“Someone’s on board. A female,” came Madrid’s voice. “And she’s in trouble.”
Judging from the terror resonating in the scream, the woman was more than in trouble.
She feared for her very life.
Chapter Eleven
“Where did it come from?”
Madrid flicked the flashlight back on. “Hard to tell. A lot of echo in here. Probably this level.”
He shone the light between them, and Jess crossed to him on shaking legs. For the first time she questioned the wisdom of coming here. Maybe he was right. This was a suicide mission. No way were they going to pull this off without getting caught.
She thought of the scream and shuddered. “They’re hurting someone,” she said.
Grimacing, Madrid shook his head. “Sounded that way.”
The thought made her sick. “We can’t let this continue.”
“I know. Damn it.” He glanced at his watch. “We’ll give ourselves ten minutes. After that, we turn around. No matter what. You got that?”
“I got it.”
Keeping the beam low, Madrid took her down the cavelike corridor. Behind him, Jess noticed his free hand resting on the pistol tucked into his waistband, as if he were expecting someone to accost them at any moment.
Midway down the corridor, they came to another hatch. The wheel lock was affixed with a shiny new padlock and chain.
“Lock looks new,” Jess said.
“Let’s see what they have to hide.” Madrid slid the bolt cutters out of the duffel. The steel snapped and the lock hit the floor before he could catch it. Casting her a tense look, he turned the wheel lock. Two turns. Three. He nearly had the hatch open when the thud of approaching footsteps sounded.
He doused the flashlight, plunging them into darkness. “Where are they coming from?”
Jess’s heart revved like a race-car engine. She looked around wildly, but saw only the endless black void. “I don’t know.” Within the steel belly of the ship it was difficult to tell where sounds were coming from.
Around them, the ancient ship groaned like the walking dead. Water dripped incessantly. Seconds ticked into minutes, but they didn’t move.
“They’re gone,” Madrid whispered.
She touched his shoulder. “Open the hatch.”
Steel ground against steel as he turned the wheel lock. An instant later the airtight hatch hissed open. “We’re in.”
She jolted when his hand closed around her arm and guided her through the hatch. The darkness inside was so complete she couldn’t see her hand even if she held it an inch in front of her face.
Jess nearly sighed in relief when the yellow beam of the flashlight flooded the room. Her relief was short-lived. The room wasn’t a room at all, but more like a dungeon right out of some medieval castle, with shackles and chains welded to the steel walls. The flashlight beam didn’t reveal much, but from where Jess stood she counted ten sets of shackles for wrists and ankles spaced about a foot apart. A drain was set into the floor. The stench of old urine hung heavy in the dank air.
“What the hell have we walked into?” Madrid muttered.
“A nightmare,” Jess whispered.
He swept the beam around the large cell. A dozen bunk beds with paper-thin mattresses lined the far wall, four high and three across. A rusty sink and commode stood in the corner. Against the opposite wall a dozen more shackles and chains hung like macabre decorations.
“This is where the photo was taken,” he said.
Jess jerked her attention to Madrid. “How do you know?”
“The sink is the same. See the rust stain?”
Jess had thought there was something familiar about the room. She hadn’t been able to pinpoint what it was until he mentioned the sink. “You’re right. But if this is the same place, where are the women?”
“This might explain some of it.”
She looked over to see Madrid kneel. Her stomach heaved when the flashlight beam illuminated a shiny black stain on the floor, the size of a dinner plate. Even though the lighting was bad, Jess knew immediately it was blood.
“My God.” She pressed a shaking hand to her stomach. “What is happening here?”
“Whatever it is, it’s barbaric.” Fury shone in his eyes when he rose. “And illegal as hell. I want photos of everything, including the stain on the floor. Hurry. We’ve only got a few minutes.”
“Okay.” She pulled the disposable camera from the duffel and snapped photos while he held the beam steady.
“The wall. Quickly,” he said. “We don’t have much time.”
She jerked the camera to the wall, snapped half a dozen shots. She took a few more of the sink and commode. The bunks. The chains…
“These photos aren’t definitive proof, but it will be enough to get an official investigation started.”
“I thought Angela was already investigating.”
“She was.” He took the camera and dropped it back into the bag. “A lot of the stuff the MIDNIGHT Agency does is unofficial.”
“What’s the point?”