The Hermit Kingdom, page 22
The details were unclear, but the picture began forming in his mind.
If they thought she knew the key to unlocking some component of this prion research, they would certainly want to keep her alive.
His subconscious tugged at him. Unless they had already extracted that information from her, he realized. In that case, there was no use for her or any of the other subjects. They could effectively abandon this place for good, blowing it all up when they thought the American infiltration team was inside.
Two birds with one stone.
One gigantic, secret research station-sized stone.
If that were true, he reasoned, it meant Seong Park might actually still be here. The perpetrators would be long gone of course, but they now had a much clearer picture of what they were doing here. Dr. Michaela Everly had been able to pinpoint the prion disease and its treatment. He had been unconscious for some of the back-and forth, but he remembered her explanation before his teammate had smashed the rifle over his head.
Plus, Seong Park might know more. That would be a fantastic reason for Grudowski to have waited this long. He not only needed to make sure Seong Park was still here – he wanted to make sure the research was accessible. Retrieving his boss's daughter would not be enough, Evans knew. The man was shrewd, and wouldn't bat an eye at using his daughter as bait to get access to the research on the disease they were creating in this laboratory.
He almost shook his head, but stopped himself. No, that doesn't track, he thought. Park loves his daughter and wouldn't knowingly put her in harm's way. So what happened? How did Seong Park get involved in all of this?
He remembered Michaela overhearing their benefactor’s name while hogtied in the back of the truck. Had Chung-Hee Park been trying to double-cross the people who’d hired the kidnapper, as well? Had he been trying to gain access to the research by allowing his daughter to visit this place? Perhaps it had started as a simple diplomatic mission – one that had ended horrendously for him and his daughter.
Or, perhaps, Seong Park had been studying a similar or adjacent topic, much like Dr. Michaela Everly had been. Perhaps she had been targeted, and there had been no previous connection to his boss.
It was all enough to make his head swim, so he relaxed and allowed his mind to wander.
It sounded like his teammate was finishing up, his words clipped, growing louder as he grew more frustrated with Shane Riley's combative stance.
"That's enough talk," Grudowski was saying. "You two, by the door. And just as a reminder, I don't need both of you from here on out. I'd prefer not to leave you dead, but to use you as leverage. Keep that in mind – open your mouth again or do something stupid, and I'll put a bullet in your back."
Evans heard Shane grumbling, but their footsteps indicated that he and Dr. Everly were doing as they had been told and moving toward the door.
There's no way he forgets me in here, Evans thought. There's no way he'll just allow me to wake up and –
"I almost forgot," his teammate said. "We can't just leave our buddy here, can we?"
Evans heard more footsteps, shuffling, and then he heard Michaela gasp.
"No!" Shane suddenly shouted. There were more footsteps, and then the sound of running. Evans opened his eyes then, involuntarily. He saw Riley running toward him – running toward Grudowski, who was standing just in front of Evans.
Shane’s arms were out, flailing, no weapon in his hands. Michaela stood shocked by the door, her hand over her mouth.
Evans heard the gunshots before he realized what was happening. Grudowski was there; he had beaten Shane to him.
Two rounds, directly into Evans’ back.
He lurched, convulsing on the floor as one round sailed through his side and the other landed next to his spine. The impact was intense, and he felt the bullet breaking through a rib and hit his lung. He tasted blood, then felt it spilling outward from his lips.
His eyes were wide in shock.
And that's when the pain reached him. He moved his mouth open and closed as he gasped for air.
But there was none. He heard Shane struggling with his teammate, but their voices and Michaela's shouting was fading.
His eyes closed again, and peace came over him.
Everything went black.
66
SHANE
Shane lunged forward, nearly falling over but catching himself right at the last moment and breaking into a full sprint. He tried to close the distance, but there was no way he would make it in time.
Grudowski was hovering over Evans, gun ready. Shane had been a little slow on the uptake, not realizing what he was going to do until he had done it.
The two shots slammed into Evans’ back just as Shane reached him. He pushed Grudowski backwards, hearing a satisfied crack as the mercenary sailed backwards into one of the bookcases. Binders and reports spilled out, landing at his feet. Shane kept moving, trying to drive him through the wall.
Grudowski was laughing, a maniacal cackle as he swung the rifle around.
Only then did Shane realize his mistake.
He caught the side of the man's weapon with his temple and immediately saw stars. He stumbled to the side, and Grudowski backhanded him once again, a meaty fist smacking into his ear.
Shane worked his mouth open and closed as he forced himself to recover.
Shane backed away then, aiming for the far corner of the room. Grudowski was chasing him, menacingly stomping toward him as Evans lay heaving and dying on the floor. He stepped over Evans’ legs and kept his rifle trained on Shane.
Shane's mind cleared for a split second, and he realized the predicament.
Grudowski was right – he didn't need Shane and Michaela. If he was in the man's shoes, he would choose the doctor over Shane, anyway. She was not only the smarter of the two, the one brought here specifically to understand what research was taking place, but she was unarmed and untrained in combat.
Shane's eyes widened as the man pointed the rifle at him. "I think you might be having trouble grasping the gravity of the situation," Grudowski snapped. He stood in the center of the room, his back to Evans and the computer station Michaela had been using earlier. Shane saw Michaela to his left, stepping inside the room once more, terror and grief plastered over her face.
"I meant it before when I said I didn't want to kill you. Are you really not going to give me that choice?"
For the first time since meeting this man, Shane felt dumbstruck. He had no words. He saw his life in front of his eyes now, saw Kate and heard the messages left on his phone, asking for him.
He saw her car, imagined her driving home to him, only to be intercepted by the murderers who had kidnapped her and killed her.
He saw the pictures of her dead body, the round, red circle in the center of her forehead. He saw her face, empty and devoid of life, but the look of sheer terror permanently etched across it.
This was how he had left her. This was his fault.
He couldn't control those thoughts any longer, they pummeled the inside of his mind like the same bullet that had taken her life… and now taken Evans’.
The mercenary took another step forward. "I would say you've forced my hand, but I'm actually a man of my word. I told our boss I wouldn't kill either of you, no matter what."
Shane's gaze shifted to Michaela, who was moving slowly along the wall. He didn't turn his head, didn't move at all.
What is he talking about?
"I was sincere earlier when I said I didn't care if you two died – I'm not here to take prisoners; it would be more convenient for me if I just left you all here like Evans. But I told our boss that I wouldn't be the one to do it. He understood battlefield casualties, collateral damage, all that. But it wouldn’t be at my hand."
"Did you tell him that about Evans as well?" Shane said, his words venomous.
Grudowski shrugged. "Actually, yeah, I did. That's why I shot him in the back – it was a moment of confusion. I doubt our boss will ever come here to verify, but I'll sleep easy knowing I didn't just execute all three of you. My job is simple: get the data and get his daughter. I'm not here to keep any of you alive, nor am I here to kill you. That's that."
67
MICHAELA
Michaela crept slowly along the wall. She had moved inside the room once more, trying to avoid attention but also not wanting to leave Shane alone in there. She felt a strange sense of connection to him, especially now after a shared traumatic experience like this. She knew that was common in relationships – almost any person, thrown together with anyone else, would form an unbelievably strong bond after going through a terrifying and life-altering situation.
Her subconscious was supplying these thoughts, but she tried to turn her intellectual brain off for a moment. This was not the time to psychologically analyze herself or anyone else. This was not the time for digging into the human psyche. There was a very real threat in front of them now, and Michaela was not about to allow this guy to kill Shane without her fighting back.
Of course, she felt helpless. She was no soldier, and hardly knew the first thing about hand-to-hand combat.
She was also well aware that this would not be hand-to-hand combat. It would be a one-sided battle, served from the end of this mercenary's rifle barrel.
She tried to ignore Evans breathing slowly down by the computer station. The mercenary had shot him in the back twice, and while Michaela wanted more than anything to run over and check on the man, she knew her best option right now was to maintain the element of surprise.
If she was going to gain the upper hand at all, to allow Shane to come back into this fight, it would be by sneaking around behind the man standing in the center of the room.
She had one target in mind – Shane's rifle that he had dropped to the floor by the computer. She had been standing close to it before, but it had escaped her attention then. Not anymore. She worked her way against the wall, daring to step forward to move in front of the shallow desk-like piece of furniture bolted to the wall, careful not to make any noise. She only half-listened as Shane and the mercenary discussed.
She kept her eyes on the floor, as if that would help make her invisible. The mercenary was yelling now, shouting at Shane about this mission and something about keeping his word.
She didn't know this man, didn't know if he was just posturing or actually meant any of it. He'd already betrayed them, so why not do it again? Why not simply leave them all dead here and tell Seong Park's father they had fought back? Surely the man wouldn't truly care about any of their lives — so long as he got his daughter and the research.
Yet the man was armed and had not shot either of them yet. Evans was on the ground, and she saw a bit of blood pooling around his chest. He was lying on his stomach, head to the side away from her. She couldn't see if his eyes were opened or closed, but he was completely still, unmoving. She reached the weapon a few seconds later. She nearly kicked it with her foot, but stopped short. Shane was talking now, capturing the man's attention.
She bent down, knowing this was her best chance. She reached the rifle, feeling its cold steel in her bare hand. She picked it up, hoisted it. She swung around, aiming it directly at the man, placing her finger over the trigger. She slid her left hand farther out on the barrel, trying to make the grip comfortable. She looked down, noticing a small latch on the side.
A safety?
She moved her thumb over to it, preparing to turn it on… or off, she wasn't sure which.
"Drop it."
She nearly jumped out of her skin, but held the rifle. It shook in her hands. She glanced upward, noticing that Grudowski had turned and was facing her. She also noticed the rifle barrel he was holding had swung around.
"Ever felt the recoil of that gun?" he snapped. "It likes to rise quite a bit. Took me weeks at the range to really get the hang of it. It's got a kick, that's for sure. You might think your shoulder's nice and steady now, but I wouldn't bet on you from more than three feet away."
She knew he was trying to egg her on, to make her fumble so he could once again keep the advantage.
She wasn't going to let that happen. Her thumb hit the safety, and she flicked it. It clicked, and she steeled herself, padding the butt of the rifle with her shoulder, knowing that though he might not be telling the truth, there would absolutely be some kick.
But she was not going to falter. He swung the rifle back around to make sure Shane was in his place. She crept forward a step, but moved backward once again. Her back was pressed to the wall, her eyes looking over at him, pleading.
I can do this, she told herself.
"Just put the gun down; none of us have to get hurt."
She wondered if he even heard the words as they fell from his lips, or if he was just regurgitating what he heard in countless movies. Did he actually believe this? He had killed their friend in cold blood, betrayed all of them. He didn't care one way or another who got hurt. He just wanted to stay alive.
That sealed the deal. She lifted the rifle up, seeing his eyes widen. She aimed for the center of his chest, smart enough to know that going for a headshot was risky with any firearm.
She pulled the trigger.
It didn't budge. It was stuck, locked.
Then the man smiled. He lifted his own rifle, but it wasn't pointed at her. He aimed for Shane, arching up just over his head. He fired a shot quickly, the sound deafening.
She screamed, and he turned the rifle back to her. Both she and Shane stood in the room, shell-shocked.
"Put. The rifle. Down."
She swallowed, then nodded as she let the rifle fall to the floor once more. Apparently, she had put the safety back on. It had been off when Shane was holding it, unsurprisingly, knowing the man would want to be ready for anything, not trusting anyone.
She should have known — should have guessed that. But it was too late now.
"Back to the door, both of you,” Grudowski said. “Let this be a lesson to you."
Shane was moving toward her now, his side to the soldier standing in the center of the room. He didn't seem fazed by the man's threats, but she knew better than to think he wasn't taking them seriously. Shane reached her then, immediately grabbing her hand. She held it tightly, and he squeezed.
It was a small gesture, but it gave her immense strength. He tried to pull back, but she held tight. No, she thought. We're in this together. Me and you. And we're going to see this through.
He looked down at her, catching her eyes. They were wide, scared. But there was something else there, reassurance?
She nodded at him, as if trying to telepathically send thoughts to him.
It seemed he understood, at least a bit. He nodded back, and together, hand in hand, they left the room.
68
SHANE
They searched the floor they were on first, working through the H-shaped layout quickly and methodically. No one spoke, no one offered suggestions. They simply worked together, Shane and Michaela taking turns inspecting each room they passed, at least the ones that were unlocked.
The first one they reached that was locked, their accompanying mercenary fired a round through the mechanism and kicked the door open. Inside was more of the same – shelves full of reports, filing cabinets stacked to the ceiling, desks, and tables lining the walls. Two armchairs sat in the center of the room, facing a large desk pulled out from one wall. It looked like the office of someone important, but the only pictures on the walls were of the current and prior North Korean dictators.
After that, they didn't bother unlocking the doors. Shane knew they all felt the same way – if Seong Park were still here, she would be downstairs in the rooms they had passed on their way to the communications space.
Closer to the bomb.
Though it hadn't detonated and seemed to be defunct, none of them wanted to be anywhere near it.
However, they didn't find any more subjects or patients — or anyone at all on the upper floor — besides the deceased individual they had found earlier. It seemed that, with the exception of ongoing operations, the subjects were kept prisoner on the bottom level of the base. That made sense to Shane, though he didn't like it.
They descended the staircase in single file, their mercenary companion behind them, rifle aimed directly at Shane's back the entire time. He felt a bit reassured that Grudowski had come clean and admitted that he was not there to kill them, but that reassurance didn't go far. He knew he wouldn't hesitate to shoot them in the back if needed.
Shane stopped behind Michaela at the first room. She tried the handle, and he watched as it turned in her grasp. It clicked open, but she held the door closed for a moment as she looked behind her. He was there, watching, nodding.
"It's okay," he whispered. "I'm right here."
He knew what she was feeling – he felt it as well. Trepidation, uneasiness. Whatever they were about to find in this room, it was going to give them answers. He was sure of it.
Their mercenary companion urged her to hurry up, and Shane helped her push the door open. It was heavier than all the doors upstairs, not one of those single-core, hollow doors they'd encountered earlier. It was solid metal, constructed undoubtedly to keep someone in or out.
Shane held his breath as they entered. There was no light, and Michaela didn't reach for one. Behind him, the mercenary turned on the light clipped to the end of his rifle and aimed into the room. Eyes stared back at them.
Shane jumped, pushing backward, but only bumped into their burly escort. The man shoved him off, keeping the rifle pointed toward the people in the room. They were people this time – not just eyeballs floating in vats.
Michaela let out a small gasp, and Shane couldn't help but stare.
Emaciated people stared back at him, their eyes coalescing into a point where Shane was standing. They were all staring at the door. Each of the people had only a single eye, their left removed. But unlike the villagers, these people wore no eye patches, bandages, or coverings of any kind. The sick, hollow openings were filled with congealed blood, pooled and viscous as they sat in the cavity.
