The Victim Page 2

  Something inside told her he wouldn’t and that she would never see the sun again.

  Or anyone she loved.

  Chapter 3

  An alarm sounded in the complex somewhere down the corridor. With no clock in her cell, the only concept of time Sarah had was lights out, which happened every evening. In the mornings, her cell lights would flicker to life. Currently, her cell had been dark for at least most of the night. The alarm resounding throughout the complex startled her awake.

  Footsteps pounded down the hall outside her door. Someone shouted. Another alarm, closer, chimed in, adding to the cacophony.

  If it was a fire, would they release her or let her burn in her prison?

  She stretched to awaken her muscles and got to her feet. After feeling her way to the door in the dark, she waited. She would use the chaos to her advantage and make a break for it if they opened her door.

  Someone ran by outside her door. Another man shouted. Her stomach clenched. Every passing second meant they weren’t coming for her.

  Would Hank let his prized psychic go that easily? Sadly, she realized he probably would. It would save him from having to kill her himself.

  The door buzzed. It opened slightly, letting in light from the corridor.

  The tip of a gun entered first. Sarah waited. She needed to see the hand, the arm of her visitor, something she could break.

  The door slowed, and then stopped. Sarah got ready, but she wasn’t prepared for the door slamming inward. It happened so fast it caught her unawares, banged her arm and shoved her off balance. She dropped to one knee, spun around and quickly recovered, getting back to her feet.

  Two men stood in the open door. Hank and one of his guards. The guard held the gun.

  “What’s this?” Sarah shouted over the noise of the alarm in the hallway outside the open door. “Gonna use a bullet instead of cyanide? Coward!”

  There was enough light to see the look on Hank’s face. He was surprised she knew about the cyanide. He tapped the guard on the shoulder and stepped around him.

  “Come with us, Sarah,” he shouted as he reached out his hand.

  “Fuck you,” she yelled back.

  “Sarah, I need your help. I’ll explain on the way. There’s a helicopter waiting for us. Now, please, we’re running out of time.”

  He edged closer. She ran through her options. Whether he was taking her to be killed or not, she was dead anyway. If he was telling her the truth and there really was a helicopter, this was her best chance at escape.

  “Tell dick head over there to put his gun away and I’ll come peacefully.”

  “The gun isn’t for you,” Hank yelled, his hand still extended.

  “What?”

  “The gun is for anyone who gets in our way. Now, come on.”

  Hank turned for the door and checked the hall. He looked back at her and gestured for her to follow, then left, not waiting to see if she was coming.

  It hit her like a slap in the face. Hank was breaking her out.

  Sarah moved. She followed the two men down a couple of corridors and toward an elevator. Hank swiped a card in the reader by the elevator door and a little light flashed green.

  Wet spots had formed under Hank’s armpits. He brushed aside the wet hair resting on his brow.

  “What happened?” Sarah asked. “The alarms catch you in the shower?”

  Hank studied the corridor behind them. His eyes flickered to her and then away again.

  “There’s a fire in another section. It’s hot down that way.” He glanced at her and shrugged. “I sweat in heat like any other man.”

  “A complex like this,” Sarah said, waving her arms around, “you’d think they would have safety measures for little fires.”

  Hank glared at her. “This isn’t a little fire.”

  The elevator pinged.

  “You sure we should be taking an elevator during a fire?” Sarah asked. “Don’t they always caution people not to do that?”

  The elevator doors opened. Hank and his guard stepped inside.

  “C’mon, Sarah. We aren’t climbing fifty flights of stairs to the tarmac. The fire is contained in another area of the complex.”

  Sarah stepped inside the elevator. The door closed behind her, cutting off most of the drilling alarm noise. She leaned back into the wall as the elevator ascended. Dozens of questions raced through her mind, but she kept her mouth shut. Whatever was happening, she was being taken to the surface. The way Hank had been talking, she didn’t expect that to ever happen.

  The guard looked worried. Other than being wet and looking exhausted, Hank appeared relieved.

  “What’s really going on here?” Sarah finally asked, not able to help herself any longer. She needed to know what to expect on the surface. It had been a week since they had lowered her into the underground complex. Within minutes, she would be outside again in what she guessed was morning.

  “You’re going to help me save Joan.”

  “Why? You changed your mind about not altering the future?”

  “No, I haven’t.”

  “You’re blubbering.”

  “I’m what?” Hank asked.

  “You’re not making sense. Earlier, you said your mandate was to stop people like me. ‘We aren’t Gods,’ you said. What’s changed?”

  “Nothing’s changed.”

  “Oh, for fuck’s sake. You’re such an idiot. Do you even know how to talk, how to have a conversation?”

  “I’m not going to change the future,” Hank said. “You are.”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you.”

  “How?”

  “You’re going to approach my wife, threaten her with harm and make her run away before she’s mugged and killed, as your note predicts. That’s you changing the future, not me.”

  “Is that why you set the fire? To find a way to get me out?”

  Hank stared at the elevator’s panel without responding. She understood. He couldn’t admit arson in front of a loyal guard.

  The elevator slowed. The guard moved closer to the door and raised his weapon in preparation of what might meet them on the other side.

  Hank pulled a pair of sunglasses from his shirt pocket and handed them to Sarah.

  “Here, put these on. You haven’t seen the sun in almost a week. It might blind you.”

  Sarah slipped them on.

  As the door opened, the rotors of a helicopter revved up. Hank grabbed her arm and led her along a tunnel toward the surface, the guard a few paces ahead.

  The helicopter came into view, a pilot at the controls behind the front bubble window. Sarah examined the area, taking it all in. For every second they were on the surface, she was determined to escape Hank’s clutches. He would never take her down into the bowels of the complex again. There would be no going back.

  The guard ran ahead toward the helicopter, Hank and Sarah following. The fire alarms were silent out here, but the rotors were too loud to talk over.

  They hopped in and Hank shut the door.

  “Go, go,” he ordered the pilot as he tapped him on the shoulder.

  Sarah sat facing Hank and his guard, who still held his weapon.

  She grabbed the headset that dangled beside her and placed it over her ears. Seconds later, they lifted off. Sarah glanced out the window and watched the ground move away. The city of North Bay sprawled out toward the lake from the hill where the complex was built.

  “Why?” Sarah spoke into the microphone that wrapped around her face from the headphones. “Why all the commotion? Just to break me out?”

  Hank adjusted his headset. “I’d never get authorization to let you leave. Not until you’re either dead or being transferred to the States for testing.”

  His voice came through metallic, tinny.

  “Testing?” she asked.

  He nodded. “We don’t meet many like you, Sarah. There’s been a few, but they’re hard to find. When they’re as good as you, the higher-ups like to e
xamine your brain, you know, find out why you’re able to do what you do.”

  “This little foray to save Joan … nothing’s changed, has it? When we’re done, you’re taking me back, right?”

  He nodded.

  She looked out the window to think. The sun hung low, still before noon. They were flying low over a large lake to her right, southbound.

  “Let me ask you something.”

  “Go ahead,” Hank said. “Ask anything you want. We’re the only ones on this channel. The pilot and my guard here can’t hear us.”

  “How have you managed Drake Bellamy and my parents? You picked me up a week ago from downtown Toronto when I was having dinner with Drake. He would have questions. My parents would want to know what happened to me. What about Parkman? He followed me all the way to Europe. I’m sure he’s been asking about me.”

  While she talked, Hank’s smile widened.

  “What?” she asked. “What’s so funny?”

  “You really want to hear about that? You won’t like the answer.”

  Her stomach dropped.

  What could he possibly say that would piss me off more?

  Hank nudged the guard beside him and motioned with the gun to train it on Sarah. Then he lifted the guard’s headphones up and shouted something into his ear. The guard turned in his seat to face Sarah.

  “What’s that for?” Sarah asked.

  Hank met her stare. “I just told him that you’re getting angry and you might attack us in midair. I told him to shoot you in the kneecap if you leave your seat.”

  “I’m not angry, but I’m going to be if he doesn’t point that thing a little to the left or right.”

  Hank reached over and guided the tip of the weapon so that it aimed a little to her left. It was still facing her general direction but not at her.

  “Why would you tell him I’m angry?” Sarah asked.

  “Because of what I’m going to tell you.”

  She waited, not wanting to suppose anymore. Whatever he had to say, she needed to hear it.

  The helicopter banked to the left, straightened and continued forward, the pilot pushing the machine hard.

  “As far as the world knows,” Hank said, “you’re dead.”

  “What?” Sarah screamed into her mouthpiece.

  The guard turned his weapon toward her and held it up with both hands. She ignored him.

  “Why the fuck is that? What did you do?”

  “It’s how it works.”

  “How what works? You better start explaining yourself or this helicopter doesn’t make it to Toronto. I’ve been shot before. I can kill you with more than one bullet in my body. Start talking.”

  “You are a victim. Actually, Sarah Roberts, you were the victim on the first day you told us about the accident with the pregnant woman. Since we knew where an accident was going to take place, we added your DNA to the scene and made sure everything was burned beyond recognition.” He smiled. “Your DNA was tested at the crash site after the fire that consumed the two vehicles. The newspapers did a huge exposé on you. Editorial columns across North America made you into a hero, covering your exploits from five years ago until the day you died. You went out with international coverage. Can’t say that about many of my other exploits.”

  Her face grew hot, the inside of her palms moistened. What would her parents be going through? How would Parkman handle it after all they had been through together? She needed to let them know that everything was okay. She needed to let them all know that she was alive.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Hank said with that stupid smile of his still plastered to his ugly face. “But it’s no use. Your funeral was two days ago. Police officers from around North America attended. You were quite something in your time.”

  “Why?” was all she could ask as her mind raced with a thousand possibilities.

  “Because you are dead, as far as the world is concerned. As I said earlier, you work for the U.S. government now. After we do this thing in Toronto, you’ll be transferred to the States for testing. After six months or so, I have no idea what they do with the subjects, but I can tell you that they never go home.”

  Rod Howley popped into her head.

  “Didn’t you say Rod called about me?”

  Hank nodded.

  The helicopter banked so hard to the left, Sarah had to hold onto the seat. It righted and she adjusted herself. The guard still held his weapon out in front of him, but his arms showed signs of weariness. Hank saw his struggle and motioned with his hands to lower the piece.

  “Rod called because he knows the procedure. Which means he knows I’m still alive.”

  Hank nodded.

  “And he wants to keep me alive,” Sarah added.

  “It appears that way.” Hank shook his head in disgust.

  She remembered Vivian’s note from a week ago, right after she’d arrived at the complex.

  “It’s Rod, isn’t it? He’s going to mug Joan and kill her unless you take me to Toronto for an exchange.”

  Hank nodded again. “You’re smart. He’s already got her. We’re supposed to exchange you in the Allandale Centre food court.”

  “But you’re intent on not letting me go or letting Rod live, are you?”

  Hank clapped his hands a few times, signaling she got it right. With the sound of the rotors and the headphones, his hand clapping went unheard.

  With Sarah officially dead to the world, Hank could do whatever he wanted to her and no one would ever know.

  Even if she called someone for help, Dolan, Esmerelda or Drake, they would think it a cruel joke that someone would call and pretend to be Sarah, no matter how similar she sounded.

  She really was a victim. Every time she turned around, someone was trying to kill her. Or in this case, already had. Whether it was the bad guys or the good guys—supposed good guys—she had to fight. This was no different.

  She forced her emotions down. She wouldn’t cry in front of Hank. When she thought of the pain her parents were going through, she became overcome with grief. Her parents were strong. They could handle it until she resurfaced. Parkman would smile with a toothpick in his mouth when he saw her again and mutter how he knew all along that she wasn’t dead.

  All she had to do was get away from Hank.

  All she had to do was kill him.

  Chapter 4

  The helicopter landed just after lunch. She learned that it was Saturday and the Allandale Centre on Yonge Street in downtown Toronto would be swarmed with shoppers. Rod had chosen a high-traffic area for the exchange. Also, according to Hank, doors leading to the underground subway were merely twenty feet from the last food court table.

  But he explained how he had covered it all in advance. Six men waited for Rod to show himself. Two were inside a sporting goods store, two would be eating KFC at a table and two would be walking around the area. They would cruise up and down the aisles one floor above the food court section of the mall, as it was open and exposed to upper levels.

  Sarah had saved Rod’s life after he had been shot in the basement of a madman’s cage. She surmised he was attempting to return the favor. What concerned her was Vivian’s silence. It would help if her sister could give her a little inside information, something to lead her, set her in the right direction. But Sarah hadn’t been alone or with a pen and paper so Vivian could step in and advise.

  You could’ve said something yesterday, Vivian.

  But then she remembered that Hank would’ve read the note because they’d been watching her the whole time.

  They led Sarah from the helicopter to a waiting four-door sedan. Hank sat beside her in the car and then it was underway.

  “What’s in it for me?” Sarah asked.

  “Nothing, really.”

  “Then why am I here?”

  “Because we had to bring you for proof of life.”

  Sarah turned and looked at him. “Are you saying I’m walking into a trap? Once the exchange takes place and
I’m with Rod, you’re going to kill us both? Is that it?”

  Hank pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at his forehead and face. He stashed it back in his pocket and met her gaze.

  “Sarah, look, you’ve been a real sport. You came with me willingly when we approached you at the restaurant in Toronto last week.” He stopped and chuckled. “Well, almost willingly. Anyway, you supplied me with five prophecies and now the most important one. I appreciate that. But now I need your help to save my wife. I know Rod, and he won’t have a problem killing Joan. I’ve worked with him for years. He was one of the best agents we’ve ever had.”