No Time to Die (31 page)

T
he minute their helicopter landed, Les and Benjamin Barrow were ushered by an agent from the SWAT team across a strangely quiet courtyard into a stout beige building and down three flights to a room at the end of a hallway. Every step in this illicit place felt to Les like encroaching upon a spider's nest. His skin crawled with exhilarated disgust, his muscles twitched, his pupils dilated. He yearned to slow down and inspect the web, untangle its intricacy, fumigate its crevices, but a couple of instant snags demanded their attention.

“A young man and a woman,” the agent informed them. “Neither will talk.”

Maybe not to you,
Les thought. But he would grind down the captives until they pointed to the spider himself—and the little girl who was his most dangerous prey.

He noticed as they sped into the hallway that Barrow was scanning the premises, his whole face taut in revulsion and fear. Les suppressed a smirk. His partner could talk an intimidating game in the office, but he was a prissy bitch at heart. Les, on the other hand, was prepared to take on any thug the universe hurled at him. That, more than anything else, made him worthy of being chief. His hands itched for the ultimate fight. A tingling, aggressive energy coursed through his blood.

A woman's moaning trickled into the hall as they neared the door. When they burst through the ring of SWAT team guards, they marched into a messy lab—a lab where Natalie Roy was handcuffed to the leg of a counter, writhing on the floor next to an also-handcuffed, petrified teenage boy. Both were trying to twist out of their cuffs, but when Les and Barrow entered, their bodies went rigid.

Natalie's tear-streaked face paled so fast Les thought she might faint. He waded through the haphazard debris of textbooks and glass dishes and boxes strewn on the ground and spread his arms wide in mock grandeur.

“So
this
is where you've been hanging out! I can't say I imagined it this disgusting, but I guess it's only fitting.”

She scowled, yanking her wrists against her cuffs. Red lines cut into her skin where the metal rubbed against it.

“Oh, you're not happy to see me?” He pouted, feigning hurt. “But we got along so well the last time, remember?” He raised his voice an octave, mimicking her.
“The Network what? Galileo who?”

A ball of spit flew from her mouth and smacked his cheek, warm and gooey, reeking of sour coffee as it slid down his face.

“What the—!” He was about to slap her when Barrow appeared at his side and thrust a handkerchief at him, then glared at Natalie from a safe distance of several feet, as if she were a wild animal.

“Look, lady,” he said, “either you help us and we help you, or we lock your ass up for a long time. Which would you prefer?”

She stared at him.

The boy opened his mouth like he wanted to speak, but then closed it.

“What is it, kid?” Les prompted.

“I-I think we should cooperate.”

Barrow gave him a tight smile. “That's right. Very sensible.”

“No!” Natalie shouted, craning her neck to face her son. “Don't you dare.”

“We need you to answer a few questions,” Les cut in, ignoring her and addressing the boy. “The quicker you talk, the sooner we can get you and your mom out of here.”

“Okay.”

Barrow hung back while Les approached him. “Tell us everything you know about Galileo.”

“Well, he's about six—”

“No!” Natalie cried, straining against her cuffs.

“About six feet tall,” Theo went on, refusing to look at her. “Curly black hair, clean-shaven, superfit but not bulky. He's badass, like I wouldn't want to mess with him, you know?”

“How old is he?”

“Hard to tell. Maybe fifty?”

Barrow approached Theo at a wide angle, careful to keep out of spitting distance from Natalie. “When was the last time you saw him?”

“Not that long ago.” He cocked his head. “Earlier today, at lunch, right before you all showed up.”

“And then what happened?” Les demanded.

“People just scattered. My mom came here and I followed.”

“So is he still on the premises?”

“I dunno. Can't be far. There's a trail that backs into the mountains behind the cafeteria, check that. There's also a tunnel through a door to the left of this building that leads to the Indian casino. Those are the only ways out.”

“What about Zoe Kincaid?” Les asked. “Is she alive, have you seen her?”

“Oh yeah, she's around, too. They were both over by the cafeteria like an hour ago. Just go out of this building and make a right, cross the quad, and you'll see the wooden barn. That's it. All the apartments are back there two in a row, hers is number 3 and Galileo's is 21. Doors are never locked around here.”

“Theo!” Natalie cried. “What are you
thinking
?”

“I'm doing this for you,” he retorted. “You're welcome.”

“You heard the boy,” Les yelled to the half a dozen agents who were primed near the door. “Let's go!”

They streamed into the hall, as if springing to life at his command. He started to follow them but noticed Barrow shrinking back with a look of apprehension.

“Come on,” Les snapped, “what are you doing?”

“We're just leaving these two unsupervised?”

“They're handcuffed.”

“But what if someone comes to help them? We have no idea who's around.”

You're such a pussy,
Les thought. “Fine,” he said, “stay here and make sure nothing happens.”

He turned and sprinted out the door.

I
n the Brain, Zoe frantically jabbed a button on the life-size screen that broadcast live footage from strategic cameras throughout the compound. Every time she pressed it, the image changed to a different vantage point—inside the hospital wing, the cafeteria, the tunnel to the casino, one empty lab after another. There were so many labs—where was Natalie's? What was happening?

When the first helicopter landed, Zoe had watched in shock as a dozen black-masked, armed men poured out and scattered like roaches, invading every space they could find. Some had swarmed the lab building, but none had yet broken through to the Brain, whose entry she had secured from the inside by six metal bolts that budged from the outside for only a few fingerprints on earth, the tech guys' and Galileo's.

The men had pounded and shot at the door, their bullets as loud as cannons as she ducked under a stool, unsure whether to climb back into the evacuation tunnel and escape or wait it out. But she couldn't force herself to abandon Theo and Natalie.

Then the ground had started to rumble again, and she heard the men retreat. Outside, in the quad, another helicopter touched down and two stern men climbed out wearing bulletproof vests over their suits. One was gray-haired, bony, and lean, the other white-haired, taller, and more muscular. Another man escorted them to the lab building, into which they all vanished out of sight.

Desperate to follow their path, Zoe had rushed to the video screen that was hooked up to cameras all over the compound—except she didn't know how to select a specific camera, so now she was pressing buttons haphazardly, shuffling through all kinds of useless footage as the minutes slipped away. If only she shared an ounce of Theo's computer savvy—but—
wait
—what was that muffled shouting outside?

She ran to the window and peered down at the quad. Armed men dressed in black vests and black boots were emerging from the lab building and splitting in opposite directions, toward the casino tunnel and the cafeteria. The thin gray-haired man was following close on their heels with an angry expression. Theo and Natalie were nowhere to be seen. She turned back to the screen, jabbing the button again to switch cameras. Up popped the gym, the rehab center, an empty lab, another empty lab, and then—

Zoe uttered a cry.

Both of them were
handcuffed
to the leg of a counter. Natalie's face was contorted in a sob. Theo was shaking his head.

The white-haired man was alone with them, bending over, his back to the camera. She watched helplessly as Theo strained against his handcuffs and appeared to shout something at him, a plea or a curse—it was difficult to tell without sound—and she was too worried about losing the image to press any other buttons.

The man gripped Theo by the shoulders to subdue him, then reached around to his wrists to inspect his handcuffs.

That was when she realized that the man's back was not only to the camera—it was also to the door. Her heart rammed against her chest as a last-ditch plan formed in her mind. It would be risky, but at this point, also their best hope for escape. They didn't have long—maybe only minutes before the other men returned—and no way was she going to let them be captured without a fight. She thought of Gramps. Even if he would try to talk her out of it, he would have to applaud her daring. This was a job that needed to be done.

The weapons arsenal was in this room, under the wooden floorboard that was near the evacuation tunnel. Galileo had mentioned it during one of their drills. She dove to one that seemed in the right location and tried to pry it open, but it wouldn't budge. She moved to the board next to it, barely noticing as a splinter sliced her hand. This one loosened right away and she peeled it back. In a shallow bin was a heap of different-sized guns, some with barrels the size of her arm, others compact enough to conceal in a purse. She selected the least scary-looking one, a small black handgun that was surprisingly heavy. She hoped that meant it was loaded because she wasn't sure how to check.

After listening at the door to make sure no one was there, she unbolted all the locks and swung it open. The stairs were deserted. She raced down them, winding around below the level of the quad, to the subterranean maze of tunnels that connected the entire ring of buildings in the compound. She knew the way by now and could avoid setting foot out in the open. But she concentrated on the map in her mind's eye, creeping through one hallway after another, making a turn here and there, until she crossed into the lab building and descended two floors to the right one.

She crept down the empty hall, clutching the handle of the gun. Her pointer finger smothered the trigger with sweat. She had never shot a gun before or even held one. It felt like metal power in her hand, heady and terrifying.

Natalie's and Theo's voices grew louder as she neared the corner lab. She couldn't make out what they were saying, but their urgent tones compelled her to pick up her pace. How relieved they would be to see her! She lifted the gun to eye level, copying the stance of the armed men she had witnessed prowling the quad.

Her hands were quivering when she reached the doorway. She tiptoed over the threshold before she lost her nerve. One glance across the room confirmed that Theo and Natalie were still handcuffed, and that the official remained bending over them, his back to her. Then she took aim, squinting through the crosshairs at his leg. Right as she was about to pull the trigger, his back shifted several inches to the left, leaving Theo directly facing her. A shriek ripped from his lungs.

“No, don't!”

She stumbled backward, confused, as the man spun around to face her.

The gun slipped from her fingers and clattered to the floor.

In spite of his white hair, spectacles, and strange hook nose, she recognized the fierceness in his eyes.

He was Galileo.

“Z
oe!” Natalie exclaimed, yanking her chafed wrists against her handcuffs. “What are you doing here?”

“You should have left us!” Theo yelled. “Get out of here!”

She didn't appear to hear them. She remained gaping at Galileo—stepping toward him, cautiously at first, a smile tugging at her lips. He grinned as only he could—and then, at last convinced, she ran straight into his arms. Natalie couldn't help feeling touched as they embraced, but her desperation was climbing. The men would return before long, and her and Theo's handcuffs were difficult to pick. If Galileo didn't get them off soon enough—

“Come on!” she called. “We need to go.”

Galileo released Zoe and sprung to Natalie's side, producing a metal pin that he jammed into her cuffs. His brow furrowed in determination as his agile fingers worked to pick the lock.

“Let me help,” Zoe said, crouching next to Theo. “I'll try his.”

“I wish I had another pin. Or the key.”

“Where is it?”

He sighed, scraping and clicking inside the lock. “With Les.”

“I can't believe it.” Zoe paced back and forth in a daze. “You've been working with
him
the whole time?”

“Against, darling.”

Natalie shook her head. “When you guys walked in together, I thought I recognized you—and then I thought I might be going insane.”

“It was the hand signals,” Theo said. “When you started signing to us behind the dude's back, that's when I knew.”

“Same,” Natalie agreed, craning her neck over her shoulder to watch his maneuvering. “I hope we followed them well.”

“Perfectly,” he said, without looking up from the lock. “Otherwise we wouldn't have gotten rid of him.”

“Yeah, but who knows for how long,” Natalie said. “Can't you hurry?”

“I'm going—as—fast as I can . . .” She moaned as he tugged against the cuffs to no avail.

Theo cast an imploring look at Zoe, who was still pacing. “You should just go—seriously—get out while you can.”

“He's right,” Natalie said to her. “Go back to the tunnel, we'll meet you—”

“No,” she declared. “I'm not leaving you guys.”

As if to cement her point, she went to pick up her handgun from the floor where she had dropped it and then came back and plopped down next to Theo, leaning against his chest. His free arm draped across her in silent concession.

“Damn,” Galileo muttered. “I can't pick these. I need the key.”

“Keep trying,” Natalie begged. “Hurry.”

She felt Galileo's breath near her ear. “You don't have to worry, I've got your back.”

She turned to look him in the eye, her pulse speeding up in spite of everything. “You do?”

“I was wrong before,” he whispered. “But I'm here now.” He leaned in and planted a gentle kiss on her lips. The moment seemed to suspend itself in time, but all too quickly he pulled away to refocus his attention on the lock, leaving her stunned—and never more desperate to be free.

“Hey!” Theo shouted. “We forgot the hard drive!”

“Where is it?” Galileo asked.

Natalie lifted her chin toward the counter above them. “Next to my computer.”

He jumped to his feet, unplugged it, and stuffed it under his bulletproof vest.

“What about the mice?” she said. “They're our only proof!”

He frowned as he approached the cage, where a mound of tiny infant mice were dozing—at a month old, they still appeared to be newborns, barely able to stand on their toothpick legs. She watched as he stuck his hand in, scooped up five or six, and loaded them into the pocket of his pants. They were still inert enough not to climb out.

She raised her eyebrows. “Really?”

“What else can I do? Smuggle out the cage?”

In the silence before she could reply, they heard the slap-slap of footsteps out in the hallway.

Footsteps getting louder. Closer.

“Get in here!” Galileo mouthed to Zoe as he opened the tall supply cabinet, which had been emptied of all its contents. “Hurry!”

She obeyed, diving inside just as he closed the door behind her.

Natalie caught the look of anguish on his face. It was too late. There would be no rescue. No freedom. No reunion.

There was nothing he could do when Les Mahler walked in, alone and furious, except revert to his erect posture and stern detachment, with his hands clasped behind his back and his feet planted like a guard's. The ease with which he transformed back into Benjamin Barrow took her breath away.

“Did you find anyone?” he asked. Even his voice sounded different—colder.

“No,” Les snapped. “No one except a bunch of cripples. We're still searching, but I came to take them away. The helicopter's outside waiting.”

He produced the key to the handcuffs and approached Natalie, while Galileo hung back, motioning her to remain calm. She trusted him, willing herself not to struggle as Les squatted next to her and removed the cuffs from the leg of the counter, only to recuff both wrists behind her back.

“Stand up,” he commanded. “Now!”

She rose to her feet.

“Take her,” Les instructed Galileo, “while I get the boy.”

He steered her toward Galileo, who took her by the arm, while Les undid Theo's cuffs and replaced them on both of his wrists as well.

“All right,” Les barked. “Let's move out.”

One glance at Galileo's ashen face told Natalie all she needed to know.

His bag of tricks was empty. They had no choice but to cooperate, to put one foot in front of the other in an inevitable march toward fate. She couldn't bear to look at Theo. He had been right all along. If only she hadn't been so insistent about the hard drive, they would be far away, tucked into some safe house, probably watching the whole wretched invasion on television instead of—

“Stop!” a girlish voice screamed. “Get your hands off them!”

Natalie turned in disbelief to see the cabinet door swinging and Zoe standing a few feet away, snarling at Les, her gun aimed at his face.