Page 22 of Trapped

The lieutenant stood across the desk, waiting for instructions.

“I was looking at the security tapes from last night,” Montgomery began.

“Yes?”

“There’s a gap of several hours.”

“I’m sorry sir.”

“How did it happen?”

“It must have been a malfunction.”

Montgomery kept his voice even. “Were there any reports of out-of-the-ordinary incidents? Any personnel who were someplace they weren’t supposed to be?”

“I’ll check the log.”

“Do that.” He forced himself not to drum his fingers on the desk.

“I want to see Baker. As soon as he’s finished breakfast, tell him he has an appointment with me.”

Tobias shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

“Yes?” Montgomery asked, unable to keep an undercurrent of annoyance out of his voice.

“Um—we discussed having one of the men in the cafeteria say he had to leave early, because he had an appointment with you. So Baker wouldn’t think he was the only one.”

He remembered that now and struggled for calm. A lot was riding on this assignment, and he didn’t intend to blow it because he was being pressured to produce.

“Send him to physical therapy after breakfast. Then have him come here.” He looked at his watch. “In an hour and fifteen minutes.”

“Yes, sir.”

Tobias left, and Montgomery shuffled through the papers on his desk. He didn’t like the camera failure. But that was what you got when all your equipment isn’t state of the art. This bunker had been built more than fifty years ago. And not everything had been kept current.

He leaned back in his chair, thinking about the upcoming interview. And about security.

No one in this place had a cell phone. And all the desk instruments were internal only. The only outside communications were through the phone on his desk and the computers in this office.

He reached out his hand toward the phone, thinking he might ask for some instructions. Then he pulled his arm back. He’d been the one who wanted to try this experiment. It had been so elegant. And he’d been so sure it would work. But first, Baker’s wounds had gotten infected, and he’d been on too much pain medication for any psychiatric sessions. Then he’d recovered physically—but his damn dreams had started, and Carlton was pretty sure the man didn’t want to face the truth.

He sighed. If he admitted that he was beginning to doubt the protocol, that would show weakness, and weakness was the last thing he wanted to project. He had to make it clear he was calm and in control. Which meant he’d better think about his approach with Baker this morning.

###

Cash was pushing around the eggs and bacon on his plate when he noticed an officer striding toward him. He sat up straighter and looked inquiringly at the man whose name tag said, “Lieutenant Tobias.”

“I want to remind you that you have a physical therapy appointment scheduled in twenty minutes. Then you’re scheduled to see Doctor Montgomery.”

He struggled not to react—to the information that he was due to see Montgomery or to the realization that until the present moment, he’d had no idea what he was supposed to be doing today.

From the corner of his eye, he could see several of the men in the mess hall watching him. When he caught one of them looking, the guy glanced quickly down at his plate.

Now that everyone was listening, Cash wondered what he should say. Did he want everyone here to know he was having memory lapses? Or did they already know? And Faraday had said he was going to see Montgomery. So apparently, he didn’t think it needed to be a secret.

He settled on a simple, “Thank you.”

At least they were trying to rehab him.

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