Ms. Wilson thought about putting the young men out of their misery but decided she needed answers first. After the woman’s tirade ended, the man promised to check back in in ten minutes. Ms. Wilson quietly slipped the grate into the duct before she fell out of the ceiling, lacing her legs around the man’s neck. He tried to reach for the walkie-talkie, but it fell to the ground. She squeezed harder. She focused pressure on the carotid arteries and counted backward from twelve. At ten, the man slumped to the ground and Ms. Wilson landed quietly on her feet. She took the walkie-talkie and clipped it to her belt. It was big and bulky, but it should fit with her in the ducts.
She searched for something to restrain the man. There was a roll of duct tape on a shelf. She spread the man’s arms behind his back and duct-taped them to opposite ends of a broom, before winding his feet together. She then fastened the broom to a shelving unit with his arms stretched back behind him, enough to make it very difficult for him to be of any danger to her. In fact, in the position she’d strung him up in, he wouldn’t be a danger to anyone for quite some time.
When ready, she patted him on the cheek until he woke. “Wakey, wakey,” she said in a sing-song voice before she slapped him once hard across the face.
The man tried to yell, but the rag in his mouth, fastened by the duct tape, prevented him from making too much noise. The man tried to squirm, but quickly realized his predicament and stared at the woman.
“Okay, now that I have your attention,” Ms. Wilson said, “we’ll have a conversation. And if you get out of hand, I will slice off one of your testicles and feed it to you. And guess what? You have two of them. Do you understand?”
The fear in the man’s eyes was obvious. He shook his head vigorously in agreement. She unwrapped the duct tape and pulled the cloth out of the man’s mouth.
“What kind of munchkin demon are you?” he asked around the cloth.
She tilted her head sideways before reaching out and slicing off the bottom part of the man’s earlobe. He screamed, but she shoved the rag back in and smacked him once across the face until he quieted.
“Now that I think we understand each other, we can proceed. I will not tolerate any disrespect.”
The man nodded once.
“Who do you work for?”
“An oil company,” the man said.
Again, Ms. Wilson brandished the blade. “You know that’s not what I’m asking.” She moved to the man’s other ear as if she would take off another chunk.
“Okay, okay. I’m a member of the Constitutional Liberation Army. My rank and serial number a—”
Ms. Wilson shoved the rest of the rag back into his mouth. He writhed again as she taped his mouth shut.
“Most people don’t realize how potent the chemicals are in their cleaning supplies. Did you know that bleach, when mixed with certain glass cleaners, makes a sort of do-it-yourself chloroform?” She nodded at a rag that was soaked, sitting on a shelf. She picked up a pair of gloves and snapped them onto her hands. “I hope I got the recipe right,” she said before she shoved the wet towel in the man’s face. She waited until he calmed down and passed out. She stripped off the gloves and checked for a pulse. “Look at that. I didn’t kill you after all.” With that, she crawled back into the ductwork. She had one thought on her mind. She needed to call Hennigan.
Chapter Twelve
Dr. Hennigan
Hennigan listened attentively to Ms. Wilson’s tale of the past twenty-four hours. “Have you slept?” Hennigan asked after Ms. Wilson finished explaining, grabbing the satellite phone and returning to their offices to make a call.
“Who needs sleep?” Ms. Wilson joked. “I’m having too much fun. It’s been ages since I last got to kill anyone. I forgot how much I missed it.”
Hennigan glanced at the three civilians in the room and almost chuckled at the horror washing over their faces. They had never encountered someone like Ms. Wilson before, and they likely never would.
“How did you find me?” Hennigan asked, sensing Ms. Wilson’s story had come to an end.
“I knew your cell phone would be trashed, as would Denzili’s and Richardson’s. So, I thought about what I would do if I were you. Where is the last place someone would expect you to go? Then I remembered your new pets—and voilà, there you are.”
“Pets?” Ethan said.
“Shh,” Denzili said, “the grownups are talking.”
Ms. Hennigan could tell that Ethan wanted to say something else, but Blayne reached out his hand and grabbed Ethan’s. With one simple squeeze, Ethan stood down.
“Is that Denzili?” Ms. Wilson asked.
“Yes, she’s here with me, as well. I haven’t heard from Richardson.” Then, almost as an afterthought, Hennigan asked, “Have you?”
“Not yet. I tried finding you first. After you, I’m going to call in the reinforcements.”
“Who are you going to call? Someone has betrayed us. I don’t know who to trust.”
