Page 67 of Until the End

Not yet, anyway. Khan’s days were numbered. Down to three.

“One bullet to the back of your knee will do a hell of a job at stopping you,” Yankee added. “Without killing you. Pretty painful.”

Khan’s weary eyes darted around in vain as if trying to think of a way around compliance.

Not that they wanted to risk firing a weapon, even suppressed, at the airport. If Khan had been well-rested and fed, that razor-sharp mind of his in good working order, he would’ve stood a chance.

They preferred his current state. Exhausted. Starved. Dehydrated. Brains like scrambled eggs. On the flight, he’d been forced to wear headphones that had blared heavy metal rock music for twelve hours straight and been denied food or water.

Khan might’ve been a mastermind for the largest, nastiest terrorist organization in the world, but he wasn’t an operative like every member of her team, trained to endure and resist enhanced interrogation—a pretty euphemism for systematic torture such as waterboarding, sexual humiliation, confinement in coffin-like boxes, sensory overload, brutalization.

He came from a world of opulence and privilege, devoid of consequences, and had been incapable of considering he might one day need to shore himself up in the event of capture. At his core, he was squishy-soft.

“Do as we’ve asked,” Yankee said in a soothing tone, “and you can have water, food, sleep. Maybe even a hot shower.”

Khan’s eyes misted over. The man was one turkey sandwich away from cracking. “Okay.” He nodded and began walking, following the instructions to the letter.

Victor tracked him the entire time, red laser dot from his gun sighted on the back of Khan’s knee.

Yankee pressed a hand to his side and drew a deep breath. A flash of pain crossed his face, setting Sierra’s teeth on edge. The agonized grimace happened so quickly, if she had blinked, she would’ve missed it. His bruised ribs had turned out to be fractured. Not a devastating break that could’ve punctured a lung or a kidney. He needed to rest a few weeks at least, but their work here for the next phase was just beginning.

As Khan crossed the open hangar bay, he was captured on three active surveillance cameras.

Sierra marked the time on her watch and the countdown began.

22

Massachusetts Turnpike

7:45 a.m. EDT

Kit snapped awake, gasping for air.

“Another nightmare?” Castle asked, resting a warm hand on her thigh.

His touch grounded her in reality. The dark chill of the gruesome dream receded.

She looked around Castle’s Hummer, orienting herself. The seats in the other SUV had been soaking wet and they’d had to take his.

In the back, Alistair lay stretched out in an alcohol-induced coma. They’d swung by Rocky’s Bar and picked him up. They had a nine-hour trek ahead of them and Castle had assured her that after some shuteye, Alistair would be sound as a bell.

She prayed he was right and, on a deeper level, hoped they wouldn’t need him as backup.

“Yeah,” Kit said, trying to clear her mind of the horrible images. She’d dozed in fits during the ride, solid sleep eluding her, and chatted with Castle when she was awake about everything from their childhoods to favorite songs and movies.

It was daylight now and the commuter traffic on the road had grown dense.

Castle took exit 18 toward Cambridge and, beyond the off-ramp, pulled into a gas station.

“Are you okay?” He stopped beside a pump and threw the gear into park.

She tried to push the images back, but they kept creeping into her head. What she wouldn’t give to have some distance from the horror and trauma of it all. “Every time I close my eyes, I relive it. The fear in their faces. That low pop echoing inside me. Watching them die and being powerless to stop it.” Her throat thickened. “Whenever someone I love seems to need me the most, I’m utterly useless. I thought by forming the Outliers, I’d save them. Tim, Marty, Lincoln.” A strong, supportive family unit was supposed to be the difference between life and death. “There’s safety in numbers and we had each other. But the reality is they’re dead because of me.”

Castle unbuckled his seat belt, glanced back at Alistair who was knocked out cold, and turned toward her. “That’s not true, Kit.”

“If I’d never created the Outliers, Jasper never would’ve been interested in me, the guys wouldn’t have taken that job, and they’d still be alive. Don’t you see? Even with my brother. I got accepted to Boston University. Just across the river from MIT. I would’ve been able to check up on him, make sure he was taking his meds and kept his appointments. But instead of going to BU, I stayed in New York. Because of a guy, who turned out to be more in love with my money than with me.” The admission bled from her soul, pain seeped from those still-festering wounds, and the ache rippled through her.

Maybe it might’ve been better not to air it out. Safer to keep her pain bandaged and covered in darkness.