Shadow of Betrayal

Each second longer meant it was a second closer to more of the guards coming back outside. Perhaps they would take the prisoner through the gate and to the Yellowhammer facility. Maybe even after they were gone, someone would flip a switch turning on the power to the gate. Quinn’s best chance was to move now, before any of that could occur, but the son of a bitch seemed to be enjoying a little alone time.

Finally, the guard finished up and went back inside.

About goddamn time, Quinn thought.

He glanced at the window. No one seemed to be keeping tabs on the outside. What was inside was more interesting to them at the moment.

He gave Nate a quick nod, then crawled forward into the pale light that illuminated the gate. Once he was moving he didn’t stop. He pushed his backpack to the other side first, then squeezed between the wires. They were pretty taut, but they gave enough to let him through. Nate followed right behind him.

Once they’d both made it, they ran in a crouch down the road until they found a good spot from which to keep an eye on the gate. Turned out their precautions were unnecessary. It was another ten minutes before the door to the guardhouse opened again. This time, though, it wasn’t another pee break. It looked like the whole squad had come out, and with them the prisoner.

The gate opened and the group passed through. They continued down the road, passing less than a dozen feet away from Quinn and Nate’s position.

Once they’d gone by, Nate looked at Quinn, his eyebrows raised in a question.

Quinn nodded.

Without a word, they began to follow.

The elevator let Tucker out in a secure room at ground level. The walls, the floor, the ceiling, they were all concrete, and at least two feet thick, built to withstand a direct, pre–nuclear era attack. Of course, these days you wouldn’t need an atomic bomb to do the job. A single bunker buster would destroy the whole facility.

Tucker pressed his palm against the security-release pad next to the door, and was greeted with the gentle whoosh of the lock releasing.

Tucker entered the main part of the structure. From the outside it looked like a small one-room cinderblock hut built in a small clearing between piles of boulders. Most people would mistake it for something left over from one of the handful of failed mines that were spread through the Alabama Hills.

Inside, there was another palm reader near the exterior door, and on the wall above it, a ten-inch television monitor. Tucker touched the power button on the monitor, and the feed from a camera mounted on the cabin’s roof appeared. It provided a wide shot of the entire visible area in front of the cabin, and since it was in night vision mode, everything was in tones of green.

Tucker’s men had just come out of the dry wash to the left and were seventy-five feet away, on the other side of the road. Tucker scanned the hills behind them. He didn’t expect to see anyone, but he had a hard time believing their new guest had come alone. What he saw was rocks, and nothing else.

Tucker placed his palm on the reader. This time the sound was more a heavy click than a whoosh. He pulled the door open, but stayed in the shadows as his men closed the distance.

The prisoner was walking in the middle of the group, his head down. Not defeated, more like he was conserving his energy.

Thinks he’ll be busting out of here, Tucker thought. But that wasn’t going to happen.

Once everyone was inside, Tucker then led the way to the waiting elevator car. It was large enough to hold all of them with plenty of room to spare.

It wasn’t until the doors shut that he turned to the prisoner.

“Look at me,” Tucker said.

The prisoner didn’t move.

One of the guards reached out and pushed the man’s chin up so that Tucker could see his face.

“Who the fuck are you? And what are you doing on my land?” Tucker said.

The prisoner smiled like he was the smartest man in the room and had no interest in talking to any of them.

Tucker shook his head. “You don’t want to mess with me.”

The man let out a laugh.

Tucker counted to five, then punched the guy in the face, knocking him backward into the wall. He slumped down, blood pouring from his nose.

They left him there until the doors opened again.

“Put him in the room two doors down from the woman,” Tucker said.

He stepped through the opening, then headed for his office. He’d let the bastard stew in his own blood for a while before he started the serious questioning. But he wouldn’t wait too long.

He didn’t want to let his own anger fade.

CHAPTER

29

QUINN AND NATE WATCHED FROM A DISTANCE AS the guards walked into what had to be the main entrance to Yellowhammer. Someone had been waiting for them just inside the door, but whoever it was remained in the shadows, unidentifiable.

Quinn knew if they were going to try to get inside, this wouldn’t be the way. He examined the map Peter had sent them, then glanced up to get his bearings.