The number eight on the elevator panel was still lit while the doors were open. Randall remembered the pharmacy room number was 8-215, level eight, room 215. There could be more than 215 rooms on this level alone. If there were ten levels with 215 rooms, there could be more than 2,150 rooms in this complex! He began to get a feel for the enormity of the complex but still had no idea where they were. Had they been flown out of Brazil or were they still near the area they were captured? He had to find out.
The elevator doors closed and went up to Level Six. When the door opened Randall was amazed. This level looked exactly like a five-star hotel. The floor was covered with a rich burgundy, white and red design carpet. The walls were fine wood which looked exotic. Randall recognized the wood. It was a type that came from the jungles of Brazil. Maybe they were still in Brazil, he thought. The room smelled of furniture polish. The group stepped out into the hall.
Dana was also amazed. “Is this where we will be housed?” she asked.
“Yes, it is,” answered Sankt in a quiet voice. Two men were walking toward the small party moving down the hall. They had what looked like military uniforms on. Randall noted the uniforms looked very similar to those worn by the German SS during World War II. They were black with a silver piping. The men were also wearing one-piece tall leather boots as well. Randall soaked in the information for use later.
The group passed about eight fine mahogany doors with small brass room number plates. They stopped in front of Guest Suite 6-208.
“Here we are,” smiled Sankt. One of the guards stepped around them and produced a small metal card about half the size of a credit card. He pushed it into an almost invisible slot in the door frame and opened the door. Again Randall noted the electric locks. The group stepped in the door. The guards came in, closed the door and stood beside it, one on each side. Mrs. Sankt led them into a large, well appointed living area. Dana was amazed as she dragged her hand across the back of a leather chair.
“I hope this will do nicely,” Sankt said. “Beyond that door is a bedroom. The bath is off of the bedroom. If you have any needs, please do not hesitate to pick up the telephone and press the white button. Someone will come and assist you. I do apologize; the door must be locked at all times.”
She pointed to one wall of the room. “There are many books and journals you may be interested in reading. Please make yourself at home.”
Dana and Randall were standing in the center of the room stunned.
“Oh, lunch and dinner will be served in your room, lunch in twenty minutes and dinner at 7:00 p.m.,” added Sankt as she walked toward the door. “Goodbye.”
Sankt left and the two guards left with her. The door was closed and locked.
“What in holy hell just happened?” asked Randall. “We go from a hellhole cell to a medical room to the Ritz. I don’t understand this at all.”
Dana sat down on the large sofa and ran her hands over the fine material. “This is very nice furniture. It beats the devil out of anything we’ve ever had at our home.” She looked at Randall. “What is going on? What is this place?”
“I don’t know but what I do know is that Manolo is dead. We got the crap beat out of us. And now we are being treated like kings. But we are still prisoners,” said Randall. “We must be worth something to somebody.”
“Well, I guess so if we have graduated to this level of jail cell comfort,” said Dana, still amazed at her surroundings. “I wish I knew why.”
“The only reason I can fathom is that they want to use us as bargaining chips and they need us in relatively good shape for that,” hypothesized Randall.
“But we still don’t know where we are,” added Dana. “Do you know what day of the week or month this is?”
“Not a clue,” said Randall as he walked over to the bookshelves and perused the volumes. “But this is much better than the jail cells we came from.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Hugo was on point with Dane trailing about ten meters behind. Even after being out of the SEALs for several years, their ingrained training was still there. They both moved through the jungle like cats. Each made very little noise and was always on alert. They quickly learned the normal sounds of the jungle and were intently listening for sounds out of the ordinary. They intentionally were several yards off the trail the Finleys had recently traveled. The bad guys certainly would expect them to be on that path. Being off the trail slowed them a bit but was much more prudent in their minds.
The men in black would not expect two of America’s finest fighting machines. This gave Dane and Hugo a huge advantage. They were highly trained in all elements of combat. SEALs excel in direct action, reconnaissance, hostage rescue and unconventional warfare. They are instructed specifically to act upon their training, not their gut. Dane and Hugo in all respects were professionals in combat who could be placed in situations anywhere with the expectation of success or death. No other options existed.
The most important trait of a SEAL is mental toughness. They receive core training to disregard pain and suffering. They put it a box. A SEAL has no problem with lying in wait for an enemy for days in whatever environment needed to gain the advantage. The men in black had no concept as to what was coming their way.
Hugo and Dane traveled silently parallel to the trail. It was raining. They were on the move for about three hours. Hugo stopped. Dane stopped. Both listened intently to the sounds of the jungle and the rain. Each man had the uncanny ability to filter out normal jungle noise and hone in on man-made sounds. Neither heard anything abnormal. They pressed on. While the rain masked the sounds of the two moving though the brush, it made it harder for Dane and Hugo to hear abnormalities.
After another hour Hugo stopped again. Dane came up behind him. There was an inkling of daylight beginning to show. The rain had subsided.
“This is where I saw signs,” whispered Hugo, pointing over toward the trail. Dane nodded showing his understanding. “We’ll move out from the trail and try to come in on their flank to surprise them.”
Again Dane nodded and Hugo was off. They moved further away from the trail to get behind the men in black. One of Hugo and Dane’s worries was the men might have night vision equipment. They could see them before Hugo and Dane could get close enough to strike. They figured coming in behind them would negate their night vision advantage.
About one-half klick out, Hugo froze and raised his fist. Dane froze. That’s when Dane heard it; a soft rustling several meters to their right. Then there was a voice. It was a man’s voice, low but audible. Contact! Hugo motioned for Dane to stay put. Then he slithered through the heavy jungle underbrush toward the sounds. After a few meters he heard the voices again, two distinct voices. He continued a meter or so closer until he could make out movement in the early morning light. Carefully pushing back some foliage, he spied two men in black sitting at the base of a large tree about two meters away talking quietly. Each was heavily armed with Heckler and Koch G11 assault rifles. He watched them for a few minutes as they broke out rations and began to eat breakfast. Hugo smiled to himself. Those assholes may be eating their last meal. While they were not paying attention to their surroundings, Hugo circled back to check for a third man and made his way back to Dane. There were only two.