Slow Burn(105)
I took a deep breath. Right. The plan was to get in the duct work. I looked at the wall, running my gaze over foot after foot of blank concrete.
Then I spied a grate. I needed to get in there. But I couldn’t reach it by myself. I was tall, but not tall enough.
I glanced around. The table!
I pushed the table up to the wall, stood on top of it, removed the grate, and crawled inside.
* * *
I managed to get a floor down, like Griffin had told me. The plan was for Griffin to meet me here in the ducts, but if they were trying to kill him, then I didn’t know if he’d make it.
And he wasn’t there.
Of course, we’d always assumed that Griffin would be taken away to be killed, hadn’t we? Maybe I hadn’t paid attention to that part. How was he supposed to get away and meet me?
I hadn’t thought of Griffin as vulnerable, I realized. Out there, in the regular world, Griffin was so lethal and sure of himself. No one had hurt him yet. I assumed that no one could hurt him. But that was stupid, I realized. Griffin could be hurt. He could be killed. These were the people who had made him what he was, and they knew all his weaknesses.
He must have told me to come to this level for a reason. Possibly, he knew he’d be brought here. I began to crawl through the ducts, finding grates and looking into each of the rooms.
They were all identical—small white rooms with a single metal chair in the middle of them. The chair had arms, with metal bindings that hung open over the arms and legs. I could see that the bindings would snap closed over a person’s upper arms, forearms, legs, and feet. If someone was strapped into the thing, he wouldn’t be able to move much.
I kept crawling and looking. Empty rooms.
Finally, I came to one that wasn’t empty. There was someone in the chair.
But his head was slumped over, and his neck was bloody. He was dead.
He wasn’t Griffin, though. His hair was the wrong color.
I kept going.
Another empty room.
Then I heard voices. “I’m telling you, I have a large batch of the serum hidden out there. If I don’t check in, there are people who’ve been instructed to send it to news agencies all over the world. You’ll all be exposed.”
That was Griffin’s voice. He was making a big bluff to keep himself alive. Smart Griffin!
I hurried down the duct until I found the room where he was being kept. He was bound in the chair, metal bonds digging into his skin. I peered through the grate at him. He seemed to be in pain. The chair was cutting into his skin. The bonds were sharp. He was bleeding. I covered my mouth with my hand, stifling the cry I wanted to let out.
“You don’t have a batch,” said a man who stood over Griffin.
“I was with Frank Thorn, wasn’t I?” said Griffin. “He stole the serum. You think he only stole enough for his daughter? No way, he wanted insurance, and he gave it to me.”
“Frank Thorn would have told us if that was the case.”
“You think so?” said Griffin. “You think he would have admitted that he entrusted the serum to someone like me? Because I think he was too busy making sure he didn’t look bad to do something like that. I think he wanted any knowledge of that batch buried. But too bad.”
I almost believed Griffin. He seemed so convincing. But if we had something like that to work with, he would have told us, right? He was making it up, buying time. I needed to help him. What could I do?
The door to the room Griffin was in opened, and my father came in.
He was awake already? That capsule hadn’t worked very well, had it?
Or maybe I hadn’t held it over his mouth for long enough. Griffin had told me how long, hadn’t he? I couldn’t remember...
“Why isn’t he dead?” said my dad.
“He’s claiming you gave him some batch of the serum,” said the man.
“He’s lying,” said my dad. He strode across the room, placing himself between the man and Griffin. He leaned over Griffin, his face close. “I asked you to protect my daughter.”
“I did,” said Griffin. “She’s alive, isn’t she?”
“French said you were some kind of eunuch,” said my father. “She said you’d never touch her.”