“You find anything else on him?” the bearded guard asked.
Luther held something up. Between his fingers, a tiny key glinted. “He had a handcuff key sewn into his left sock.”
Liam cursed. Anger shot through him like an electrical current, his stomach churning with nausea.
“And a second knife in his boot.”
That wasn’t part of the plan. Though it had gone against his training, he’d been forced to rely on Luther. He’d known better than to trust an informant. And yet, he’d had no choice.
With Luther as an ally, his mission had been a long shot.
Without Luther? What little hope he’d still held drained out of him.
“Traitor,” he spat.
Luther was unperturbed. Ignoring Liam, he pocketed the key and the knife, then combed through the everyday carry case. “A multi-tool, folding knife, pen, lock pick set. Nothing important.”
“I’ll take the multi-tool,” Beady Eyes said. “Could come in handy.”
Luther tossed it to him. “Catch, Dobson.”
The acne-scarred mercenary snickered as he gazed at Liam’s near-naked body in derision. “Don’t think he’s hiding anything else on him.”
Luther leaned against the metal shelves, arms crossed, avoiding Liam’s gaze.
“I made Richards check him. Practically gave him an enema.”
Liam ignored their cruel laughter. He’d been unconscious for that, though he’d endured worse.
Brisk footsteps sounded outside the freezer. Acne-Scars moved aside as an older man strode into the industrial freezer. Authority exuded from his every movement.
He wore black fatigues but no tactical gear. His hair was a shocking white, his hard face lined, but his jaw was still square, his build solid. A sharp intelligence shone in his eyes.
He reminded Liam of a grizzled old bear, long in the tooth but still deadly.
This must be the General, then.
The bodyguards parted for the man and closed ranks around him. Four behind him, two on each side. Several more at the ready outside the steel door.
They exuded the air of ex-military. It was in their posture, the confident way they moved, their attitude. Their eyes were hard and cruel.
General Sinclair halted several feet from Liam. Instead of looking at him, his shrewd gaze roamed the room. “Which one of you brought him in?”
Luther straightened. “I did, sir.”
A slow insidious smile spread across the man’s face. “I am impressed. You came through, Luther. I see I was wise to put my trust in you.” He swept his hand at the armed men ranged behind him. “You’ve earned your place with us.”
“I hope it was worth it,” Liam said.
Emotion flickered in Luther’s eyes. A flare of shame. “I had to do it.”
“Don’t make excuses,” the General said. “Never make an excuse. Do it or don’t. We all have our reasons.”
Luther’s mouth thinned. He gave a single, sharp nod. “Sir.”
The General motioned at Acne-Scars. “Redding, please personally escort Luther’s father from Fall Creek once we’re in. We’ll ensure that he receives the best medical care available. Fort Custer has a medical bay, a surgical theater, the works. It’s reserved for military only, but I can pull the necessary strings.”
Luther’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “Thank you, sir.”
The General turned his attention upon Liam. His keen gaze raked over him, assessing him in seconds. “You thought I wouldn’t suspect a trap? All men can be bought. This one just needed a few oxygen tanks.”
Liam ground his teeth so hard, his jaws ached. “Go to hell.”
58
Liam
Day One Hundred and Fifteen
The General glared at Liam. “You’re Liam Coleman. Terrorist and murderer.”
Liam resisted the urge to spit on him. While it might feel satisfying in the short term, it would do nothing to further his goals.
Keep the man talking. Draw him closer. Lower his guard.
In his current state, Liam was helpless. At least, with the enemy’s eyes on him. He needed a minute alone. Just sixty seconds.
He wasn’t going to get it.
Thanks to Luther’s betrayal, Liam was going to die here in this room, surrounded by enemies.
He’d come to terms with such a death, but the idea that he would die before he eliminated General Sinclair was repugnant. He refused to accept it.
There had to be a way to turn this around. An angle he hadn’t seen yet.
He would not give up. He couldn’t give up.
“I’m no terrorist,” he said.