Chapter Thirty
There was enough light coming under the door to the janitor’s room Smoke had been tied up and left in to see all the stuff on the shelves above him.
Stupid, leaving him inside a room with all the ingredients for a homemade bomb and a belly full of anger. He was going to rain stupid all over their lives. Just as soon as he got himself untangled.
That was proving harder than he anticipated. Whoever had hog-tied him had done a good job. Didn’t start questioning him until after he was belly down on the floor of the closet, his arms and legs tied together behind his back.
The guard asked why he’d tied up one of their security guards and taken his ATV. Smoke didn’t answer. Hadn’t said a thing. The asshole patted him on the face. “If this is some kind of prank, you’d be better off talking to us.” Then the guy had sneered. “Because if our boss has to question you personally, you’re going to wish you stayed at home.”
They thought he was a local, and that was fine. The time it would take to call in their boss was time he could use to escape. Everything about this place felt wrong. It was too big, with too many security guards using equipment that cost too much for a legal operation.
A shadow passed the doorway, no sound, just movement. Interesting. So far, none of the people here had demonstrated they knew how to walk softly, so who was this? The shadow came back and the door opened. Smoke only had a moment to see who had cast the shadow before they were inside and it was dark again.
The light switched on.
Nope, his eyes hadn’t tried to play tricks on him. It really was his grandfather.
A whisper of sound, then a knife cut through the rope. Smoke rolled over and sat up. “Kini?”
“With your dad.” The elder Smoke pointed the knife at his grandson’s right calf. “Bleeding.”
“Bastards got lucky,” Smoke told him, then winced. “I think the bullet is still in there.”
His grandfather cut the crude bandage off and examined the leg. “Only an entry wound. Must have been a ricochet or it would have broken bone.”
It bled sluggishly. Smoke frowned at his grandfather. “I’m going to leave a trail.”
“Is that a bad thing?” The old man smiled and held out a hand. “I know where to get clean, proper bandages.”
Smoke took it and stood tentatively, keeping his weight on his good leg.
“Besides,” his grandfather said. “I found you by following the blood trail you left when they brought you here.” He opened the door, looked both ways, then guided Smoke out of the room.
Smoke slung one arm over his grandfather’s shoulders and allowed him to take some of his weight as they moved down the hallway.
A blood drop on the floor caught his attention. A few feet away there was another. Huh, he had left a trail. The one he was leaving now was more than a few drops though.
They turned a couple of corners then walked to a door with a red cross on it.
Smoke flattened himself against the wall to stay out of sight while Grandfather opened the door.
The old man paused, frowned, then waved at Smoke to go in.
The room was empty.
Neither man said anything as they both went in and allowed the door to close. Grandfather engaged the lock.
“They were here?” Smoke asked.
“Yeah, Kini, your dad, and two guards.”
Shit. “They’ve moved them somewhere.”
His grandfather quickly bandaged up the wound then looked his grandson in the eyes.
“This is no government farm, is it?”
“Maybe that’s not all it is, but yeah, something hinky is going on.”
“When will the feds show up?”
“What time is it?”
“About 6:00 a.m.”
“Not for a few more hours.”
“When your dad and I left town to find you, the hospital was finally getting organized, but there was still a steady stream of new cases of pneumonia coming in. So far, all they’re telling us is hantavirus.”
Nothing about this situation made sense. A hantavirus outbreak brings the CDC to the area, and who gets nervous? A drug lord and a medical marijuana farm. Why the fuck would a legal, government-sanctioned operation get its hands dirty with a meth lab?
“How are all these people getting exposed to the virus?” Smoke asked.
“Why does this place care about a CDC nurse enough to hunt her down?” his grandfather asked.
“I don’t think we’re going to like any of the answers,” Smoke muttered. “We have to find Dad and Kini.”
“Got a plan?”
“It’s an awful big building,” Smoke said. “Lots of places to hide a person.” Someone was going to discover he was gone from the janitorial closet soon. An alarm would go out and…a grin spread across his face. Simple was always best, as far as plans went. “What’s the fastest way to clear a building?”
His grandfather grinned. “Pull the fire alarm.”
Smoke extended a hand toward the door. “After you.”
“Can you walk on that leg?”
Smoke tested his weight then took a few trial steps. “Yes. I can walk and fight.”
His grandfather nodded. “I saw an alarm on the wall at the beginning of this hallway. I’ll pull it then come back here. We can see who comes out of the woodwork.”
“Or doesn’t.”
“That, too.”
Grandfather stepped out. A few seconds later the fire alarm began its relentless clang.
It was a few seconds before they heard anyone out in the hallway.
Grandfather opened the door a crack then pulled it open farther. He gestured and said, “Excuse me, can you give me a hand? I found this guy wandering the halls.” A young man in a security uniform entered, his hand on the Taser in his holster.
“What are you—”
Grandfather held a knife to the guy’s neck while he allowed the door to close. He took the Taser and handed it to Smoke.
Smoke gave the guard a thorough once-over then stepped closer. “About the same height,” he said.
“You’ve got a solid forty pounds on him,” Grandfather said.
“I’ll suck in my gut.”
Grandfather shrugged.
Smoke smiled at the guard, looking him in the eyes. “Take your uniform off.”
The man swallowed hard, glanced at the Taser in Smoke’s hand, then began removing his clothing with shaking fingers.
“How long have you worked here?” Smoke asked in a casual tone, as if just occupying time.
“A year.”
“Tell me about the layout of the building,” he asked, trying to keep his expression friendly.
“This section has the administration offices. We have a large climate-controlled greenhouse and a bunch of research labs on the west side of the building.”
Interesting. “Researching what?”
The guard handed Smoke his shirt and shrugged. “I don’t know. I just do my patrol and keep my mouth shut.”
There was something in the guy’s voice that pulled at Smoke’s internal alarm bells. “What happens if you don’t keep your mouth shut?”
“You disappear. Permanently.” He started to push his pants down.
“That doesn’t bother you?” Smoke asked.
“Not really,” the guard said, then snapped his arm up with a small gun in his hand.
Grandfather grabbed the man by the hair and jabbed the point of his knife enough to prick his skin at the base of his head.
The guard froze.
“Gun down or you’re dead.”
Smoke took the weapon from him and set that on the cot, too. Then he got in the guy’s face and said pleasantly, “You thought he was just an old man.” He dropped the happy act totally, letting all the death, all the pain he’d seen and suffered, show on his face.
The guard paled and his breathing shallowed out like a dying fish.
“He’s not, you know,” Smoke continued. “He’s been killing assholes like you for a long time. I don’t recommend giving him any more reasons to shove that knife right through your brain. Got it?”
The guy seemed to have trouble breathing, but managed to croak, “Got it.”
Smoke yanked the guy’s pants off then took off his own and put on the guard’s instead. They were a tight fit, but once he let the belt out a couple of holes they’d do. He inspected the guard’s belt equipment. Taser holster, handcuffs, knife, flashlight, and a baton. The gun had come out of an ankle holster. Smoke took that, too, and put it on.
“There was a woman and a middle-aged man in this room not long ago. Where were they taken?” he asked the now partially clothed man.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” That answer was too pat, too easy.
Smoke sighed. “Your funeral.” He turned and took a step toward the door.
“Wait!” the guard struggled, but Grandfather had a good grip on the asshole’s hair.
Smoke didn’t say anything, didn’t turn around, just waited with a patience he didn’t feel. Kini and his dad were somewhere in this building, and he’d burn the whole place to the ground to find them.
“The shift supervisor said something about one of the labs in the restricted area.”
“Where is it, and how to you get in?”
“Straight down this corridor to the end, turn right until you reach the doors marked restricted. My ID badge will get you in.”
It was still attached to the guy’s shirt. “Anything else I should know?”
The silence behind him was ominous.
Smoke turned his head to stare at the guard. “Is there anything else I should know?” he repeated softly.
The guy shook his head, his eyes bulging out of the sockets. “Don’t kill me…please?”
Behind him, Grandfather rolled his eyes.
Smoke grinned. “We’re not going to kill you.” He paused. “Much.”
Sweat beaded on the guy’s forehead.
“Go,” Grandfather said, twisting his knife. “I’ll stay here with my new friend.”
His new friend had his eyes screwed shut and was shaking in terror.
Smoke left, following the directions to the restricted area. He found the doors right where the guard had said they’d be, and his ID badge did indeed get him inside. Right about the time the fire alarm stopped blaring.
People were in the building. Security and possibly EMS. Given the situation in town, any EMS had to be from somewhere else. Private fire suppression team? That cost a lot of money.
Smoke walked with as little of a limp as possible. No use letting anyone know he was injured unless he had to.
He walked up to the windows as if on patrol and had to make himself keep walking.
On the other side of the glass was a lab, all right, but there weren’t any fucking plants that he could see. There was a man dressed in a hazmat suit looking at something under a microscope. And wasn’t the large upright appliance behind the man full of petri dishes? An incubator.
The guy in the hazmat suit glanced up.
Smoke nodded at him and flashed the okay sign. Yup, all part of the same happy family.
The guy nodded and gave him a thumbs-up.
Smoke nodded again and kept walking.
Holy fuck. Hazmat suits were only needed for some fucking scary biological or chemical shit. The next window held another lab, but the lights were off and no one appeared to be working.
He came to a corner and turned right. Along this corridor were doors, but no windows. He used the ID badge to open the first door. Dark and quiet. He moved on to the next one.
Light spilled out into the hallway, along with an angry demand, “Get out and close the fucking door before I fire your ass.”
Smoke hesitated, like any good security guard. “I was told to check every occupied room,” he said, then angled his thumb over his shoulder. “The alarm.” He opened the door wider and took one step inside. “How many people are here and are they all right?”
The man facing him was dressed in a security uniform, but his was high quality and quazi-military looking. Definitely not off the rack. On his belt was all the same equipment on Smoke’s borrowed belt, plus he wore a Glock in a thigh holster on his right leg.
“I said, get out…” His words trailed off as he stared at Smoke and frowned. “Who—”
Smoke smiled and stepped forward, extending his hand. “Oh, I’m—” He punched the asshole square in the jaw.
The guy flopped onto the floor like he was made of rubber.
“What took you so long?”
Smoke turned to inspect his father. A black eye, bruised face, and split lip, and those were just the injuries he could see. His father was seated on a metal chair, his arms handcuffed to the legs. Anger, hot and bright, tried to flare in his gut, but the icy fear kept the fire banked, because his father was alone.
“Kini?”
“Gone. They dragged her, kicking and screaming, out of here after they beat me up, trying to find out what she knew.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know, but that asshole might.” He thrust his chin at the man on the floor, groaning and slowly coming around.
Smoke removed the gun, Taser, and knife from the security guard’s belt then found his handcuff keys. He freed his father, then the two of them dragged the half-conscious asshole over to the chair and put the handcuffs on him. He partially slid off the chair, only his handcuffs keeping him from ending up on the floor.
Smoke slapped his face a few times and finally, the guy woke up completely. After replanting him on the chair, Smoke got into his face and growled. “Where is she?”
The idiot blinked a few times before panic had him jerking at the handcuffs around his wrists. “Wha…fuck.”
Smoke slapped him again. “Where. Is. She?”
The guard began laughing and kept laughing until Smoke punched him a second time, and kept punching.