Deadly Seduction (4 page)

Lately, Taz’s ability to recuperate seemed slower. Inarugably, they’d made some seemingly irreversible errors with him. Zadovsky had likened it to faulty wiring that did too much damage to the circuitry before it was detected. But wasn’t that how progress unfolded?

Rufin consoled himself with the thought that he’d still have Hades. They had proceeded more cautiously with Hades and it had paid off. Hades was the real gold mine. A nearly perfect specimen.

Hades was
almost
there, and once Rufin fully controlled Hades, could make him do the morally unthinkable on command—

A hand clamped down on Rufin’s shoulder, spun him around. To his horror, he found himself looking into Hades’s eyes. Eyes that glittered with that now-you-die expression Rufin had witnessed many times.

Instinctively, Rufin’s hand went to his side. Too late he remembered he’d left his tranquilizer gun on his desk and dismissed the guard.

His bladder released as his vision tunneled. It was over.

Max tightened his grip on Rufin’s neck. So easy to crush his windpipe. “Don’t you dare pass out! Free him. Now.”

“I c-c-can’t.”

“Oh yes, you will!” Max shoved the scientist closer to the chamber. He needed to get Taz out before one of the guards returned. “Shut it down.”

“I can’t interrupt the process,” Rufin pleaded. “P-p-please.”

“Fuck your process.” Max reached around the scientist and grabbed for one of the latches that sealed the chamber.

Behind them a door crashed open. Swinging Rufin around in a semicircle, Max vised an arm around the scientist’s neck and yanked him close to use as a human shield.

The guard that had rushed in, weapon drawn, took one look at Rufin and skidded to a halt.

“Tell him to back off or I’ll kill you,” Max said.

But before Rufin could open his mouth, a second guard burst in the side door and fired his gun.

Max felt a bruising punch as a dart jammed into his neck. He ripped it away, praying the tranquilizer had not fully injected.

Releasing Rufin, who had fainted, Max dropped low. He grabbed the computer console away from the chamber and slung it toward the first guard. The equipment crashed to the tile floor, creating enough diversion to allow Max to take cover behind a counter.

The second guard rushed to the opposite side of the counter, demanding that Max surrender. When that didn’t work, the guard started shouting threats.

That’s it, just keep talking
, Max thought. He edged along the cabinets, homing in on the guard’s voice before leaping over the countertop and slamming the guard into the floor. The guard’s body went limp.

Screaming for his partner to rise up, the first guard fired.

Max ducked behind a desk, avoiding the dart. He heard a door slam and realized the first guard had fled the room. Great! He’d sound an alarm. Max wouldn’t have long.

The room tilted now. Yanking the guard’s side arm from its holster, Max climbed to his feet, tried not to think about the impossible odds.

Fighting to maintain his equilibrium, he lurched toward the chamber that imprisoned Taz.

Max remembered being trapped in it, being unable to escape.

He also remembered his vow.

“I’m here, Taz. And I won’t leave…without you.”

Rocco swept his binoculars over the prison. Built into a hillside, the Vietnam War–era structure had only one visible entrance and was exactly as Luc Skihawtra had described.

Ignoring the buzz of biting mosquitoes, Rocco focused on the empty prison yard. The tiny fenced enclosure covered less than one hundred fifty square feet.

Divided into three rectangular sections, the yard looked more like dog runs at a kennel. Except these were human-sized. Heavily fortified with razor wire and sporting copious overhead camouflage, the yard itself was visible only at ground level. The single guard tower in the corner was deserted.

Luc had reported watching the person they believed was Max Duncan pace from one end of the cage to the other, zombiesque.

God, had it really been Max? There was a strong possibility that Luc was wrong, that he’d only seen someone who resembled Max. But Luc had sworn the prisoner looked exactly like the photograph, which was unlikely after two years of imprisonment.

Rocco recalled how pathetic Dante had looked after eighteen months of imprisonment and abuse. A walking skin sack, a ghost of his former self. It sure as hell hadn’t helped that Dante had also been sick with malaria, gangrene, and a host of other ailments.

Still, if Max had been able to preserve his health, his strength, maybe. Just maybe…

And what about Harry? Luc hadn’t recognized any of Harry’s photographs, which didn’t mean he wasn’t still alive. Perhaps Harry was sick, too.
If
the men were even here.

It had been over six weeks since Luc had spotted Max. A lot could have happened in that time.

It outraged Rocco to think of his friends being held and tortured. Worse was the burn of knowing that for most of that time no one had even been looking for them.

“Does anything look familiar?” Rocco asked Dante.

Dante was the leader of the six-man extraction team currently hunkered down in the thick jungle surrounding the prison.

They’d been in Thailand less than twelve hours, having hiked in across the Cambodian border. Since they were in the country unofficially, they’d risk only one helicopter ride: the trip out.

“Negative,” Dante said. “Which doesn’t mean squat.”

It was believed Dante had been held at multiple locations, but no solid documentation existed to support the theory. Would they find that proof here?

And how many more of these little bunkers of horror still existed in this godforsaken place, tucked under dirt and trees in ways that made them impossible to detect even with enhanced satellites?

Rocco raised his binoculars again. In the late afternoon shadows the place appeared abandoned, a fact belied by the background hum of a diesel-powered generator. The infrared readings they’d done earlier had detected four human heat sources inside the facility, but the generator kept one area clouded.

The lack of security bothered him. Was it a trap? In spite of all the precautions Travis had taken, had word of their rescue mission been leaked?

“Hold up.” Dante indicated he was receiving a radio transmission, most likely from JC or Riley, who were working recon.

“Come back then,” Dante said after a few seconds. “And stand by.”

“Anything new on infrared?” Rocco asked.

“Same as before.”

“So we go in expecting more.”

“Exactly.” Dante again motioned that he was receiving a message.

This time, though, Rocco heard it as well since JC broke in across all channels.

“We’re hearing gunfire inside,” JC hissed. “Riley’s got lots of movement on IR, all centered in the east corner. Looks like we’ve got two bodies down.”

Two bodies. Max. Harry.

“Move in,” Dante ordered. “Now.”

Rocco drew his pistol. Times like these made him appreciate the countless drills they’d done in the Army, ones they still did. Action and training supplanted emotion. Repetition cemented skills.

Thompson remained outside as lookout, while the rest of them swept up to the building behind JC and Riley. Two shots from JC’s silenced handgun destroyed the lock on the entrance.

Inside the small anteroom, they surprised a guard who was crouched near a door. At first Rocco thought the guard was waiting to ambush them, but the shocked expression on the guard’s face confirmed they were unexpected.

As soon as the guard saw them, he slid his weapon to the ground and raised his hands in surrender. JC, the team’s linguist, moved forward and secured the guard’s hands while quietly demanding answers.

Rocco pointed to the unusual weapon the guard had dropped. “Tranquilizer gun,” he mouthed to Dante.

“He claims a prisoner broke free and tried to kill the doctor. Inside there,” JC whispered as he nodded toward the closed door. “They use the tranq guns to subdue prisoners.”

“Ask him how many people are here, including prisoners,” Dante said.

JC spoke to the guard again, in perfect Thai dialect, and then turned back to Dante. “There are only two prisoners kept here. And both are Westerners.”

Two Westerners.

Max and Harry.

“He says there’s only one other guard here besides him. Plus a doctor. A third guard went to pick up supplies. He thinks the guard inside is dead, maybe the doctor, too. He says the prisoner has the guard’s pistol,” JC finished.

“Keep grilling him,” Dante said. “Find out everything he knows about the main players and any other prisons. Zeke will stay with you. Riley’s going with us.”

Rocco flattened himself against the wall and edged toward the doorway as Dante and Riley moved to flank the opposite wall.

Dante reached for the doorknob. Twisting it, he shoved the door open but hung back.

“We’re Americans!” he shouted. “We have the place surrounded. Lay down your weapons!”

The man inside the room started swearing. It was a voice Rocco thought he’d never hear again.

“American? Give me a name, rank, and serial number or I start shooting.”

“Max!” Dante shouted. “Jesus, is that you? It’s Dante Johnson. We’re here to take you home.”

“Bullshit.” The words, though slurred, were punctuated by the
zing
of a gunshot. “I’ve got two hostages. I want the building and perimeter cleared and a vehicle brought to the front door with a full tank of gas.”

“He probably thinks you’re dead,” Rocco whispered to Dante through his mic. “Let me try.”

Dante nodded grimly.

“Max!” Rocco shouted now. “It’s Rocco Taylor, buddy. No one’s BS-ing you, man. It is Dante. He was held in a prison a hundred miles south of here. It’s a long story and it really sucks, but we’re here now. We came back for you. We’re here to get you out.”

“Rocco?” Max’s voice sounded raspy now, like he was confused. Or weak.

Rocco again remembered how sick Dante had been. Max was probably in even worse shape. “You remember Riley? JC? Look, Dante and I—”

“You’re lying!” Max cut him off. “Dante’s dead.”

“He’s not. But if it’s any consolation, he doesn’t believe you’re alive either. Look, let me come in. I’ll just stand in the door, okay? You’ll see.”

“If it’s a trap”—Max’s voice didn’t waver—“I’ll kill you.”

“It’s not a trap. And if you shoot me, I’ll have to kick your ass.” Easing forward, hands elevated, Rocco slowly shifted into the open doorway.

The room beyond was rectangular, twenty by forty, and looked like a combination infirmary, laboratory, and autopsy suite. Wrecked equipment was strewn about. A man wearing a white lab coat was lying on the floor. The slight rise of his chest confirmed he was alive.

“That’s far enough,” Max shouted. “I’m coming out.”

Rocco did a double take as a man crawled out from behind the flashing console of some machine and struggled to climb to his feet.

“Max? Holy God!”

When Rocco found Dante in a Thai jail, he’d been wasted, emaciated. Max, however, looked completely the opposite. Spectacular. Better than ever.

Wearing only a T-shirt and boxers, Max’s well-muscled arms spoke of a regular workout, likely enhanced by steroids. His hair was shorter than Rocco had ever seen it, a high, tight military cut.

“Rocco?” Max’s voice sounded slurred, thick.

“It’s me, buddy. In the flesh. Easy with the pea shooter.” He nodded toward the pistol Max had just lowered.

Drawing closer, Rocco focused on Max’s eyes. That’s where Max’s damage was hidden, behind that tortured gaze. His soulless expression hinted at an even worse suffering. What the hell had been done to him?

“Rocco. It is you.” Max blinked back tears. Then just as quickly his features grew steely as he jerked the gun back up. “Wait! There’s still another guard around.”

“We already got him. Outside. What’s the status of these two?” Rocco nodded to the man in the lab coat and another man whom he could only see the feet of.

“Dr. Rufin…passed out. The guard’s dead. You gotta help me—” Max pitched sideways.

Rocco surged forward to grasp his arm. Max’s eyes were fully dilated. What the hell was in those darts?

“Take it easy. You don’t have to do a thing,” Rocco said. “We’re here. To take you home.”

Home.

The word didn’t register in Max’s mind. Where was
home
?

He had a fleeting impression of mountains that was quickly snatched away by an explosion inside his head.

This time, instead of struggling against the pain, Max embraced it, welcomed it. For whatever reason the discomfort helped him to stay present, to fight the effects of the drug. And since the drugs also wreaked havoc with his ability to reach out for another’s thoughts, he stopped trying.

Someone else was speaking now, and Max realized another man stood next to Rocco. Max took in the man’s black garb, the compact submachine gun he carried.

He met the man’s unblinking stare. A host of images flipped through Max’s mind, including the woman they’d once fought over. “Dante.”

“Sorry it took so long,” Dante said.

So long? Max tried to recall the last time he’d seen Dante or Rocco, a calculation that was impossible since he didn’t know what day it was. “How long?” he asked.

“Two years.”

Two. Years.
They betrayed you. Left you behind. You can never trust them.

“Whoa! Easy!” Rocco’s voice registered.

Max felt a hand close over his wrist and tug the gun away. That he hadn’t even realized he’d raised his arm and pointed the weapon shook him. Now, he knew what a robot must feel like.

Dante, Rocco were good guys. Time didn’t change the fact they were brothers in arms.

“Sorry…don’t know what to think,” Max said.

“You’re entitled. Are you injured?” Dante asked.

Max tried to shake his head, felt dizzy. “Tranqed. Don’t want to go…under again.” Bad things happened whenever he was sedated.

“Riley!” Dante snapped. “Get your med kit over here.”

Max swung his fist, missed. “No. Meds.”

“Whatever you say, buddy. I just want Riley to check your vitals.”

Buddy
. Had he almost decked his friend now? “I thought…you died.”

“Lot of that going around.” Dante cleared his throat. “Right now we need to find Harry. Is he here, too?”

Harry. Max struggled to recall a face that matched that name. Harry Gambrel. Harry and Dante had been with Max. In a fire.
Two years ago.

No, not fire. An explosion. Screams.
Forget about them. All that matters is Taz. And—

Once more Max’s head began to pound. He rubbed his temples. “Harry’s dead. But Taz isn’t. Owe him my life…got to save him.”

Dante looked around. “Who is Taz? And where is he?”

“Give me a minute,” Riley said as he moved in and dropped to one knee.

Max realized he was lying on the floor now.

“I want to get your blood pressure,” Riley continued. “Any idea what you were given?”

“Get Dr. Rufin up. He’ll know.” Max shoved away the BP cuff Riley held. “Don’t worry ’bout that. Just get me back on my feet and over to that tank. Taz is inside. He’s my…friend. Brother. One of us.”

“Jesus. We’ll get him out.” Rocco moved in close now. Hooking Max’s arm, he hauled him to his feet and supported him.

Riley immediately moved away, toward Rufin. The pungent scent of ammonia filled the air as a capsule was waved under Rufin’s nose. The scientist came up sputtering, then nearly passed out once again as he saw the black-clad newcomers.

“Do you speak English?” Dante barked at Rufin.

“Y-y-yes.”

“What was he drugged with?” Dante nodded toward Max.

“Sedatives, a mixture with pen-pen-pentobarbital.”

“What dose?” Riley asked.

“Adjusted for his weight.” Dr. Rufin looked around on the floor. “I need to see the d-d-dart.”

“Screw that. Just help me get this open.” Max lurched away from Rocco and began to unfasten the latches on the chamber.

“No!” Dr. Rufin tried to surge up but shrank back as three guns were leveled at him. “Th-th-the procedure has been interrupted.”

“You know what you can do with your procedures?” Max broke away the last latch and lifted the chamber’s clamshell lid. Inside, strapped down to the flat surface, was Taz.

“Hold on, Taz!” Max tugged away the bulky eye goggles while Rocco worked to remove the oversized headphones that were secured with tape.

Max knew the awful images, commands, which were input with the devices.
Do this, or they die.
How many times had Max lain in this machine and watched his friends, family suffer? Had felt intolerable pain rip through his body.

That Taz didn’t move, didn’t respond, worried Max. He frantically ripped away scores of circular diode patches that were stuck all over Taz’s torso, arms, and legs.

“He’s alive.” Riley had moved in. “I’ve got a pulse, but it’s going through the roof.”

Max shifted away to give Riley better access. “Whatever it takes. Save him.”

Turning away, Rocco stormed over and snatched Rufin up by the lapels. “I ought to kill you.”

“Dibs,” Max said.

“Fair enough.” Rocco shoved Rufin toward Max. “What the hell have you been doing here?”

But before Rufin could respond, Dante snapped his fingers. “Quiet! Go ahead.”