The door across from me shuts with a solidthud, and Bowen takes up position next to it, holding a silenced pistol.
A second door at the far end of the dryers is partially hidden by a line of carts and several long tables holding stacks of folded orange shirts and pants.
Spinning a stun gun in his hand, Bastian circles me. Electricity arcs between the twin points. “Natasha’s confession has been entered into the system. There’s enough evidenceagainst her that the Colonel can easily get our convictions overturned now.”
“Is this the part where you gloat, asshole? Because I’m really fucking tired. Just skip to the torture already. Or better yet, go fuck yourself.”
The prongs dig into my side. I barely manage to go limp before pure agony ripples through my muscles. My scream goes on forever like I’m some demented Wookie. I twitch helplessly, hanging by my wrists as my thoughts scramble.
I lose all track of time, though somewhere in the back of my mind, I know it’s only a five-second hit.
“Happy now?” Bastian asks. He examines the stun gun, a small smile curving his lips. “This particular model can be used ten, twelve times before recharging. Doherty, how many others do we have?”
“Three, Sarge.” The dark-haired asshole unzips a small duffel bag and lays the devices out on one of the tables.
“No. I’m not happy at all.” I do my best to relax my muscles, despite the spasms still rolling through me. “Maybe you missed the part where I told you to go fuck yourself?”
The second hit is so much worse. I buck in the restraints, my back twisting in truly unnatural ways. I can’t feel my left leg at all, but the rest of my body is one raw nerve.
How much longer until the end? Ten minutes? Twenty? The Colonel will be here soon—whoever the fuck he is. Time to change tactics. If thereisa way out of here—if Gladys managed to get to Hidden Agenda and they came up with a plan, I have to do my best to stay alive. And find out how far up the chain the corruption goes. I can’t do that if he keeps shocking me.
“You really think this is a good plan?” I manage. My throat is on fire, and the words aren’t much louder than a hoarse whisper. But the idiot is still close enough to shock me without breaking asweat. “Natasha willingly surrenders to CID, cops to everything, and then decides to kill a guard her first night in jail? Why?”
“She killed dozens,” Bastian says with a little shrug. “Women. Children. Innocents. She’ll be written off as mentally unstable. And you…well…” He chuckles. “Employee records will show that you started working here three days ago. You took a fancy to the newest inmate, brought her here so you could have your way with her, and things got…messy.”
“You fucking piece of shit!” I lunge for him, but the rope holds me back. “If you touch her?—”
“Don’t worry,” he says mildly. “You’ll be dead by then. Though, I suppose making you watchwouldbe the ultimate form of torture.” He glances down at the weapon in his hand with a contemplative hum.
Doherty clears his throat. “Sarge? The Colonel’s on his way.”
“Excellent.” Bastian checks his watch. “Five minutes until lights out. Is everyone in position?”
Collins pulls out a radio. “Lewiston. Horvath. Report.”
“Ready and waiting,” comes a man’s reply.
“Kerr? All quiet out there?”
After a beat, another man confirms the kitchen and hallway are clear. A fourth says Natasha is alone in her cell and they’re on their way to retrieve her.
Five of them. At least. Multiple witnesses to confirm Bastian’s bullshit story. And way too many hostiles in this room for me to fight my way out.
The door opens, and Bowen takes two quick steps back. “Sir.”
The man I can only assume is “the Colonel” is in street clothes—jeans and a light blue Polo shirt—but carries himself like the upper echelon of the military. Crisp, precise steps, a glint to his dark eyes that says heknowshe’s the most powerful man in the room, and barely contained rage.
“I told you witnesses were a bad fucking idea,” he snaps, gesturing to me. “I could have strung her up in here and made it look like a suicide. It would have been a lot cleaner.”
“Except someone would have to explain how she got out of her cell.” Bastian shakes his head. “This way, we both get what we want.”
“What Iwantis for you and your men to get the fuck to Syria and restart the operation. But evenIcan’t get you on GrayZone’s payroll until your records are expunged.”
GrayZone. The private military contracting company sends a contingent to every war zone across the world. That’s the Colonel’s end game. Restart the whole operation with men who know what they’re doing—because they’ve done it before.
The man pulls a pair of black leather gloves from his pocket and tugs them on before holding out his hand. “You have something for me?”
Doherty approaches and unfolds a dark cloth. Inside rests a toothbrush with the end of the handle sharpened into a shiv. “Colonel Sapier, sir? This is the exact brand of toothbrush given to all new inmates. It’s been wiped clean. We’ll get her prints—and his—on it after they’re dead.”
