“You can call me Simon. And you are?”
“Never mind that,” Gail said. “Come on out with your hands up, and do it slow.”
“Sadly, I can’t comply with your request.”
“Listen,” McCann shouted. “Don’t fuck with us, buddy. We’ve had enough of this bullshit. Keep it up and you’ll get what your friend just got.”
“I don’t know who you mean.”
“The asshole with the aviator goggles. He took a shot at us. Last thing he ever did.”
The sound of chuckling drifted out of the office at the end of the hall.
“What’s so funny?” Gail called.
“The man you describe,” Simon said. “He was no friend of mine.”
“I don’t care what your relationship was. Come out slowly with your hands up.”
“As I said, I’d like to, but I’m afraid it’s impossible.”
“Why?”
Simon’s tone grew annoyed. “Because I’m chained to a desk.”
Gail and McCann turned to each other again. McCann arched an eyebrow. Gail shrugged, and then nodded toward the door. She took a hesitant step forward, then another. She moved to the side, keeping her back against the wall, and crept into the shadows. McCann followed behind her.
“Hello?” Simon called. “Are you still there?”
Neither of them answered him. They paused in front of the closed office door. Gail knelt on the floor and trained the weapon on the doorway. Then she took a deep breath, and nodded at McCann. He reached out, turned the knob and flung the door open. It banged against the wall.
“Well,” Simon said, “I guess that answers my question.”
Gail stood up and rushed into the room, making sure to keep the shotgun extended. McCann hurried in behind her. The office was identical to the ones on the floor below, with one noticeable difference—the naked man tied spread-eagled to the desk. His wrists and ankles were bound with black rubber bungee cords of the type usually reserved for tying down furniture in the back of pick-up trucks. His pale skin was slick and covered with open sores, cuts and scratches. Both Gail and McCann winced at the stench wafting up from him. A broken fish tank lay on the floor, shards of broken glass glittering in the gloom. Atop of the tank’s stand were a number of household tools—pliers, wrenches, screwdrivers, box-cutter, claw hammer and more. Judging by the dried blood crusting their edges and the captive’s wounds, they’d been converted into instruments of torture. In the corner was a large coffee can half-filled with human waste.
“Jesus,” McCann whispered.
Simon grinned. “Oh, I called on him, among others, to help me, but as you can see, my situation didn’t improve.”
“Hang on,” Gail said. “We’ll untie you.”
“What if it’s a trap?” McCann glanced back out into the hall. “What if there are more of them, waiting to rush us.”
“I’m not the one you need to be worried about. Indeed, I may be the only hope you have left. All you have to do is free me.”
Gail leveled the shotgun, pointing the barrel only inches from Simon’s head.
“Untie him,” she said to McCann. “If he so much as breathes funny, it will be the last thing he ever does.”
Simon studied her calmly. “Believe me, madam. If we don’t act soon, our actions here may very well be the last thing any of us do.”
CHAPTER 49
McCann approached Simon timidly, with all of the caution normally reserved for a soldier navigating a minefield. Gail kept the shotgun pressed against the bound man’s head. Simon seemed unperturbed. He licked his lips and then smiled at her. McCann tugged on the bungee cords, and Simon winced—his smile vanishing.
“Sorry,” McCann mumbled.
“That’s okay.”
The rubber cords fell to the floor. McCann stepped back and glanced at Gail. She took a deep breath and then removed the shotgun from Simon’s head. She backed away, just out of arms reach and nodded.
“Thank you,” Simon said. “Thank you both.”
He sat up slowly, groaning slightly as he did. His head drooped and his shoulders slumped. Then his body went slack and he began to swoon. Gail and McCann rushed forward and kept him from falling to the floor.
“He passed out,” Gail said.
“No, I’m still conscious.” Simon’s voice sounded weak. “I’ve just been here for a while. I sat up too quickly. Just give me a few moments.”
“How long have you been here?” McCann asked.
“I don’t know. I’ve had no way of telling the passage of time in this room—not that keeping track of the days is easy anymore, even if I’d been outside. The perpetual cloud cover makes that difficult sometimes. Don’t you agree?”
Gail and McCann nodded.
“It felt like an eternity.” Simon wiggled his feet and hands, trying to get some circulation into them.
Gail stared at the wounds covering his naked body. The sheer number of cuts and sores were horrendous. This close to him, the stench of body odor and infection was almost overpowering.
“Find him something to wear,” Gail told McCann.
“Where? The nearest Men’s Warehouse is at the bottom of the ocean.”
“I don’t know. Search the offices. Maybe somebody left a suit jacket or a uniform behind.”
“You going to be okay here?”
“Yes,” Gail said. “But be careful. There still might be more of them.”
“There’s not,” Simon confirmed. “My captor was the only one. Thank God for that. He was quite mad.”
“What did he want with you?” Gail asked.
Simon shrugged. “I honestly don’t know. I was traveling with two associates. They… didn’t make it. I was adrift for days. Nearly dead. Slipping in and out of consciousness. The last thing I remembered clearly was spotting this place. My captor rescued me. When I woke up again, I was strapped down. He… tortured me, but he never asked any questions. Which is a shame, really. I know the answers to many things. I might have been able to help him find what he was looking for.”
“I’ll be back,” McCann said. “Maybe I should let Novak know what’s going on, too.”
Gail nodded. “Good idea. Be careful.”
“I will.”
After he’d left the room, Gail felt a momentary rush of panic. She was all alone with Simon now, and despite his injuries and condition, she knew nothing about the man. He spoke with a slight British accent, and was educated, judging from his vocabulary. But his story was as clouded and mysterious as the motives of the man who had shot at them.
“You mentioned that you had associates,” Gail said.
“Yes. Two of them. We always travel in threes, unless special circumstances dictate otherwise.”
“What happened to them?”
“One of them, Kaine, fell victim to a giant worm. The other, Mark, was seduced by a mermaid with a bad case of vampirism. We are part of an international organization. The surviving members of that organization were trying to stop what has happened. Half of our group were searching for something—convinced that it was needed to halt the rains. The other half of us were determined to stop them.”
“But why would you want to stop them?”
“Because their methods are abhorrent, and uncalled for. They were convinced that a newborn infant was required to seal the gate, but my friends and I learned of another method—a ritual favored by a recently-extinct race of intelligent amphibians.”
Gail frowned. “Just what kind of organization did you and your friends work for?”
“A group called Black Lodge.”
CHAPTER 50
McCann found Novak sitting where they’d left him, with his back up against the damp, mildewed wall. He trembled beneath his wet clothing, and when he turned at McCann’s approach, the younger man noticed that his teeth were chattering.