The Monarch (32 page)

 

48

Tartaruga Island

6:30
A.M.
Local Time

S
OPHIA'S EYELIDS SLIPPED
down again, her pupils rolling up as exhaustion and the oppressive heat of the tunnels tried once more to put her to sleep. Her head rocked forward and then snapped back up when she caught herself at the last possible moment. She opened her eyes wide and shook her head, taking a deep breath. If she gave in and went to sleep, she and Natalie might never wake up.

Deep in the bowels of the complex, they were in what Sophia used to call her happy place. It was a nook no bigger than a prison cell. At just four feet high, it was only accessible by squeezing through a tight stand of pipes. Though she had played with Lara in the tunnels as a child, even then Sophia had needed a safe place for when Lara went into one of her rages. She'd stumbled onto this nook one day, and had originally intended on telling Lara about it until she'd found her cutting the heads off of Sophia's dolls again, so she'd kept the find to herself.

Whenever things got to be too much, this is where she'd come. Wriggling back into the nook—­no small feat for her mature hips now—­was like traveling back in time. A young hand's crayon and marker drawings covered the walls. A pictograph representation of her early years. The pictures not all that dissimilar to the ones Natalie now drew, she noticed.

Natalie lay asleep on an old blanket while Sophia sat with her back to the wall. The air was wet and hot, but the concrete was cool on her back. This far from the generators, their throb was reduced to a soothing massage.

Sophia watched Natalie sleep, her back rising and falling. Gently, she brushed a few strands of hair out of her face. Sophia envied this little girl, even in the predicament they were in; both for her blissful childhood naïveté and for her loving father. For a moment, Sophia wondered what Nathan would have done if she'd been kidnapped as a child. She shook the idea away, depression serving no purpose in their current situation.

When Nathan and Lara were meeting with Jonathan in the courtyard, she'd take Natalie out through the data center. The exit let out behind the complex. There was a path that led through the jungle there, which ended several miles away at a helipad. They used the helicopter for hops to the mainland and while she'd hated taking the lessons at the time, she was grateful today.

Natalie coughed and opened her eyes, looking around in that way kids do when they first wake up, as if rebooting their memory takes a moment. She looked at Natalie and smiled.

“Is my dad here yet?”

“Not yet, sweetie,” Sophia said, rubbing Natalie's back gently. “Go back to sleep.”

“M'kay,” Natalie said, her eyes closed before her head was back down on the blanket.

Sophia wondered what had happened in Natalie's life to make her able to handle what she'd been through in the past few days with such aplomb. Kids by nature were resilient, but Sophia thought it was more than that. She wondered if Natalie knew her mother better than Sophia had known hers. Sophia couldn't even picture her mother's face anymore, it had been so long. She relied on a picture in her wallet, which was apparently the only picture of her mother in existence. Nathan had tried to take it from her, saying it wasn't healthy to live in the past, but Sophia had stolen it out of the trash and kept it secretly all these years. She used to feel affection about that for Nathan, thinking he was trying to protect her, but now she wondered what she'd been told about her past, if anything, was true. How had she and Lara really ended up a “Kring”? Was her mother even really dead? Did Lara know any more about this than she did? These and a million other questions zipped through her mind, but before she could spiral further, sounds snapped her back to the here and now.

Voices echoed in the tunnel beyond the pipes again, the guards sweeping past, looking for them. She knew they were safe where they were, but her heart still pounded in her chest as they drew near.

“I tell ya, I did three tours in Iraq but this bitch scares the shit out of me,” one of the guards said.

“If we were smart we'd kill her and the old man and then get the fuck off this rock while we can.”

“Yeah, and have Thomas hunt us down? No thanks.” Sophia heard the squawk of a radio.

“
Delta team, report.
”

“Delta team. All clear. Heading back topside.”

“
Roger. Relieve Alpha team at the helipad.
”

“Roger. Out,” the guard said. “Let's go. At least we'll get some fresh air. Smells like ass down here.”

The guards moved away, and Sophia slumped against the wall. They were guarding the chopper. Plan A just went out the window, no doubt Lara's doing. The problem was, there was no Plan B.

Sophia reached in her pocket and took out the USB hard drive with all the kuru research on it. Could she buy their freedom with this? Her life's work for a little girl she barely knew. Sophia dropped the drive into her bag and rubbed her eyes hard. She was so tired it was difficult to think.

Maybe if she shut . . . her eyes . . . just . . . for . . . a . . .

 

49

Somewhere over the Indian Ocean

“H
OW MUCH FARTHER?”
Jonathan asked from the copilot's seat. Lew and Emily were back in the cabin trying to get some sleep. Jonathan was tired, but he'd had enough pistol-­whipped sleep in the past week to last him the rest of his life.

“About ninety minutes, give or take,” Thomas said. Jonathan's gun, along with the one he took from Thomas, were in his jacket pockets. He still didn't trust Thomas, but it would take the killer longer to unfasten his seat belt and get out of his chair than it would for Jonathan to draw down on him.

Before takeoff, Thomas had helped them draw a rudimentary map of the complex. Once Lew knew how to get in and where they were holding Natalie on the third level, that was all he'd needed. Jonathan, on the other hand, wanted more. He wanted to know what kind of man could do the things Kring had done, simply for a chance to survive. Not only to him and Natalie, but to his own children. In the coming hours, he was pretty sure information was going to be just as powerful as, if not more so than, bullets.

“How long have you known Kring?” Jonathan asked.

“I've known
Mr.
Kring for almost twenty-­five years,” Thomas said. It was obvious he didn't like the disrespect Jonathan felt toward his boss.

“Long time,” Jonathan said. “Then you knew him before he was sick. Physically, I mean.”

“Yeah, well, not really. He'd already contracted kuru when I joined up with him. He just hadn't started to show any symptoms until a few years ago. That's when everything changed.”

“You must really love her. To turn on Kring like this, that is. Without our little gift package, he'll probably die. I suppose, in a strange way, you'll be killing him.”

“No, no, it's not like that,” Thomas said.

“Don't get me wrong. I'm all for it. It's probably the only chance my daughter has, I just don't know if I'd be able to do it if I were you. All those years and the things you've done for him. That's loyalty. Except for now, of course,” Jonathan said. He couldn't push any harder if he wanted to land safely. He sat quietly and let the silence between them work on Thomas; the drone of the engines and the hiss of the conditioned air pumping into the plane were the only sounds.

“There was a time when I'd gladly point this plane at the sea and throttle up for him. I could tell you stories all the way to Tartaruga and you still wouldn't be able to understand the kind of man he was. How he singularly and completely defined the word
power
. That man could kill your daughter in front of your eyes and have you thank him for the act,” Thomas said, his eyes far away and glistening with emotion.

“
That
man?” Jonathan said.

“That man is dead. He died just about the time his Frankenstein daughter started experimenting on him. I'm betraying no one by helping you. In fact, I'm rectifying something close to betrayal that's been going on for years. I'm not helping you at all,” Thomas said, turning slowly until he looked Jonathan dead in the eyes. “You're helping me.”

The phone Jonathan had taken from Thomas rang.

“Easy,” Jonathan said, picking up the phone and seeing Thomas twitch like he wanted to grab it. He read the display. “Who's Blane?” Thomas seemed to pale.

“You better let me answer that, mate,” Thomas said.

He explained that Blane was his man in the U.S. military, stationed at the naval base on the Diego Garcia archipelago. He used him mostly for personnel intel, but every now and then Blane would call him. And whenever that happened, some serious shit was about to go down, and Blane wanted a big payment to cough up the details. Considering the current situation, Jonathan let him answer it, but on speakerphone.

L
EW WAS ASLEEP
for a solid two hours before he woke up in the luxurious recliner in the plane's cabin. Emily was still asleep next to him, her head resting on his shoulder. He looked down at her face, inches from his own. After a moment, her eyes flitted open and looked up into his.

She smiled at first, but then apparently realized what was about to happen and her smile was replaced with an earnestness. “Are we . . .”

Lew leaned forward, still too close to dreamland for his defenses and self-­deprecation to stop him. Emily's lips parted and her eyes moistened. Then she abruptly pulled away.

“I'm sorry,” Lew said. “I'm a jerk.”

“No,” Emily said softly, touching his face with her open palm. “It's not that. I just . . .”

Lew raised his eyebrows and shook his head slightly as if to say,
What is it?

“If we're going to . . . that is, before we . . .”

“You're kind of freaking me out, Emily. What is it?”

“You need to know the truth. My name isn't Emily Burrows. It's Denham,” she said almost despondently.

“Your name is Denham Burrows? Kind of masculine, isn't it?” Lew said. He was being deliberately obtuse, trying to put her at ease. He really didn't care what her name was. Lord knew he'd gone by more than a few names over the years. She chuckled, the attempt seeming to work.

“No, silly. It's Emily Denham.”

Then, speaking barely above a whisper while holding his hands, she told him the whole story. Through the whole thing all Lew could think about was how soft and warm her hands felt. And how warm it was getting in the plane's cabin.

“That's it?” Lew said when she was done. “Baby, I don't care about any of that.” Though it did make Lew think about everything he'd eventually have to tell her about himself. Now
that
bothered him.

“Really?”

“What do you think?” Lew said, pulling her to him. Again their mouths parted as they came closer and closer.

“Lew!” Jonathan's shout broke the moment and they both jerked apart.

“Uh, yeah!” Lew called, sitting up.

“Get up here. Quick!”

Lew made a face and smiled, Emily pretty much doing the same. He stood up, rolled his neck, and took a cleansing breath.

“To be continued,” he said before turning and heading up to the cockpit. As he walked he heard a voice behind him.

“You better believe it.”

As Lew entered the cockpit, he saw Thomas holding a cell phone. Jonathan looked very intense. Lew wasn't sure he wanted to know what was going on.

“What's all the—­” Both Thomas and Jonathan simultaneously shushed him.

“Are you still there, Blane?” Thomas said.

“I'm here, but you're cutting in and out, man. Are you . . . pay or not?” a man's voice squawked stiltedly out of the device's speakerphone.

“You're breaking up too. Tell me what I'm paying for again,” Thomas said at Jonathan's silent urging.

“U.S. Navy is . . . an attack on Tartaruga. You want details, then you pay,” the voice said.

“An attack?” Lew said. Their looks shushed him again. He shrugged at Jonathan, who just waved a hand, motioning him to be patient.

“How much?” Thomas asked.

“Fifty. Same account . . . last time,” Blane said. Lew could guess they weren't talking about fifty dollars. Thomas was greasing someone in the forces.

“Deal,” Thomas said. After a long silence, he said it again. “Did you hear me, Blane? What's the info? I'll pay. You'll have the money in the morning.”

“That ain't good enough,” Blane said.

“It'll have to do,” Thomas said. Jonathan pointed at Thomas in a scolding way. Thomas waved him off this time. After another silence, Blane finally responded.

“All right. In the morning. We launched a . . . per an hour ago. Should be . . . ere seven-­thirty, your time,” Blane said.

“Say again. Launched a what?” Thomas said, then, “Shit! We lost the connection.”

“Get him back!” Jonathan said.

“I'm trying,” Thomas said.

“What the fuck is a
per
?” Lew said.

“Could be anything,” Thomas said as he repeatedly dialed. “A Clipper, a chopper—­anything. Point is, we're going to have about an hour to get the hell out of there after we land. Ah, it's no use,” he said, tossing the phone onto the console.

“What do you mean it's no use?” Jonathan said, picking up the phone. Lew looked at the display and saw there weren't any bars registering on the signal strength meter.

“Look, I'm amazed we got any signal at all up here.”

“What about Tartaruga? We'll just call from there,” Lew said.

“Blane's not exactly the reliable type. We'll be lucky if he answers.”

“Great,” Lew said. Jonathan looked up at Lew, his eyes showing the fear there. In all the years he'd known him, Lew had never seen Jonathan afraid of anything. But he knew the fear wasn't for himself, which just made it all the worse. Lew put his hand on Jonathan's shoulder. “Why don't you get some rest? I'll stay up here.”

“I'm fine,” Jonathan said. Lew looked at Jonathan's hands and saw they were shaking.

The weird thing was, so were his.