“You want me to throw a book at her head too?” I asked cheekily, but he wisely ignored me and instead crouched before Raul.
“Give me your report,” he asked Raul, calm and all business.
“The pics.” Raul licked dry lips. “About half an hour ago, Chris phoned Rachel but all she heard was scuffling noises and wheezing. It went quiet, but the line was still open. She traced the GPS, and when she went out she found what you see there.” He nodded toward the phone in Philip’s hand. “He’d been garroted in a double loop—” His eyes flicked to Kyle and then back to Philip. “—stabbed in the brainstem and then buried in a shallow grave. But apparently he survived long enough to claw his way out and try and call Rachel.” He took a deeper breath, color slowly improving. “Rachel sent me the pictures then called and told us to detain Kyle for investigation.”
“I don’t understand why that points to Kyle,” I said, confused.
“Kyle’s signature move is a garrote looped twice,” Philip said quietly.
Raul shifted his attention to me, nodding in agreement with Philip. “Yes, but it’s the fifth picture that’s the most damning.”
“The one that’s just dirt?” I asked, even more baffled.
“Zoom in,” Raul said. “To the right of the pine cone.”
I peered over Philip’s shoulder as he did so.
“It’s K-Y,” Raul said. “Chris scratched that in the dirt and started another letter before he died.”
Crap. Somehow I doubted Chris had been asking for lube. My mind raced as I tried to sort everything out—raced right to K-Y-L-E but didn’t stop there. Naomi still crouched by Kyle like a lioness guarding her cub, obviously not entertaining even a whisper of doubt. Philip slowly scrolled through the pictures again, meticulously examining each one.
“I don’t think Kyle’s stupid,” I blurted.
Not in a snide way, Philip asked, “What’s your point, Angel?” without looking up.
“Well,” I began, “if he’s not stupid—which I’m pretty sure he’s not since he’s this hot shit operative with all sorts of experience and skills—why would he make it so goddamn obvious it’s his work and then come bebopping back here?” I shrugged. “I mean if I was going to fuck over the Tribe and then return here, I’d at least make sure that there was no possible way it could ever be traced back to me. And I’d sure as hell make sure the zombie I killed stayed dead.”
“Those are all good points,” Philip said. “But standard procedure is to detain and then investigate.” He jerked his head toward Kyle. “He knows that.”
I clung stubbornly to the fact that he didn’t specifically say he was going to actually follow the standard procedure. “Uh huh, but detention locks down one of our top guys. If it’s a setup it’s a good one, because it really fucks us up and slows us down.” I gestured around the room and at the three restrained men as evidence of that.
“We’ll see what Kyle has to say when he can speak,” Philip said. The front door dinged, and Philip glanced back with a slight frown. “Rachel’s here already?”
I stepped over to the monitor that showed the drab waiting room, then sucked in a sharp breath. “That’s not Rachel!” Four men in black tactical gear poured through the outer door and on into the short hallway to the next secured door. With pistols at their belts and automatic weapons in their hands, they didn’t have “Saberton” stenciled on the back of their shirts, but they might as well have. I recognized the overall look all too well.
Shock coursed through me as one of the men lifted a scrap of paper and began inputting a code on the number pad. “Philip! They’re getting in!”
Already up and moving, he dove to slam a hand on the remote door lock, but the second door clicked open the instant before he could hit it. Easily visible now through the broad window, the four moved on to the next door. I backed away from it even though I knew it was several inches thick. One of the men crouched by the door and dug in a small backpack while another held a cell phone to his ear and kept his eyes on the window. Even though I knew he couldn’t see me, it was still unnerving as all hell. The other two men stood by, their weapons ready. They definitely weren’t stopping by for a beer.
Philip swept a quick look around the room. “Naomi, grab weapons,” he snapped, jerking his head toward the weapons locker. “We’ll set up in the hall so that these guys aren’t sitting ducks.” He flicked a hand at the three secured zombies.
Naomi leaped into action, surprising me a bit that she didn’t argue that Kyle should be released to help fight. Maybe she realized there wasn’t time for that shit.
“They don’t have a code for this door,” I announced. Backpack Guy had pried the front panel off and hooked an electronic thingy to it.
Philip spared a quick look. “They’ll have it open in less than a minute,” he said grimly, quickly donning the ballistic vest Naomi tossed his way and seizing up weapons. I looked back at Naomi, taken slightly aback at the sight of her in ballistic armor and helmet, looking badass as fuck. No doubt at all, she was ready for action.
“Jacques and Reg!” I spun back to Philip. “Saberton must be trying to get them as well, since they already have Dr. Nikas.” Another hideous thought hit me. “And the heads. Shit.”
“Kang,” Naomi breathed. They’d been close friends before he was murdered.
“Run,” Philip ordered. He took my arm and propelled me to the hallway. “Get them and you barricaded up and safe. We’ll handle these guys.”
Naomi slammed and locked the door to the security room behind her. “We got this, chick,” she said when I hesitated. The main door beeped, and she gave me a shove. “Go!”
She and Philip turned to the door, flattened against the wall with Naomi crouched low, and lifted weapons.
They knew what the hell they were doing, so I did what the hell I knew how to do.
I turned and ran.
Shouts and the sound of gunfire followed me as I raced through the central lab rotunda and down the hallway to find Jacques, but all the noise was drowned out by the thoughts screaming through my head. They had the codes. They used the codes to get through the first two doors.
Those codes were barely two hours old, which meant that Brian wasn’t the only insider. Naomi had set the codes. Who else had them besides Philip and me? Probably Raul, Dan, Kyle, maybe Rachel. Kyle. Shit. There were plenty of other possibilities, but I didn’t like his name on the list.
I slammed doors in my wake and locked or jammed each one as best I could in the hopes of buying myself more time. To my relief Jacques was in the first place I looked for him, in the treatment room. “Jacques!” I tried to catch my breath without success. “Bad guys . . . here to get you . . . and Reg . . . and heads . . . I think.”
He turned, and now I saw that he was on the phone. “It’s Angel,” he said, apparently answering a question of who was speaking to him. “She thinks they’re here for the heads or for Reg and me.”
I moved toward him. “Who are you talking to, Jacques?”
He lowered the mouthpiece a couple of inches. “It’s Rachel. She’s on her way here.”
I yanked the phone from his grasp and hung it up. “Someone gave these guys the codes to get in,” I explained as he gaped at me in shock. “That means Brian wasn’t the only insider, and we don’t know who to trust.”
Eyes wide, he visibly swallowed. “Oh, dear.”
“We need to get you and Reg and the heads to a safe place,” I said. “Is there a room y’all could barricade in? Y’know, like a safe or a bomb shelter?” I threw the last two in in an attempt at humor, then blinked in surprise when he actually nodded.