Page 91 of A Touch of Treachery
“Cat got your tongue?Pity.”Henrika clucked her own tongue in mock sympathy.“Maybe this will make you a bit more forthcoming.”
She went over and hit a button on the laptop.Several loud hydraulic hisses sounded, and a chair moved away from a wall, rolled forward, and stopped in an open space near the center of the lab.The light gray chair looked like something in a dentist’s office but with a few unwanted accessories, like thick plastic straps around the arms and the footrest.
Another chill slithered down my spine.“What is that?”
Henrika smiled.“Oh, just a little something to help me study my subjects up close.”
I shook my head.“If you think I’m getting in that thing—”
She waved her hand, cutting me off.“I know, I know.I’ll have to kill you before you get in that chair, much less tell me any Section secrets.But here’s the thing, Desmond.You don’thaveto tell me anything.All the lovely data I’m about to collect will reveal everything I need to know.”
Henrika hit another button.A second, louder hiss sounded, but this time, the noise was inside the cell.
I whirled around.A metal vent was embedded about halfway up the concrete wall in the back.White gas streamed out of the vent, quickly filling up the space.
I put my forearm up against my nose and mouth and backed into the corner, but I couldn’t escape the gas.In less than ten seconds, it flowed over me like a cool, misty fog.The gas slithered down my throat, tasting of vanilla, strangely enough.A sudden, intense wave of drowsiness crashed over me, my legs buckled, and I slid down to the floor.
A sharp knock sounded on the glass, drawing my attention, and I lolled my head to the side.Henrika stood right outside the cell, staring down at me with a dispassionate expression.
“Sweet dreams, Desmond,” she purred.
Another cloud of gas misted over me.The drowsiness in my body increased, and I didn’t have the strength to hold myself upright.I pitched over onto my side, and the last thing I saw before I lost consciousness was Henrika’s thin, malicious smile.
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHARLOTTE
SinceIhadbeenbanished from the makeshift command center, I got into the elevator and returned to the honeymoon suite.I opened the door cautiously, but my synesthesia didn’t signal any hazards.Of course not.Henrika and Bryce were long gone, and they’d taken all the danger with them, along with Desmond.
My heart squeezed at the thought of Desmond, of how Henrika could be hurting—torturing—him right this very moment, but I shoved my emotions down and buried them under a layer of ice.The only way to find Desmond was to think like Henrika, and to do that, I needed to be cold, calm, and ruthless.
I made sure the suite door locked behind me, then strode into the living room, sat down on the couch, cracked open my laptop, and logged into the Section system.
Access denied.
I frowned and tried my usualCLockelogin and password again, making sure everything was spelled correctly.
Access denied.
I smacked the screen, but the message didn’t change.Dammit.General Percy must have told Diego to revoke my access.I’d been hoping my suspension would have been an afterthought while everyone was searching for Desmond, but I should have known I wasn’t that lucky.Not given the General’s attention to detail and his intense dislike of me.
A sharp knock sounded on the suite door.Warily, I got to my feet, tiptoed to the door, and peered through the peephole.General Percy’s bodyguards were standing outside with Joan.I muttered a curse, but if I didn’t answer, they’d just come back with some of the strike team members, along with a battering ram.
I opened the door and crossed my arms over my chest.“What do you want?”
“General Percy has ordered you to turn over all Section weapons and accessories,” Joan said in a bland, neutral voice.“Step aside, Charlotte.”
I had no choice but to do as she commanded.Joan swept past me, as did the two bodyguards.
“Get the suitcases,” Joan ordered.
The two men headed into the bedroom.A few thumps and bumps sounded, and a minute later, the guards rolled Desmond’s and my suitcases into the living room.
“I wouldn’t want you to have to buy a tacky T-shirt and flip-flops from the gift shop, so I’ll let you keep the clothes you’re wearing,” Joan said.
“How kind of you,” I sniped back.
Joan ignored my sarcasm and gestured at the bodyguards.“Get the rest of it.”
