“Hi, guys,” Gladys said brightly.
“Hey, girl,” Hadad said. “How’s it going?”
“Fine,” Gladys chirped.
“How about you, Luke?” Joe asked. “Adjusting okay?”
Luke said nothing.
“Silent treatment, huh?” Hadad was grinning. “That’s okay for now. Later, maybe not so much. Here’s the thing, Luke—treat us right and we’ll treat you right.”
“Go along to get along,” Joe added. “Words of wisdom. See you later, Gladys?”
“You bet. You owe me a drink.”
“If you say so.”
The men went on their way. Gladys escorted Luke into the elevator. There were no numbers and no buttons. She said, “B,” then produced a card from her pants pocket and waved it at a sensor. The doors shut. The car descended, but not far.
“B,” crooned a soft female voice from overhead. “This is B.”
Gladys waved her card again. The doors opened on a wide hall lit with translucent ceiling panels. Soft music played, what Luke thought of as supermarket music. A few people were moving about, some pushing trolleys with equipment on them, one carrying a wire basket that might have contained blood samples. The doors were marked with numbers, each prefixed with the letter B.
A big operation, Nicky had said. A compound. That had to be right, because if there was an underground B-Level, it stood to reason there must be a C-Level. Maybe even a D and E. You’d say it almost had to be a government installation, Luke thought, but how could they keep an operation this big a secret? Not only is it illegal and unconstitutional, it involves kidnapping children.
They passed an open door, and inside Luke saw what appeared to be a break room. There were tables and vending machines (no sign reading PLEASE DRINK RESPONSIBLY, though). Three people were sitting at one of the tables, a man and two women. They were dressed in regular clothes, jeans and button-up shirts, and drinking coffee. One of the women, the blondish one, seemed familiar. At first he didn’t know why, then he thought of a voice saying Sure, whatever you want. It was the last thing he remembered before waking up here.
“You,” he said, and pointed at her. “It was you.”
The woman said nothing, and her face said nothing. But she looked at him. She was still looking when Gladys closed the door.
“She was the one,” Luke said. “I know she was.”
“Just a little further,” Gladys said. “It won’t take long, then you can go back to your room. You’d probably like to rest. First days can be exhausting.”
“Did you hear me? She was the one who came into my room. She sprayed something in my face.”
No answer, just the smile again. Luke found it a little creepier each time Gladys flashed it.
They reached a door marked B-31. “Behave and you’ll get five tokens,” she said. She reached into her other pocket and brought out a handful of metal circles that looked like quarters, only with an embossed triangle on either side. “See? Got them right here.”
She knocked a knuckle on the door. The blue-clad man who opened it was TONY. He was tall and blond, handsome except for one slightly squinted eye. Luke thought he looked like a villain in a James Bond movie, maybe the suave ski instructor who turned out to be an assassin.
“Hey, pretty lady.” He kissed Gladys on the cheek. “And you’ve got Luke. Hi, Luke.” He stuck out his hand. Luke, channeling Nicky Wilholm, didn’t shake it. Tony laughed as though this were a particularly good joke. “Come in, come in.”
The invitation was just for him, it seemed. Gladys gave him a little push on the shoulder and closed the door. What Luke saw in the middle of the room was alarming. It looked like a dentist’s chair. Except he’d never seen one that had straps on the arms.
“Sit down, champ,” Tony said. Not sport, Luke thought, but close.
Tony went to a counter, opened a drawer beneath, and rummaged in it. He was whistling. When he turned around, he had something that looked like a small soldering gun in one hand. He seemed surprised to see Luke still standing inside the door. Tony grinned. “Sit down, I said.”
“What are you going to do with that? Tattoo me?” He thought of Jews getting numbers tattooed on their arms when they entered the camps at Auschwitz and Bergen-Belsen. That should have been a totally ridiculous idea, but…
Tony looked surprised, then laughed. “Gosh, no. I’m just going to chip your earlobe. It’s like getting pierced for an earring. No big deal, and all our guests get em.”
“I’m no guest,” Luke said, backing up. “I’m a prisoner. And you’re not putting anything in my ear.”
“I am, though,” Tony said, still grinning. Still looking like the guy who would help little kids on the bunny slopes before trying to kill James Bond with a poison dart. “Look, it’s no more than a pinch. So make it easy on both of us. Sit in the chair, it’ll be over in seven seconds. Gladys will give you a bunch of tokens when you leave. Make it hard and you still get the chip, but no tokens. What do you say?”
“I’m not sitting in that chair.” Luke felt trembly all over, but his voice sounded strong enough.
Tony sighed. He set the chip insertion gadget carefully on the counter, walked to where Luke stood, and put his hands on his hips. Now he looked solemn, almost sorrowful. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
His ears were ringing from the open-handed slap almost before he was aware Tony’s right hand had left his hip. Luke staggered back a step and stared at the big man with wide, stunned eyes. His father had paddled him once (gently) for playing with matches when he was four or five, but he had never been slapped in the face before. His cheek was burning, and he still couldn’t believe it had happened.
“That hurt a lot more than an earlobe pinch,” Tony said. The grin was gone. “Want another? Happy to oblige. You kids who think you own the world. Man oh man.”
For the first time, Luke noticed there was a small blue bruise on Tony’s chin, and a small cut on his left jaw. He thought of the fresh bruise on Nicky Wilholm’s face. He wished he had the guts to do the same, but he didn’t. The truth was, he didn’t know how to fight. If he tried, Tony would probably slap him all over the room.
“You ready to get in the chair?”
Luke got in the chair.
“Are you going to behave, or do I need the straps?”
“I’ll behave.”
He did, and Tony was right. The earlobe pinch wasn’t as bad as the slap, possibly because he was ready for it, possibly because it felt like a medical procedure rather than an assault. When it was done, Tony went to a sterilizer and produced a hypodermic needle. “Round two, champ.”
“What’s in that?” Luke asked.
“None of your beeswax.”
“If it’s going into me, it is my beeswax.”
Tony sighed. “Straps or no straps? Your choice.”
He thought of George saying pick your battles. “No straps.”
“Good lad. Just a little sting and done.”
It was more than a little sting. Not agony, but a pretty big sting, just the same. Luke’s arm went hot all the way down to his wrist, as if he had a fever in that one part of him, then it felt normal again.
Tony put on a Band-Aid Clear Spot, then swiveled the chair so it faced a white wall. “Now close your eyes.”
Luke closed them.
“Do you hear anything?”
“Like what?”
“Stop asking questions and answer mine. Do you hear anything?”
“Be quiet and let me listen.”
Tony was quiet. Luke listened.
“Someone walked by out there in the hall. And someone laughed. I think it was Gladys.”
“Nothing else?”