“To do that they’d have to sink it into the ocean—” Hibiki began, slightly scoffing, and then suddenly stopped talking. “An act well within their capabilities.”
Smyth had joined them by now. “Sounds like Mai has a point.”
Hibiki flicked his cigarette away as Mai and Smyth emerged from the undergrowth, weapons at the ready.
“Follow me.”
Hibiki led the way inside the facility, confident that at this late hour the doctors and guards would be sleeping. Even so, he assessed every corner and corridor before he led them on and utilized every blind spot he’d exposed in the surveillance system.
At length, the three soldiers entered the main lab, Mai and Smyth for the first time. Several observations hit them at once.
The machinery was state-of-the-art, brand new, gleaming. The startling scent of sterilization fluid stung their eyes. The patients were all strapped down to their gurneys, but shuffling and twitching as if locked in some nightmare they could never escape. Unknown instruments were scattered everywhere, some on metal tables, others balanced on wheeled trolleys, some humming and others gyrating. A snaking web of rubber and plastic tubes stretched from machine to human like a horrifying snare, a dreadful trap designed by madmen and exploited by psychotic dictators.
At the far end of the lab, a large, metal wheel marked the doorway to a vault.
“Weapons room.” Hibiki followed their stares. “And when I say special weapons, I really mean it. I’ve seen some of them now. The AICW? Prototype rifle? It’s now called the Xm-25. A computerized multiple grenade launcher and it’s not a prototype anymore. And there’s a tested railgun in there, just for fun, and the blueprints to the DREAD silent weapons system.” He paused, noting their lack of recognition. “We’re talking one hundred and twenty thousand rounds a minute here.”
Mai marched over to the nearest patient. Smyth scanned the walls. “No cameras in here?”
Hibiki just laughed at him.
Mai touched one of the tubes gently. “This is a feeding tube. These people are kept in this state for days clearly.”
“Mai.” Hibiki’s tone made her turn immediately. “They’re kept like that for months.”
“What?”
“I know this — these patients have been put into something deeper than the deepest sleep. It’s some kind of neurological trance. They call it FX37. And all the doctors who work here? They’re neuro-psychiatrists.”
Mai shook her head. “What?”
Hibiki pointed out a bank of TV screens. “See those monitors? They measure brainwaves.”
“Put a lid on the damn bullshit,” Smyth grouched. “Speak English for God’s sake.”
“Have you heard the term ‘hypnotic trance’ before?”
“Oh yeah. Got it done to me in Vegas one time.”
Mai raised an eyebrow. “I bet that was fun for everyone.”
“Well this is more like a massively enhanced, technically brilliant version of that,” Hibiki said. “And it is being put to a terrible use. These people…once they’re wakened and rehabilitated…they will never find their old selves again. Only the thing they have been brainwashed to believe they are.”
“You’re saying captives are being brought to this island, brainwashed, and then sent back out into the world, mostly to America? For what?” Smyth nervously adjusted his grip on the gun he carried.
Hibiki spread his arms in an all-encompassing gesture. “For anything. You have only to listen to North Korea’s news statements to know what they would like to do to America.”
“This all started with you overhearing a comment regarding that senator,” Mai mused. “I wonder what happened to him.”
“We are working blind,” Hibiki admitted.
“How’s the comms room?”
“Last I heard, they had restored all communications. The fire did not destroy anything vital.”
“We should go—”
At that moment there was the sound of many rushing feet. Mai and Smyth raised their weapons. Figures began to run past the lab windows, all jingling and jangling with guns and ammo, medals and camo fatigues.
The door burst open. The windows were covered from outside. Over thirty troops with steady weapons covered them. It had all happened very quickly. Mai glanced sidelong toward Hibiki as she lowered her weapon.
His expression took on an air of hurt.
A short man, stocky and puffed up with self-importance pushed his way into the room. A big smile turned a pudding-like face into Halloween tapioca.
“We have suspected Hibiki for some time.” He sounded practically gleeful. “And allowed him to betray us further in hopes of attracting a bigger fish. But this…” His smile broadened even farther. “This will have to do. The legendary Mai Kitano. I have heard of you. Welcome to the end of your life.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Drake let the bikers close the doors to the hangar before dragging the three kidnappers they had abducted out of the back of the car. They had been physically thrown into the trunk, a tangle of arms and heads oozing blood, and now they were deposited onto the rough concrete the same way, without regard for their injuries.
“I want answers.” Drake kicked his way among them. “And the first wanker to start talking gets his wounds tended to.”
The suit with the thigh wound writhed. No doubt feeling precious life draining from him, he spoke up first. “We don’t own this ring. We’re just a part of it. Please—”
“Keep going.” Alicia came up now, closely followed by Lomas and Dirty Sarah.
“It’s big. We’re a small part. Nothing more. The chain starts down the coast of Spain. All the cities down that way are targeted. The sleepers are sent to a halfway house in Barcelona before being brought here and then transported, by train, to Moscow.”
“Interesting term.” Alicia picked up on it instantly. “Sleepers.”
“It’s what the Russians call them. It’s said the captives are put to sleep somewhere by the Koreans. For months. Years. But mostly — forever.”
“Because they die en route? From wounds you give them?”
“No. It is the sleeping that kills the bulk of them. I don’t know why.”
“Experiments.” Drake kicked a man in frustration. “You are providing human beings for experimentation. I’ve seen the other end of the chain. It’s sickening.”
“We are just a cog.” The German clearly sensed his anger. “Nothing more.”
Drake drew his gun and flicked the safety off. “Like fuck you are.”
“Wait.” Lomas stepped forward before the Englishman could pull the trigger. “If we kill the one who talks, we risk losing them all.”
Alicia nodded. “Spoken like a true inquisitor.”
Drake fought the darkness back. Thick black winds receded slowly from his vision and his soul. Think of Mai, he repeated the adage again and again. At last, he managed to lower the weapon.
Now Lomas signaled to Whipper. “Got some use for you, darlin’.”
The leather-clad woman stalked forward, boot heels clipping across the floor. In her right hand, she held a thin black object. When she stopped she let it unfurl.
A bullwhip. A single-tailed length of braided leather with a twelve-inch, intricately formed leather handle. There was an even thinner piece of nylon cord at the whip’s end, which allowed the weapon, if thrown properly, to exceed the speed of sound and send back a sonic boom.