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Chapter 3

The double-agent scenario wasn’t a new idea. Regeneration, better known as brainwashing, had been around in the spy world for decades. But a year ago Cyrus had decided to take the theory a step further. He’d spared no expense on the latest technology—the bowels of Minare now looked like a space-age conspiracy.

Every genius plan had problems to iron out. A week ago those problems had allowed his guinea pig to slip through his fingers. But it wouldn’t happen again. He knew what had allowed Jazmin Grant to escape him.

Human nature, or what he referred to as the lust factor, could be a secret weapon or could short-circuit a double-agent’s brainwashing at a crucial moment. But not this time. With Sully Paxton, he planned to take the problem out of the equation.

Cyrus stepped into the lab and stopped in the doorway. He had come to tell Barinski that Sully Paxton had arrived and that they would begin the regeneration procedure again. The idea of snatching up Merrick’s elite agents and regenerating them one by one put a smile on his face.

“Barinski?”

When the doctor didn’t answer, Cyrus walked into the animal room where all the research and theories were tested out on lab rats. He found Barinski coddling one of the rats, talking to it like the damn thing understood every word he said.

“Perhaps you need to invest in a hearing aid, or I should install a bell on your door,” Cyrus said by way of introduction.

Unaware that anyone had entered his sanctum, Barinski jumped and let out a startled cry. His squawk of surprise frightened the rat. The rodent clamped down on Barinski’s finger. The doctor squealed again and dropped the rat, allowing it to scurry out the door.

Cyrus swore. He hated rats. Hated everything about them. He’d existed on a steady diet of rodents in Prague for months after Merrick left him to die. Since then he hadn’t been able to look at a rat without remembering his desperation.

“I want that thing found. You know what I’ll do to it if I find it first.”

Barinski winced at Cyrus’s words, then at the blood dripping from his finger. He pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of his baggy pants and wrapped it around the injury.

“Is there something you came to discuss with me?”

“Paxton’s here.” Cyrus tossed a file on Barinski’s worktable. “Everything you need is there.”

“What kind of shape is he in?”

“Better than I expected. There’s a picture in the file of him when he was pulled from the pit. It’s not the same man who came off the boat today. But I’m not surprised. Adolf Merrick scoured the countryside to find Paxton and five others just like him. They are the toughest bastards alive. Adolf Merrick’s pride and joy. And because they are, I want them. All of them, starting with Paxton.”

His latest plan was perhaps one of his most ingenious. The concept of Sully Paxton’s allegiance being stripped from Onyxx was perfect revenge. It would also aid him—a man in his line of work could always use an elite private army ready to serve his cause. They would kill whomever he needed silenced, and his shipments would always be delivered on time, whether it was guns, drugs, or the blueprints of the latest, most indestructible submarine.

Yes, Paxton would be the first. After he’d seized control of Merrick’s elite fighters, he would poach both government and private agencies all over the country.

“I’ve gone over your notes concerning the emotional malfunction of Jazmin Grant. Our success in converting these agents is contingent on complete surrender, both body and mind. Physically it won’t be hard to bring Paxton back to the iron man he once was. He’s halfway there.”

Cyrus had instructed his men at Vouno to put Paxton through hell. From the day he’d captured Sully Paxton at Castle Rock he’d had him beaten and tortured, and anything else he could do to him to make him scream.

From personal experience he knew that what didn’t kill a man always made him stronger. And now Paxton was even more indestructible than ever before.

“Your job will be stripping his memory and reprogramming him. But before you get started I want to ensure that he doesn’t end up like Grant.”

“Grant’s problem was—”

“I know what the problem was. The lust factor made her vulnerable. It got in the way of her loyalty to me.”

“Lust factor?” Barinski was staring at him like an idiot.

“She surrendered to her sexual attraction for Ash Kelly if you remember,” Cyrus reminded him. “I don’t want the same thing happening again. That’s why I’ve decided my army of stallions are going to be gelded. Starting with Paxton.”

Barinski was hesitant in his response. “I’ve never performed a surgery like that.”

“I’m sure you’ll be able to figure it out.”

“Yes, of course, but—”

“You have two months to turn Paxton into a human robot.”

“Two months. If I worked day and night it would take me twice that long.”

“You’re selling Paxton short. He’ll be ready in two months.”

Barinski found his glasses on his forehead and slid them onto his bulbous nose. It helped his squinting, but magnified his fish eyes to the size of a giant sea monster’s. “Where is he now?”

“He’s in a cell down the hall. Remember, your future is dangling by a thread, Barinski. I usually don’t reward failure with a second chance. And I do see Jazmin Grant as your failure. Not mine.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Let’s hope your best will keep you alive at the end of two months. To help you, I’ve instructed Melita to be your second pair of hands.” Cyrus’s eyes drifted to the open door of Barinski’s office. It looked like he’d turned his rats loose in there. “She can keep your files in order to help speed things up, but I don’t want her anywhere near Paxton.”

“It would be a pleasure to work with the angel.”

Cyrus rolled his eyes and grunted. “I have no use for angels, Barinski. Melita has more of the devil in her than anyone knows. That’s why she is so important to me. Remember, two months. Disappoint me and I’ll have you digging your own grave before I plant you in it.”

That said, he left the lab and headed down the corridor to the holding cells. He saw Barinski’s rat as he rounded the second turn in the hall. It was wedged into a corner trying to be as invisible as possible. He pulled a switchblade from his pocket and flicked it open. Then, before the rat had a chance to take its next breath, the blade was in the air moving toward its target.

The rat never knew what hit him. As he lay on his side twitching and dying, Cyrus put his foot on the rodent’s narrow head and crushed it beneath his foot. Then he reached down, picked up his knife with the dead rat still impaled on it and continued down the corridor to welcome Sully Paxton to Minare.

Sully was dozing on the cot in his cell when he heard heavy footsteps. The cell where he was incarcerated was dry, and it didn’t stink like the dungeon on Hell Island. There was fresh air coming from somewhere, and that told him that the tunnel was open-ended. If he managed to get free, there would be a way out of the monastery other than through the front door he’d entered.

He sat up, but before he could get to his feet, the Chameleon was standing on the other side of the iron bars grinning at him.

“You’re not surprised to see me?”

“I don’t surprise easy.”

“But you must be curious why you’re still alive, and why I’ve decided to change your address.”

“I figured you’d tell me when you were ready. No sense losing sleep over what I can’t change.”

“That’s what I like about you, Paxton. You’re a man who says what he thinks, and believes what he says. That’s why I’ve taken such a special interest in you. I hate to admit it but Merrick has a talent for picking winners. Normally when recruiting a team of special agents, you would look for sterling military jarheads. But Merrick being Merrick went looking for the wildest vigilantes alive. Truly the name rat fighters fits the M.O. of his most elite.”

Sully glanced at the rat impaled on the Chameleon’s knife and wondered if the rodent was a visual aid. “Am I supposed to conclude that I’m going to end up like that rat?”

The Chameleon laughed. “Not if you’re smart. And we both know how smart you are. A street-smart Irish gunrunner.”

“Is that it? Need a gunrunner?”

“Perhaps. You know, Paxton, I find it fascinating that you’re still alive. That your mind is still processing rational thoughts and you’re on your feet. It’s a testimony to your endurance. My screening process is a bit barbaric, and more often than not the result is disappointing, but you haven’t disappointed me at all. That’s why I’ve decided to reward you.”

“And this is my reward, more iron bars? I vote for a room with a view and a beautiful woman for a few hours.”

“The cell is only temporary. A few tests to ensure you haven’t contracted any contagious diseases, and you’ll be moved. However there will be no view in your new quarters, and I promise you that very soon women will be the furthest thing from your mind once you begin working for me.”

“You can’t believe I would ever agree to work for you.”

“Not willingly, no.”

“I could kill myself in here. Snap my own neck. That would flush your plans down the toilet.”

“If that was your intention you would have done it at Vouno.”

Vouno…. Was that the real name of Hell Island? Sully wondered.

“No, already you’re in survival mode…again. Death at your own hands would mean you had failed Merrick, and more importantly, make you a coward. What I’ve observed over the years about the Onyxx six is that each of you have a private code of ethics that demands survival at any cost. That’s what Merrick saw in each of you. Why I knew no matter what I ordered done to you at Vouno you would survive.”

The Cameleon spoke of Merrick as if he knew him personally. Sully sized up his jailer. At Onyxx the Chameleon’s identity was unknown. But that hadn’t altered the fact that he’d topped the list as the most wanted international criminal for over a decade.

“Who are you?” he asked, never expecting to get a straight answer.

“You don’t recognize me? That’s right, you wouldn’t. Not unless you knew my history, or you’d talked to Merrick recently. Which we both know you haven’t.”

Was he saying that since his capture Merrick had uncovered his identity?

“Your boss and I go way back. We were friends before he betrayed me.”

“Before Onyxx?”

“No. We were both recruited by the NSA. We were the first team of Onyxx operatives at its conception.”

There had been talk at the Agency that the Chameleon could be a rogue agent. Sully said, “Long time to hold a grudge.”

“I assure you it’s more than a grudge. I believe my file at Onyxx states that I died just outside of Prague in a minefield. As you can see, Mr. Paxton, Cyrus Krizova is very much alive.”

So the Chameleon finally had a name. Cyrus Krizova.

“You and I have a lot in common. We were both left for dead by our comrades, and we have both survived.”

“You’re saying Merrick deserted you? Not a chance.”

“You find that hard to believe?”

“I know Merrick. That’s not his M.O.”

“Like your team, there were six of us. Merrick was the field commander, Briggs was point man, Paavo Creon was the typographer and, like you, I was the weapons expert. The others…well they’re not important. Like you, Paavo was a regular pretty boy. That’s why, when I needed some repairs done on my face after I stepped on that mine, I decided to take his. He wasn’t going to need it anyway.”

The smug look on Krizova’s face told Sully that Paavo was probably dead.

“You killed Merrick’s wife?”

“What I did was save her from wasting her life with a man with no honor. He didn’t deserve a woman that flawless.”

“Johanna Merrick wasn’t a part of your war with Merrick.”

“As you know there are always casualties in wartime. Like me, your Onyxx team left you for dead at Castle Rock. Are you telling me you don’t harbor any resentment?”

“I was caught behind enemy lines. Fallen comrades are left for dead. It’s standard policy at Onyxx.”

“That’s noble of you, Paxton, but while you were left for dead, Sly McEwen was carrying out Jacy Maddox. A fallen comrade at death’s door. He should have been left behind, too, but he wasn’t. They didn’t even try to look for you.”

So they had all made it out alive. It was the first Sully had heard. But instead of resenting Sly for getting Jacy out, all Sully felt was relief. His teammates had survived Castle Rock. That was good news.

“You’ll be in good hands with Dr. Barinski.” Cyrus looked at his watch. “Before I say goodbye, do you have a meal request for dinner? I have an excellent chef. Whatever you’re craving, I’m sure Cosmo can accommodate you. And of course as much as you want. You’re still underweight.”

“In that case, how about your heart on a silver platter,” Sully replied, “and a six-pack of Killian’s Irish Red.”

Cyrus chuckled, then stepped forward and slid the rat off his knife and tossed it between the iron bars to land at Sully’s feet. “An appetizer while you wait for your meal to arrive. I ate rats in Prague to stay alive. I know in the pit you did, too. You see, Paxton, you and I have even that in common. And I’m sure there is much more.”

An hour later a guard delivered Sully his supper. To his surprise it was served on a silver platter, and beneath the domed cover was an animal’s heart and a six-pack of beer. It wasn’t Killian’s, but the brand could have been from Tasmania and two-thirds dog piss and Sully would have drank it.

It was the first time in days that he had passed on a meal. He picked up the dead rat, tossed it next to the heart and covered the tray. Then he carried the six-pack to the cot and fell asleep nursing his thoughts with a liquid meal that went straight to his head.

In the morning Sully woke up with a screamer of a headache. The beer had tasted good going down, but he was paying for it now. His tolerance to the booze wasn’t what it used to be.

The urge to relieve himself forced him to his feet, and he staggered to the toilet. Normally he could handle drinking all night, but being out of practice had given him a helluva buzz.

He moaned as he put one foot in front of the other. The toilet was five feet away but it felt like five miles. He unzipped his pants, took a stance and let it flow.

He was in the middle of a heavy sigh when he heard a noise behind him. He looked over his shoulder as he continued to perform his normal morning bodily function and stared at the woman standing in front of his cell—an exotic island nymph with the face of an angel.

No way. He was either more drunk than he thought, or he was still asleep and in the middle of the same dream he’d conjured up after midnight. Oh, yeah, this was the little honey he’d been sucking on in the dream, his hands tangled in all that black hair. She had the same sexy dark eyes. The same pouty lips.

Sully felt his body jerk to attention. Wanting to continue down that horny road he’d traveled all night, he left his fly open, flushed the toilet and staggered to the cot.

He looked back, saw she was still peering at him through the bars. Grinning, he muttered, “Come on, baby, climb on in here and we’ll start the party all over again.”

He was two steps from the cot when his sexy dream-lover spoke and stopped him in his tracks.

“If I were you, I would be thinking about a way out of here instead of having a party. The men who visit this cell don’t usually live very long.”

Sully turned slowly. “You’re real?”

“If I’m not, why are you talking to me?”

Sully rubbed his unshaven jaw, studied the woman as she studied him. He decided she was real—his dream-lover had been naked. The only thing naked on this little beauty was her feet. She wore a white peasant blouse and a bright blue skirt.

“Are you the nun who drops by to pray for the lost souls, or the monastery whore who guarantees the condemned die happy?”

He saw her chin jack upward. It was obvious she wasn’t amused by his prison humor, and didn’t find him as appealing to look at as he did her. She was taking him apart a piece at a time, as if he was some side show at a carnival.

For a month he’d been eating and sleeping and pissing center stage. It had given new meaning to the words caged monkey.

“Buy a ticket to the circus, did you, honey?”

“What?”

Sully took a few steps toward her. “I don’t do tricks. If you’re expecting to see me pull a rabbit out of my ass, it’s going to be a long wait. No rabbits in here.”

He thought his comment would chase her off. It didn’t. Instead it put a smile on her face.

“You think that’s funny?”

“If you could perform such a trick, I pity the rabbit.”

So she could give as good as she got. He liked that in a woman. She was a gutsy little nymph, and the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen in his entire life. The cruel joke was she was on the outside looking in.

“Ever done it through a pair of iron bars?” he asked.

“Is that what an imprisoned man misses most?”

“When you’ve been locked up as long as I have, it’s close to the top of the list.”

“It’s been one day. I saw you arrive yesterday.”

“Relocated.”

“From where?”

“Vouno.”

She frowned. “Never heard of it. What’s your name?”

“What’s yours?”

“I asked you first.”

She had barely gotten the words out when a male voice sounded in the corridor. By the surprised look on her face it was clear she recognized the voice and didn’t want whoever it was to find her there. She quickly glanced around, then said, “He can’t find me in here.”

“Who?”

“Holic.” She swung open the door to the empty cell next to him and slipped inside, then hurried to the cot and dropped to her knees. Flashing him her small sexy ass, she wiggled under the cot and disappeared.

From her hiding place, she said, “Don’t tell him I’m here.”

“I won’t tell if you give me your name.”

Sully heard her swear, two very nasty words in Greek. Smiling, he said, “A generous offer. You can try it through the bars as soon as I get rid of my visitor. For now, I’ll have your name.”

She swore again, then told him. “It’s Melita.”

On her belly, feeling the damp stone floor seeping into her clothes, Melita peered out from beneath the cot. She wrinkled up her nose as the sour smell suddenly gave her the urge to sneeze.

Oh, God.

She reached up and pinched her nose, concentrated on slowing her breathing until the urge passed. If Holic found her there she would be in worse trouble than she already was. The slimy bastard would like nothing better than to put her against the wall with another ultimatum.

She saw two pairs of feet stop outside of the prisoner’s cell. One was Holic’s. He always kept his black boots as shiny as a mirror. The other pair were easy to identify as well—green tennis shoes.

What was Nigel Barinski doing here with Holic?

Melita pressed her cheek against the dirty floor to get a better look. The prisoner had taken a seat on his cot. He was dressed in green fatigues and a black muscle shirt. He’d zipped up his pants, and she found herself looking long and hard at him again. Over six feet, his black hair grazed his broad shoulders—shoulders that looked rock hard even though he was extremely lean.

She was curious as to who he was, and what her father meant to do with him. So curious it had caused her to use bad judgment and search him out.

“On your feet, Paxton,” Holic ordered.

“Unlock the door,” Nigel insisted. “I can’t examine him from out here.”

Holic dug a key from his pocket and inserted it in the lock. The cell door swung open, and Nigel stepped inside. Holic returned the key to his pocket and followed, pulling a handgun from the holster on his belt. He aimed the weapon at the prisoner they had just addressed as Paxton.

“I said on your feet, back against the wall,” Holic ordered.

There were a few minutes of silence, then Paxton stood and Nigel set his medical bag down on the cot. “I need a blood sample to test for any diseases or infections. I have him scheduled for the decontamination chamber after lunch. I want him bug-free before I bring him to the infirmary.”

Melita listened to every word Nigel said. She had no idea what his purpose was here at Despotiko, but she knew he wasn’t simply a doctor who kept her father’s guards healthy.

“Remove your shirt, Mr. Paxton.”

Melita saw the prisoner’s shirt fall to the floor at Nigel’s order, but before she could see much else, Nigel blocked her view.

“I read your file. It was impressive. Surviving what must have been a living hell has made you quite valuable.”

“I imagine you know all about survival living with that face,” Paxton said.

Melita heard Holic laugh. “That’s probably the only thing we’ll ever agree on, Paxton.”

Nigel lived with constant ridicule over the way he looked. Melita felt bad for him, although, she had to admit his appearance was unusual.

The blood sample taken, Nigel kicked an empty beer can. “There will be no more alcohol. From now on you’ll be on a strict diet to get your weight back up. My orders are to have you at one hundred percent in two months. That’ll take work on both our ends. Now your pants, Mr. Paxton. Drop them, please. I need to examine your phallus and scrotum for the surgery.”

Surgery? Melita wondered what kind of surgery Nigel would be performing on that part of Paxton’s anatomy?

A few seconds later she had her answer when Nigel said, “I have orders to castrate you.”

When the prisoner didn’t move, Holic stepped forward and shoved the barrel of his handgun underneath his chin. “Drop you pants, Paxton.”

Melita saw Holic take a step back. Saw the prisoner’s pants drop to his ankles. Nigel moved forward, blocking her view once more, then suddenly he moved left.

Buy a ticket to the circus?

Paxton’s words popped into her head, but she wasn’t witnessing any freak show. What she was viewing was more like a peep show, and worth every penny.

She heard Barinski mumble something to himself. Finally, he said out loud, “I’ve never done this kind of operation before. But it can’t be too hard.”

Paxton was in the process of pulling up his pants when out of nowhere the smell of mold on the floor climbed up Melita’s nose. Unprepared for it, she sneezed.

“What was that?” Holic turned to stare through the bars into the empty cell where Melita hid. She squeezed her eyes shut, sure she would be discovered any second.

She heard something that resembled her sneeze, and her eyes popped open just as Paxton said, “I’ve been sneezing all day. There must be something down here that I’m allergic to.”

Holic laughed. “I’d be more worried about Barinski tickling my crotch with a knife than allergies, Paxton.” To Nigel, he asked, “What’s the reason behind castrating him?”

“After he’s been reprogrammed we don’t want him thinking about anything but the job he’s going to be trained to do. Our last attempt at reprogramming an agent misfired because her lust factor got in the way.” Nigel scratched his head. “I suppose a practice run on one of my rats is in order. I can’t afford to screw up again.” Nigel picked up his medical bag. “See that he’s brought to the infirmary after he’s been disinfected.”

Sully jerked the zipper up on his pants and damn near neutered himself without Barinski’s help. He winced, then gave an empty beer can a hard kick, sending it into the wall.

He heard Melita dragging herself out from under the cot in the next cell, and turned to see her getting to her feet.

When she came out of the cell, he said, “Get me out of here.”

“Me?”

“Who else would I be talking to?”

“Why would I help you? I don’t even know you.”

“Because I just saved your ass, and it’s time to return the favor.”

“By the sound of it your ass isn’t what’s in jeopardy. What did he mean reprogrammed?”

“How the hell should I know? What I do know is that sticking around here to find out is going to—”

“End your partying days.”

She looked away, but Sully saw a glimpse of a smile. It pissed him off, and he said, “You wouldn’t think it was so funny if you were in here and I was on the outside looking in.”

“I suppose not. Lucky me. If you’re thinking of breaking out of here, it won’t happen. Minare is heavily guarded, and there’s no easy way off the island.”

“That guard with the crazy doctor has the key to this cell. Get me the key, and I’ll worry about the rest.”

“He’s not a guard. That’s Holic Reznik and there’s no way I’m going near him.”

“What do you want for helping me out of here? Name it, and it’s yours.”

She thought a minute, then asked, “Do you have a boat?”

“Stashed under the cot?”

“That’s what I thought.” She shrugged. “No boat, no escape. Goodbye.”

“Wait!”

She didn’t stop. She was gone, and with her, Sully’s last hope.

Starve him. Strip him naked. Beat him until he couldn’t move. He’d survived all of it and more. But turning his brain into mush, and—

“What’s your first name?”

Sully spun around to see that Melita had come back. “Why?”

“You know mine.”

“Why does it matter? I plan to hang myself before Reznik comes back.”

She gave him a frown. “Suicide is overrated.”

“What would you know about it?”

She turned to leave.

To stop her, he said, “My name’s Sully.”

She turned back. “No one is named Sully.”

“It’s short for Sullivan.”

“You have an accent.”

“I’m Irish.”

“Paxton isn’t Irish.”

“It’s a long story,” he said, trying not to scare her off again. “Maybe if you got me out of here, we could discuss it over a beer and dinner a few thousand miles away.”

“Were you serious about giving me whatever I wanted if I helped you, Sully Paxton, even though you don’t have a boat?”

“Dead serious.”

She took a step closer and lowered her voice. “What if what I want is for you to take me with you? What if we left the island together? Would you agree to that?”

“Done.”

“Just like that?”

“I’m a man with few options, honey. Be my angel of mercy and I’ll not only get you off the island, I’ll take you wherever you want to go.”

“Without a boat?”

“I’ll swim you out of here on my back if I have to.”

“Some men would promise anything to get what they want. Especially a man in your position. How good is your memory?”

“My what?”

“Do you remember what you say? More importantly, do you follow through? You see, I can’t just take your word for it.”

“My promise is solid.”

Promise. That’s a word I haven’t heard in a while.”

“If you knew me, you wouldn’t have to doubt it.”

“That’s my point. I don’t know you.”

“If you’re serious about wanting out of here, I’m the man who can make it happen. Anywhere you want to go. Barinski said he read my file. Find it and read it. Once you do, you’ll know I’m your man.”

She was taking in everything he said, and he could see she was definitely considering his offer. It didn’t matter why she wanted off the island, only that she did—as badly as he did.

“I have to go,” she said.

“When will I see you again?”

“When I decide whether I can trust you or not. If I do decide to help you, we’ll need a boat. Do you have any money?”

Sully patted his pants pockets. “Used my last quarter to call home.”

“There are boats at the village. I’ve already tried to get someone there to help me get off the island, but they’re all too afraid.”

“Why?”

“That’s a stupid question. Why do you think?”

“They’re afraid of Krizova.”

“He owns everyone on this island.”

“Including you?”

“I’m not the one behind bars.”

“And still you’re here, where you don’t want to be.”

She started to walk away again. He made one more plea. “Read my file.”

She never answered him.

Sully put all his energy into believing that if Melita read his files, she’d be back. But by afternoon when she hadn’t returned, he started to pray for a miracle. What arrived on the heels of that prayer was Holic Reznik, and minutes later he was headed for the disinfection chamber.

Sleeping With Danger

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