“That was when you began investigating,” Zack said.
She nodded. “It was then that I remembered one other inmate disappearing. Jinx Ramirez was different than Jimmie. He was always mouthing off. He assaulted one of the corrections officers and spent time in the Special Housing unit. I was assigned to him for a while, but I never liked him and I never trusted him. Before my assignment was up, he, too, disappeared. I didn’t think too much about it, assuming he had been transferred. To be perfectly honest, I was relieved to be rid of him. But after Big Jimmie Jack disappeared, I started looking around. I found out Jinx Ramirez had also been sent to the infirmary. Like Big Jimmie Jack, Jinx didn’t appear on the report and he never came out. At that point I remembered another incident a few months earlier involving an inmate who seemed healthy before going into the infirmary. When he came out, he was covered with lesions. He went into respiratory distress and died in his cell a few days later. At that point I started getting suspicious.”
“Who did you talk to?”
“The other corrections officers at first. When they couldn’t help, I went to my immediate supervisor, Sergeant Gaines.”
“Jackson Gaines?”
She looked at him, surprised that he knew the name of her superior. “You know him?”
“Enough to know he’s a ruthless son of a bitch.”
“What makes you say that?”
Zack’s jaw flexed. “I’ve read his profile, Emily.”
“What profile?”
“The one MIDNIGHT put together before I went into that hellhole—and warned me that Gaines was in this up to his sergeant stripes.”
“How is he involved?”
Zack scrubbed a hand over his unshaven jaw. “Several years ago Gaines was the warden in a prison outside Mexico City. We believe an organization based in Paris was manufacturing biological agents, shipping them to the prison for testing. Fifty-three inmates disappeared while Gaines was warden. We could never prove any of it.”
“My God.” For the first time the breadth of what was happening at the Bitterroot facility struck her. Nausea rose and she pressed her hand to her stomach. “We can’t let this go on. We have to stop them.”
“How well do you know Marcus Underwood?”
Absently she rubbed the bullet wound beneath the sleeve of her robe. “I’ve know him for three years. I can’t reconcile myself to his being responsible for something so heinous.”
“What about Warden Carpenter?”
She shook her head. “No way.”
“Why?”
“Because I’ve known him since I was a teenager. My father worked for him. They were friends.” He was there for me after my father was killed, a protective little voice chimed in.
“That makes him innocent?”
“I know him, Zack. Carpenter is a decent man. I can’t imagine him being involved in something like…murder.”
“Someone is.”
“Not Carpenter.”
Zack’s expression told her he didn’t share her view.
“What do we do next?” she asked.
He grimaced, looking suddenly as if the weight of the world had been lowered onto his broad shoulders. “Normally I would be able to call my contact at MIDNIGHT. They’d send someone to pick us up. Pick you up.”
“But you can’t because you’re not sure who to trust,” she said.
He nodded. “I need to figure out who at MIDNIGHT compromised this mission.”
“Are you absolutely certain someone did? Maybe your identity was discovered some other way.”
“The agency is extremely careful, Emily. They know an agent’s cover can mean the difference between life and death.”
A powerful chill swept through her as she realized what they were up against. “Do you have any enemies within the agency?”
He shook his head. “None that I know of.”
“How many people knew about your mission?”
“Only a handful. My boss, Avery Shaw. My contact, a senior operative by the name of Tatum Massey. The two agents sent in with me. One or two administrative people.” His gaze collided with hers. “All of these people are screened and hold high-security clearances.”
“Why would someone betray you knowing you could be killed?”
He seemed to consider that a moment. “Money is the logical motivation. The RZ-902 operation is big and the financial stake is astronomical.”
“How are you going to find them?”
“The same way you catch any rat,” he said. “You set a trap.”
Emily didn’t like the sound of that. Traps required bait. She didn’t want to think about what he might use as bait. Or what it might end up costing both of them. “What kind of trap do you have in mind?”
“I get to a phone. Call my regular contact. Set up a meet. If I get an ambush, I’ll have found the rat.”
“What if the rat kills you first?” Not liking the way the words felt on her tongue, she rose from the bed and began to pace the room.
“That’s a chance I’ll have to take.”
She shook her head. “Too dangerous. We have to find another way.”