S.W. Tanpepper's GAMELAND: Season Two Omnibus (Episodes 9-11) (80 page)

“Who are you?”

“
NOW!”

Lyssa flinched and scurried up the hallway. “Please don't hurt my daughter.”

“Sit down.”

She sat and watched as Cassie was dragged in, still kicking and grunting. The older man forced her into another chair and held her down with a meaty hand while Ronnie's housemate stepped over to the front door. The gun never wavered from Ramon's temple.

“What do you want with us?”

Neither man answered.

“It's Bryn, right?” she asked, turning toward the young man. He was doing something to the knob.

He looked back at her and smirked. “Fuck, lady, I've told you about a thousand times it's Brad. Why the hell can't you get that through your thick skull?”

“I'm sorry. I just— Please, don't hurt my daughter. I'll give you whatever you want.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“Okay, please. She's—”

Cassie broke free from beneath the other man and ran over to Lyssa. He grabbed at her, snagging a handful of hair and yanking her onto her back.

“Let go of her!” Lyssa screamed.

Cassie scrambled over and clutched Lyssa's legs.

Neither man bothered with her. The man holding the gun shifted closer to Ramon and forced him down into Cassie's chair. “Sit,” he said.

The front door opened, then shut, and a third man appeared in the hallway. He was much older than the other two, though he looked much more potent. He didn't say anything, just nodded slightly at the man with the gun, who stepped back. The gun remained pointed at Ramon's head.

Lyssa focused her glare on Brad. She didn't recognize the other two, but she knew him. And she intended to let him and the others know that the moment they let her go, she was going to go straight to the police. “Where's Ronnie?” she spat. “Is she in on this, too? What about the other girl, Jennifer?”

Brad sneered at her. “Oh, sure, you remember their names. No, they're not involved.”

“Where are they? Did you hurt them?”

“Young Miss Jennifer Whatley left the island days ago, back when things first started to hit the fan. I'll miss her. Smart girl. Good in the sack.”

The man at the door didn't move. There was nothing on his face, no emotion, nothing.

“Poor Miss Mueller, however.” Brad shook his head. He was clearly enjoying himself tormenting them. “Well, she's gone, too. Gone, and yet . . . not gone.”

“What do you mean?”

“Unfortunate, really. If she'd just partook of my bedroom charms—”

“
Pig!”

“Oh, don't deny it, Missus S. You wanted some of this, too. I've seen how you look—”

“That's enough,” the man at the door finally said. His voice was quiet, yet commanding. It was impossible not to heed it. “We don't have time for your adolescent perversions, Mister Manning. Don't make me rue my decision to bring you.”

“You need me!”

“Hackers are a dime a dozen.” He turned to Lyssa, ignoring the blush that rose in Brad's face or the flash of anger in his eyes. “I'm afraid Miss Mueller will not be returning to your employ.”

“Where is she?”

“Let's just say she's unavailable.”

“Is she dead?”

“Ha!” Brad barked. “You could say that. Jenny warned her to leave, to get the fuck out of Dodge when the shit started to hit the fan. But she didn't. Stubborn bitch was more worried about Cassie than her own safety. Kept saying something about a bat.”

“A what?”

“She was in the way so I . . . .” He smirked. “I introduced her to some friends of mine. Believe me, they enjoyed her quite well. You could say she was a tasty dish.”

Lyssa felt the room spin. “You fucking pig.”

Ramon lunged from his chair at the boy, but the man with the gun grabbed him. “Don't do that again,” he warned. “Next time I'll make you pay.”

The old man stepped forward. “Everyone settle down. And that's enough out of you, Mister Manning. Last warning.”

“If it's money you want—” Lyssa began.

“We're not interested in money,” the old man said. “All we want is information”

“What kind of information?” Ramon asked. He shook the hand off his shoulder and gave the man a defiant glare.

“To begin, the whereabouts of your colleague,” the old man said, drawing Ramon's eyes and holding it with his own steel gaze, “The man you know as Andrew Royce.”

“Drew?” Lyssa turned to Ramon, frowning at him in confusion. “I don't understand. Ramon, what's going on here?”

“I don't know, Lyssa.”

Brad stepped forward and held out his phone. It was one of the new devices. Lyssa's eyes flicked from it back to Brad's face.
Another victim of the Stream. Maybe they're all crazy.

The image on the screen belonged to Drew, though it was clearly several years old. His cheeks were fuller, as was the hair on his head. His skin didn't look so pale. This was a much younger, much more paunchy, Drew than the man she had known the past year and a half. “Just so we're clear,” Brad said, “this is the man we're looking for.”

Lyssa nodded.

“Where is he?”

“We haven't seen him in over a week.”

“That's not what I asked, Missus S.”

“How would we know where he is?” she snapped. She hugged Cassie tighter to her. “Why are you asking about him?”

The man at the doorway stepped forward. He held a folder in his hand, a single word stamped across the front:
INFECTED
. “This man was conducting experiments in your laboratory,” he said. “Specifically, he was working with a highly dangerous virus—”

“We didn't know anything about that! We told the police already! We had nothing to do with any of that!”

“I'm actually not interested in the virus. I already know all about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I created it.”

“He was working for you? Drew was working for you?”

The man raised an eyebrow, as if amused. “We know he received a package within the past couple of weeks. It contained a tube, and inside that tube was a substance. It is that substance about which we are particularly interested in obtaining information.”

“Why?”

“Because we think it's a counteragent against the virus—
my
virus.”

Lyssa shook her head. “I don't know anything about any of that.”

He pulled a sheet of paper from the file. “Are you denying this is your signature?”

Lyssa recognized the requisition she'd signed for Drew a week and a half earlier. It was the copy she'd brought back from Brookhaven.

“Where did you get that?”

“Answer the question,” Brad snarled. He threw a quick glance at their boss and stepped back in chagrin.

“I— Yes, that's my signature. But I don't know anything about those samples. I sign dozens of requisitions just like it every month.”

“So, you're saying you're not aware of the nature of the samples he sent there?”

Lyssa shrugged. “Isolated proteins. Purified viral nucleic acid. Why?”

“Did they send you the results?”

“There was a mix up at the analytical lab, a contamination I'd assumed. They were supposed to repeat the assay.”

The man standing over Ramon exchanged glances with the other two, and something seemed to pass between them.

“Are you engaged in animal research at Laroda?”

“Yes. Everyone knows that.”

“And what was the nature of your most recent experiments? What were the results? Noticed anything . . . unusual?”

“That's confidential information,” Ramon told them. He started to stand again and was pushed down. “Unless you—”

“It's for the Department of Agriculture,” Lyssa replied. “Figuring out how to get cows to make more milk.”

Brad smirked and shook his head. He stepped forward. His smiled turned into a sneer of rage. “Stop bullshitting us, bitch! I'm sick of this shit!” He grabbed at Cassie's arm and began to pull her away. Cassie turned and bared her teeth, snapping at his hand. He snatched it back, narrowly avoiding getting bitten.

“Step away from her,” the old man calmly said. But this time Brad didn't listen. He raised his hand to strike the girl.

“Stop it!” Lyssa screamed.

Once again, Ramon began to rise from his seat. There was a loud
crack!
and he crumpled unconscious to the floor.

“I warned you,” the man with the gun said, sneering at Ramon's slumped form.

“Enough!”

The old man stepped forward, moving unnaturally fast for a man his age. He grabbed Brad's collar and pulled him back. “Mister Manning, I told you to step away from the girl.” He turned to the other man. “And you, Fred, get Doctor Stemple off the floor. Rouse him. He's no good to us unconscious. And don't do that again. We're not here to hurt anyone.”

“I told him he'd pay if—”

“And I'm telling you you'll pay if you don't do as I ask. Both of you.”

“Yes, Colonel.”

He stepped over to Cassie and ordered her to get off the floor. “Go sit in the chair over there,” he told her, pointing at the corner.

Cassie buried her face even deeper into Lyssa's thigh.

“Honey,” Lyssa said, whispering. “You need to listen to the man.”

Cassie hesitated for a moment, but there was something so compelling in the man's demeanor that it was almost impossible to disobey him. She scurried over to the chair and climbed into it.

“I don't tolerate having to repeat myself,” he said, turning back to Lyssa. “So I'm only going to ask my questions once. You will answer them honestly and fully. Do you understand what I'm saying?”

Lyssa nodded jerkily, her eyes on the man struggling to lift Ramon back into his chair. Her husband's head lolled to the side, dripping blood from where he'd been hit with the pistol. His eyes were open and blinking, though they were unfocused. He was conscious, but not aware.

“Look at me.”

Lyssa tore her eyes away and turned to face the old man. Her blood thumped in her head, pulsing behind her eyeballs. She felt dizzy.

“As long as you answer honestly, I won't hurt you or your daughter. How old is she? Six? Seven?”

Another nod. “Sh-she'll be seven in a couple weeks.”

“Good. That's a nice age. My granddaughter is slightly younger.” He smiled and pulled the last chair between them and sat down. Placing a beefy hand on the girl's shoulder, he kept his dark eyes on Lyssa the whole time. The shadow of a smile on his lips sent a shiver down her spine. It was cold and calculating. “It's very important that I find this man. The information he has is vitally important to the success of my work.”

“Why?”

He ignored her. “Do you know where he is?”

Lyssa shook her head. “N-no. I assumed he was dead.”

“When was the last time you spoke with him?”

She thought about the texts she'd received on Ramon's phone earlier that day. She'd thought they were from Drew, but now she realized they were probably from this man. “I  I think it was about two weeks ago. No, a week.”

He didn't speak for several moments, just studied her face. Somewhere in the distance, a siren began to wail. Finally, the man turned to Brad and nodded. Brad stepped forward, reaching for Cassie.

“No!” Lyssa cried and tried to grab her away.

“I said I wouldn't hurt her as long as you told the truth.

“That is the truth!”

“Is it? You haven't had any contact with him since?”

“Someone called me several days ago. I don't know who it was. They just said to leave the island.”

The corner of the man's mouth twitched. “Leave the island?”

“Yes.”

“Ha! I knew it!” Brad said. “That asshole's still alive!”

The old man continued to hold Lyssa's gaze. He didn't respond to the outburst. It was as if he hadn't even heard it. Somewhere outside, a siren was growing louder. “That's all he said?”

“Yes.”

Something flickered in the man's eyes. Lyssa couldn't even be sure she'd seen it. It was there and gone in an instant. “I'm telling the truth,” she said, pleading. “It was an unknown number. I couldn't call him back. Please, you have to believe me.”

“He didn't ask for any test results?”

“No, I—”

She stopped, remembering the papers in her car.

“You what?”

Across the table, Ramon groaned and slumped forward, then pushed himself up again. He raised his hands to his head and cradled it. The man standing over him grabbed his shirt collar and straightened him up. “Quiet, you!”

“Don't hurt him!” Lyssa begged.

A car roared past the house, warbling its alarm.
A mandatory evacuation has been called for Long Island! Please leave your homes immediately! A mandatory evacuation is now in effect for all residents and visitors of Long Island!

“You do know something about those results, don't you?”

Lyssa swallowed.

“Doctor Stemple,” the Colonel interrupted, “you don't know how vital that information is, and I don't have the time to explain it to you. If you want to live, I need those results.”

“I— They're in the trunk of my car.”

He nodded at Fred. “Take her keys and check.” Then he turned back to Lyssa. “I'm particularly interested in a chemical known as ‘deprolidone.' Have you ever heard of that?”

She shook her head. “There was a notation in Drew's notebook, a code, but nothing with a specific chemical name.”

The Colonel glanced at Brad, who shook his head and said, “I didn't find any notebooks. But that one might know.” He pointed at Ramon.

Ramon shook his head, wincing in pain. “I don't know anything about the notebook,” he said, and coughed. “I didn't take it.”