“If only I would have been conscious,” said Jake, knowing there were a number of ‘if only’ scenarios he’d be beating himself up over for some time to come. “We’d have probably stopped her. Or had her at the fence line. The second it was clear she was heading for the west perimeter, I would have sent all of our forces east.”
“I’m not sure that would have mattered. Yes we concentrated our forces and technology on the west perimeter, but it’s not as though the east was unprotected or unwatched. You can’t just waltz out of a base when it’s on high alert, no matter which perimeter you choose.”
A burst of rage surged through the black-ops colonel, but this only served to heighten the pain in his head to excruciating levels. He forced his emotions to settle down and the pain subsided to merely throbbing.
Now they were almost back to square one, he thought in disgust, but this time he kept his anger in check. No Rosenblatt, no Desh, and no Miller. And she had all but telegraphed her escape. She had offered her help and told him he knew how to reach her, as though she wasn’t even a prisoner. Her audacity was mindboggling. She had practically dared him to take greater precautions, and he, like a fool, had ignored his instincts.
But why had she spared his life? And the lives of everyone else she had encountered? They had been hers for the taking. By not killing them, she had slowed her own escape and increased the chances she would be caught.
Jake had turned into a ruthless monster when he had been under the influence. The tiny voice that was his true self had tried to rein in his altered self, but had been ignored. The force of personality it must have taken for Kira Miller to stop her enhanced self from killing anyone during her escape must have been off the charts. Jake was certain he could not have done it.
Did this mean that she wasn’t the monster he was led to believe? Was her story true after all?
He frowned, and shook his head, almost imperceptibly. More likely, this was exactly what she wanted him to think. She was a monster fooling the villagers into thinking she was docile, to put future hunting parties off guard.
Kolke gestured in the direction of their offices. “Should we head back?” he asked, interrupting the colonel’s musings.
Jake took one last look at the perimeter fence in both directions for as far as he could see, as if somehow a clue to how she had managed it would emerge where none had before. “Yes. Let’s go,” he said as he began walking. “We have a lot of work to do.”
28
David Desh and Matt Griffin pulled up to the guard gate in a van, the technology on their key rings ensuring any camera that picked them up wouldn’t get a clean enough imagine to satisfy the needs of facial recognition software. Desh had altered his appearance enough that even if the guard had a picture and description, he was sure to let him pass. And Griffin was still off the grid as far as the military was concerned, which was good, since no wig or application of makeup could hide this bearded bear of a man.
“Bill Sampson,” said Desh to the guard. “Crazy Eddie’s Carpeting. We’re here to install carpeting for a . . .”
Beside him Matt Griffin consulted a tablet computer he was holding. “Captain Hernandez,” he offered.
“Right, Captain Hernandez,” repeated Desh. “I have the work order right here. I’m told you’ve been notified to expect us.”
“Why isn’t there any writing on the van?” asked the guard suspiciously. “Shouldn’t it say Crazy Eddie’s Carpeting?”
Desh smiled. “We’re independent installers,” he replied smoothly. “Eddie sells it, we install it.”
“Mind if I look inside?” the guard asked politely. But Desh knew it wasn’t a question.
“Sure thing,” replied Desh.
The guard opened the sliding door. There was nothing inside except a long wooden box along one wall, about the size of a coffin. He lifted the lid, which was on hinges, and peered inside. The container was completely filled with a tightly rolled section of thin carpeting.”
“What’s with the box?”
“Makes it easier to carry the carpet,” explained Desh. “I’ve got a bad back.”
“Doesn’t look like a lot of carpet,” noted the guard.
“It isn’t. We’re just doing a few closets. Shouldn’t take us more than an hour or so.”
Satisfied with Desh’s answers, the guard tore off a sheet from a pad of paper, with each page depicting a map of the base. “You’re here,” he said, drawing an X on the pad. He ran his pen straight, then right, and then left. “On-base housing is here,” he added, marking another X. “Do you have the captain’s address?” he asked, handing Desh the map.
Desh nodded and the guard waved him through.
Once they were out of sight of the gate Griffin’s fingers moved over the tablet. We’re in, he wrote. Be ready for pickup in approximately six minutes.
He hit send and the message appeared seconds later on the computer of a Major Hank McDonough, received by an e-mail address unknown to him.
Kira Miller sat in Major McDonough’s comfy mesh chair and breathed a sigh of relief. Not that she had expected them to have any trouble. Griffin had seen to it that the forged work order to install carpet for the actual Captain Hernandez was sent to the guard station computers. Still, you never knew.
I’ll be waiting, she sent back. With bells on.
Actually, her three nights and two days as an uninvited house guest of the major and his family, who were happily on leave in Cancun the entire week, had been just what the doctor ordered. When she had used Jake’s computer during her escape to tap into the base’s personnel records, she had learned that nineteen families were on leave that week. And her enhanced self had chosen well. Her temporary hideout had been perfect. The major’s wife was very nearly her size, and had tasteful clothing that was quite comfortable. And they had a well stocked cupboard, which was more important than ever after she had come down from her gellcap induced adventure. She had been pushed to her limits—this time physically as well as mentally—and her hunger had seemed unquenchable.
The major had a smooth Internet hookup, and she had been able to spend hours reading scientific literature; planting information she wanted to be accessible by her amped mind in the future. She was careful not to do anything that could tip off the neighbors that the major’s house harbored a squatter, which including going outside, getting too near a window, or turning on a light at night—all of which had done wonders for her—ensuring she did little else but read and relax. For the first time since she could remember, she was able to catch up on her sleep. She felt like a new woman.
But, alas, it was time to go. The hunt for her had cooled off enough and she had too much to accomplish to waste another second convalescing here. But she would miss this place. She hadn’t been in a homelike atmosphere for some time, and sipping cocoa and reading in a comfortable bathrobe—even if it wasn’t hers, was a welcome respite from a life that had grown ever more complicated and intense.
She had to remember to have Griffin anonymously pick up the tab for the McDonough’s weeklong stay in Cancun. It was the least she could do—especially since she’d practically cleaned out their cupboard the very first night. Good thing the refrigerator and freezer were well stocked as well.