Abuse of Power - Michael Savage [85]
There was also no gun, which puzzled Jack. He’d expect a guy like this to carry one, but maybe he preferred his trusty magic wand.
Jack picked up the passport where Swain had dropped it. He pocketed the watch, phone, bills, and keys. He tore the handkerchief in half and wrapped it loosely around his bloody wrists. He looked for something to tie the ape’s hands, but there was only the man’s shirt. He decided that the time it took to bind and gag the guy was better spent getting the hell out. He gave the ape a parting kick in the ribs and moved to the doorway.
His escape hadn’t brought anyone coming, and Jack guessed that no one was nearby. He carefully peered into the hall.
It was too dark to see much of anything.
Taking the cell phone out, Jack turned it on and shone the beam down the hallway. There were several doors with windows dotting each side and he knew he’d been right, that this was once the psychiatric ward of a hospital. From the run-down look of it, the place had been abandoned at least a couple of decades ago. At the far end was an elevator, a stairwell next to it. A straight line and he’d be down those stairs and out the door, assuming none of Swain’s men tried to block his path.
But he couldn’t leave without checking on the woman. If she was alive, he needed to get her out of here.
He moved from door to door, shining the light through the windows, and finally found her in the cell nearest the stairwell. She was tied to a chair, her head hanging forward and canted to one side, her dark hair wet and stringy. Her sweater, shirt, and bra had been stripped away, exposing her naked torso.
Jack thought he saw movement there, the subtle rise and fall of her bare chest.
Throwing the door open, he stepped inside, quickly untied her and slapped at her face. “Wake up,” he whispered. “Come on…”
She didn’t respond.
He slapped her again, giving it more force than he would have liked, but she finally stirred and blinked up at him with dull, nearly lifeless eyes, not really registering who he was or what he wanted from her.
Searching the floor, he found her sweater, snatched it up, and quickly pushed it down over her head. Then he shoved her arms into it and pulled her to her feet. “Can you walk?”
She seemed to understand but her legs were trembling and she stumbled, losing her footing. She fell against him and he held her steady, but his own legs weren’t quite back to normal yet and they swayed together, like a pair of saplings in a storm, her face falling against his neck.
He felt the heat of her breath. “… Who…?” she croaked. “Who … are you…?”
“The guy who was following you. Remember?”
She stiffened slightly, but he pulled her close in the hope of reassuring her. “Don’t worry,” he said. “I’m not one of them. I’m a friend.”
He had no way of knowing if that was true. She could well be a terrorist sympathizer or an extremist herself. But right now she was simply a human being who needed his help, and Jack decided they’d sort out the rest later.
She started to straighten now, as if she were regaining strength, and he shifted her around, supporting her by the armpits. “We need to get out of here. Can you walk?”
“I … I think so.…”
They took a step together toward the door and she stumbled again, but Jack steadied her and kept moving them forward. Then they were out the door and headed toward the stairwell, Jack once again using the cell phone as a weak flashlight. Now that her legs were moving the woman seemed to be regaining even more strength.
“This probably isn’t the time for introductions,” he said quietly, “but I need to call you something. What’s your name?”
“Sara,” she told him.
“Nice to meet you, Sara. My name is—”
A roar of anger reverberated off the walls as the ape crashed into the hallway behind them. Jack spun around and saw the quick flash of a muzzle—
The world exploded in gunfire.
25
“Down!” Jack shouted, pushing her forward.
Sara didn’t need any encouragement. She dove toward the stairwell before Jack