Pressure (23 page)

She was still thinking about that when the elevator doors slid open again, and she found herself staring down the barrel of a gun.

“Shit!” Carrie instinctively put her hands up to shield her face. “Whoa. It's just me. Don't shoot!”

The gunman, agent Legerski, stood with his feet shoulder-width apart, both hands controlling his weapon, arms outstretched, and elbows locked. One finger was on the trigger guard, a split second away from the trigger itself. Carrie recognized this as a professional shooter's stance. Heart racing, she tried out her best smile, the one she used during press interviews and to sway investors.

“Jesus, you really scared me. What's going on?”

Instead of answering her, Legerski spoke to his lapel. Carrie realized he had some sort of Bluetooth device in his ear.

“Ochse, I've got Carrie Anderson here.”

There was a pause while, presumably, Ochse responded in his ear. Carrie glanced at the elevator's control panel, debating making a lunge for the button to close the doors.

“I don't know,” Legerski said, not taking his eyes off her. “I thought he was on monitor duty, too. What do you want me to do?”

Carrie did her best to appear perplexed and surprised and frightened. For the latter, she didn't have to pretend.

Come on, you stupid doors,
she thought.
Fucking close already!

“Okay,” Legerski said. “Affirmative.”

Close,
she silently pleaded.
Come on!

“Ma'am, step out of the elevator please.” Legerski motioned with the barrel of his handgun.

Sighing in resignation, Carrie slowly complied.

“What's going on, Legerski?” she asked. “Is there some kind of trouble?”

The agent lowered his weapon but did not holster it. Carrie took a cautious step forward. She estimated that he stood about five feet away from her. As she gauged the distance, she heard the doors slide shut behind her. The elevator dinged, cheerily.

I'm going to rip that thing's circuits out if I get a chance.

“We've had a security breach, Miss Anderson. If you'll just come with me, please?”

“Come with you where?”

“My orders are to get you to a secure location.”

“Whose orders? Ochse? Maybe I should talk to him instead.”

“He's right this way. Just come with me.”

“I'm not going anywhere until you—”

Instead of responding, Legerski raised the weapon and pointed it at her face.

“Okay,” Carrie shouted, putting her hands up again. “Okay, okay. Jesus fucking Christ!”

“Now that I have your attention…” Legerski waggled the gun barrel. “To your left, please. Walk slowly, and keep your hands up where I can see them.”

Carrie stared Legerski down.

“I don't want to hurt you, Miss Anderson. Seriously.”

“I don't believe you.”

He motioned with the gun again. “Just walk.”

Carrie did as ordered, and each step sent her further into despair. Her feet felt like blocks of lead and her leg muscles wobbled and tingled. In a strange way, the sensation was quite similar to what she had felt under the effects of the creature's neurotoxin. And the parking garage was just as dark and foreboding as the trench had been. Fluorescent lights ineffectually flickered here and there, seeming to add to the gloom rather than dispel it, much like their phosphorescent torches had done during the dive. But here, she didn't have to hold her breath. And here, she also knew exactly who the predators were.

She just didn't know why. At least, not all of the reasons why. Not yet.

Carrie wondered if she'd get a chance to find out.

An echo rumbled through the structure—a muffled bang, like somebody dropping a book onto a hardwood floor.

Carrie stopped. “What was that? Was that what I think it was?”

Legerski responded by pressing the barrel of his gun into the small of her back.

“Keep going,” he said. His tone was flat, inflectionless. “That was nothing to concern you.”

The parking garage echoed with their footsteps. There were only half a dozen vehicles in sight, three of which were black sport utility vehicles like the one Maberry and Mariotte had used to transport her and Abhi to the port. To Carrie, that now seemed like it had all taken place in the distant past. Another was a black Jeep. The other two were black four-door sedans.

“You guys like black, huh?”

“You're doing fine,” Legerski said, ignoring her comment. “Just a little farther now. Nice and easy, and no one will get hurt. That's the way. I'm just as sick of this place as you are. Soon, we can all go home.”

Carrie watched her shadow lengthen as they passed under another set of lights. She passed beneath them and back into the darkness, and considered making a run for it. If she was quick enough, and stayed out of the light, she might be able to lose him. She hadn't noticed a silencer or suppressor on his pistol. Would he risk the possible unwanted attention the sound of gunshots might raise? But then it occurred to her that it was possible no one else would hear them. She still didn't know where the clinic was located, or how close they were to a population center. And for all she knew, the only people in the facility, other than her, Abhi, Paolo, and Barbet, might all be Alpinus agents. And that was the other problem with fleeing. She didn't know where the other agents he was leading her toward were. If she managed to escape, she might run right into them.

She felt a cool breeze on her face and saw the darkness dissipate up ahead, and realized Legerski was leading her to the loading dock. The heavy garage door was open, letting in the night air and a sliver of moonlight. A huge box truck had been pulled up to the dock, and its rear door had been rolled up. She smelled a whiff of gun-smoke, and something else—something she couldn't quite place. A figure stood inside the back of the truck, watching her passively. As she got closer, she recognized the man as Ochse. He was also armed with a handgun, currently clenched in one fist and dangling at his side. His expression spoke of a resigned sadness, but she paid little attention. There was something odd about the box truck's windowless interior. The walls and floor seemed reflective.

What is that
.
It's not wood or metal.

“Go on,” Legerski ordered. “Step into the truck.”

Instead, Carrie stopped so suddenly that he nearly bumped into her.

Plastic
.
They covered the inside of the truck with plastic sheeting.

Then she realized why.

Dr. Barbet lay in the center of the truck. The smell she'd been unable to identify was his blood, which was jetting from the back of his head in a steady, ever-widening pool. Indeed, as she watched, Ochse took a step forward as the flow stretched toward his shoes. More blood was splattered across the plastic lining the truck's walls. Steam rose from Barbet's still-warm body, curling lazily in the cooler night air.

Carrie tried to speak, but could only retch instead. Her knees buckled, and she sank to the concrete floor, oblivious to Legerski's sudden alarmed shouts behind her.

“Get the fuck up!”

Her voice trembled when she spoke, not from grief, but fury. “Why?”

“Orders,” Ochse said. His tone was sympathetic. “It's nothing personal, Miss Anderson. But with Dr. Barbet having administered the curing dosages, Alpinus has determined there's no more to be learned from the live experiment. We've been told to liquidate the witnesses and take Paolo's and the monsters' remains in for further study, along with the data we've collected.”

Carrie shook her head in denial.

“It wasn't supposed to happen like this,” Ochse continued. “Unfortunately, Mariotte decided to sneak off for a cigarette when he should have been monitoring you. And so, you were able to unintentionally stumble upon this situation.”

“You still haven't told me why.”

Ochse frowned in confusion. “I thought I just did.”

“No,” Carrie croaked. “I meant why? Why do all of this?”

“Well, there were simply too many existing witnesses to pay off. It wouldn't have been cost-effective. The mercenaries alone would have been financially prohibitive. And, of course, there's no guarantee that everyone would stay silent. They wouldn't. They never do. If it's any consolation, your sister and her family won't know the ugly truth. As far as they're concerned, you succumbed to complications from the bends, suffered after your dive with Peter Scofield.”

“I posted on Facebook after that. They'll know better. They know I got out of the hospital.”

“Well, it's funny. We all thought you were doing just fine. We had your discharge papers in the works and everything, but unfortunately a nurse—a nurse who I assure you will be dealt with quite severely—gave you a dose of the wrong medicine. You had a severe allergic reaction to it, I'm afraid. Given all the trauma you've recently been through, you were just too weak to recover from it.”

Carrie stared at him, speechless. Her hands curled into fists. She began to tremble, not from fear, but from rage.

Shrugging, Ochse nodded at Legerski. “Bring her here. Let's make this quick.”

“Fuck you,” Carrie said. “Fuck you both.”

Neither man responded. Legerski bent down and roughly seized Carrie's arm. He grunted, trying to pull her to her feet. Instead, Carrie flung herself forward, breaking his grip. As Legerski flailed, Carrie rolled herself into a ball, trying desperately to present a smaller target, however, the momentum carried her to the edge of the dock, only inches from the truck. She sprang into a crouch, but before she could flee, Ochse grabbed her hair in one fist and yanked her toward the truck.

“It doesn't have to be like this,” he yelled.

Instead of answering him, Carrie kicked out with her foot, trying to trip him. Avoiding the blow, the agent leaped backward, taking a fistful of her hair with him. Carrie shrieked in agony. Her scalp burned. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Legerski aiming his weapon.

“Don't shoot her,” Ochse shouted. “Evidence, goddamn it! Get her on the plastic, unless you want to be scrubbing this dock all ni—”

Carrie launched herself from the floor and punched Ochse in his groin, grinning as she felt her knuckles smash into his testicles. Ochse made a breathless, whining sound, and tried to raise his gun, but he seemed paralyzed, and his arm merely trembled. He slowly sank to his knees. He attempted to speak, but only wheezed again. He knelt there on the plastic sheeting, seemingly oblivious as Dr. Barbet's still-steaming blood seeped into his pants.

“Bitch!” Legerski lunged.

And then a gunshot thundered through the parking garage, stopping all three of them where they stood.

“Don't move,” Abhi yelled. “Let her go or we'll kill him! I swear to God I'll cut his goddamned throat!”

Carrie gasped in disbelief. Halfway between the elevator and the loading dock, illuminated under a row of fluorescent lights, were Abhi, Paolo, and Mariotte. Abhi stood behind Mariotte, peeking out from behind the taller man's shoulder. The visual would have been almost comical if not for the fact that Abhi had a surgical scalpel held to the agent's throat. Mariotte's expression was simultaneously angry and embarrassed. Paolo, meanwhile, occupied a wheelchair, and was parked slightly behind and to the left of Abhi and their hostage. He pointed a handgun at Legerski and Ochse, and Carrie thought that he looked more alert and lively than he had since their arrival at the clinic. His other hand was pressed to his chest.

“Come here, Carrie,” Abhi said.

“Don't you fucking move,” Legerski muttered.

“Drop your guns,” Abhi shouted. His voice echoed throughout the garage, bouncing off concrete pillars.

Mariotte seemed frozen. Only his eyes moved, darting to each of his fellow agents, silently pleading with them to do something.

“Fuck you, Tubby,” Legerski replied. “You drop the scalpel.”

Carrie glanced at Ochse out of the corner of her eye, and saw that, while still incapacitated, he was slowly beginning to recover. Her gaze flicked back to Legerski, whose attention was completely focused on Abhi, Paolo, and their hostage.

“I'm going to count to three,” Legerski warned.

“I mean it,” Abhi replied. “I'll cut his throat.”

“Go ahead. It would serve the dumb fuck right. One.”

“Two,” Paolo countered, his voice clear and strong.

Surprised, Legerski paused. Seeing her opportunity, Carrie sprang at him from behind. Ochse tried to call out a warning, but only managed to grimace and moan. He waved his hands, trying to get Legerski's attention. With both hands, Carrie grabbed Legerski's gun arm by the wrist and twisted savagely. Shouting, Legerski squeezed the trigger three times in rapid succession. The gunshots were deafening, and Carrie's ears immediately began to ring. One of the ejected brass casings glanced off her arm, burning it. The unexpected pain brought another surge of adrenaline. Keeping a firm grip on his wrist, Carrie used her momentum to swing the off-balance agent around, and then pushed him toward the truck. He stumbled, off balance and flailing. She raised one leg and kicked Legerski in the chest, sending him crashing into Ochse. Both men toppled onto the plastic sheeting next to the doctor's body. She heard the air whoosh from Legerski's lungs. Stunned by her own success, Carrie lunged for the strap dangling from the bottom of the truck's raised door. She pulled hard, slamming the door shut before either man could recover. The handle slammed into place, effectively locking the door from the outside.

She stood there, breathless and panting, as the two men began pounding on the door from inside the windowless box truck.

“Carrie,” Abhi called. “Are you okay?”

Her ears still rang from the gunshots, and it sounded to Carrie as if Abhi was calling to her from underwater. Nodding, she wiped her brow with the palm of her hand and hurried over to them.