Sins of the Flesh (30 page)

N
othing happened. At least not right away.

Caterina watched as Mick opened the bag and then seemed to crumple before her eyes. His shoulders sagged and his head dropped down. He turned and slowly walked back up the path, the bag in his hands. When he entered, he shut the door and reset the alarm calmly, but tension vibrated throughout his body.

“Mick, what happened?” she asked and laid a hand on his arm.

He reached into what appeared to be a plain brown paper bag and extracted a set of keys, a cell phone, and a note.

She didn’t need to guess whose keys, and the cell phone looked familiar. The message on the note was simple but dangerous:
Wait for my call
.

“Liliana—” she began, but Mick went into action, bolting up the stairs to his office.

By the time Caterina caught up to him, he had rewound the video before the moment when the bag had flown out of the SUV. He finally stopped the rewind and played the video.

At first there was nothing, but then the SUV came into view.
It slowed before the house and the passenger side window lowered, allowing them a glimpse of Mad Dog.

Mick gazed up at her, anguish on every line of his face. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him close. Cradled his head against her and laid her head against his.

“We’ll handle this. We’ll figure out what to do,” she said, echoing his earlier words and taking solace in his reply.

“We will.”

Liliana woke to incomplete darkness and the odors of wet dirt and mildew.

Forcing herself to concentrate only intensified the steady throb in the middle of her skull, but she fought it back. Slowly the shadows took shape. Walls made of either stone or cement were wet with seeping water that puddled here and there on cracked floors littered with sand and debris. Somewhere ahead of her there appeared to be a tunnel of some kind that leaked in indistinct light, allowing her the limited glimpses of where she was being held.

From the tunnel also came the susurrus of distant waves and the occasional raucous cry of a seagull.

She was somewhere near the ocean.

But where?

She racked her brain for an idea of where there might be tunnels or sufficient mounds of earth to create a holding pen such as the one she was in.

The Highlands? Cheesequake? Sandy Hook? she wondered. A figure emerged from the shadows, his silhouette limned by the light from the tunnel.

“About time you woke up,” he said with some irritation and approached her.

She guessed him to be a couple of inches over six feet, as tall as Mick, but not as lean. Mid-thirties with a face which bore signs of a hard life. A noticeable scar at the edge of his lip and another that cut across one brow. A number of bruises, as well as a relatively fresh scrape, across one cheek.

“Mick kicked your ass good, didn’t he?” Liliana said.

He slapped her hard across the face, rocking her head to rebound against the high back of the chair on which she sat. Warmth trickled down the side of her mouth and the coppery taste of blood filled her mouth, but she couldn’t do much about wiping it away. Her hands were duct-taped to the arms of the chair. She tried to move her legs, but it was impossible. The pressure at her ankles confirmed he had bound her there as well.

“Mouthy for someone in your position,” he said, and she detected a nasally tone in his speech. A New Englander, she guessed, not that such information was useful. So she asked him, “And what position would that be?”

“Soon to be dead meat, but not before we have some fun.”

He crouched before her and the minimal light in the room glinted off something very shiny and very sharp.

She controlled the urge to flinch as he brought a long, thin knife close to her chest. He eased it beneath the edges of her shirtfront and with a quick flick of his wrist, cut off a button.

She stared straight ahead, refusing to acknowledge his actions, but it was impossible not to feel the release
of the fabric as each button came loose and her shirtfront parted.

The damp air chilled her skin as he pulled apart the edges of her shirt. The knife blade was even colder as he slid it beneath the straps of her bra and sliced through them.

“Beautiful,” he said as he dragged down the bra to expose her breasts.

She focused her gaze on the wall in front of her, but couldn’t control the shudder that racked her body as the chill in the air and coolness of the knife’s metal registered.

“Cold?” he asked and shifted the knife across her skin, but made no other motion to touch her.

“You’re a sick bastard,” she said through gritted teeth.

He leaned close to her, a twisted smile on his face.

“Sweetheart, we haven’t even gotten started.”

Mick knew Mad Dog well enough to know he would run to ground somewhere nearby, unwilling to risk having Liliana out in public for too long. Which meant there were only a few places he might have found to hide out. Somewhere back near Wardwell in the Pine Barrens. Maybe even where Edwards and his partner had taken the remaining gene therapy patients.

There were some other hiding areas by the Twin Lights in the Highlands, but more possible locations in Fort Hancock. Even with the many battery areas which had been opened for public tours, there remained a large number of tunnels and ammo storage areas in which to hide. Unfortunately, they were the more dilapidated areas and risky to navigate due to their deteriorating conditions.

But that was where he might go if he had to hide someone for any length of time.

Liliana’s cell phone sat on the desk before him. Silent.

Mad Dog was nothing if not predictable. He’d call and offer Liliana in exchange for Caterina. Make him bring Caterina to him and then try to take them all out so he could walk away without leaving behind any witnesses. Collect whatever bounty Edwards and his partners had placed on Caterina’s head.

Too bad he intended to mess up Mad Dog’s plans.

He picked up his cell phone and dialed Edwards. Annoyance filled the other man’s voice as he answered.

“What now, Mr. Carrera? I already gave you—”

“Mad Dog grabbed my sister.”

An exasperated sigh sounded across the line. “As I told you before, I have nothing to do with this Mad Dog fellow.”

Mick didn’t believe that for a moment. “You better pray I find my sister safe and sound, Dr. Edwards.”

He didn’t wait for Edwards’s reply.

When he looked up, Caterina was at the door, worry etched onto her features. “Have you heard anything?”

He shook his head, concern gnawing at him. Mad Dog treated his captives like a cat with a mouse. He liked to play with them first. His gut tightened at the thought of what Mad Dog might be doing with his sister, driving him to his feet.

“I need to find them. I can’t just sit here and do nothing.”

“Mad Dog said to wait for his call. I’m sure—”

“He’s probably hurting her. That’s his M.O.,” Mick said, driving an agitated hand through his hair as he paced before her.

Caterina walked to his side and laid a hand on his arm. “He’s got the advantage right now.”

“I think I know where he is,” he said.

“And what will you do? Go off half-cocked? Even if you’re willing to risk your life, what about Liliana? What if Mad Dog has involved anyone else?”

Mick thought about what Mad Dog might be doing to Liliana, but then forced aside such thoughts. He had to keep emotion out of it to stay logical and in control.

“You’re right, Cat. Mad Dog will call when he has everything just like he wants it.”

Caterina embraced him. “I’m sorry. I know this is all my fault.”

He shifted away from her and took hold of her arms, his touch gentle as he attempted to reassure her. “This is not your fault at all.”

She tapped the center of her chest with her fingers. “He wants
me
. Just
me
. I’m willing to go to save Liliana.”

He wagged his head in chastisement. “Do you really think Mad Dog or his bosses are content to let any of us live?”

With a sad shake of her head, she said, “No. There’s too much money involved to allow that.”

He dug his hand into her hair and cradled the back of her head. “Trust me. I suspect where he might have taken her.”

“Where?” she asked, but Mick shook his head.

“Fort Hancock probably. Right now we sit tight until we hear from Mad Dog. If I’m right, we’ll wait until it’s dark to go to him. I need cover to approach and have any hope of saving Liliana. Then I’ll head there.”

“We’ll go together,” she insisted.

“No,” he replied curtly. “The tunnels are risky even during the day. At dark they’re treacherous and I need to have the benefit of surprise on my side.”

Liliana’s cell phone chimed, the ring tone overly loud and excessively cheerful.

As Mick answered, he hit the speakerphone button so Caterina could also hear what Mad Dog had to say.

“You there, Carrera?” Mad Dog asked.

Mick kept his tone neutral as he asked, “Where is she, Mad Dog?”

“I’ve got someone who wants to say hello,” the other man said, but silence followed for long seconds before the muffled noise of what sounded like a slap pierced the quiet.

Mad Dog warned, “Speak up, bitch,” before the sound of another louder slap filled the line.

Mick clenched his fists and Caterina covered his hand with hers, offering support while they waited.

Finally Liliana weakly said, “I’m okay, Mick.”

Mad Dog’s harsh chuckle followed. “Bitch is stubborn. She’s just making it harder for herself.”

“You’re a dead man, Mad Dog—”

“Let’s get this over with, Carrera. You know what I want. Shaw in exchange for your sister.”

Mick met Caterina’s gaze. Determination filled her gaze as he said to Mad Dog, “When? Where?”

“Midnight at Fort Hancock. Tunnel off the second set of battery buildings. Follow what’s left of the paths for the old Nike missile tracks until you reach the ammo storage area. We’ll be waiting for you.”

Before Mick could say another word, the line went dead.

Caterina squeezed his hand gently and asked, “Do you think he’s telling the truth?”

“About where he is? It’s where I thought he would go to hide,” he admitted, but quickly added, “But he doesn’t plan on making an exchange. He’ll probably lay out a trap or two somewhere along the tunnels to take us out long before we reach Liliana.”

She shuddered against him and her color paled. “I want to go with you.” Mick twined his fingers with hers and seemed to be considering her request. Finally he said, “I suspect you won’t be left behind no matter what I say. So I guess we need to be ready for whatever Mad Dog throws at us.”

“What about Liliana? Will he—”

“Kill her? Not until he’s sure we’re out of the way. She’s his insurance.”

Caterina leaned against him. Against his rock-solid strength. He picked up his hand and splayed it across her back, urging her even closer.

She wanted to apologize again for all the trouble she had brought him and his family, but understood that he didn’t hold her responsible. It didn’t make it any easier to consider that his sister might die because of her. That either of them might die later that night.

Because of what Edwards and his people had done.

Because of plain old greed.

Caterina looked up at him. “We can’t let Edwards get away with this. Someone needs to know what he did. Someone has to find the other patients who were being treated. Some of them were my friends.”

As Mick met her gaze, he must have realized what she was thinking—that if they both died tonight, their secrets
died with them. The sins Edwards and the others had committed would go unpunished.

With a certainty she couldn’t muster, he said, “You and I are going to see to it that Edwards is punished and the other patients are set free. I promise you that.”

From what Caterina knew of him, she knew he meant to keep his word, but with a man like Mad Dog to fight…

“How can you be so certain?”

A cheerless smile crept onto his features and he cradled her cheek, a slight tremble in his hand. “Because I’d die before seeing any more hurt come to you or Liliana.”

With a nod, she burrowed against him, hoping that was one promise he wouldn’t have to keep.

E
dwards sat staring at the phone long minutes after the call from Carrera.

If he had been a praying man, he might have done as Carrera had suggested and start asking a higher authority for some answer to the problems with which he was faced.

But he wasn’t a religious man, although some might have said he worshipped at the temple of science.

Leaning back in his chair, he tapped a finger against his lips, pondering how it was that this had become so complicated. How it had gone from being a brilliant scientific idea to the serial violations and terminations of various patients and Rudy Wells?

Of course Wells had always been the weakest link in the whole complicated chain, he thought. From the beginning Wells had shown more compassion for the patients than was healthy. As a scientist one had to disassociate oneself from the experiment, and Wells had failed miserably, getting too emotionally involved.