ANOMALY.MIL (The Conspiracy Series Book One): A Romantic Suspence Novel (24 page)

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Ansel walked to the hospital with his hands handcuffed behind his back, just like every other time he had gone. Only this time, it was Gunner who was leading him there.

"Morning." Gunner lifted his chin toward the two clerks sitting behind the hospital desk. Fortunately for him, the two clerks were women. "Uh." Gunner hemmed and hawed, flashing those baby blues. "This is kind of embarrassing. I'm new to the base and I need to get this guy to X-ray, but… I forgot where it is."

"Oh," the younger woman jumped up, smiling. "No wonder you can't find it. You're in the wrong building. X-ray is next door." She started to come around the desk, saying, "I'd be happy to show you."

Shit.

"Oh, no." Gunner lifted his hand. "I'm sure you ladies have better things to do. I'll find it. So, it’s the building to the right of us?"

"That's right."

"Thanks so much," Gunner grinned. "I'll be sure to look for you the next time I get lost."

He grabbed Ansel's upper arm and guided him down the hospital’s long hallways, but his eyes were firmly fixed on the double doors leading outside. Once they were there, Gunner could take the handcuffs off. And then they would rendezvous with Drew, Win and, hopefully, Catherine.

Fifty more feet. A nurse came around the corner, but she didn't look up from her chart. Thirty. Gunner looked behind them, but no one was following. Twenty. Ten.

Ansel smiled with relief as Gunner pushed open the outer doors, but his smile died when they were confronted by ten armed soldiers. His new body reacted, kicking the nearest guy in the chest and landing safely on his own left shoulder.

"Go," he shouted at his friend. They wouldn't shoot him, but they might shoot Gunner.

Ansel rolled on his back, slipping his legs through his cuffed wrists so his arms were in front of his body. He hit a guy in the face with his bound hands, and he could feel the guy's nose break. He watched as Gunner kicked a guy in the stomach, and Ansel began to panic.

"Go!"

Gunner stood his ground, kicking another guy in the chest. A soldier raised his nine millimeter toward his friend, and Ansel did the only thing that would save his friend's life.

"I surrender." He dropped to his knees, raising his hands above his head. "I surrender."

Shocked, Gunner turned to look at him. And the guy he had kicked in the chest hit Gunner in the head with his sidearm. His friend crumpled, a dead weight as he fell to the ground.

But at least Gunner was alive.

The man in charge looked down at Ansel, ordering, "Take them to the brig."

Them
. His heart sank. Gunner had risked his life for him, and now he was going to prison for the rest of it.

Nine of the ten soldiers escorted them back to the brig, while the tenth went to have his nose set. Work in the hospital came to a stop as groups gathered to watch the two soldiers dragging Gunner down the hall. Ansel followed at gunpoint, and that's when the whispering started like a tidal wave, building in volume and following in their wake.

They took the last turn on their way to the brig, and Ansel just stared at the familiar green door. The first soldier opened it with a clank and then dragged Gunner in, dropping him to the floor. A hard shove in the back propelled Ansel into his familiar cell, but he felt disoriented when he looked at his bed.

"Win?" He shouldn't be here, and his arm was in a fresh cast. "Does Drew have Catherine?"

And then he saw the look on Win's face. "Drew's dead."

They just stared at each other for a long time, before Ansel turned away and punched the metal door until his knuckles bled.

"How?" was all he could manage when he turned back.

"A woman." Win's jaw clenched. "She knew who we were."

Sergeant Munoz.
"Hispanic?"

"Yeah," Win snarled. "The bitch smiled at me.
Smiled.
And then she shot Drew in the back of the head."
Just like his parents.
"I'm telling you, she enjoyed it."

Ansel raised his left arm. "She sure as hell enjoyed shooting me."

"I'm going to kill her," Win announced, and he meant it.

Ansel pointed at Win's cast. "What did she do to you?"

"Put me in an arm bar, until my elbow snapped."

Ansel cringed. "Fuck!" That had to have been excruciating.

"She was stronger than me, Ansel. Faster too." Win got off the bed and walked to the bloody green door, running his functioning hand over the dent Ansel had just made. "What are they doing to you?"

“‘Modifying’ me."

"Good." Win turned around, wiping Ansel's blood on his pant leg.

"How could their modifying me with someone else's DNA possibly be 'good'?"

"Because," Win grinned "you'll be stronger than her."

He hadn't thought of that. He didn't want to think about any of it. "I thought
you
were going to kill her."

"Oh, I am," Win said, "But now I won't feel bad about using you for bait."

Ansel nodded, too emotionally drained to smile.

"I'm sorry." Ansel looked Win in the eye. "I'm sorry you came for me. Sorry that Drew—"

"We knew the risks." And then he said one the thing Ansel needed to hear. "All of us."

Ansel's throat closed so he just nodded, unable to thank him any other way.

"What happened to him?" Win pointed at Gunner.

"Pistol whipped," Ansel explained. "Dumbass had a chance to get away, but he wouldn't leave without me."

"Yeah," Win sighed. "The captain has always been into that ‘band of brothers’ bullshit."

"So, you’re saying you would've left me?" Ansel asked, knowing better.

"In a heartbeat," Win lied.

Gunner groaned and they both looked at the man lying on the cell floor.

"You tell him about Drew," Win said.

Ansel turned his head to look Win in the eye, seeing only pain. "Why me?"

"Because I had to tell you."

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Seneca glanced at her watch for the hundredth time. Nine fifteen.

"Are you expecting someone?" The waitress at the hotel restaurant smiled down at her, and Seneca shook her head.

"No," she said. "It's just me."

"What can I get you to drink?"

"Water is fine."

The waitress left, and Seneca glanced around the room. Pleasant conversations were taking place as happy families ate breakfast together, completely oblivious to the precipice she teetered on.

"Here you go." The waitress was back, setting down her water and spilling a little on the side of the square table.

"Thanks." The woman didn't leave and Seneca looked up, wondering what she wanted, and then it dawned on her. "Do you have an omelet?" Seneca asked, because she hadn't even looked at the menu.

"Sure." The waitress gave her a practiced smile. "You want pancakes with that?"

"Okay." She didn't care.

The waitress left and Seneca realized that this was a mistake. She had spent the last two hours on pins and needles, and she just needed to get out of her room. She checked her phone again, but there were still no messages.

When she gave Gunner those blueprints, he had promised to call when they had Catherine and Ansel safely off the base.

But Gunner hadn't called.

Seneca rubbed her temples, because she was being ridiculous. It was too soon. It had only been a few hours since they breached the base, and she was sure Gunner had more pressing matters to deal with than calling her.

Like what?

Her mind was running amuck, and she was happy when the waitress brought her an enormous breakfast to focus on. Seneca cut the omelet, then cracked a little bit of pepper over the large plate. She took a bite and was surprised by how good it was. She added hot sauce, but she didn't really taste it.

Seneca lifted the fork to her mouth as she watched the morning news. The Middle East, a local bus fare increase, and a long list of basketball scores. Not a single word about the battle taking place just eighty miles away, the outcome of which would change her life forever.

"Does it taste alright?" The waitress was back.

"I'm sorry?" Seneca was confused.

"You haven't eaten very much." The smell of coffee drifted up to her as the woman freshened her cup with the pot in her right hand. "So, I was wondering if it tasted—"

"It's fine." Because it didn't matter.

"You want anything else?"

Seneca did think of something she wanted. "Do you have any red wine?" she asked.

Anything to calm her nerves.

"Uh, ma'am, it's nine o'clock in the morning." The waitress looked concerned.

"I know, but I just flew from Asia so I didn’t sleep well," Seneca lied. "And with the time zone difference, this is actually my dinner."

"Oh. Okay." The woman nodded, put a little more at ease. "Let me just ask my manager if we can serve you this early. Red you said?"

"Yes, thanks."

The woman came back a few minutes later, smiling. "He said we can't serve you here, but we could send a bottle of wine to your room." She leaned forward, whispering, "It’s a liability issue."

"No problem." Seneca did not care where she drank. "Just put a bottle on my bill and send it up, and thank the manager for me."

Honestly, she could kiss the man.

Seneca ate a little more, but mostly she stared at the TV while she waited to sign the check. It was ten o'clock by the time she opened the door to her room. As soon as the door slammed shut, she collapsed against it.

Gunner should have called by now.
Their whole plan was based upon speed. For the team to get in and get out, before anyone realized that they were there.

So, if Gunner hadn't called…

The bottle of wine was already there, and she tore her room apart looking for the bottle opener. Seneca grabbed the first glass she could find, a fat little thing she could barely get her hand around, but she filled it to the rim.

Seneca took a large swig then walked to her bed and turned on the news. Tears welled in her eyes, and she drank some more. Three glasses of wine. She was cold, so she got under the covers, making sure that her cell phone never left her.

She must have fallen asleep, because her phone woke her up. It rang again and she opened her eyes, surprised to find herself in a huge bed, then she remembered she was in a hotel. The phone rang again and she searched for it beneath layers of bedding.

"Gunner?" she said, sitting up.
What time was it?
She looked at the clock.
Shit!
It was almost four in the afternoon.

"No, it's not Gunner." Her shoulders fell and she closed her eyes. "It's Ben."

"Hi." Seneca wiped her nose, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine," he said and she sighed, relieved. "I just…I needed to talk to you about that second number you gave me."

He was going to stop tracking the phone, and she totally understood. She should never have asked him to do it. But she had been so panicked, she didn't know what else to do.

"It’s okay, Ben. I understand if you can't keep tracking the phone. I just—"

"I found something. Well," Ben corrected himself. "I recorded something that I…you need to hear, because it's…fucking terrifying."

She was getting scared. "What's on the recording?"

"I think…" Ben sighed, and she knew he was carefully calculating his words. "I think it would be better if you listened to it yourself. I'm sending it to you now. And Seneca," he said, and that is when she heard it. His fear. "Please, be careful."

"I will." Seneca started to hang up, but she needed to say, "Ben, thank you for everything." In case something did happen to her.

Her computer was on her desk and she walked over to it, not sure what to do. If she accessed her email, the general would know where she was. But would he even care? He already had what he wanted. Catherine and Ansel. Why would the general still be looking for her?

He wouldn't.
Probably
.

Her decision made, Seneca sat down and opened her email. The attachment from Ben stared at her and she plugged in her headphones, turning up the volume so she wouldn't miss anything.

The recording started out black, and then she heard a cough. Ben must have activated the microphone and camera, prior to the phone call. She stared at the black screen, concentrating on the sound. Two sharp knocks.
On a door?
She assumed, and then a squeak as it opened.

"Hello, Heidi," a man said.

It was General Hawkins talking to a little girl.
Oh, god, had he taken another child?
A girl this time. He asked if she needed anything, and then his phone rang.

"I need to take this," the general said to the girl. Seneca's computer screen came to life with flashing colors as he pulled his phone out of what must have been his pocket. "General Hawkins."

The phone lens was recording the video at an angle so Seneca cocked her head to one side. She could see a wall covered in wood. Old panels, like from the 50's.

"General." The sadistic woman from the safe house said, "They're here."
Gunner made it
. She smiled until the woman spoke again. "I killed Sergeant Stockton."

Seneca let out a cry and then covered her mouth, horrified as she continued to listen. Sergeant Caffrey had been captured. Gunner was about to be captured, or killed.

Drew.
Oh my God, they killed him.

She
killed him. That woman.
‘Sergeant Munoz’
, the general had called her.

That bitch
.

The general switched hands, and a little girl came into view. She was brunette, and had squished herself in the corner on her bed.

The general was whispering about the murder so the child did not hear. And then he hung up, before walking over to talk to the girl about getting a puppy.
A puppy
! He lectured the child about the responsibilities of pet ownership, and Ms. Johnson had happily agreed. The recording ended there.

Seneca stared at her computer, shocked. She slumped in her chair, trying to take it all in. But she couldn't. She didn't have time to feel or grieve for Drew. She had to get them out.

All of them.

The question was how? How could she use this recording against the general?

If she called the news outlets, the United States Army would confiscate the recording as a matter of national security. And even with the general admitting to knowing about the death of Sergeant Stockton, he would simply say that the man was 'killed' while attempting to attack the army base.

Which was technically true.

As for Ansel, the general could come up with all sorts of reasons why a man under his command had been sent to the brig. And after this 'attack' on the base, Staff Sergeant Caffrey and Captain Holstad would rot in Leavenworth for years.

"Damn it." Seneca ripped her headphones off, throwing them to the floor.

The police
. Maybe if they all went to the police? Dave, Joe, Gwen and herself. Surely, they could make a compelling argument to the authorities. Dave, whose wife could have left him. Joe and Gwen, who could have a conspiracy theory about the United States government. And Seneca, who was not related in any way to anyone involved.

Seneca got up, and grabbed the list of names Joe had given her of people with the anomaly. Something was tickling the back of her mind, and she tried to remember. She grabbed her stack of notes, flipping through the scribbled pages, but she didn't find anything.

And then it hit her and she stilled, rage turning her dangerous.

"I got you," Seneca whispered, staring at the picture in her hand. "You bastard. I got you."