Bodyguard Lockdown - By Donna Young Page 0,18
and dealt with many personalities. Most, he coped with. But intuition and experience had taught him to quickly identify weaknesses in character. And Lewis Pitman’s backbone would break like a toothpick.
“I don’t trust him,” Jim commented in a low tone. “He’ll cut and run at the first sign of trouble.”
The general clapped him on the shoulder. “He’s already cut and run. Right after I was imprisoned. Remember? A coward doesn’t change. He just moves on.”
“Why ask Lewis Pitman back on this project?”
“Don’t worry,” Trygg reassured him. “I don’t trust the man, but I trust the fact that a coward stays a coward.”
Jim nodded. “Know your enemies. Keep them close.”
Trygg watched Pitman climb into the airplane. “He’ll make an excellent experimental rat.”
“Understood.” Jim had no sympathy for the man. Over the course of the years, he had eradicated many of the same.
“Now—” Trygg’s lips moved into a genuine smile “—I smelled coffee earlier coming from the mess tent. Why don’t I buy you a cup and you can give me a situation report?”
“I have to skip the coffee, sir. We’re missing two more men,” Jim answered, and walked with the general to the tent across their base. “The messengers I sent to get word out on our rewards for Doctor Haddad and McKnight.”
“Where is the good doctor?”
“East of us. Somewhere past Omasto.”
Trygg frowned. “That doesn’t bode well. Tourlay lies farther north. I know those cylinders are there. Or nearby. Otherwise she wouldn’t have booked her flight there.”
“Yes, sir,” the colonel responded. “I’m sending some men out in the helicopter.”
“I’ll show Lewis the laboratory. I want you to monitor your men and then report back when you get done,” Trygg ordered. “We need those cylinders in the next twelve hours.”
“And McKnight? If we take her, should we keep him alive for insurance?”
“No. Keeping McKnight alive is too much of a risk. If it comes to that, it’s best to kill him on sight. We simply find more painful ways of getting Haddad to break.”
Jim’s stomach tightened. Torturing a woman wasn’t in his nature. And it was highly likely, given Sandra Haddad’s personality, she’d die before revealing the location of the cylinders.
Rayo pushed the image of that out of his mind to focus on a question that had been nagging at him for the past few weeks.
“Can I ask where you’ve gotten this intel from, sir?”
“A close friend.”
“In Washington?” Jim pressed.
Trygg laughed, then slapped Jim on the shoulder. But the fingers stayed, dug in just enough to pinch the nerve. “I could tell you, but then I’d have to kill you.”
* * *
“ALL RIGHT, DOC,” Booker demanded. “Tell me exactly where those cylinders are hidden.”
The sun had set an hour earlier. They’d been driving for nearly two hours in unsettled silence. The soft green glow of the dashboard edged the darkness, filling the car with an eerie expectancy.
“They’re in a cave. The landscape might have changed some of my landmarks. It might take a while to find them again,” Sandra explained. “That’s why it’s essential I go with you.”
She dropped her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. “I almost had it, Booker.”
“Had what?”
She opened her eyes. “The answer.” She held up her hand, brought her finger and thumb within a centimeter of each other. “I was this close to figuring out the problem with my formula. I couldn’t walk away from years of research and experiments. This wasn’t about ego or Trygg’s Super Soldier dream. This was about making sick people well.”
She dropped her hand into her lap, tightened the fingers into a fist. “When they confiscated my files, something snapped in me. Something ugly.”
“And you took the cylinders.”
“When I came to my senses, it was too late to return them, and I couldn’t destroy them myself. So I buried them in a cave.”
“It never occurred to you that Trygg discovered your secret?”
She shook her head. “I took them the same day Cain arrested him,” she explained. “There was only one person who could have known. And I thought he was long gone.”
“Lewis Pitman.”
“Yes. He worked closely with me on the experiments.” She stiffened in surprise. “How did you know about Pitman?”
“Let’s just say I’ve had a long time to do my research on the CIRCADIAN project.”
“Including some hands-on research with me,” she reasoned, struggling to keep the sudden surge of humiliation and anger in check.
“What are you talking about, Doc?”
“Our last night together, when I confessed my involvement with the deaths of your men, you already knew about it.”
“I’d