The Espionage Effect(56)
The continual rushing sound of water stole my attention, pulling my gaze across the main floor to land on another metal lab table that stood empty. Two folding metal chairs had been left standing open, positioned a few feet from an end of the table and facing one another, as if abandoned by their occupants in midconversation.
At the far end of the open space, the composition of the room’s exterior structure changed—where the source of the water began. Flooring and walls transformed from polished concrete to rough limestone, manmade elements vanishing along a jagged seam. Thick limestone arched upward into an impressive cavern that stretched back into a black tunnel beyond the room. On the far side of the great opening, three vertical sculptures were faintly illuminated; the glittering surface of stalagmites stretched upward from the floor toward icicle-shaped stalactites, mere inches separating the two forms.
An underground river poured into our formed chamber from the unknown darkness, rushing through a channel carved by millions of years of natural erosion. A large nearby alcove on the manmade side housed the hydroelectric generator that powered Escobar’s house, the source of the slight vibration beneath our feet.
Sudden movement blurred beyond the river, and my gaze darted left. My mouth fell open as shock rippled through me at a horrific sight. My heart seized, then shot into my throat, followed by a strangled noise.
On pure instinct, I lunged forward.
But I never moved. Alec’s unbendable forearm snapped across my chest, just below my shoulders. My hoarse cry of protest died against the flat palm of his hand that he’d suddenly clamped over my mouth.
“No,” his fierce whisper hissed against my ear. “There’s nothing we can do here. Nothing can be done to save them. Not now.”
“But…” My muffled whine came seconds before my throat locked up again. Tears stung my eyes, blurring my vision.
And yet I stared through it, burning the appalling image into my brain.
Prison cells had been carved into the limestone walls on the opposite side of the river. Iron bars, rust coating their surfaces into a reddish-black hue, spanned the ten-foot-square openings.
Within each cell huddled a handful of prisoners, young Caucasians who dressed in colorful tourist clothing. Two were sitting on the floor in the corner of the farthest enclosure, five more populated each of the other four cells. They couldn’t be much older than twenty and looked like they belonged on a college campus, not in a dank prison in the bowels of a madman’s house.
“Devin, listen to me,” Alec whispered as he eased his grip on me by testing degrees. When I no longer fought his hold, he gripped my shoulders and turned me toward him as he searched my eyes. “We have a mission to complete. You wanted to be a part of it. Here you are. Help me. Help them. We can only do that by learning what Escobar’s plans are. We can’t rescue them; we don’t even have an exit strategy for ourselves yet. And Alfredo Escobar doesn’t do anything small scale. To save a couple dozen now could risk thousands, possibly millions, later.”
Millions. Millions meant entire metropolitan cities. That ghastly thought cut through the hurricane of emotions hazing my logic. I snapped out of the sudden panic that had paralyzed me.
“He has a dungeon,” I whispered back, galled at the concept, unable to digest the level of insanity.
“Help me find out why.” His words came out gentle, an urging plea.
For a tense moment, I struggled against the fresh agony roiling inside me. Then I sucked in a shaky breath and harnessed a survival skill I’d honed long ago, erecting an impenetrable wall and shielding the most vulnerable part of myself behind it. I blew out a strained breath, fighting to keep things compartmentalized—no small task, given my level of past trauma and the scar tissue that had just been ripped wide open.
Yet through sheer will, I ignored my screaming internal needs. The mission at hand wasn’t about me. I stared hard at the twenty-two unfortunate souls. Tonight was about them. And potentially millions of others.
I drew upon every bit of angered strength and vengeance that I’d held back for far too long, gave Alec a determined nod, and turned back toward him. “Tell me how to help.”
“What do you see?”
I narrowed my eyes at the occupied cells, committing to memory the features of the kids trapped inside whose faces were downturned, eyes shut, as if resigned to some dire fate. They either hadn’t sensed our presence, or had experienced enough disappointing visitors to believe no one would be coming to rescue them.
Bolstering my courage by focusing on our mission, convincing myself regardless of any supporting evidence that we would save the purported millions and these twenty-two, I focused on the room at large. “You don’t happen to have those glasses, do you?”
In a flash of movement, they appeared in front of me. “Never leave home without them.” From behind, he carefully slid them over my face, guiding the slender rubber-coated arms over my ears until they were secure. Then he grasped the right outer frame edge with his index finger and thumb, depressing a silver button on top. A faint chime sounded in my ear as the computer array appeared across the inner surface of the lenses.
Readings of temperature and humidity, altitude, and coordinates of longitude and latitude appeared on either side.
The image adjusted as I swept my vision to the hydroelectric station. Nothing remarkable or unexpected there. A simple housing, basic engineering to harness the natural power of water.