"They seem determined to find all of the islanders," Gant said, "but I do not believe they are a rescue party."
"Are you always a pessimist about everything?"
As if in answer to her question, a flash of golden yellow burst from the forest as flames consumed the clinic. A sharp crackle and pop gave sound to the inferno and a moment later the stench of burning plastic reached his nose. The flames caused a flickering through the trees that created a sort of strobe-light effect. Thom found it rather hypnotizing.
"Why are they burning it down? I don't understand."
"It seems to me they are eliminating evidence. But then again, I am a pessimist. You tell me — what type of glass-half-full scenario do you see here?"
Thanks to the new source of light he clearly saw her scowl. That same source of light also illuminated a roadside sign pointing toward the "Health Club."
"Meeting up with Wells is going to be difficult; our friends in the fancy suits are between us and him. That leaves us no choice but to keep moving."
"I'm dog tired. Why am I so tired?" She asked herself more than him. "I ran cross country in school. I was pretty good. I could run all day. But I'm about to fall over. Must be the heat sapping my energy. Any chance for a rest?"
"It is more than the heat," he told her. "It's the adrenaline. On the one hand, it can provide a boost of energy when you need it. But in a situation such as this, it will wear you out fast."
Even in the dark he could see her eyes sag. Maybe she doubted herself. Maybe she really was exhausted — certainly he felt a pang of fatigue.
"I'll tell you what," he said. "Let's see if the health club is free and clear. We can take a break in there for a few minutes."
She joked, "And maybe a game of racquetball?"
"Racquetball? Handball is the way to go. Who needs a sissy-stick racquet?"
Then he did something he rarely did: Major Gant flashed a smile. A real one. Not sardonic, not sarcastic, but sincere. And it worked; she relaxed. Of course, that had been his intent.
All from his officer's training. Just another part of the programming.
Of course, given the growing ache in his left knee, he doubted he would be playing handball or any other sport anytime soon. The doctors had said the gunshot wound he had suffered at Red Rock did not cause permanent damage, but it would take months before he fully healed.
Truth was, his damaged joint could use the rest perhaps even more than his civilian comrade could.
They worked their way along the road until they reached a clearing. A pair of Jeeps sat in a gravel parking lot, and swarms of bugs mobbed lights beaming down on empty tennis courts. Aside the courts sat a rectangular building made of stucco and wood trim styled to resemble a fancy log home.
As he scanned the area Major Gant also took note of the open doors on one car, a dropped purse, and a solitary, discarded sandal near the main entrance. It all added up to a feeling of dread in his gut.
Nonetheless, he led her toward the building after cautioning, "Keep an eye out. There was a problem here, too."
Seconds later they entered the health club through an unlocked door. Neither pointed out the bloody handprint on the glass, but it was hard to miss.
A big reception counter made out of oak dominated the lobby. Gant could nearly see the ghosts of the island's upper-end clientele crisscrossing the long hall on their way to tennis matches, aerobics classes, and massage therapy appointments.
"Well, there are a few courts open today if you want to get in a game," Dr. Stacy joked, using a small flashlight to read from a reservation book on the countertop. "But there are three places they just list here as 'playrooms,' and they were all booked for last night. Wait, though, looks like the harness — whatever that is — in room 2 is broken and a certain Mrs. Van Patton left her padded handcuffs in room 4. Wait, what?"
She glanced over at Thom with a sincerely innocent expression.
Before he answered, his mind revisited those ghosts crisscrossing the lobby. Instead of rich old couples he now saw men and women of power escorted by playmates half their age, no doubt a fair number of whom were paid by the hour.
He told her, "It sounds like the Tioga Island version of a health club included a swingers' wing with S&M rooms."
"You have to be kidding me."
His expression did not change.
"You're not kidding, are you?"
"Let's just say, Dr. Stacy, that we will not do a whole lot of exploring here. Besides, I would guess that the arsonists are going to make their way to this building in the near future. So take a quick rest but be ready to move in a minute."
Stacy shrugged and pulled a bottle of water from a small refrigerated display case and enjoyed a long drink. It tasted much better than the water from the emergency packets in their kits.
Thom approached the counter and looked it over for any information that might be of use. He did not regard the reservation book for racquetball courts or sex rooms as an important clue.
Truth was, he did not care what the wealthy or famous did with their money or time, but the more he saw of this island, the sicker he felt. Tioga existed as a secret getaway catering to impropriety. Yes, it had all the fancy trimmings of an island resort, but that was not its appeal. It provided a place for the powerful to lead a dual life; to indulge in behavior they dared not allow the public, the stockholders, or the voters to see.
Indeed, the creators of this place had taken the extra step to build their hideaway outside the jurisdiction of any power, a decision that had apparently come back to haunt them. If not for Senator Kendall, the incident here might have gone undetected and certainly unchallenged. No doubt the hazmat-wearing intruders had selected this place for that very reason; it was a place so secret and embarrassing that its destruction might never have come to light.
While not a religious man, Thom Gant had heard enough biblical tales that he saw a certain amount of the Sodom and Gomorra story right here on Tioga, although it might have been the hand of irony more than the hand of God that bore responsibility for this destruction.
A few lights glowed from side rooms, but otherwise the place was fairly dark. Thom did not want to flip any switches, for fear that additional lighting would draw the invaders' attention. Therefore he switched on the tactical light mounted to the picatinny rail of his M4. The beam illuminated leather furniture in a waiting area and doors — one after another — running along both walls of the main hall. He saw signs for locker rooms, the dance studio, an exercise area, and a placard outside a stairwell leading up to an area that was "Private — Reservations Only."
Something else caught his eye: a trail of debris leading back through the building along one wall.
Again, his instincts painted a broader picture based on the snippets he saw. That broader picture showed a person pursued through the health club by one or more of the changed islanders. Gant first saw a discarded gym bag followed by an overturned chair that no doubt had been tossed down to slow that pursuit. He saw a smashed pot that had held a plant, most likely thrown in defense.
"Dr. Stacy, stay here. I want to check something out."
She finished another gulp from the bottle of water, fell in line behind him, and said, "Not a chance. I'm going with you."
Major Gant followed the signs of struggle and came to a short hall breaking off to the right and leading to a closed door labeled MANAGER. His light fell on a mess piled just outside that door. It took a moment for him to realize that that mess had once been a person, but its head had been badly beaten in, apparently by a bent and now-broken tennis racquet that lay on the carpeted floor next to the body.