING GLADYS if she’d seen that we’d be in the bowels of Guantanamo when we found Ronaldo but I knew she’d had no idea. Algar enjoyed his little jokes, after all. Prick.
“You’ve made me a murderer.” This voice I also recognized—it was Mahin.
“Things happen,” Ronaldo replied.
“You told me no one would get hurt, that we were just going to find and rescue the rest of our family. But I watched you murder one of those people.”
“Oh, please.” So, Annette Dier was here, too. Good. I’d be really happy to break her neck. “Casualties of war. Look, we don’t have long. Either you’re coming with us or you’ll get to stay here and rot, or worse.”
“We’re your family now,” Ronaldo said. “You’re your father’s daughter.”
“My father, the man who raised me, wasn’t a killer. He was a decent man. He thought war was wrong.”
“And he’s dead because of war, so what does that prove?” Ronaldo asked.
“It proves she’s a liability,” Dier said. Heard a gun cock. “The hell with her so-called talent. We have orders—she comes or she dies. Period.”
Wasn’t sure what to do here, even as I grabbed my Glock out of my purse. But what Gladys did wouldn’t have been in my playbook, constant accusations of recklessness or no. She ran around the corner without looking to see what, exactly, was around said corner.
She ran at hyperspeed, so there was that. Which I guess was so that she could hit into Ronaldo that much harder.
I followed her, in part because it wasn’t like I was going to stay undetected for long and in other part because I didn’t want to give Dier time to recover and shoot the gun I figured she had out and cocked.
As I rounded the corner and could see clearly, I was surprised to see a cell door standing open, though Mahin wasn’t in the hallway. I wasn’t at all surprised to see that Ronaldo and Dier weren’t alone, Mahin still in her cell or no.
There were two other men with them. One was Kozlow; the other was someone I hadn’t seen before. He was younger and appeared to be having a really fun vacation—he looked eager and excited and very one with Ronaldo and his Cause.
He also didn’t look like any of the people here so much as he resembled a younger, male version of Serene. Which might mean he was a full-blooded A-C, or it just might mean that Ronald Yates had sort of had a type when he was being choosy.
All of them were dressed alike, in khaki pants, T-shirts, and hooded sweat jackets. They looked like an odd group of Marines getting ready for a workout. Clearly they’d planned ahead.
Gladys knocked the gun out of Dier’s hand with the clipboard as she slammed into Ronaldo. Those two hit against the wall while Dier’s gun flew into the air.
Unfortunately, while Dier wasn’t able to catch the gun, Kozlow did. Decided I didn’t care and shot at the three of them.
The young kid knocked Dier out of the way, so I missed him and her. Winged Kozlow, though, so there was that. Of course, didn’t hit him enough to stop him from firing right back at me. I flipped into a forward roll, so the bullets missed me. And it was bullets plural—Kozlow fired wildly and emptied the clip. Had the feeling he expected more people coming behind me. You know, like would have been smart. Lucky for whoever would have been there to take bullets, Gladys and I hadn’t been smart.
I was up and had my gun aimed before the three of them recovered. Which would have been great if Gladys and Ronaldo were still fighting. Only they weren’t.