The FBI Thrillers Collection Books 1-5 - Catherine Coulter [542]
“Look,” she said, raising a pistol, a Bren Ten, a 10mm automatic that held eleven rounds.
“The woman had it on her tray along with some needles and bottles. I haven’t seen one of these guys for a long time. It’s a good combat weapon.”
I grabbed the two small vials on the tray.
“Good idea,” she said, smiling at me. “You ready?”
I turned left and stopped cold.
“What’s wrong, Mac?”
“Just an attack of déjà vu,” I said, and slithered out the door. We left the men completely naked and tied up as best we could with strips of the bed sheet Laura had been wearing. Laura had tied the woman up with her underwear.
“Let’s go to Molinas’s office,” I said. “If there’s someone there, we can force them to take us to Sherlock and Savich.”
We passed a window. It was dark outside, and that was good. How much time had passed?
The office was empty. They’d boarded up the glass windows behind the desk. “Maybe they’ve hidden a phone,” I said, and began opening drawers.
Suddenly I felt dizzy and unfocused. I just stood there, waiting to see what would happen. Was this death coming? A numbing cold overwhelmed me. I felt it chewing at the edges of my brain. My heart pounded. Laura was staring at me, her hand out. I knew she was talking but I couldn’t make out her words. To die like this, I thought, as I went to my knees.
I wasn’t dying. It was the drug again. I fell back against the wall. I saw Laura over me even as I sat there, my head to one side.
She was shaking me as hard as she could. “Mac, listen to me. I know you can hear me, you’re looking at me. Blink at me. Yes, that’s right. Whatever’s going on in your head, you’ve got to control it. We’ve got to get out of here.”
I looked over at the glass windows. They weren’t boarded up. The glass was solid, whole. And I wondered: Did we really crash through it the first time?
“Mac, blink at me again.”
I evidently did because she started speaking again. Her voice was low. She was close to me. I could feel her breath on my face.
“I want you to raise your hand now, Mac.”
I looked down at my hand lying limp on the floor. I looked and looked at it and then I thought, Just raise your damned hand. My hand came right up. I cupped Laura’s face with it. “Whatever it is, it’s going away. It’s a weird feeling. Laura, we didn’t use anything when we made love at Seagull Cottage. If I made you pregnant, I don’t want you to worry about it, okay? We’re going to get married. It’ll all be okay.”
She grinned at me, leaned down, and kissed my mouth. It was a sweet kiss and I felt it throughout my body, and the feeling was healthy and real. “I’m better,” I said.
“Good. I want you to stand up now, Mac. Do you think you can do it?”
I felt the journey of coming back into myself, of retaking control. I doubted in that moment if I would ever again even willingly take an aspirin. There is nothing more terrifying than losing control of your mind.
I got up. I stood staring at the boarded-up windows. “My memory went haywire. I felt numb and everything was different. This damned drug is a killer.”
“Let’s find Molinas, Mac.”
I picked up my AK-47. I felt strong again. In control. But for how long this time?
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
I was frankly surprised when we went through a corridor on the far side of the office and found ourselves in an antique-filled bedroom. The man we believed to be Molinas was sitting on the side of a bed, leaning over a woman. Not a woman, she was young, perhaps eighteen. She had a white sheet pulled to her chin. Thick, shiny dark hair fanned around her face on a white pillow.
Molinas hadn’t heard us. All his attention was focused on the girl. He was wearing black pants, a loose white shirt, and his bald head gleamed beneath the mellow bulb just above the bed.
He was speaking quietly, but I couldn’t make out his words. I watched him stroke her hair, lean down to kiss her. He continued speaking in a low, warm voice even as he straightened again.