Singularity (24 page)

Sullivan ran silently behind the guard, up the narrow road, until the air in his lungs took on an acidic feel.
Everett
halted a few yards before the clearing opened up into
New Haven
’s grounds. The men panted side by side, and it was then that Sullivan smelled something in the air. He stood and drew a breath in through his nose.
Cigarette smoke.

“I have an idea,” Sullivan said, and took off at an angle to the right, pushing his way between the lower undergrowth, into the bulk of the forest.
Everett
followed a few steps behind, the only sign of their progress through the trees the occasional snapping of a wet twig beneath their feet. Sullivan studied the surroundings as they moved. This portion of the forest was mature pines that held branches wider than trucks above their heads. Most of the floor was even and covered with a layer of pine needles. The ground was higher here, and only once, as they skirted the perimeter of the clearing, Sullivan felt his shoe sink into a muddy depression.

A white light began to filter in through the trees separating them from the building beyond and muffled laughter echoed across the yard. Sullivan crouched lower and moved at a slower pace, in a sweeping arc around the voices. Finally, he stopped and waited for
Everett
to kneel next to him. The guard’s face was pale, but the slackness was gone from the muscles in his jaw, and his eyes were squinted and sharp once again.

“What’s the plan?”
Everett
whispered.

“We have to incapacitate the two orderlies that are on break. Can you do it?” Sullivan said, looking directly at the guard next to him.
Everett
met his gaze and nodded once. “Good. We come from behind, choke them out, and bind them somehow.”

Sullivan waited for Everett to argue about assaulting two men he probably knew, if not by name, then by sight, but the guard merely nodded again and stared ahead, his hands clenching and unclenching. Sullivan moved forward, easing around a deadfall and an extremely thick-looking patch of bushes, until he could see the open yard.

The two orderlies from the day before were in their same spots beneath a metal-halide lamp that threw a ring of white light around them on the cement apron. Their shadows were elongated into grotesque forms that stretched almost all the way to the forest edge. Both men had their backs turned to them and were talking animatedly, their arms and hands gesticulating at times.

Sullivan looked at
Everett
, and pointed to his own chest once and then to the orderly on the right.
Everett
nodded. Sullivan counted down in silence, with one hand held up so
Everett
could see the fingers folding in to a fist.
Three, two, one.

Both men stood and slid out of the trees without a sound. Sullivan’s gaze snapped back and forth, from the ground to the orderly’s back, assuring he wouldn’t tread on a stick that would announce their presence in the quiet yard. Sullivan slowed his pace further when he and Everett were within a few strides of the men, and glanced at the guard.
Everett
shot Sullivan a look that assured him he was ready. A picnic table sat just behind the orderlies and Sullivan prepared to move around it. As he sidestepped to the right, Sullivan watched his orderly crush a cigarette beneath a white shoe and then
begin
to turn.

Before the orderly could rotate toward him, Sullivan launched himself up and off the picnic table’s seat. He flew across the distance between the table and the other man and crashed into him. The man uttered a surprised grunt, and then a cry of pain as Sullivan followed him to the ground. The orderly lashed out with a quick jab and caught Sullivan on the jaw, but instead of reeling back, Sullivan pulled him closer. Without thinking, he swung an arm behind the orderly’s head and neck, clasped his other hand in a solid grip, and pushed his own head into the back of the orderly’s outstretched arm. Sullivan turned his body and tightened his grip around the man’s neck, effectively cutting off the orderly’s air with his own arm. The man flailed and bucked his hips, but after a moment his movements became
weaker,
and finally stopped altogether. Sullivan unclasped his hands and let the orderly’s arm fall away from his own neck.

“What the fuck was that?”
Everett
whispered as he stepped up beside Sullivan.

“Head-and-arm
choke
. Don’t you watch UFC?” Sullivan couldn’t help but smile at the gaping look on the guard’s face. “How’d you do?”

“Got lucky, he hit his head on the ground when I tackled him. He’s out cold,”
Everett
said, motioning to the other downed orderly.

“Good, let’s pull them around back. I saw a gas main coming out of the ground,” Sullivan said, stooping to grasp the nearest man under the armpits.

A few minutes later, the two orderlies were handcuffed to each other, their arms laced behind a gas pipe over three inches thick. The rain fell from the slight overhang of the roof and barely missed their unconscious forms as they lay pressed against the building.

“There, they won’t even get wet,” Sullivan said, snapping a keycard off the closest man’s belt.

The steel door unlocked the moment Sullivan passed the key over the reader. He pulled it open a few inches and peered through the crack. A janitor strolled down an otherwise empty hallway, his back hunched as he leaned over a cart loaded with cleaning supplies. As Sullivan watched, he turned a corner at the far end of the hall and disappeared.

Sullivan pulled the door all the way open and stepped inside the building. The coolness of air conditioning hit him full force and sent a shiver through his frame. He rubbed his arms for a moment, trying to dry them and force the chill away, as
Everett
stepped in beside him and pulled the door closed.

“Let’s just act natural. Maybe Andrews hasn’t put out an alert for us yet and we’ll get lucky. Act like you’re supposed to be here,” Sullivan said.

“The shit that’s been going on, I think I am supposed to be here,”
Everett
said as they began to move down the corridor.

A side door marked “Stairs” stopped Sullivan in his tracks, and he yanked on the locked handle before swiping the keycard over the reader beside the door. It unlocked and he and Everett slipped inside. They took the stairs two at a time, until they reached a landing marked with a large
3
beside a door. Sullivan pushed it open an inch and listened before shoving it wide enough to sidle through.

The third floor hallway was empty, but Sullivan spied the black rectangular box of a camera at the far end, its unblinking eye staring straight at them. As they made their way down the corridor, hugging the right wall, Sullivan hoped that whoever was supposed to be watching the cameras was taking a siesta or a nice long piss. They would know soon enough one way or another.

Sullivan paused at a door on the right side, scanning the room beyond through the glass and wire mesh. The living space was simple and windowless. A caged bulb in the ceiling dropped faint light over everything in the room, which wasn’t much. A bed frame was bolted to the floor in one corner and an overstuffed chair sat in the other. Sullivan could see no TV, but could make out a darkened bathroom to the right.

“What do you see?”
Everett
asked.

“Nothing.
I think this is the right room, but maybe the guy’s in the infirmary or—” Sullivan’s words were choked off as a face pressed against the glass on the other side.

“Fuck!” Sullivan cursed, jumping back from the door, his heart leaping toward the top of his throat. The mental patient who’d pinned Sullivan to the wall the day before grinned at both of them and pushed his nose against the glass again, flattening it like a burst tomato.

“This is who you came to see?”
Everett
asked. His voice held a hint of accusation, but Sullivan only nodded as he looked at the doorjamb for a card reader. There was none. Sullivan’s heart sank as he spied two keyed locks that sat flush with the door’s surface.

“Shit, we don’t have the—” Sullivan stopped as
Everett
pulled out a ring with several keys hanging from it.

“Grabbed them as an afterthought from the orderly before we came in,”
Everett
said, stepping up to the door. Sullivan almost hugged the man, and watched as
Everett
tried each key on the ring in succession. None of them fit.

“Each orderly must have keys for a different floor. Shit!” Sullivan said, glancing up and down the hallway, searching for another answer.

The elevator at the end of the hall rumbled and dinged its arrival.

Sullivan stood on the edge of indecision, and then tipped to one side as he began walking at a steady pace toward the double doors beginning to open. He wasn’t surprised in the least to see the orderly that had pulled the mental patient off him step from the car. The man’s eyes were glued to his cell phone and he didn’t look up until Sullivan was a few steps away.

“What the fuck? What are you doing up here?” the orderly said, tucking his phone away.

“Conducting an investigation,” Sullivan said, stepping into the other man’s space. “I need to speak with the patient in that room immediately.”

The orderly frowned. “Jason? Why, what’s going on?”

“I believe he has information concerning my partner’s whereabouts,” Sullivan said in a steady voice. He tightened his hand into a fist, waiting for the man’s mouth to spring wide and erupt with a fray of whipping tentacles.

The orderly merely shifted from foot to foot. “When did you guys come in?”

“About ten minutes ago. We were told someone would be up here waiting to let us in, but we’ve been standing around ever since.” Sullivan hoped the false bravado in his voice was working. He didn’t know what he’d do next if the man called his bluff.

The orderly eyed Sullivan and
Everett
one more time, and then nodded. “Sorry, guys, I was in the
shitter
. Damn cell phone’s still out too.” The orderly walked past them as he dug out a set of keys similar to the ones
Everett
carried. Sullivan hovered just on the edge of the doorway and watched while
Everett
flanked the man.

The locks slid back and the orderly pointed through the porthole.
“Jason, go sit on your bed.
You have some visitors.” Sullivan saw the bald man inside the room move toward the bed and perch upon its edge like an oversized bird, his arms wrapped around his knees.

The orderly stepped into the room and began to turn toward Sullivan. “I’ll have to stay inside while you
gu
—”

Sullivan cut his words off with a left hook that rocked the bigger man’s head ninety degrees. His knees unhinged and Sullivan caught him before his face impacted with the tile floor.

“What are you doing?”
Everett
said as he shut the door behind them. The guard’s eyes were wide and his hands trembled as he nervously ran them up and down the front of his uniform.

“He was going to stand here the whole time. He could’ve locked us in
in
a second if a call came through on his radio,” Sullivan said after laying the orderly on his side.

“That was a sucker punch. Not really fair but necessary. He deserves it, though. That bastard eats my mashed potatoes every time I get them. It’s like clockwork.”

Sullivan and Everett turned their attention to the man on the bed. His eyes were running up and down the prone orderly’s form, and something along the lines of a smile played at the corners of his wet mouth.

Sullivan walked to the edge of the bed and squatted in front of the man, blocking his view of the orderly on the floor. “Your name is Jason, isn’t it?”

The man licked his lips a few times, and then leaned in so close, Sullivan almost retreated, but he managed to hold his ground. “Yes, Jason
Godring
at your service, and I knew you’d be back to see me, or you wouldn’t, which would mean you’d died.”

Sullivan could smell Jason’s stale breath, but it was an afterthought. Something else struck a chord deep within his mind. “Your last name is
Godring
? Are you related to Oliver
Godring
?”

A wide smile spread across Jason’s face. “He was my father.”

Sullivan blinked.
“Your father?
The man who helped
build
Singleton and
New Haven
?”

Jason nodded. “Oh, he built more than that.
So much more than that.”

“What do you mean?” Sullivan asked.
Everett
moved closer, and stood just behind Sullivan, his head turning every so often to glance at the orderly on the floor.

“His work was secrets.
Full of them.
But he told me sometimes when I was little. He told me if I was naughty. He wasn’t supposed to, but he did. He put me here when he
died,
put it in his will so I wouldn’t tell.” Jason’s eyes gained a glassy sheen as he spoke and lost their hold on the room around him.