Page 60 of A Touch of Treachery (Section 47 #3)
CHARLOTTE
G abriel and Joan disappeared down their respective corridors. I drew in a breath, then let it out and started exploring my own corridor.
I made my steps as soft as possible, although they rang out in my mind like gongs chiming one after another, announcing my presence to everyone in this cursed place. The corridor went on and on and on, making me feel like I was underwater, trudging through an unending tunnel of dull gray mud.
Even the metal doors with their small square glass windows didn’t break up the monotony of the space. I glanced through all the windows, but most of the rooms were empty, as though I was walking through a giant prison and all the inmates had escaped from their cells. I shivered and hurried on.
“Gabriel? Joan?” I whispered. “Anything in your corridors?”
They didn’t respond, and I didn’t hear the faint buzz of our comms anymore. Bryce might have realized we were here and jammed the signal, or the concrete walls could simply be too thick for our comms to work this far underground. No way to tell for certain, so I kept going.
I reached another junction, where the corridor branched left and right, as well as continuing straight ahead. I stuck to my current position in the center tunnel. With any luck, Gabriel and Joan would clear their sections quickly and catch up with me.
Crack!
Crack! Crack!
Crack!
Gunshots came from the left. I whirled around, but no one was sneaking up behind me, and the center corridor remained empty.
I listened, but there were no more gunshots, and I didn’t hear the smallest whisper of sound.
Whatever was happening was in a different part of the facility, and I just had to trust Gabriel and Joan to protect themselves.
I blew out a tense breath, turned around, and kept moving along the center corridor.
The metal doors vanished, replaced by smooth walls. More corridors and junctions appeared, and I stopped at each one, trying to figure out where I was and especially where Desmond might be. This place was a labyrinth, and I had no idea how much farther it went—or if Desmond was even here.
Once again, the corridor curved, so I followed it and stepped into a much larger, wider space. No one was visible, although a door was set into the wall a few feet away. I sidled in that direction, then tried the knob.
To my surprise, the door was open, so I slipped inside. Unlike the other rooms, which had been empty, this area was someone’s office, although it was pretty spartan, with only a desk, a chair, and a couple of other pieces of furniture.
I hurried over to the laptop on the desk and hit the space bar, causing the screen to flicker to life. Unlike the laptop in Henrika’s library, this one was locked. Excitement coursed through me. This had to be one of her work computers.
I fished a flash drive out of one of my zippered pockets and stuck it into the laptop. Diego’s handy-dandy decryption software went to work and automatically downloaded the laptop’s contents.
I scanned the rest of the office, and my gaze landed on a small refrigerator in the back corner. Curious, I crouched down and opened the door to find . . . bags of blood nestled inside the cool space.
I blanched and drew back. Whose blood was this? And what was Henrika doing with it?
I fished out one of the bags, which had a barcode on it, along with several numbers. According to the information, the blood had been drawn a few hours ago, and it was type A-positive.
A relieved breath whooshed out of my mouth.
Desmond was type O-negative, so this wasn’t his blood.
Although that didn’t tell me whose blood it was or what Henrika was doing with it.
I snapped a photo of the information on the plastic, then slid the blood bag back into the refrigerator with the others.
A soft chime sounded, indicating that Diego’s software had finished its work. I yanked the flash drive out of the laptop and slid it back into my pocket. I didn’t see anything else noteworthy, so I left the office and continued down the corridor.
I’d only gone about fifty feet before the corridor opened into a large square area filled with desks, tables, and chairs. A thick layer of dust coated the furniture, and it didn’t look like anyone had touched the items in ages.
Crack!
Crack! Crack!
Crack!
Bullets zinged by my head. I darted forward and dove behind a thick wooden desk.
Crack!
Crack! Crack!
Crack!
Bullets thunked into the desk, shooting splinters of wood in all directions. I peeked around the side. Three guards were standing at the opposite end of the square reloading their weapons. I swung my gun around the side of the desk, focused on the man closest to me, and pulled the trigger.
Crack! Crack!
He screamed and tumbled to the floor. I grimaced at both his screams and the sharp retort of the shots. I had never enjoyed killing, but I would do it to save myself, just like my father had taught me to. One man down, two to go—
Crack!
Crack! Crack!
Crack!
This time, bullets whizzed behind me, smacking into the concrete wall and knocking out small chunks of stone that stung my body like gray bees.
I glanced back over my shoulder. Three more guards were rushing up the corridor from the opposite direction, all of them raising their guns to fire at me again.
My heart squeezed tight. I was pinned down and trapped.