Casa de la Rosa, Cuba
Erin moved through the door at the back of the sterile room.
She knew she could hunt through the lab forever, even look through Jean’s notes, and not know what she was seeing. This really was beyond her area of expertise. And if she touched the wrong thing, opened the wrong door, who knew what she could unleash?
This place needed to be explored by women and men in biocontainment suits. Microbiologists. Biochemists. Experts. People who knew what they were doing.
First, though, she wanted to see what was beyond the lab. If nothing else, maybe she could find weapons. The revolver she’d taken from Armando wouldn’t do much if they met any opposition while trying to get away from here.
With caution, she opened one door after another along a deserted corridor. Most were sleeping quarters. She also discovered a small common room with a refrigerator, coffeemaker, microwave, and hot plate. She’d evidently found where Helton’s men bunked.
Past the last unlocked room, the pathway deteriorated as she moved into an older section of the tunnels. Here there were no doors, just stone rooms cut into the mountain on either side of her. Rusted chains and manacles dripped from the walls. All empty. Still, the thought of what this place must have once been sent chills down her spine.
She glanced at her watch.
It had been nearly fifteen minutes since she’d left Alec. She needed to get back. One more empty room, then . . .
But it wasn’t empty. A bloody body lay on a filthy mattress, an iron band securing one wrist and binding him to the stone. A man, beaten if not to death, then nearly so.
Joe.
She rushed forward, her heart hammering, fearing she was too late. “Joe?” She gently lifted his head, and his eyes slowly blinked open. He was alive.
“Oh my God,” she whispered. “What have they done to you?”
His lips turned up in a ghost of a smile and his words came out slow and measured. “So you’re the cavalry, Erin. I thought you’d never get here.”
She half laughed, half cried. “You’re crazy. Let me see how I can get you out of this thing.” She examined the ancient lock on the manacle. It would be easy to pick. She just needed a couple of long, thin pieces of metal. “Let me go see what I can find.”
“There’s no time, Erin.”
“Hush. I have to get you out of here.”
“Listen to me.” He paused, licking his lips. “They’ve been developing some kind of biological weapon here . . . a virus of some kind.”
She nodded, again looking at the lock. She had guessed as much, and Jean had pretty much confirmed it. “How are they going to use it?”
“I don’t know.” He eyes slipped shut. “But whatever they’re planning, it’s going to happen soon.”
“Hang on,” she said. “I’m going to get something to pick this lock.” She stood and backed toward the door. “I’ll just be a minute.”
Then, death pressed against her temple.
Chilling, hard steel, small-caliber, but still lethal at this range. Sudden and unexpected, the gun and the man who held it had caught Erin off guard.
“Breathe,” said the voice behind the weapon. “While you still can.”
“Helton.” Erin whispered the name. With it came a rush of air, and she steadied herself against the certainty of her own death. A gun to your head made it too easy to forget years of training, made all else but fear slip away.
She couldn’t allow that to happen. There was too much at stake.
A second man came into her field of vision, a thick stripe of tape across the bridge of his swollen and discolored nose. Erin shivered when he looked at her, hate ripe in his eyes. One of Helton’s hired guns. The last time she’d seen him, he’d been sprawled at her feet, cursing and grasping at his shattered face. Now, he seemed ready to return the favor, or worse, as he turned and aimed an automatic weapon at Joe.
“Don’t,” she said, willing to beg if necessary, though her pleas might be for a man already dead. Joe was so still.
“Your call,” Helton said. “If you try anything, we’ll put a bullet in his skull.”
Erin nodded, barely, and felt death temporarily recede as the gun left her temple. Helton had no intention of letting either her or Joe out of here alive. It was just a matter of time, and she’d buy all she could get.
Where was Alec?
Had Helton killed him? The question, with its likely answer, caught at her, settling like a weight in her stomach. The only way Helton would have gotten past Alec was if he was already dead. The grief and guilt for bringing him into this momentarily wiped all other fear from her thoughts.
Not Alec. Please.
“Over by your friend.” Helton nudged her with the gun, just a little left of her spine. It sent a sliver of pain up her side, snapping her back to the moment. “How’s the wound?” he asked. “Still hurt?”
Erin moved slowly, ignoring the question, her mind scrambling for a way out of this.
There was always a way. Wasn’t there?
Hadn’t they taught her that at the CIA’s Farm? Or maybe that was just Hollywood’s version, and her own need to believe.
“What are you going to do with us?” she asked.
“Stupid question,” Helton said. “The Cuban government doesn’t take kindly to American spies.”
“I’m not a spy. I was just—”
“Exploring. I think I’ve heard that one before. From you and Emilio.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Spare me the lies, Erin. We both know good old Uncle Sam sent you. It’s just a matter of which agency pulls your strings. Just like your friend there.” He nodded to Joe’s still body. “And the shop owner in Santa Clara.”
Erin sucked in a breath. So Helton had killed Padilla as well. Had she somehow given him away, or had Helton known about Padilla’s connections all along?
“My only question,” Helton said, “is whether Emilio’s really your father. I mean,” he shrugged, “all we have is your word for that. How would he know after all these years?”
Again, Erin kept silent.
“Well, it’s not important.” Helton took a deep breath. “And I’ve had enough chitchat. On the floor.”
Erin hesitated. Once they had her on the ground, it would be too late. If she was going to do something, it had to be now, while she still had her feet beneath her.
“Don’t even think it, Erin.” Helton must have read her mind. Or knew how he’d react if their positions were reversed. “You’ll be dead before you take your next breath.”
She looked into the man’s eyes and saw her death. He was right. It was all over.
“Just tell me what you’ve created here,” she said. “If I’m going to die, I deserve to know.”
“Well, that’s where we disagree. You’ll have to go to your grave wondering.” He nodded to the other man. “Go set the explosives.”
Erin watched as Broken Nose hurried from the room.
“You’re going to blow up the lab,” she said, realizing that meant Helton’s work here really was complete.
“With you in it,” he confirmed. “We were going to turn both of you over to the Cubans. They would have enjoyed parading you in front of the world. But, they’ll just have to do without. I’m not crazy about leaving evidence behind, and you know too much.”
“But, what about—”
“Enough. You’re too late. The package is already on its way.”
Erin’s mind raced. On its way? “Where?”
He flicked the gun in his hand. “On the floor. Now.”
She backed up, and it struck her. Two dozen volunteers were returning to Miami this afternoon. “The virus is on that plane,” she said. “That’s why you’ve chartered a flight for the volunteers.”
Helton smiled.
“I’m right, aren’t I?”
“You’ll never know.”
Suddenly a noise came from the tunnel. A muffled thump, like something heavy hitting the floor.
Helton swung around.
Without hesitation, Erin struck. A kick to his gun hand sent the weapon skittering across the floor. She dove for it, knowing she didn’t stand a chance against this man in a hand-to-hand fight. He was too big. Too strong. Too well trained. Plus, one blow to the bullet wound in her side and she’d be at his mercy.
With a roar, Helton came after her, kicking the gun from her outstretched hand and grabbing her by the hair. “Stupid bitch.”
She gasped for air as he yanked her to her feet, sending pain streaking across her scalp. His sheer physical size and strength intimidated the rational part of her brain, the martial arts-trained woman who should be looking for a weakness. Instead, she experienced a momentary urge to just give up, to stop fighting her inevitable death.
“Now what?” He twisted her hair in his fist, and another streak of pain banished her fatalistic thoughts.
She’d give up when she was dead. Not before. “Fuck you,” she said, wishing she could spit in his face.
He laughed, a low, sadistic sound that hardened her resolve further. “Don’t have time for that.”
Then, more commotion echoed from the tunnel, sounds of a scuffle.
Helton spun around again, dragging her with him this time.
Erin seized the split second with his attention divided and rammed an elbow into the hard muscle of his gut. He barely flinched, but his grip on her loosened just enough for her to throw her head back and up, connecting with his chin.
He grunted, his hold slipping as he staggered backward.
Erin twisted around and brought a knee up hard to his groin. A simple move. Very female. And usually very effective.
Helton lost his breath, barely, stumbling back another half step, buying her a mere second or two.
She took them.
Again she threw herself at the gun, the stitches in her side tearing as she slid across the floor. She felt the wash of blood and pain as if from outside herself, her survival instincts in full force now, knowing that even a moment’s hesitation or wrong move would mean her certain death.
Behind her, Helton growled like an injured animal. Nearly on her.
With all her will bent on reaching the gun first, the cold metal seemed to leap into her hand. She rolled, firing even before her eye registered her target. The bullet struck home, a shock of red darkening his upper torso, slowing him.
Still, he came at her.
She fired again.
The second shot froze him in place, his face registering shock, and the world slipped into slow motion. Taking careful aim now, she brought him down with the third bullet, the small hole in his forehead wiping all else from his face.
He fell, a large, suddenly clumsy mass of muscle and limbs. And as he hit the cold stone, her surroundings returned in a rush of sound and movement.
Near the door a tumble of bodies rolled across the floor. Broken Nose. And Alec.
She pushed to her feet, suddenly aware of her side, the pain of broken stitches and the blood staining her shirt, and of the gun in her hand, useless now. She couldn’t make out where one man ended and the other started. If she took a shot, she could kill Alec as easily as the man he fought.
Then, a muffled shot as a bullet hit flesh at close range.
Alec?
Erin froze, everything inside her gone cold, her gun hand suddenly shaking. Broken Nose sprawled across Alec, blood soaking their clothes. Who had taken the bullet?
Then Alec’s hand snaked out from beneath the other man and pushed the limp body aside. Relief flooded her and she staggered back, reaching toward the wall for support.
Alec scrambled to his feet and was at her side within seconds. “Are you okay?”
Erin nodded, not really sure. She pressed a hand to her waist and it came away bloody.
“You’ve been hurt.”
“No.” She shook her head. “1 mean yes, but not now. The fighting, it just reopened the old wound. I’ll be okay.”
“But you’re bleeding.”
“I’m okay, Alec.” She glanced toward the bodies on the floor, dark crimson pools forming beneath each. “They’ve set some kind of explosives,” she said. “We’ve—”
“It’s okay.” Alec pulled her into his arms, held her close, and she allowed it. Needed it. For just a second or two. Unable, really, to pull away from this man she’d feared she’d lost. Not once, but twice. “Your friend set it up near the lab. I disconnected the fuse before following him here.”
She pulled away. “Where were you? I was so worried.” Then she remembered Joe and pushed past Alec to Joe’s side. “Joe?”
“Still here,” he whispered. “You’re not getting rid of me that easy.”
“Thank God.” She pressed her hands to his face, trying to assess his injuries. “We’re going to get you out of here.”
Alec went through Helton’s pockets and came up with a set of keys. As he worked them on Joe’s iron band, he said, “I’m sorry, Erin, I didn’t mean to scare you. When I heard them coming, I took cover. I figured it was better to surprise them from behind after I knew how many there were, and how heavily armed.”
Joe’s shackled hand came free.
“I didn’t think it would be smart,” Alec continued, “to get into a firefight, when I only had six bullets.”
Erin laughed lightly, fighting back the tears. “I forgive you.” She reached over and kissed him on the cheek, wishing she could do more. “I’m just glad . . .” She shook her head. “Never mind. Help me get Joe on his feet.”
“No,” Joe said, the weakness in his voice tearing at her. “Leave me. You need to stop that plane.”
“We can’t leave you,” Erin said.
Joe closed his eyes and settled his head against the wall. “You have to. I’ll only slow you down.”
“He’s right, Erin,” Alec said gently. “We have to get to that plane before it takes off.”
“But, Joe—”
“We’ll send someone back from the camp for him.” From his pocket, Alec pulled out a small handheld computer like the one Erin had carried into Cuba. “We’ll send the backup team in for him and Jean Taylor.”
Erin hesitated.
Alec stood and grabbed her arm. Reluctantly, she let him draw her to her feet. Though she knew they were right, leaving Joe in this condition was one of the hardest things she’d ever been asked to do.
“Go on,” Joe said. “I’m not dead yet. But if you don’t stop that plane, others will die.”