“Well, that’s where we have to go. The signal is getting stronger. As long as we can take the elevator back up, I say we push on.”
“We may have to take the elevator. We have no idea what shape Sam or Gordon are going to be in when we find them.”
“Let’s just hope that they’re okay.”
With that, they continued down the stairs until Jackson reached over and tapped Mitchell on the shoulder. He pointed at the nearest door and quietly said, “Ten meters that way.”
The adrenaline began to pump into Mitchell’s veins. Taking a deep breath, he slowly reached over and cracked opened the door. Peering down the long, darkened hallway, he smiled to himself.
The corridor was empty.
With his machine pistol at the ready, Mitchell walked down the poorly lit corridor until he came to a closed door.
With a tap on his shoulder from Jackson, Mitchell braced himself. Moving to one side, he waited. A second later, Jackson reached over and tried the doorknob. The door was unlocked. Mitchell waited a split-second before dropping to one knee as Jackson flung the door open.
Aside from a wooden table in the middle of the room, the room was empty.
Mitchell carefully stepped inside, aiming his weapon as he advanced. He clenched his jaw when he saw Sam and Cardinal’s boots laying there on the table with their heels cut open and the tracking devices resting beside them. His heart felt heavy. Had they arrived too late?
“Damn,” muttered Jackson over Mitchell’s shoulder.
Lowering his weapon, Mitchell reached down and picked up the tracking device from beside one of Sam’s boots. Looking at the small emitter in his hand, his blood began to boil. Someone had to answer for this.
From behind, a Mongolian guard stepped into the room and nearly ran straight into Jackson’s back. Before he could say a word, Jackson spun around on his heels and grabbed the stunned guard by the neck. He lifted him up off the ground and angrily slammed the guard into the far wall.
With a pained moan on his lips, the guard slid to the floor.
Jackson took a quick look up and down the hall and saw that the guard was on his own. He closed the door behind him and strode over to the injured guard.
Mitchell pulled the guard’s pistol from its holster as he hauled him up onto his feet.
“I hope you speak English,” said Jackson, his voice cold and menacing.
The young guard, his eyes wide with fear, shook his head from side to side.
“I don’t think he understands what you’re saying,” said Mitchell.
“Wonderful. Now what do we do?”
“Let me try something.” With that, Mitchell switched into Russian and asked the guard if he understood.
With a terrified nod, the guard muttered that he did.
“Where are the people who belong in these clothes?” asked Mitchell.
“Next floor down,” stammered the guard.
“Where exactly?”
“They are in the middle rooms. That’s all I know.”
Mitchell smiled and passed on what the guard had said to Jackson.
“He’s one lucky SOB. I was ready to break him in two if Sam and Gordon were dead,” said Jackson.
Mitchell had no doubt that his friend meant every word.
“What do we do with this one?” asked Jackson.
“Knock him out and tie him up.”
With a smile, Jackson sent his right fist flying into the guard’s jaw.
Using the guard’s clothes to tie him up, Jackson pulled off one of the guard’s socks and jammed it as hard as he could into the man’s mouth to keep him quiet.
Mitchell moved to the door, took a quick look about and then stepped out into the hallway closely followed by Jackson, who, for good measure, snapped off the doorknob.
Sam fought back the tears as she placed a damp cloth on Cardinal’s forehead and then looked down at the new cuts and bruises on his face. For the past couple of days, the guards had been taking Cardinal to a room across the hallway to beat him senseless. Like a caged animal, she snarled at them as they dragged him away. If the guards didn’t have weapons trained on her and Cardinal, she would have attacked and torn them apart with her bare hands. What she couldn’t understand was that they never asked him any questions. They just took turns pummeling him until he blacked out.
A weak moan escaped Cardinal’s purple, swollen lips.
She gently reached down and pulled Cardinal close to her chest. With a weak smile on her face, she delicately kissed Cardinal’s forehead and told him that everything was going to be all right and that their friends would come for them. It was getting harder for her to believe that with every passing day. She began to prepare herself for the inevitable. She had already decided that she would go down on her feet and take as many of the bastards as she could with her when they tired of Cardinal and came for her.
Voices grew loud in the hallway.
Sam’s heart began to race in her chest. They had beaten Cardinal within an inch of his life earlier in the evening. They never came back until the next day to continue their sadistic routine.
The door swung open and three Mongolian guards stepped inside.
“What do you want?” said Sam defiantly.
The oldest one in the group with a disgusting leer on his face pointed at her. “Leave him. You are to come with us.”
Sam knew they weren’t going to beat her; they intended to rape her. This was the end. She would die rather than allow any one of them to defile her.
“Now!” snapped the guard.
Sam kissed Cardinal one last time. She delicately laid his head down on a pillow before standing up so she could look at her attackers in the eye. She quickly sized up her opposition. They were all musclebound men who looked to be in peak condition. She didn’t doubt that she could take out one or two of the guards before the last one got a shot off. If that was her fate, so be it.
The nearest guard stepped forward and reached over to grab Sam’s arm.
Like a steel trap going off, Sam attacked, gabbing the man’s outstretched arm. She twisted it hard over and then launched her right foot straight into his groin.
With a muffled groan, the man doubled over and dropped to his knees.
She let go of the wounded man’s arm and spun about on her heels as another guard dove at her.
Sam turned her hip into the guard, grabbed the man and flipped him over her and onto the hard concrete floor. Still holding onto the man’s right arm, she jammed her foot into his armpit and twisted his arm as hard as she could. With a sickening pop, Sam dislocated the man’s arm from its socket.
A shot rang out.
Sam saw the older guard standing there with a pistol aimed straight at her head.
“Move back,” ordered the guard, his voice cold and deadly.
Sam stepped aside, her breathing heavy and ragged.
“Now strip.”
“Over my dead body,” said Sam, keeping her head held high.
The guard smiled. “Have it your way, bitch.”
Sam gritted her teeth. She was not going to close her eyes or beg for her life at the end.
Without warning, blood appeared on the front of the guard’s shirt.
Startled, Sam stepped back slightly as the guard’s body tumbled to the floor. Sam almost leapt for joy when she saw Mitchell enter the room, his weapon trained on the lifeless body.
A moan escaped the lips of the man at her feet. Something snapped in Sam’s mind. A blinding, white-hot rage surged through her body. Walking over, she ripped Mitchell’s silenced machine pistol from his hands and coldly fired off a shot into each of the injured guards’ skulls, killing them. She stared down at the dead bodies. Sam felt nothing for the men she had just killed. In her heart, she knew that they intended to rape and then kill her. They got what they deserved, as far as she was concerned.