“But you did eventually get away,” pointed out Puller.
Rogers nodded. “I planned it for months. They never saw it coming. See, they built me too good. They didn’t figure in cunning and my ability to lie. They gave me that and I used it against them.”
“So they messed with your mind too?” said Knox.
“They messed with everything. You know how strong I am. But that was nothing compared to what they did up here.” He tapped his head.
“How so?”
In answer Rogers picked up a screwdriver from a can on the shelf, placed the tip against the palm of his hand, and pushed it in. Blood spurted out as the tip disappeared into his hand. He gave no reaction.
Puller eyed him. “They took away your ability to feel pain.”
“They took away everything that made me human.”
Puller said slowly, “They made you…the perfect killing machine.”
“Only they forgot that your target might not always be the enemy,” said Knox breathlessly.
“My enemy became whoever was in front of me,” said Rogers dully. “I had no control over it.”
“Josh Quentin works for Atalanta Group. That’s Jericho’s new company. It’s in Building Q.”
“I got in Building Q the other night. Climbed one of the walls up to the top.”
“How the hell did you do that?”
“I’m just strong. And I have artificial skin on my palms and fingers, and on the bottoms of my feet, so I can dig into whatever I’m climbing.”
Knox exclaimed, “Why doesn’t anyone know about any of this?”
“Because four, or rather five, women died,” said Puller. “So they buried it.”
The next instant the jolt of pain hit Rogers so fiercely he bent over and threw up. He staggered back, clawing at his torso.
“Paul, what’s wrong?’ shouted Puller. “Can you cut us loose? We can try to help you.”
Rogers tore at his clothes, ripping them off his body until he stood before them in only his skivvies. Both Puller and Knox stared at the hideous scars up and down his body.
“Omigod,” exclaimed Knox.
Rogers was bent double by the agony. He tore at his head, pulling a hunk of his scalp free. Blood poured down his face.
He looked up at them.
“They did that to you?” asked Puller, eyeing the scars.
Rogers moaned, leapt over them, and threw open the back doors of the van. First he picked up Knox and hurled her through the opening. Then he did the same with Puller. They rolled and tumbled before coming to rest still bound tightly and groaning in pain.
When Puller managed to look back the van had started up. The next instant he heard tires squealing. The van roared off, turned a corner, and was gone.
55
KNOX WAS FALLING through open space, so fast that she knew she would die as soon as she hit something solid. It was not survivable. This was it.
She opened her eyes and saw Puller staring down at her.
“What the hell?” she managed to say in a garbled voice.
He held up his Ka-Bar knife. “Lucky I was able to reach this.”
He helped her up.
“Where are we?” asked Knox.
“Not sure.” He pulled out his phone. “But let’s see.”
“It still works?”
“Waterproof,” he said, hitting some keys.
“Williamsburg is a mile that way,” he said, pointing to his left.
They started walking in that direction.
“Should we call somebody, let them know what happened?” asked Knox groggily.
“Who exactly would that be?”
She looked at him. “I…I guess you’re right.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “Paul was…it was so terrible, Puller.”
“They screwed with his brain so he could kill and not feel bad about it.”
“You mean they made him a monster.”
“But the monster didn’t kill us. He saved us.”
“So he could get information.”
“He got information and he still let us live.”
She nodded slowly. “Does that mean the mind control thing they built into him is wearing off?”
“I think more likely that whoever Paul was before is reasserting itself.”
“So what do we do now?”
“Clearly Jericho tried to kill us tonight. She’s afraid of what we might find out. So I say we keep working to justify that fear.”
“She may not know that we’re alive.”
“That’s right.”
Puller’s phone buzzed. It was a text. From his brother.
In all caps it said, CALL THIS NUMBER NOW. NO MONITOR. BTW RICKY STACK HAD NO CHANCE.
Knox was looking at the screen. “Who is Ricky Stack?”
“The biggest kid in third grade who tried to take my lunch.”
“What happened?”
“He learned the error of his ways. That’s Bobby’s way of confirming that it’s him on the other end of the text.”
He called the number as they walked along. His brother answered on the first ring.
“Are you okay, Junior?” he asked immediately.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because three hours ago an unauthorized use of a DoD satellite was made in Hampton, near Fort Monroe. In fact on the grounds of Fort Monroe. That was too much of a coincidence for me.”
“So that’s how they took over the car.”
“Come again?”
Puller quickly explained what had happened.
“Claire Jericho,” Robert said in a hushed tone.
“You know her?”
“I know of her. She’s at the very highest levels, John. I mean, she meets with the Joint Chiefs. She goes to the Oval Office. I’ve heard her lecture. She’s brilliant. Beyond brilliant. Once-in-a-generation intellect.”
“She’s also a monster, Bobby.”
“How so?”
“Are you sure there’s no one monitoring this?”
“I’ve bounced this signal off so many pieces of sky hardware and encrypted it to such an insane degree that I’m surprised we can even understand each other.”
“Okay.” Puller took five minutes to tell him about Paul. When he was done his brother was silent for so long that Puller was afraid someone had intercepted the call and taken his brother away.
“John, this is not good.”
“Tell me something I don’t know. The thing is the women that were killed? I think they all helped build Paul. And this last victim, Audrey Moore, I’m sure will have the same sort of connection.”
“So he killed them in retaliation?”
“I’m sure he would have loved to kill Jericho, but he probably couldn’t get to her. The five women were the next best thing.”
“Jesus,” said Robert. “Talk about guilt by association.”
“Bobby, if this Jericho is such a rock star, how come Knox and I have never heard of her?”
“She wants it that way. Even when she comes out and speaks it’s only to a select few. No publicity at all. She’s always in the background. She has people run the companies she ostensibly works for.”
“Like Chris Ballard thirty years ago and Josh Quentin with Atalanta Group now?”
“I know about Ballard, and I know a little about Atalanta Group. I don’t know Quentin.”
“Well, Quentin is passing government secrets to a bar owner in Hampton. And she’s passing them on to some French-speaking guy in Williamsburg.”
“What?” exclaimed Robert. “Do you have proof?”
“I have pictures. I can send them to you. Maybe you can run this French guy down. Knox was going to try, but you might have a better shot.”
“What sort of government secrets?”
“I’ll send you the screen shots I took. Knox says it looks like it has to do with cell mutation and organ regeneration.”
“Okay.”
“And the woman’s name is Helen Myers. She owns a bar called the Grunt in Hampton.”
“Send me the stuff and I’ll see what I can find.”
Robert gave him a secure site to send the photos to.
“Okay. But this Paul guy said he didn’t remember seeing Mom?”