Chapter Twenty-four

Danny – earlier that day.

I couldn't decide whether the warden—Edgar Connaught—was on the level or very clever. He explained that while he'd requested medical staff from the personnel next door in the high security unit to train me, apparently a nasty flu had taken a lot of staff out and they couldn't spare anyone. Which made me wonder if it was more that he didn't want other people in here, apart from his hand-picked few. I'd done my research, and every single C.O. was ex-military. Edgar Connaught had been offered early retirement from the navy ten years ago, and with the limited time I'd had I couldn't find out whether it had been voluntary or he'd been pushed.

There'd been an incident—buried deep in the records—with his youngest son in basic training. Apparently, it had been recorded as an accident with his M-9 pistol, but I wondered if it had been suicide. Suicide rates among service members were currently at an all-time high since record-keeping began after 9/11, and there didn't seem to be a correlation between those on active-duty and those not.

Edgar Connaught hadn't been happy with the explanation and despite the way the higher-ups had tried to quieten him, he had made a lot of noise, and at the same time his eldest son had been killed in a mortar attack overseas. A year later, he and his wife of twenty-seven years had gotten divorced.

I gazed at the man in the suit. All my research had shown me wardens in uniform, not suits, but that barely made the list of fucked-up things I'd found out today. I'd been given a brief tour of the staff areas and the clinic, and that was it. Apparently, I would never be present in the main lock-up areas even with an escort. Wearing my obvious scrubs, I was too much of a target. I was shown the control center and my heart jumped in my mouth when I saw Kane on one of the screens then Shae on another.

The cells were made of some type of one-way glass. Not fragile clearly, but the point was we could see in, but they couldn't see out.

There were seven enhanced currently being held, including Kane, and I breathed in relief when I realized Shae was one of them. There were three that didn't warrant such a high-security area. One of those was even in for shoplifting, of all things. Then another two. Samuel Burrows had been taken into foster care at ten when he had gotten the mark, as his birth family had surrendered him immediately to the cops, without even waiting to see if he displayed a dangerous ability he couldn't control.

He'd gone into the foster care system, and there had been at least one set of foster parents that he'd stayed with for over a year that had been prosecuted for abuse. Apparently, a teacher had raised concerns about another, and a social worker yet a third, but when she'd changed jobs it hadn't been followed up on. Samuel aged out of the system at eighteen, showing minimal abilities with telekinesis. The day he'd aged out, he'd taken the bus back to his hometown and walked into his old home to find his parents eating dinner.

He"d tried to explain that he wasn't dangerous and pleaded with them to let him come home, but they had told him to get out or they would call the cops.

In fact, the father had told him he wished he'd died at birth so they wouldn't have such a stain on their family name. His mom had prayed for God to consign the devil's demon spawn back to hell where he belonged.

Samuel had taken everything in and then stayed completely still while every knife, every blade, had flown out of the kitchen and embedded themselves in his parents' bodies in precisely the right places to make sure they bled out. Then he'd called the cops because his sixteen-year-old younger brother was at ball practice, and he didn't want him arriving home and discovering the bodies.

He'd waited while the cops arrived and hadn't tried once to resist arrest. He told the cops he had made sure his younger brother had an aunt he could stay with that didn't really get on with his parents, so he wouldn't be put in the foster system. That had been important to him.

Then the last boy, Callum Granger— as if Samuel hadn't been enough—just about broke my heart. Callum was only sixteen and had transformed at twelve. However, his ability was generating huge amounts of electricity which he couldn't control. He'd woken up on that fateful morning and become hysterical after seeing his reflection in the bathroom mirror. Both his parents had rushed in, hearing the screams, and his dad had pulled Callum into a hug.

An estimated electrical current of twenty thousand amps killed Callum's father immediately. His mom managed to keep it together and not touch her son, but he was sedated with a dart some of the emergency response team had started carrying, and once unconscious, his ability could be managed. For three and a half years, his mom visited her son every week despite the two-hundred-mile round trip journey, until he was moved to this new facility four weeks ago and visitors were banned. His mom never blamed Callum. The problem was, while Callum was conscious, he couldn't turn his ability off, and the state had spent three years experimenting with sedatives to try to control it with no success.

I couldn't even imagine, and I'd bet my last dime Finn would get involved with this if he had the chance. The problem was state lines.

Georgia had taken advantage of a loophole in the new law that the Tampa team had been responsible for enacting. Basically, enhanced minors couldn't be locked up simply for having a scar on their face. Unless they had committed a crime. The loophole was successful at incarcerating both a kid simply guilty of shoplifting, and admittedly another for voluntary manslaughter. I'd be interested in what Oliver Michaels made of it.

"So that's our collection," Connaught said and smiled.

Collection? And I got why Kane cursed so much if he had to deal with these idiots all day. Not that servicemen didn't. I'd just never cursed much because Mom hated it.

"So, what exactly are my duties?" I asked, trying to be pleasant when I really wanted to put my fist through his face for the eagerness he hadn't tried to hide when describing Callum's ability. "I'm assuming first-aid, minor injuries?"

Connaught hesitated. "Actually, no. All my C.O.s have first-aid training, and I doubt there will be any serious injuries. As I know you are aware, the enhanced have enhanced healing abilities. What I really want is for you to establish a baseline with their general health. Gain their trust. I know you did two tours. Befriending the locals is an integral part of that. This is a very similar situation."

He gazed at me like he'd said nothing wrong. That he wasn't talking about American citizens.

"I hate that the enhanced aren't utilized as the gift to humanity they are, and that as youngsters they're often put in situations that create criminals." He gestured to the tablet on the desk where he had just been reading out the back stories of the inmates to me. Although I didn't think he needed the written copy. He seemed to have learned every detail.

"One of our newest inmates is Kane Diaz." I was very careful not to react. "He was arrested and convicted for bodily harm to his father at the age of sixteen, but you will note that his own injuries—some going back years—were never taken into account. If you look at the medical records, he had whip marks on his back that were still bleeding." Connaught leaned forward. "I want to stop that."

Did he?

"What have you found out so far?" I tried to look curious.

"Diaz has spent seventeen years in the high-security unit next door. The only incident I can discover which might have involved him using an undocumented ability was during a prison riot. He somehow managed to be in two places at once." He tapped his pen. "What's interesting is that he had an older, non-enhanced prisoner with him, a lifer that apparently took a younger Diaz under his wing. The fascinating thing is that I've managed to access recordings which show the exact time Diaz and the other prisoner entered the chow hall where the riot started, just before the cameras all malfunctioned. I have personally interviewed four C.O.s as part of my research for my position here that all ran as summoned from the direction of the cells, and not one of them saw Diaz or the other prisoner coming back. The direction the C.O.s came from is the only way Diaz and the other prisoner could have gone. When the C.O.s took control back and inspected the cells, both Diaz and the other prisoner were in Newhold's cell."

I frowned. "How reliable are the accounts?" I knew exactly which incident he meant. Kane had used his ability for the first time, and as I'd thought, somehow he could not only block other people's vision but make them unaware of it as well. It was an incredibly powerful gift, and I knew Connaught wasn't going to let this go.

"All four C.O.s were highly experienced, and all gave the same account."

"And what investigation—"

"None," Connaught said, cutting me off. "The investigation concentrated on the riot and preventing it from happening again. Once it was established that Diaz and the other prisoner weren't involved, no one was interested in what they'd done."

He clasped his hands and rested them in front of him on his desk. "The government has spent the last forty years trying to control the problem. Hide it. There have been a couple of ill-thought-out attempts to make money from it. One idiot hoped to give regular humans an enhanced ability by experimenting on enhanced children, and I believe a group of enhanced thought they could make their own mercenary unit, but no one has ever considered what a great asset these individuals can be to the country as a whole."

"I can think of a few times I've been in combat where the outcome might have been different," I said. One in particular.

"Exactly," Connaught agreed. "And the only way to do utilize them, in my opinion, is to embrace their abilities, not fear them."

I decided to push a little, because while I might in many respects agree with everything he was saying, if this man was responsible for the enhanced going missing, then he wasn't giving them a choice. I'd read a few books on military history and found that in the past, forced conscription was often used instead of a jail sentence. It had been rife in the Napoleonic wars, but even that wasn't like this. This was kidnapping, pure and simple. "And you think they're more likely to share with me than any of the C.O.s." I didn't phrase it as a question.

He leaned forward. "Can you imagine how—properly utilized—vital this group would be to combat terrorism?"

I could. But there had also been enough times throughout history when certain groups of people had been denied a basic choice, generally because of the color of their skin, and it never ended well. Seemed like we never learned.

Over the next few days, I discovered a few more things. Every room had hidden voice recording abilities, but it had to be activated, and all occasions logged and justified. The warden had wanted it on constantly, but an ethics committee had actually done its job this time, and only allowed it on all the time in areas where warning notices were displayed. The clinic didn't have one at all.

Since I was never allowed to be with a prisoner on my own, I couldn't speak to Kane, which was increasingly frustrating. Then on the third day, Ringo escorted Kane to the clinic. I waited until the door was closed and Ringo nodded. I wanted nothing more than to rush at him, but while the audio might be off, the video definitely wasn't. We kept the pretense up in case Connaught was watching, as Kane was his current obsession and he had grilled me after I had seen Connaught the first time. I pretended to give him a regular exam, but I took my time, smiled a little.

"You're the boss-man's pet project," I said, rubbing my lip idly as if scratching an itch. None of us could be a hundred percent certain no one had lip-reading ability. "I'm genuinely sorry you're back in here," I said, uncovering my mouth. "But I was hoping you might help me establish some medical baselines. I know you guys have rapid healing, but as a medic, I need to know what I can do to help." I glanced at Ringo. "Can I get his wrists undone, please?"

"Sorry," Ringo said. "Not allowed when anyone other than a C.O. is present."

I sent a regretful look at Kane and continued. "I especially don't want to hinder the healing process, so it might mean we have to see each other more often, and it's probably going to be boring."

Kane's expression didn't change, but I saw a glint of humor in the flash of silver in his eyes. "Doc, any time out of my cell is less boring than being stuck in there."

I nodded, pulled out my tablet, and began to take notes. All for show, but each time I bent it made it harder for someone to read my lips. I quickly told Kane and Ringo what I knew about the other enhanced here. I interspersed each fact with an ordinary question about Kane's medical history as a child. I also told him what the warden had asked me to do. "I need to give him something to show progress."

"Night vision? Accurate vision? Those seems pretty innocuous."

I nodded. "Yeah, and it shows we're establishing trust. Read the bottom line of that."

Kane glanced at my tablet where I'd written that I hadn't seen Shae, just him, Cherry, and Blaze. Ringo looked at the clock on the wall.

"You gonna be much longer, Doc?" He rubbed a hand over his beard as if he was bored and it covered most of his next words. "Diesel told me that's he's adding a gambling problem and huge debt to your backstory after you said the warden seemed friendly."

I stood up and put out my hand to shake Kane's awkwardly as he was tied, thanking him for his time. Kane pretended to be shocked, and Ringo marched him out.

I could count the seconds on one hand before the warden came into the room.

I glanced over at the warden and nodded a greeting. "I just saw Diaz—sorry seventy-three—and he seemed quite open to coming here."

Connaught waved my apology off. "Psychological clap-trap to call them by a number," he said. "Did he tell you anything?"

"Do we have it recorded anywhere that he can see in the dark? I couldn't find anything."

"No," Connaught's eyes widened, and I could practically see him rubbing his hands.

"I got the impression his vision's pretty accurate, and he didn't come out and say it, but you know the standard vision tests you get in any eye doctor's office?"

He nodded eagerly. "Well, I tried him with my tablet on the bottom row. Can you read this?" I passed it over. I'd been prepared for this as it was something I'd wanted to know myself, but with last weekend, we simply hadn't had the chance. Even someone with perfect vision wouldn't be able to read it, and I'd only just put it a couple of levels below that. I suspected Kane's eyesight was better.

He squinted at the tablet and shook his head. "Not even with my glasses on."

"Kane can," I confirmed.

"This is incredible," he enthused.

I decided to push things a little further. "I was thinking a bit more about what you said. We know that Diaz is prohibited from carrying a firearm, especially with his latest incident, and that would automatically negate enlistment. Do you think that the government will offer enlistment in return for forgiving crimes? Wiping his slate if he served however many years? He's not exactly young for a first enlistment either, even if the firearm didn't create an impossible barrier."

Connaught's gaze dropped to the tablet again. "There are many governments still using enlistment as an alternative to incarceration."

"But the US?" I said, adding the right amount of incredulity. "That must violate so many human rights laws. I can see the news outlets going to town on something like this." It wasn't exactly a threat. I was gambling. I knew I was.

Connaught took a seat at the desk, so I was left with either a chair that a patient would use or to remain standing. It was a power move and for the first time in three days, I wished by all that was holy that I had Sadie with me. The longer this went on, the worse it would get.

"Danny Robbins," he mused, naming the persona we'd created for this. "Do you know why I chose you for this?"

I wanted to say because no one else wanted it, but apart from shooting myself in the foot, it was untrue. There might be a distinct lack of C.O.s applying, but medics were a different thing. There had been five other applicants, but I'd made sure my resume was what he went for.

"I assume my qualifications, sir." I replied, trying not to seem excited as to where this might go.

"Your qualifications are exemplary," he confirmed. "But there were two other medics with more combat experience. One that had a specialization in neurosciences as a nurse before he joined the military. That would have been very interesting."

My heart thumped in my chest.

"Do you want to know why I picked you?"

I knew, but I wanted it confirmed.

"Because of your added backstory," he said. "Your gambling and debt problems, which I don't believe for one second. Ever heard of the phrase gilding the lily?"

My words—any words—stuck in my throat.

"So, what I really want to know is…why are you here?"