Shadow, p.21
Shadow, page 21
part #6 of Linear Tactical Series
Kendrick took Neo off speaker and turned to face the men and women in the room, most pointedly Gavin. “I need to talk to Neo about some things you might not want to hear. Not quite legal things.”
“Is it going to help save my sister?” Gavin asked.
“At this point, it’s probably the only way to save Lyn. Her and a shit ton of other people.”
Gavin didn’t even hesitate. “Do it.”
Kendrick began talking to Neo on the phone, discussing the best ways to pull all possible info on Garrison and the facilities. The databases they were talking about hacking were top secret and pertinent to national security. Everyone in the room would be going to jail right alongside Blaze if they were caught, just because they were aware of what was going to transpire.
As Kendrick and Neo began their search—back on speaker with each other and yelling obscenities—Gavin motioned everyone else into the kitchen.
“Whatever they find on their computers is just going to be gravy for the meat and potatoes we already have sitting right in front of us,” Gavin said. “We have the locations where human experimentation is happening. We have the element of surprise on our side and the ability to stop it and bring down someone who’s been fooling the public for years.”
They all turned as the side door opened, and Dorian stepped inside. “Whatever is going down, I want to help. Ray wants to also, but . . . can’t.” His eyes met Heath’s, shaking his head, the big man’s shoulders slumping. “She can’t. This isn’t her fight anymore. I can’t ask her to come back into this.”
Heath didn’t even hesitate. He walked over to Dorian and pulled the man in for a hard hug. He knew his friend didn’t like to be touched, but Dorian wrapped his arms around Heath anyway, slapping him on the back.
“Ray’s done her part,” Heath whispered to Dorian. “Now let’s make sure this ends for good.”
They broke apart, and Zac Mackay nodded, stepping forward. He’d been the team leader in the Special Forces, the tactician. “In order for this to work, it’s going to require a strategic strike. Every location hit at the same time. If not, Garrison will have the chance to . . . tie up loose ends.”
Everyone knew what that meant. Kill anyone who could speak out against him. Including Lyn and Craig’s sister.
Heath nodded. “This sort of strike is more than we can do ourselves. We need law enforcement in on this. Multiple strike teams.”
Gavin’s jaw was set as he looked over at Craig. “Between what we’ve heard here and Lyn being missing, I can get us our warrants. As governor, my father has the connections we need. For Lyn, he would call in favors based on my best guess. And what we’ve learned here tonight is much more than just a guess.”
Craig nodded. “I’ve still got a few people loyal to me in the bureau and a few who are willing to risk a long shot if it means making a career-catapulting bust. I’ll be able to get several teams.”
Noah pushed away from the wall. “I’ll call Tanner and wake him up. He’ll be able to get SWAT together and move on the facility in Denver.”
Gabriel Collingwood wasn’t an official part of Linear Tactical, but he might as well be. “I’ve got a few law enforcement contacts also. Once we have warrants, they’ll be more than willing to move.”
“I’m going to call Dad now,” Gavin said. “Everybody reach out to your contacts as if the warrants are a done deal. We need to be prepared to move at dawn.”
Everyone dispersed, the team ready to do whatever they had to save one of their own.
For the first time since he’d seen Lyn’s pills scattered across the floor in Gavin’s apartment, Heath had a sense of hope.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“What’s wrong with you?”
Lyn stared at the young woman who’d asked her the question.
What was wrong with her?
Besides being kidnapped, knocked unconscious, stuffed in the trunk of a car, backhanded twice, and being worked nonstop for fifteen hours with a gun to her head?
Was that not enough wrong with her?
And with all that danger, it was still going to be her own heart that ended up killing her. She’d managed to salvage one pill; the others had flown from her hand when she’d been shot with the tranquilizer back at Gavin’s apartment.. And she’d taken it when she’d woken up and found herself stuffed in a trunk.
Maybe she should’ve saved it.
“I have a heart condition. It’s called Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome, and it’s a type of arrhythmia.”
The woman, maybe Lyn’s age or a little older, nodded like Lyn was talking about an unfortunate rash.
Then again, this woman had a lot more bruises on her face, arms, and neck—all at various stages of healing from new and dark purple to old and yellowish green—than Lyn did.
“What’s your name? Do you know where we are? Why we’re here?”
“Jenna,” the woman whispered. “No. And to do whatever they tell you to.”
They wanted Lyn to decipher whatever was in Heath’s head—had demanded she start working on it as soon as she’d been put into this windowless room.
She’d been stalling as long as she could, not sure exactly what it was she’d been finding. What if it was dangerous? What if it was some sort of nuclear code or the formula for a bomb?
The first group that she’d translated and sent to Kendrick had only been numbers, and she’d had no idea what they meant. The second series she was working on now wasn’t just numbers, but it wasn’t just words either. It was something she didn’t understand. Even as she was becoming more and more familiar with the Pictish, what she was finding didn’t make sense to her.
“I’m trying to translate a dead language. I’m a specialist in linguistics. What are you doing?”
“I’m trying to perfect a formula for synthetic neural inhibitors. I’m a biomedical engineer.”
Like Troy Powell and the people Heath had been investigating. “I don’t know what a synthetic neural inhibitor is. You . . . work here?”
Jenna’s soft laughter held no trace of humor whatsoever. “Yeah, like how you work here. Except I’ve worked here for nearly a year.”
Which would explain the bruises.
Lyn had to tamp down the panic. She had no idea where she was, and there was no way for anyone to find her. She was stalling in translating the data from Heath’s head, but what good was that going to do if no one was coming to save her?
She had to figure out a way out of here herself. But at least she had a possible ally.
“Jenna, listen—”
Her words were cut off as she was yanked back by the hair and the guard’s fist flew into her jaw, knocking her to the ground.
She fought through the pain and dizziness, her heart beginning an unnatural rhythm that stole her breath. She forced herself to cough hard. The vagal maneuver wouldn’t work long-term, but it would buy her time now.
Of course, doing it with blood pouring out of her mouth from where her cheek had scraped her teeth didn’t make it easier.
She didn’t even have a chance to catch her breath before the guard reached down and pulled her back up by her hair.
“No talking. Get your fucking work done.”
Lyn put the headphones back on but didn’t turn on the translation software. She closed her eyes, trying a different vagal technique—holding her breath and bearing down—not pretty, but working to get her heart back in a normal rhythm.
Jenna slid a tissue toward her. Lyn nodded and used it to wipe the blood dripping from her mouth.
She just needed to survive this moment. Working on some grandiose escape plan was useless if she didn’t live through the next five minutes.
She turned on the translation software Kendrick had created and began the tedious task of entering in the phonetic spelling of the language no one could actually speak. Slowly, the software provided more data.
Lyn wrote it all down as it came through, often having to double-check because even the translation seemed to be in a different language.
But at least concentrating on this kept her heart rate even.
She’d been at it for about an hour when Jenna tapped her on the shoulder.
“That’s not right.” She pointed at the word on the screen.
“What? How do you know? Are you familiar with Pictish?” Lyn looked over her shoulder to make sure she wasn’t about to get punched by a guard again, but he was over by the door on his phone.
“No, not the language. What you’re translating this into.”
Lyn looked at the random letters and numbers she had on the screen. Yes, they were in English, but she still had no idea what they meant.
“This makes sense to you?” she asked Jenna. “Because this is just as much gibberish to me here as it was coming out of Heath’s mouth.”
“Heath Kavanaugh? Shadow?”
Lyn nodded. “Yes. Do you know him?”
If anything, Jenna looked more frightened. “They have been desperate to get at what’s in his head ever since I arrived. It’s the same formula they brought me here to re-create. That’s what you’re translating, what was in Shadow’s head?”
“Yes. I figured out it was a dead Scottish language called Pictish. But honestly, I’m not sure I’m doing it right. It doesn’t make any more sense to me translated.”
Lyn brought up the first segment she’d translated earlier in the evening before she’d been kidnapped. “The first part of it was only a series of numbers.” She’d had to filter through all of this again so that she could start on the second segment. “Here’s the second. I don’t know what any of that means.”
Jenna reached over to the keyboard and added tabs between certain numbers.
“That’s prettier, but I still don’t know what they are.”
“They’re coordinates. Facilities where different types of brainwashing techniques and the synthetic neural inhibitors I’m attempting to develop are being tested. Mostly against people’s wills.”
“Project Crypt.”
Jenna gave a short nod. “Holloman. He was my mentor in college. Crypt was only the tip of the iceberg.”
“What is this other stuff I’m translating? It’s not just numbers, but I don’t understand what it means.”
“You’re translating it too literally. Thinking like a linguist, not a scientist. The words ‘division’ here and here”—Jenna pointed to the screen—“shouldn’t be written out as full words.”
Jenna grabbed a piece of paper and wrote the sentence Lyn had translated a few minutes before. But instead of writing out the letters and words, she wrote them as . . . an equation.
It still didn’t make sense to Lyn, but at least it was making sense to someone.
“I see you two have met.” Jenna all but jumped out of her skin at the deep voice behind them.
Adil Garrison. Lyn recognized him as soon as she saw his face. He’d been with her father at the governor’s mansion more than once.
“You look familiar.” Garrison studied her. “Have we met before?”
Lyn looked back down at the computer. “Why would we have ever met? Unless you studied languages at Wyoming Commonwealth University, I’m pretty sure we don’t know each other.”
Garrison’s eyes narrowed. “Lyn Norris. Linguistic doctoral student at WCU.”
She nodded without looking at him again. “That’s right. Probably should’ve double-checked that before you kidnaped me. Who are you anyway?”
He was an international businessman with companies across the world. Lyn didn’t need him to tell her who he was. But she knew for a fact she’d never walk out of this building alive if he knew she could identify him. He kept a low profile. Not often pictured in the paper, never doing press conferences himself. Now she knew why.
“It doesn’t matter who I am,” Garrison said. “What matters is the progress you’re making on our little project here.”
“It’s not an exact science. You’re asking me to translate a language that’s been dead a couple thousand years.”
“Yet look how well you’re doing. And I knew Jenna would be able to help you piece together the specifics. Isn’t that right, Jenna?”
The other woman hadn’t said a word since Garrison had walked in. She just nodded now.
“Dr. Franklin is brilliant in her own right, but unfortunately hasn’t been able to successfully develop the algorithm for a synthetic neural inhibitor during the time she has stayed with us.”
Lyn’s eyes narrowed. Franklin? As in Agent Franklin? Surely not.
“Translating this will take time, and I’m not necessarily working in the best conditions. Honestly, I’m not sure I’ll be able to help you at all.”
Garrison gave her a tight-lipped smile and moved closer. “I’m sorry the conditions don’t meet your high standards, Ms. Norris. I’ll—”
“Excuse me, Mr. Garrison.” One of the guards cleared his throat.
“What?” Garrison snarled.
“We’ve got reports of unusual movement outside of three of our facilities. No confirmation as to what exactly it is, but it’s unusual for it to involve three.”
Garrison’s face morphed into a scowl. “She got off the coordinates before we took her. I was hoping her little team wouldn’t figure out what they were so soon. We’re going to need to go into emergency protocol. Shut everything down.”
“Sir, are you sure that’s necessary? It could just be a coincidence.”
“No, they’re onto us. It’s time to go underground.” Garrison turned back to Lyn and Jenna. “Ladies, you’ve got much less time than we thought. One hour, to be exact.”
Good. She shouldn’t have a problem stalling for that long.
Garrison reached down and cupped Lyn’s hand in his. “Ms. Norris, are you right-handed or left-handed. “
“Right, why?”
Before Lyn could even process what Garrison was doing, he brought her left hand up in front of him, grabbed her pinky, and twisted his hands.
She heard the sickening sound of a bone breaking right before the agony burst through her finger. White dots flashed in front of her eyes as she struggled to hang on to consciousness.
“If you’re not finished in an hour, I will break something a little more painful. Maybe a kneecap or an ankle—just not anything that would further affect your ability to type.”
Lyn wheezed in and out, trying to survive the pain radiating up her arm.
“She has a heart condition,” Jenna said. “If you cause her to have some sort of heart attack, she won’t be any good to you.”
Garrison backhanded Jenna, and she caught herself on the table. “I’ve obviously been too lenient with you lately. I think it might be time for us to go back to our original state.”
Even through her pain, Lyn could see Jenna withdraw into herself. Whatever Garrison was threatening her with was more than the woman could handle.
“One hour.”
Garrison turned and walked out the door while Lyn struggled to get her body under control using all the vagal maneuvers she could think of. Jenna was right—there was only so much more Lyn’s heart was going to be able to take.
A broken knee or ankle might be it.
“Are you okay?” Jenna reached for Lyn’s hand where she had it cradled against her chest, but Lyn pulled it back. It was all she could do to breathe through the pain right now. She didn’t want to see what her finger looked like. That would only make everything worse.
“Let’s get the rest of this translated. We only have an hour.” Lyn coughed hard, ignoring the pain in her hand, trying to bring her heart rate back down.
Jenna shook her head. “His name is Adil Garrison.”
“I know.”
“He’s going to kill us, you know. As soon as he has the formula, he’ll have no need for either of us.”
Lyn fought to think. Jenna was right, of course. They had to look past this moment. To figure out a way to survive. It was what The Brothers would expect her to do. What Heath would want her to do.
She’d just found him. She wasn’t giving up her chance with him. Not without a fight. “You’re right, but we’re going to have to figure something out. I can guarantee we are the smartest people in this building. I can also guarantee I have people already looking for me right now. We just need to stay alive.”
The words didn’t seem to reassure Jenna in any way. “I used to think that too. My brother works for the FBI, and I used to believe he’d come for me. But he never did. I’m sure he thinks I’m dead.”
“Craig Franklin? He’s your brother?”
Jenna’s dark eyes got wider. “Do you know him?”
Lyn didn’t have all the facts, but it couldn’t be a coincidence that Jenna Franklin’s kidnapper wanted the information in Heath’s head. This was somehow all tied together.
“Yes, I know him. And he’s still looking for you, using every possible tool at his disposal, believe me.” Probably including Lyn and Heath.
Jenna’s face crumbled. “I used to pray he’d come rescue me every day, but I’ve been here so long now. Nearly a year. I thought there was no way.”
She squeezed Jenna’s hand with her good one. “My people have the coordinates. They might have already figured out what’s going on and where we are. You heard what the guard said about there being unusual movement outside of three of the facilities? Maybe that’s them. Maybe that’s Craig and my Heath and their teams.”
“But maybe it’s not.”
Lyn smiled through the pain. “You’re right, maybe it’s not, but I’m not going to give up hope. And I’m not going to cave to that bastard.”
“But what can we do?”
“You recognized the coordinates from what was in Heath’s head. Is one set for here?”
“I think so. But there’s no way to notify anyone or send any outgoing messages.”
Lyn took a step closer. “But if they’re already aware of this location, maybe we can do something to draw more attention.”
Jenna bit her lip. “It might not be enough. We’re running out of time.”
“Maybe.” Lyn didn’t want to think about that possibility, but she had to. “And if so, then we make sure Garrison doesn’t get what he wants. Fool that son of a bitch into thinking he has the perfect formula. Make it so close, but not quite right. We can make it look like it was an error in the original—that he still needs us.”
