“So, the fundingiscoming from the government.They couldn’t do this legitimately so they’re using you in exchange for what?Money?Power?”
“Governments come and go.Politicians think they know everything.They don’t.”
“And my role in this?”Bryn asked.
“Your ability to read people, their memories, their intentions, whether they’re telling the truth, we want to understand it.Map it.Potentially replicate it in our subjects.”Russo’s eyes gleamed with unsettling enthusiasm.“Imagine it.The perfect interrogators, the perfect spies, the perfect hunters.”
“It doesn’t work that way,” Bryn said.“It’s not something you can extract or duplicate.People have already tried.”
“Perhaps not directly,” Russo conceded.“But with Dr.Frost’s expertise in genetic manipulation and neural mapping, we may be able to create something similar.And at minimum, we’ll have you.”
“I won’t cooperate.”
“You don’t need to.We just need your brain.”Russo smiled.“Though your cooperation would make things considerably less…invasive.”
“Are you deliberately going for the supervillain vibe, or is that accidental?”
Russo’s expression didn’t change but he curled his fingers into a fist.“You have tonight to consider adjusting your attitude.Take him away.”
The guards dragged Bryn out of the lab.They weren’t gentle as they shoved him along more gray corridors then into a small, windowless room.
The cell wasn’t much larger than the average closet—a concrete box with a narrow cot bolted to the wall and a stainless-steel toilet in the corner.A single light recessed into the ceiling cast harsh illumination that couldn’t be turned off.Russo’s goons had removed his handcuffs before shoving him inside, but the heavy metal door had sealed with an ominous thud that made Bryn flinch.
He sat on the edge of the cot, the thin mattress providing little cushion against the metal frame beneath.The room was cold, and they hadn’t left him a blanket.Probably deliberate, another discomfort to wear him down before whatever Russo had planned.He’d known worse.Russo could learn a thing or two from Giles Delacourt.Bryn rubbed his wrists where the cuffs had been and ignored the ache in his lower back.His thoughts kept straying to Gunnar.The image of his partner, his lover, falling played on repeat in his head.
“He’s alive,” Bryn whispered.“He has to be alive.”But doubt gnawed at him.He’d seen the way Gunnar had dropped.He’d been shot and taken a blow to the head.His survival would depend on help arriving quickly.My tracker was still active when he went down.The GCR team will have found him.The mission had gone sideways so fast.One moment they were getting useful information, the next the world was on fire.
Bryn stood and paced the small cell, five steps in one direction before having to turn.“I should have been faster.Should have sensed the trap.”When he’d shaken Frost’s hand, there had been no indication that Frost knew he was being played.His intent had involved a juicy steak and a single malt.Russo was right about that.Frost is naïve.I doubt he had any idea what he was really getting into.
“If he’s gone…” Bryn couldn’t contemplate life without Gunnar.He sank back onto the cot, dropping his head into his hands.He could hear the faint hum of the light above, the distant mechanical sounds of ventilation systems, but nothing human.No footsteps of guards patrolling, no noise from other prisoners.The air smelt and tasted metallic.It was as if he’d been sealed away from the world.
Hours passed, marked only by increasing hunger pangs.When exhaustion finally overcame discomfort, he lay on his side, knees drawn up for warmth.He closed his eyes, trying to quiet his mind enough for sleep.His last thought before drifting into a fitful doze was of Russo’s words.“Everyone has a price, Mr.Ashton.Or if not a price, then a pressure point.”
Bryn now understood with terrible clarity what his pressure point was.He hoped Russo didn’t know it too.Please be safe.Please.
Chapter Thirteen
Bryn awoke at the click of the door lock disengaging.He’d had a restless, exhausting night, his body ached and he really wanted to hit something or someone.Two guards came into his cell.They were different ones from the previous day, both wore dark glasses and tactical gear with no identifying badges.One held a tray that sported a plastic cup of water and a granola bar.
Wannabe special forces.Probably failed the psych eval.“Is that it?I’m a growing boy.”
“Eat it, don’t eat it.You think I give a fuck?”The guard tossed the bar in Bryn’s direction.
Bryn caught it.“Don’t like being a jumped-up server then?”He held a hand out for the water.“Gimme.”He thought he might get an unwanted bath but the guard handed over the drink rather than throwing it at him.“There’s a good boy.”That’s it, genius, antagonize the nasty man with the big gun.
He choked down the pathetic excuse for breakfast, mind racing.Would Russo be moving him today, and where to?How could he find out whether Gunnar was alive?I need to get out of this place, wherever it is.
“Let’s go,” the larger guard said after Bryn had drained the last drop of water.“Hands.”
The guard secured the restraints then Bryn was escorted back through the maze of corridors to the same interrogation room where he’d first met Salvatore Russo.The same metal chair bolted to the floor awaited him.The guards secured him to it and took up positions by the door.The room felt colder today, or maybe that was the impact of minimal sleep and lack of food.
He didn’t have to wait long.The door opened to admit Dr.Frost, who wheeled in a cart laden with medical equipment.Russo followed close behind.
“Wow.I’m honored to be getting your personal attention, Russo,” Bryn said.
“I trust you had time to reflect on our conversation,” Russo said, his tone casual, as if they were discussing the weather rather than Bryn’s imminent fate.
“Wasn’t really in the mood for introspective reflection.”
