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Dignity – long gone.
I hear the click and clack of a heavy-duty lock opening. The door to the cell moves and there stands Mark Paulson.
He’s white as a sheet and his jaw is tight.
It takes me a few seconds to realize he’s not mad at me.
He’s in crisis mode.
“Just got off the phone with Harry Bosworth. Re-establishing a connection was hell. According to the senator, his assistant Anya was told Mark Paulson would bring the helicopter to take Lindsay back to the Island. She escorted Lindsay halfway to the helicopter, then I -- ” He chokes on the word, running a furious hand through his blond hair, face exploding with rage “ -- someone impersonating me escorted her to the copter, where they took off.”
“When?”
“An hour ago.”
“Sweet Jesus, I’ve been out cold for an hour?”
“Look, Drew, this is a fucking mess.”
“This is fucking unreal. We need to get Lindsay now!”
“You’re being charged with so many federal and state crimes you’ll be lucky to get out of jail when you’re a mummy.”
“Not funny.”
“Not joking.”
“What the hell are you doing to rescue her, Mark?”
“Everything we can. We’re trying to track her, but the chopper turns out to be...” He gives me a bleak look.
Yeah. I can guess. It’s not one of Harry’s. Not government-issued, but made to look like one.
We’ve been had. Badly. Outsmarted and outmaneuvered.
“She’s chipped,” I blurt out, talking more to myself than him. Reassuring myself.
Because that’s all I have right now. Words.
I don’t give a shit about Mark’s feelings right now. Losing a client is one of the worst experiences for a person whose sworn duty is to protect people. Losing my girlfriend turns this into a clusterfuck of emotional madness.
The look on his face when I say that gives me hope.
“You chipped her?” He grimaces as he confirms what I said. “That won’t do us any good. A microchip only gives us information about her when we scan. It’ll be good for identifying her body if -- ”
Might as well kick me in the gut.
“It’s a GPS-enabled microchip.”
“Those don’t exist.” Mark shoots me an incredulous look. His eyes narrow as if he’s rethinking my mental state.
I’d do the same if the roles were reversed.
I give him a sour look. Of course they do. He should know better.
“Whoa,” he hisses. “I thought we were years from that.”
I don’t bother to answer. My tongue licks the corner of my mouth, finding a raw split and blood.
