He grimaced. "I should have picked it up far earlier than I did." Karl's tension should have been warning enough. He'd just been too preoccupied with his own problems to be concerned. He sighed heavily, and rose. "Let's hope the cretin and the car go to wherever they're holding Jan."
Karl clasped his fingers together, cracking them loudly. "And if Jan's not there, it will be my great pleasure to thump the information out of the fellow."
"To think you were a pacifist a mere ten years ago."
"Reality has hit me since then." Karl walked to the bar and pulled a small tracer unit from behind a whiskey bottle. "Used the long-range type. We should be able to pick up a signal from the city."
"Then let's go find some heads to smack."
* * * *
The evening meal came and went. Sam sat on the bunk and watched the shadows creep further and further into the cell. Outside, a storm was brewing. She could smell the hint of rain in the air, could see the occasional flash of light weave its way across the darkening sky. Electricity seemed to buzz through the air, a sense of power that tingled across her skin. She breathed deep. Energy flowed through every pore, every muscle, filling her with that power. It was almost as if she were one with the night — one with the storm.The shadows flowed into the darkness of true night. She rose. The only light she could see in the room beyond was the one coming from the cell that held the two women.
Why were there no guards? It was unlike Jack to be so careless. She glanced at the ceiling, and saw what she'd failed to see earlier. Small monitors that were hidden within the lights themselves.
Jack knew she could get out. Knew she'd talked to the two women earlier. So why hadn't he taken the decoder? Maybe he wanted her to escape. Maybe he'd given her the time and the chance as another test.
Frowning, she stared at the dark light bulb. Why was she seeing the monitor now and not before? Was it somehow linked to the sensation of power that ran through the storm-held night, the power that burned across her skin? Or was it something more, something to do with the extra abilities Jack seemed so certain she had? Was that the real reason he'd given her until morning? Not to let her think, but to see if she could escape and how far she could get?
Even if this were nothing more than a test, she had no choice but to run with it. She had to get the two women out of here. Then she needed to find out just what Jack was really up to.
She slipped the decoder from her boot and pressed it against the lock. The click of it opening seemed as loud as the thunder rumbling overhead. She frowned and slowly opened the door. A slight whine sounded as the monitor tracked across the cell and focused on her.
She swallowed to ease the sudden dryness in her throat. She shouldn't be able to hear something like that. The energy of the storm was somehow heightening her senses. The night was as clear as day, and sound had become something she could almost touch.
Was this one of the abilities Jack had mentioned? Or was the fear laying like a stone in the pit of her stomach lending wings to her imagination?
The light from the cell at the far end of the long room beckoned like a beacon, but if Jack was watching, that was the one place she couldn't go. First, she'd have to take out the monitors, and whoever was watching them.
She turned left and headed for the stairs. The monitor buzzed into the silence, following her movements. She ran up the winding, open staircase and tested the handle on the door at the top. Unlocked. She grimaced. It was a test for sure. Jack wouldn't allow his men to be so careless.
If he wanted her to go this way, it was the one way she couldn't go. Surely there was another way out. She turned and leaned against the banister, studying the room below. Her gaze stopped when she came to a vent close to the floor halfway between her cell and the cell of the two women. From where she stood, there didn't appear to be any screws holding it in place. It was simply sitting there.
It was almost too good to be true. Maybe even a trap. And yet, the vent hadn't been disturbed any time recently. The rust and the dirt that caked the cover would have revealed any sort of recent movement.
Jack knew of her fear of tight spaces. It was the last place he'd expect her to try.
The monitor would have to go. Otherwise, they'd see what she was up to and be down here before she could escape. She pulled off her boot and took careful aim. Luck was with her. The bulb shattered, and the soft whine of the monitor faded. Would the watching guards come down to investigate? Or would they give her time so they could see where she went?
She retrieved her boot and moved back to the door. The two corridors beyond were dark. Monitors buzzed to her left and her right. She stepped out, and then hesitated — more for the watchers than anything else.
After a moment, she headed left. When she was directly under the monitor, she stopped. Gripping the end of her boot tightly, she swung it hard at the light bulb. Glass shattered, spraying across her face and hair. She jerked her head away, closed her eyes, and then shook her head. Glass fell to the floor, as soft as rain. When she opened her eyes again, the monitor lay at an odd angle, one wire torn away from the base.
She repeated the process with the monitor down the other hall, and then she went back to the cellar. With any luck, Jack would think she was destroying the monitors as she went, and he'd hold off any attempt to stop her until it was too late.
She crossed to the vent and squatted down. Air stirred, heavy with the scent of the oncoming storm. She forced her fingers through the wire grate covering the vent and tugged hard. Dirt and rust sprinkled across her fingers. She tugged again and felt the grate give slightly. After several more attempts, it came free. She lay on her stomach and peered inside. The walls were damn thick, if this vent was anything to go by. It was more a small tunnel than an actual vent, and it was at least three feet long. It was also large enough for her to squeeze through, and it led directly outside, not to some sort of duct, as she'd presumed. At the other end, there was a small square of concrete and the bottom of a bluestone wall. Neither gave any indication of what else she might find. She'd have to risk squeezing through.
She pushed forward. The walls closed in instantly, pressing against her shoulders and tearing at her shirt. She shuddered, trying to ignore the image of being trapped like a rat in hole, as she wriggled and forced her body through the vent until she reached the end's opening. She shoved the wire covering off, dragging it back into the hole with her before peering out
Trash bins lined the wall, overflowing with paper and food wrappers. To her right were half a dozen large buildings, some with lights glowing brightly, some dark, and further down the slope were several cars. She knew how to hot-wire a car. Jack had taught her.
To her left was a high wire fence. It was electrified. She could hear the high pitched whine running through the wire, could feel the dance of power — a sensation that was similar yet somehow different from the touch of the storm.
She pushed the rest of the way out and climbed to her feet. Beyond the whine of the fence, beyond the thunder of the approaching storm, someone breathed. A guard was close by. His cologne stung the air, a sharp mix of spices that tickled her nose.
After taking a deep, calming breath, she stepped around the corner. The man was alert, his gun raising so fast it was little more than a blur. But with the night seeming to feed her energy, she was much faster. She clenched her fist and smashed him in the mouth before he could fire the weapon. Like the man in the morgue, he went down like a ton of bricks. She caught him, grunting under the sudden strain of his weight, and slowly lowered him to the ground. She'd hit people before, had hit Jack more than once, and often in anger. Never had she gotten a reaction like this. So what had changed? Had she changed in some way, or was it something to do with the weird sense of power running through the night?
She grabbed the man's gun — a laser, just like the one she'd found under Jack's bed. If she could turn off the power running through the fence, the laser would slice through the wire as easily as a fish through water. The slope beyond was tree lined and rocky, but a pregnant woman desperate to see her husband again would have no trouble climbing it.