Gillian deteriorated into harsh sobs, and he continued, addressing the group. “We are not going to get through this if we are fighting among ourselves. We need to stay calm and work together. Armand—I need a head count. There are supposed to be seventeen on the premises today.” Adam thought of Patty and corrected himself. “Sixteen.”
Adam took a deep breath and focused. He had contingency plans, procedures drilled in advance. His mind reviewed the steps ahead: The goal, of course, was to get everyone to safety. Grab the survival packs, guns, and ammo. Hit the underground tunnel to emerge in the woods. Four armored all-terrain vehicles would be waiting, were always waiting. Then disperse, each in a different direction. With any luck, his people would make it to any of the six Segue substations within a five-hour driving distance. He would coordinate from there. With luck, he’d have some intelligence to work from.
“Thirteen,” Armand answered. Adam did a mental count—minus the guards with Jacob, and the absent Spencer, all were accounted for.
No time to waste—even now the forces outside could be attempting to penetrate the building. He headed to the weapons-storage room two doors down from his office and tapped his code into the pad. The door opened soundlessly.
The sight of the interior was an electric shock to Adam’s body.
The room was empty, shelves bare of everything except paper and plastic debris.
His nerves burned while his mind blanked, trying to assimilate this new information. Only three people had this particular code: himself, Custo, and—
“Where’s Spencer?” Adam asked, his voice barking over the nervous chattering of the group in the hall.
“We haven’t seen him,” Jim answered.
The sweat on Adam’s back chilled, goose bumps racing across his back, up his neck, to bristle his hair.
The weapons and packs were gone. The stuff was there a week ago—Adam had checked himself on a routine security pass—but now they were gone. All gone. How could that be?
“What is it?” Custo asked, coming up to stand beside him, Talia’s arm in his grip. Talia let herself be pulled along, uncomplaining.
A beat passed as his friend took in the light-washed, empty room. “Spencer.”
“Had to be,” Adam agreed, his voice sounding soft and strange to his own ears. “Only the three of us have the master codes.”
“But why?”
“Hell if I know. But if he got to this stuff…” The image of the military helicopter overhead appeared in his mind. The soldiers taking up offensive positions on the lawn. Firing at Custo.
“…then he got to the tunnel, too,” Custo finished. Their escape route was lost.
A misunderstanding? Not on this scale.
Someone in SPCI had made a decision. What it was, Adam could not fathom. What sane person—what human being—would work in collusion with The Collective?
Obviously, Spencer. Adam remembered that Talia had tried to warn him, and he’d dismissed her concerns. She didn’t know Spencer well enough to get his twisted humor. Turns out she knew Spencer better than he.
Adam had no weapons but the ones he and Custo carried. The tunnel escape plan, coauthored by Spencer, was lost as well. The implications were staggering. Any resource Spencer was privy to was now compromised, including the safe houses.
Adam ran a hand through his hair to pinch the tension contracting at the back of his neck.
“I don’t get it,” Custo said, defeat dulling his eyes as he came to the same conclusions. “Why don’t they just drop a bomb on us? Level the building and kill us all in one hit.”
“My guess?”
Custo shrugged, as if nothing much mattered anymore.
“Talia. They’re taking no chances with her life or they would have fired on the car. They want to extract her alive. They hunted her for months, lost her in Phoenix, and traced her to Segue. Hell, Spencer probably told them she was here. That was six days ago. More than enough time to clean out the supply room and mobilize an assault.”
Adam glanced at Talia. This was about her. There was no point in hiding the fact.
“You should trade me for safe passage,” she said. Her voice was remarkably even, curiously lacking emotion.
“No,” Adam ground out. Custo shook his head, too, but his jaw was tight.
“You said it yourself,” Talia insisted. “They probably won’t kill me or they would have by now.”
“Don’t you understand?” Adam said through his teeth. “This is The Collective—they will kill us anyway. They will control you. All hope whatsoever will be lost.” This should not be difficult for her, a woman of considerable intellect, to understand.
Adam had to think—to regroup. There had to be a way overlooked by Spencer. Spencer was good, but not creative. Overconfident. There were things he would have missed. The ducts, perhaps, or—
The floor buzzed beneath Adam’s feet. The vibration moved over his skin with a sudden terror. He knew the source: a great machine was retracting as a safety measure released.
A distant shriek echoed through the walls of Segue.
From below. From hell.
From Jacob.