Scott groaned as he began sorting through potential games on the small computer. “All you’ve got is spider solitaire? Ugh.”
“There’s backgammon in there too.”
Scott rolled his eyes. “Those are all really old games, like before computers were even invented! Can I just go out onto the beach at least?”
Cathy shook her head. “Just be patient. I’m sure the power will turn itself back on any time now.”
“Aw, man.”
Nick continued to stare at some of the people now wandering the dimly lit beach outside. A small crowd continued to mill about at the pavilion and he could just make out the general manager talking to someone. I could go over there and make a scene, but what good would it do? Rakesh Budrani is a nice guy and means well, but he has no authority over what goes on at the private side of this damned island.
Cathy looked up at him. She could always tell when he was in one of his brooding moods. “Nick, you okay?”
Nick didn’t reply. We can’t trust anyone on this island. There’s no one I can turn to in order to find the truth of what’s really going on. Nobody except…
“Nick?” Cathy asked again.
Her husband quickly made his way to the tiny foyer and began putting his shoes on. “You stay here with Scotty. I’ve got an idea.”
“What,” Cathy said as she began to get up. “Wait a minute, what are you planning to—”
Nick didn’t hear her as he had already scrambled out through the front door.
38
QUENTIN EVERETT HAD been lying on the tousled bed of his hotel room, using the remote control to switch channels on the flat-screen TV embedded in the wall when the power suddenly went out. Cursing with frustration, he sat up and threw the device across the room as the emergency lights came on. The remote control bounced along the carpeted floor before settling in a small darkened alcove beside the folding table stacked with used dishes sent up by room service.
Sauntering over to the bathroom to relieve himself, he then put on one of the complimentary bathrobes they had given him and wrapped it around his wrinkled undershirt and boxer shorts before heading towards the door. At least the damned plumbing still works.
Turning the door handle and peeking out, his hopes were quickly dashed when he saw one of the uniformed security guards continuing to stand in the now dimly lit corridor beyond.
The guard had noticed him opening the door, and now turned and pointed a finger at the tabloid reporter. “You need to go back into your room, sir.”
Quentin smiled disarmingly as he ran a hand over his uncombed hair. “I was just wondering what’s going on.”
The guard blinked twice and hesitated, indicating he had not been told either, before giving out a canned answer. “It’s… uh, just a temporary power fluctuation which will be resolved in a few minutes. Now please, go back inside and close your door.”
He shrugged while looking back at the dirty dishes lying around the various tables inside before winking at the other man. “It’s kind of getting stale in there, you know, and with the aircon out, the smell’s only going to get worse. Can I just hang out here with you for a bit?”
The guard gave him a neutral look while shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Mr. Everett, but my orders were to make sure you stay inside your room.”
Quentin gestured at the pair of chairs along the corridor. “I understand, but can’t I just hang out here with you until the lights come back on? I’m sure your orders didn’t anticipate this event, right?”
“I’m afraid not, sir. Mr. Erskine told me specifically that you are not allowed to hang out here in the corridor. The other guests might see you.”
He patted the sides of his bathrobe while chuckling. “What? In this? I can change into a suit if you’d prefer that.”
“No, sir, that’s still unacceptable, now you need to—”
The guard was interrupted when the walkie-talkie on his belt started squawking loudly. The voice coming from the device clearly belonged to the resort’s chief of security, Taylor Erskine. “Attention. Everyone on full alert and check in with your team leaders. I need the special unit deployed at the checkpoint, right now!”
Quentin’s eyes opened wide as the guard fumbled with the walkie-talkie’s volume control in order to lower it. “What was that about? What did he mean, all teams on full alert?”
The guard gave a nervous shake of his head. “You… you really need to go back into your room and lock the door. For your own safety.”
“For my safety? What does that even mean? You’ve got to tell me.”
The guard grimaced when he realized he shouldn’t have used those specific words. “You’ll just have to trust me that it’s for your own good. I don’t want to have to put my foot down, but you need to get back inside your room. Now.”
A trace of defiance began to bubble inside Quentin’s mind. The power blackout and now this? Lady Frankenstein must be up to her old tricks again. “I know my rights, and I demand an explanation. You owe me one, at least.”
NICK DIRKSE RAN DOWN the corridor and was about to make a turn back towards the stairwell when he saw the two men standing by the door to Quentin’s room. He had spent the last several minutes arguing with a nervous receptionist at the front desk several floors below, and she’d reluctantly given him the tabloid reporter’s room number after he threatened to report her to the American authorities.
Quentin saw him as well and waved. “Nick, how are you, mate?”
Nick sprinted over to them. “David, my daughter is missing.”
Quentin raised an eyebrow. “My real name is Quentin Everett. Sorry for deceiving you but I was undercover, mate. Did you say your daughter is missing?”
Nick gave a quick nod. “I think she may have wandered with one of the resort employees into the island’s private area. They won’t let me near it.”
“Bloody hell.”
The guard quickly interposed himself in between the two men. “Hold on here. This man is under house arrest,” he said, pointing towards Quentin. “You are not allowed to speak to him, sir.”
“This is an emergency,” Nick said. “He’s the only one who knows what’s on the other side of the island.”
“There’s a bunch of disgraced scientists holed up in the Morgenstern estate,” Quentin said. “And they’re engaging in some sort of unregulated genetic engineering over there.”
“Alright, I’ve had enough of this,” the guard said as he gestured at both of them to back away from each other. “Mr. Everett, I’m not going to tell you ag—”
The walkie-talkie on his belt began squawking once more. The voice at the other end was young, and full of panic. “This is Barnett! I-I’m near the checkpoint, and they’re all dead! There’s something out here!”
Nick’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my god.”
All three men turned when they heard a scream coming from the stairwell. The guard seemed frozen in place, his training having never prepared him for such an event.
Quentin sensed his chance and seized it, reaching out and tearing away the stun gun from the security guard’s belt. The other man turned and tried to draw his pistol, but Quentin had already thrust the weapon’s prongs against the security guard’s groin and pressed the button.
The powerful electric current instantly shot up the security guard’s body, disrupting the message his brain was sending and causing jolts of intense, burning pain. The man made a slight groan as he fell to the floor, his entire body jerking in spasms.
Wasting no time, Quentin turned the half-conscious man over and took the guard’s handcuffs. Pulling the stunned guard’s arms behind his back, Quentin placed the restraints on him and began to drag the man into his room.