Origin (26 page)

He looked at Lynn with a reassuring nod of his head, steely determination in his eyes. The stakes were simply too great not to try. And if he believed anything in life, it was that where there was a will, there was a way.

In the observation room, the three scientists sat at their computer monitors, analysing the test results.

Steinberg looked through the two-way glass at the captives, who were looking into one another’s eyes, remarkably unafraid and seemingly filled with an unquenchable fire that threats of death and torture would not easily extinguish.

‘Tough sons of bitches,’ he murmured, mostly to himself. As Chief of Section 8, Area 51’s medical interrogation division, Steinberg had seen dozens of people pass through here over the years – and knew that hundreds more had preceded them, before his own time – but never had he witnessed the relaxed confidence of the two people sitting in the room now.

‘Interesting,’ one of his men said quietly, breaking Steinberg’s reverie.

He turned away from the window and looked at the man. ‘What is it?’ he asked.

‘
Very
interesting,’ the man said again, as he looked closely at a very specific set of results displayed across the computer screen in front of him.

Four more hours passed before the scientists re-entered the room, flanked by two security guards, two hospital gurneys between them.

‘Hello again,’ Steinberg said, still friendly. ‘I’m sorry for keeping you, but we had to make sure we checked all of the results.’

‘I bet you did,’ Lynn muttered. ‘Can’t have us dying too soon, can you?’

Steinberg chuckled. ‘How forthright you are,’ he said almost admiringly. ‘And you are right, of course.’

He gestured to the security guards, and they went to the side of the captives, one guard with one gurney to each. The doctors removed hypodermic needles, and started to fill them from two separate vials.

‘We need to move you now,’ he said apologetically. ‘You will both receive individual treatment, in individual rooms. I am afraid you will never see each other again.’

He watched Lynn and Adams stare at each other, desperation creeping unbidden across their faces for the first time.

His features softened. ‘Did you know of your condition, Dr Edwards?’ he asked.

Lynn frowned. ‘What condition?’ she asked uneasily.

Steinberg looked at her with pity. ‘I’m sorry you have to hear this from me, and in this place of all places, but . . . you are pregnant, Dr Edwards.’

T
HE SHOCK WAS
writ large across Lynn’s face. She looked at Adams, who looked just as shocked. ‘Wh-what?’ she stammered, even as the doctors moved towards them, liquid dripping from the ends of their needles.

‘You are pregnant,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘Eight days.’

Lynn didn’t have to do the calculation; she knew it must have been when they had made love in the desert after their escape from Chile.

‘I am afraid that we cannot alter the eventual outcome of our procedures,’ Steinberg said apologetically. ‘But we will try and make the process as comfortable as possible. And for what it is worth, I am sorry.’

Lynn just looked ahead blankly, her brain frozen. She was pregnant. She was going to be a mother. And Matt was the father, which was exactly what he had wanted all those years ago, the big issue that had eventually led to them splitting up.

And now here they were, reunited and with a child at last, with only the promise of death to look forward to.

Adams stared at Lynn, not believing what he had just heard, still trying to process it. Lynn was pregnant?

And to be told that she was still to be interrogated and killed, along with his unborn child?

He knew the doctors were going to inject them with some sort of anaesthetic so they could be transferred peacefully and without struggle to the gurneys positioned adjacent to them. They would then be wheeled off to other rooms, where the ‘fun’ would really start.

The leather straps that secured his arms and legs to the chair were tight; he had already tried to struggle free of them on the aeroplane on the flight over. But he knew this in his conscious mind only, and as he watched the doctor approach Lynn and their unborn baby, hypodermic needle reaching for her bare arm as the guard moved into position next to her, this conscious part of his mind collapsed entirely, leaving only his raw, animal self, a visceral beast that operated on pure, unbridled instinct.

He roared, his body convulsing against the straps, muscles bulging as they contracted against the straining leather, his back arching off the chair. His eyes were popping out of his head, a feral look on his face, and it appeared that his entire body was going to break in half.

‘Secure him!’ Steinberg yelled to the guard next to him, who had been surprised into inaction by Adams’ sudden, violent convulsion. ‘Get that needle into him!’ he shouted at the doctor, even as Adams’ body contracted again, and again, and again, the straps straining more and more each time.

The other guard ran across to him from Lynn’s side, and both men tried to force Adams back into his chair, pushing his arms down as his body continued its violent, unpredictable convulsions.

The doctor tried to aim his syringe at the right point, but Adams’ thrashing body meant that he couldn’t see his target well enough to get a clear shot. One of the guards reached for the taser on his belt, pulling it clear of its holster and pressing it towards Adams.

But then Adams convulsed again, even stronger this time, and screamed at the top of his lungs – a piercing, animalistic howl that penetrated deep into the people around him, causing them to recoil for just a split second.

In that brief fraction of time, the leather strap that had been securing his right wrist finally gave way. In the next instant, Adams’ free hand snaked out and gripped the wrist of the guard holding the taser, violently jerking it towards the doctor.

The contacts jammed into the doctor’s body, sending 50,000 volts of electricity into the man, shutting down his system completely. He dropped to the ground, the hypodermic needle spilling across the metallic floor.

In the same movement, Adams continued to twist the guard’s arm, even as his entire body continued to convulse in violent anger. And then the second strap gave way and his left hand was free, grasping the second guard’s belt and pulling him close, straight on to the taser.

The guard fell to the floor unconscious, and Adams – straps still securing his ankles – rose slightly out of the chair, catching the guard in front of him with a punch to the jaw. Disorientated, the guard was powerless to stop Adams bending his arm back on itself, the taser electrocuting its owner.

With three men unconscious on the floor, Adams immediately switched to the other two – the man with the hypodermic still dangerously close to Lynn, and Steinberg who seemed to be stuck to the spot, mouth open in disbelief.

Then the man with the needle leaped towards Lynn, and Adams threw the taser straight at him. Not waiting to see if it struck the target, he bent down, quickly unfastening the straps round his legs. As he did so, he heard the impact of the small metal unit and a grunt from the doctor.

He looked up, and launched himself at the man with the needle, who was heading back to Lynn after the momentary distraction of the thrown taser. Adams crashed into him, driving him forcefully backwards into the wall, knocking the breath from him. He collapsed to the floor, and Adams sent a knee straight into his face, slamming his head back violently into the metal wall.

Adams turned and saw Steinberg still staring, still not reacting. And then, as Steinberg saw the murderous intent in Adams’ eyes, he finally moved, reaching for the wall-mounted electronic intercom.

Adams snatched the taser from the floor and raced towards him, punching it hard into Steinberg’s neck just as his hand touched the button. His body went stiff, and he collapsed to the floor.

Adams kicked him violently in the gut – once, twice, three times, violence emanating from his body. He picked his foot up high, ready to deliver the
coup de grâce
.

‘No!’ Lynn shouted, and the spell was broken. Adams put down his foot and looked round.

‘We’re going to need him if we’re ever going to get out of this place alive,’ she said.

It took less than five minutes to fully secure the two guards and scientists, who were starting to come round. Adams bound their hands and feet and gagged them, before hitting them with another 50,000 volts for good measure. He had no desire to kill them but he didn’t want to take any chances, and he figured that the longer he could keep them unconscious, the better.

With Lynn, he placed Dr Steinberg in one of the wheelchairs, securing him just as they had been only minutes before. They pocketed the Sig Sauer pistols carried by the guards, along with their radios, and moved towards the laboratory door.

Adams had noticed that, other than the two-way mirror, there were no cameras in the room. Presumably, given the location, it was thought unnecessary to monitor things too closely down here; security would normally take care of itself. But he was also very conscious that there would now be two missing guards.

‘Where’s the guard post?’ he asked Steinberg, who looked up at him through drowsy eyes.

‘One floor up,’ the doctor murmured, still struggling to recover fully.

‘How many?’

‘On that floor?’ Steinberg asked. ‘About thirty, but they cover three floors.’ As a professional interrogator, he realized that resistance was futile, and he might just as well tell the truth right from the start. They would probably kill him anyway, but he would at least spare himself a lot of pain.

Adams tried some quick mental arithmetic, but failed. ‘How many on the base in total?’

‘Close to three hundred.’

Adams and Lynn exchanged looks, then Adams turned back to Steinberg. ‘When are these two,’ he gestured to the unconscious guards, ‘expected back?’

‘They were to be attached for the duration of the interrogation, to be relieved at the end of their normal shifts, replaced by two more men.’

Adams examined Steinberg’s face for any sign of dishonesty, but found none. ‘How long to the end of their shift?’

‘They’ve just started, so about eight hours, give or take.’

Lynn leant down to the man who had been about to oversee their torture and death. ‘Is there a way out of here?’ she asked. ‘Can you get us out?’

‘And just why would I do that?’ Steinberg scoffed.

Adams looked at Lynn, and then back to Steinberg. ‘What exactly do you know about Jacobs’ plans?’

It took no more than a few minutes to outline what Jacobs had told them, and the effect on Steinberg was electric.

‘The bastard!’ he muttered. ‘How can he hope to get away with it?’

‘He already
is
getting away with it,’ Adams reminded him. ‘He’ll be halfway to Geneva by now.’ In a way, Adams was surprised by Steinberg’s reaction. After all, the man had made a living out of torturing innocent people. But global genocide was a different thing altogether, especially if you just found out that you were going to be one of the unfortunate victims.

Steinberg just sat there, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘I knew about the alien research of course but I had no idea we had opened up any sort of contact with them. I just can’t believe it, I—’

‘Doctor,’ Adams interjected forcefully, trying to get Steinberg’s attention back on track. ‘We need to get out of here, and to CERN. Can you help us?’

Eventually, Steinberg looked up and met Adams’ gaze. ‘There might be a way,’ he said earnestly.

Ten minutes later, Steinberg was out of the wheelchair, and they were walking with the doctor down another concrete corridor, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the concrete space.

‘Why is it so deserted down here?’ Lynn asked.

‘This floor is classified A1 Ultra,’ Steinberg told her. ‘Not that many people are authorized to be here, and a lot of those who are have recently been shipped off somewhere – I guess to CERN, from what you’ve just told me. There’s only a skeleton staff remaining here now.’

‘What goes on down here?’ Adams asked next.

‘What you would probably classify as “alien” research,’ Steinberg admitted. ‘It is here that we develop related projects directly connected with the technology discovered at the Roswell crash site. This entire floor is unknown to the majority of the people working here at Area 51. I don’t know many details myself, I just run the interrogations. We have our base here because this is the most secure level. The elevators normally stop on the floor above unless you have a special access key.’

Lynn nodded, and they walked on in silence for a few more moments, following Steinberg’s directions. He had a final destination in mind but was withholding it for fear of being executed if he revealed it too early, as his captors would then have no further need of him.

‘Careful here,’ Steinberg told them as they turned into another long, concrete corridor. ‘There’s a laboratory down here. Should be empty now but you never know.’

They were silent until they reached the laboratory door, but Lynn’s curiosity was piqued. ‘What do they do in there?’

Steinberg smiled at her. ‘That is where they keep the bodies,’ he whispered.

‘The bodies?’ Lynn asked for both of them. ‘Which bodies?’

‘The original pilot of the craft that crashed in nineteen forty-seven,’ he told them proudly. ‘Perfectly preserved, despite full autopsies having taken place several times over the years.’

‘And who else?’ Adams asked.

‘Oh, various other bodies of questionable origin that have been found over the years.’

‘Like the one my team found in Antarctica?’ Lynn asked, and Steinberg nodded his head. ‘You mean there have been others?’

Steinberg smiled. ‘Of course there have,’ he said as if to a small child. ‘Would you like to see?’

Adams knew it was not a wise move. Things were happening too quickly in Geneva, the machine at CERN too near becoming operational to waste time on what amounted to no more than scientific curiosity. And yet he knew that to Lynn it was more than that – the body her team had discovered in the ice had led to their execution, and she felt it was her duty to them to follow the discovery to the end of the line. She owed them that much.