Kathryn regained consciousness to the sound of angry voices. She recognized Bouchaule defending her value to the project, followed by the sickening crack of skin against skin, which reminded her why her jaw felt like it had been struck by a two-by-four.
She tried to get up but found her arms strapped by the wrists to the cot in the small outer room of Bouchaule’s lab. She saw that the sleeve of her burgundy blouse had been torn from its stitching at the shoulder and now gathered in folds at the twisted belt holding her wrist. Blood oozed from a puncture wound in the crook of her elbow, and she knew they had taken her blood. She looked toward the lab as the loud voices continued.
“You are fools!” she heard Bouchaule shout, followed by another punch, this time, from the dull sound of it, a blow to his body.
“Now would be a good time to cooperate, Dr. Bouchaule,” Kathryn heard Colin Donnelly say. “It is you who are the fool for trying to betray us. Give us the girl, and we may let you live.”
“Go to hell!” Bouchaule shouted in French.
“As you wish. Gentleman?”
Kathryn struggled against her restraints, cursing in frustration when she was unable to free herself. A man ducked his head around the screen at the end of the bed when he heard her stir, and he knocked on the lab window to get his boss’s attention.
Donnelly delayed his order to beat Bouchaule into submission and signaled the man to bring Kathryn into the lab.
“No funny business, doll, get me?” the man said as he came to her side and showed her the gun under his jacket. She agreed, with contempt in her eyes, and was a good girl when he set her free. She stood, rubbing her wrists, and then feigned annoyance at her ruined blouse.
“Unbutton and roll up,” she complained, as she tugged at the limp sleeve, the cuff still buttoned at her wrist. “How hard is that?”
The man exhaled an amused chuckle and casually reached for his gun. “Dames.”
Kathryn waited until the gun cleared his shoulder holster before unloading an elbow to his face. She caught him square on the nose and he fell onto his backside, sending his gun skittering across the floor. She lunged for the weapon, but the prone man had the wherewithal to kick her legs out from under her, hurling her head first across the polished linoleum tiled floor. She scrambled for the gun, only to have it kicked out of her reach at the last second by another man entering from the lab.
She found herself looking up into the barrel of the second man’s revolver. She slowly raised herself to her knees and noticed that his knuckles were bloodied with what she assumed was Bouchaule’s blood.
“Familiar position for you, isn’t it, sweetheart?” the man said with a smirk. “Up.” He motioned with his gun.
He ordered Kathryn into the lab, keeping well out of the reach of flying elbows, as his partner followed behind, muttering curses as he held a handkerchief to his bloodied nose.
Donnelly had brought in four thugs and retained one of the scientist houseguests for his little coup, and he seemed pleased with the results.
“Do not harm her,” Bouchaule pleaded, as he struggled to escape the two men holding his arms.
“Right, because her blood is special,” Donnelly said sarcastically.
“Yes, we need her!”
“You know, Dr. Bouchaule, I know you’re not stupid, so you must be delusional to hold the line when we have her blood right here and we know there is nothing extraordinary about it.”
“You do not know what to look for.”
“So you keep saying.”
Donnelly nodded to his scientist, who removed a small green case from his lab coat pocket and unzipped it. It contained two glass syringes. He removed one and started toward Kathryn.
Kathryn backed into the man with the gun, who quickly had her arm wrenched behind her back and his forearm across her neck in a stranglehold. She pulled at her human noose with her free hand to no avail, and soon, the man with the bloody nose had a hold of her sleeveless arm, extending it for the man with the syringe.
“What are you doing?” Bouchaule shouted. “You are making a terrible mistake!”
Donnelly ignored him and addressed Kathryn.
“I’m sure this is cold comfort to you, Miss Hammond, but believe me when I say, this is not personal. You are an unfortunate loose end.”
Kathryn couldn’t have answered even if she wanted to, as the arm around her neck choked her voice from her. In her panic, she could only think of Smitty. This is where he should burst in and save her life, but Smitty was thousands of miles away. He would not save her life this day.
“Stop!” Bouchaule shouted. “I will give you what you want.”
“I’m afraid the time for negotiation ended when you sent your men to steal my reservoir, Dr. Bouchaule. You can’t be trusted, you see.” He nodded to the scientist to proceed.
“No! Wait! My briefcase, the papers in my briefcase. Behind a hidden panel in the back, they contain all the information you need. Please, do not harm her.”
Donnelly approached the restrained doctor. “You are a curious man, Bouchaule. If she is immune, as you claim, there should be no fear of this.” He held up the case containing the remaining syringe. “But she is not immune, is she?”
Bouchaule was suddenly calm and surprisingly menacing, considering his position. “Let her go and I will help you. Kill her, and you are all dead men. My people will see to it.”
Donnelly laughed and nodded again to the man with the syringe.
Kathryn’s strangled attempts at protest were drowned out by Bouchaule’s desperate pleading for her life, but both were useless, as the needle went into her arm and its contents were emptied.
Bouchaule’s final No! died on his lips when Kathryn stopped struggling and slowly went limp in her captor’s arms.
Donnelly gave his scientist the other syringe and then tilted Kathryn’s lolling head in his direction. “As I said, Miss Hammond, nothing personal. I don’t wish you to suffer. The first injection was merely a sedative. No need for you to be conscious for what’s to come.”
Bouchaule had one more burst of protest, but his struggle was futile. He could only watch as the second syringe was injected into Kathryn’s listless arm.
Kathryn could barely comprehend Donnelly’s words as she felt her body shutting down. The big ape behind her had an arm around her waist, and she knew she no longer stood of her own accord. She wanted to pull her arm away from the man with the needle, but her muscles wouldn’t obey. She was helpless as she watched the second needle disappear into her flesh. The injection burned, and her body convulsed as the fire spread through her veins.
“You may want to step away,” she heard Donnelly say to the man holding her. “It’s going to get messy.”
Bouchaule was still screaming protests when Kathryn swore she heard a gunshot. The man behind her released her, and she crumpled to the floor, as the burning and spasms subsided and her body succumbed to the darkness. Her last vision before she lost consciousness was Bouchaule collapsing to the ground before her. If she could have smiled, she would have. She was dead, Bouchaule was dead, and Jenny was safe—all in all, a good day.