Seven Unholy Days by Jerry Hatchett Read Free Book Online Page B

was to survive long enough to escape the nightmare she had fallen into.
    “Your social security number, Miss Ashley?”
    “Excuse me?” Her mind reeled. She couldn’t give him the real thing or he could find out who she was. But what if she made up one and he checked on it? Surely he wouldn’t go to that much trouble. Dane looked calm.
    “Your social security number, Miss Ashley. It is not a diff icult question for someone of your intelligence.”
    “Four five nine—”
    “Let me see your identification.”
    “She didn’t have time to bring anything, sir,” Dane said.
    Jana tried to hide the fear that made her want to break out in a desperate run. She held her hands together in an attempt to stop the trembling. Hart looked down, then grabbed her hand and examined it.
    He released her hand and turned to Dane. “Come with me, Mr. Christian.” Dane followed him into the hangar.
     
                  The woman’s wrists are chafed. She has been tied up. Who is she and why is she here? Lie to me and you will die this day.”
    “Her brother was one of the Mississippi assets. It was too risky to leave her behind.”
    “And why did you not simply eliminate her?”
    “I’m not sure, sir. I just didn’t.”
    “I am beginning to question your mental well-being, Mr. Christian. Although I typically do not say such things, it is a fact that until very recently your performance was exemplary. Of late, there have been a number of what I can only deem to be mental lapses. You could have put everything at risk. I do not know what is wrong with you, but I demand that it be corrected forthwith. Is that clear?
    “Yes sir.”
    “Lock the woman away. After the sun sets this evening, take her to the back of the property and dispose of her permanently.” Hart walked to the waiting white Humvee and got in on the passenger side.
    Dane massaged his temples. Hart had not asked where Riff was. Just as well. One crisis at a time was enough. You can handle him just fine, Baby Brother.
    A short drive later, Dane turned onto the drive that led to the security gate. Less than a hundred people had the crede ntials necessary to make it through the gate and to the center of the two thousand acre spread, but if anyone could have approached the buildings at the core, their innocuous appearance would have raised no alarms.
    Situated on flat terrain, the large metal buildings looked like nothing more than storage barns. Farm construction projects don’t garner a great deal of attention in the Midwest, and Hart had gone to great lengths to see that his was no different. The fields abounded with pampered soybeans and cornstalks, and a smattering of tractors, combines, and other agricultural equi pment decorated the grounds near the three buildings. There was even a barn and corral with horses milling about, including a spectacular solid white one. The illusion of an ordinary farm in the heartland was convincing.
    Dane touched his key fob to a reader, entered a seven digit code into a keypad and stepped up to a retina scanner. Hart waited with hands clasped in front of him as mammoth doors slid quietly back into the walls to provide a walkway into the hardened command center. Dane stepped aside for Hart to e nter first, Street Sweeper—fully loaded with a dozen 12-gauge 00 buckshot rounds—hung over his shoulder, eyes scanning for the slightest irregularity. Once Hart was safely in, he stepped inside with Jana in tow and pressed a large red button that closed the concrete doors behind them. Once inside, the cozy farm illusion gave way to a different reality. The corrugated metal walls served only as a shell for the reinforced concrete structure inside.
    Every wall, every square inch of floor, and every visible fi xture was black. A black valance ran the upper edge of the walls, concealing hundreds of feet of neon tubing that cast a hellish orange glow against the black girders and electrical conduits above. Visibly energized by the