Chapter 3

“Not enough to level a city block, surely?”  Dr. Jaz queried. 

“I’ll answer this one,” said Agent Ysiah, who was sitting across from Yrah. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the poison Sarin, which kills in seconds. If you inhale even a bit, you’ll foam at the mouth, fall to the ground, and die. This chip is surrounded by a tiny silicone bag filled with Sarin. The silicone protects the host until it’s game time. After the chip is detonated, the Sarin spreads through the air. Anyone within an eight-foot radius of the victim will get a whiff of it and immediately die.” 

Yrah swallowed hard and wiped her sweaty palms on her skirt. This was for real. She’d already been trained, and mission briefed. She couldn’t back out now if she wanted. Tomorrow, they’d be flying to Sicily, where the supermax was: Pagliarelli in Palermo. It sounded like an exotic vacation spot, but it wasn’t. It housed some of the most violent criminals in the world. 

After Ysiah’s explanation, a pall of silence permeated the room. Everyone knew the importance of this mission. The people affected may be criminals, but they were still humans, and there were three-hundred and fifty of them in the prison. Agent Tejano said they didn’t know how many intimates were implanted with the Sarin bomb, which could be triggered at any moment, and they had to find out as soon as possible. 

Yrah bit her lower lip and rubbed her arms to get rid of the goosebumps. Agent Ysiah just told them about a poison that could potentially kill them all. There was a possibility she could die. But that wasn’t the cause of the butterflies in her stomach. Tomorrow, she was going to see Gresso. 

YRAH HAD to take a deep breath when she came upon the wall of the prison, which Agent Tejano told her spanned sixteen meters in height and wrapped around a whole hectare of the supermax complex. It was her second time visiting, yet the same dread and trepidation that greeted her when she first came here still hung in the air, as though it were waiting for her. 

When they passed through inspection, her anxiety did not abate but only went into overdrive. She felt like clinging to Ysiah’s arm because all the stares, even from the guards, made her feel naked. Only the warden knew about their mission, so the guards didn’t show them any deference or gave them special treatment.

Good thing the guards didn’t deem it necessary to inspect her stuff. Her pen could still write. Her stethoscope, pager, and thermal scanner went through just fine. She was relieved she would have the scanner because it was actually a gun that held special .22 caliber bullets. Tiny, but she could do some real damage if she were to shoot someone in the eye. 

Across from her, Ysiah was manually searched by a brutish prison guard with a bulldog face. She gasped when a female guard started patting her all over, then tensed up when the guard came across a pocket that contained her lip gloss. With his hands resting on his head, Ysiah made goofy faces at Yrah to distract her. She giggled. His tactic worked. She was no longer tense and therefore suspicious. 

The guard glowered at her. Yrah swallowed her giggles and wiped the smile off her face. “Sorry, I’m ticklish.”

After they’d gone through inspection, she elbowed Ysiah while they were walking toward the main entrance of the prison hall. Inmates had flooded the large open field. However, there were signs posted on the fences that said “Danger: High Voltage” in eight different languages. Yrah couldn’t help but stop and watch them. They were just doing… stuff. People stuff. Like basketball, weightlifting, footie, or jogging. A group of guys had busted out a deck of cards in one corner and appeared to be playing poker. 

“This place is nuts,” Yrah whispered to her companion.

Ysiah chuckled softly. “Are you kidding? These are the angels, the model prisoners. Wait till we get to the underground cells. Pow.” He made an exploding gesture next to his head.

“Maybe that’s not such a good joke,” Yrah replied nervously. “What crimes against humanity should I expect to see down there?”

He reached out and ruffled the top of her head, messing up her ponytail, like a big brother would do to a little sister. “And ruin the surprise? What’s the fun in that?”

Yrah groaned and removed her ponytail. Her hair, long and black, cascaded over her shoulder as they entered the corridor that led to the underground cells. She stopped suddenly, her mouth dropping open as she witnessed a bunch of guys just whaling on each other and shouting cuss words in all sorts of languages.

She scratched her eye with the side of her fist. The guards blew their shrill whistles and attempted to mediate, but the fight had already turned into a melee. A free-for-all. Yrah had never seen anything like it. They barely seemed human. 

The guards were left with no choice. They busted out their tasers, expanding nightsticks, and what looked like a shotgun, which Ysiah assured her only shot high-impact beanbags. In less than three minutes, the riot was contained. Some were shot, others were tasered, and some unlucky ones got clubbed in the knees with the nightstick to take them down. 

“Jesus.” Yrah covered her mouth in horror when she saw how much pain the inmates were in. A few had urinated on the floor as a result of the taser. She shook her head. No one deserved that indignity.

One of the bigger guys seemed to recover pretty quickly. He turned his head to look at her. His lower lip had two hoop piercings, and his arms and neck were covered in tattoos. He was wearing a white undershirt under his prison jumpsuit. One of his eyebrows lifted as he continued to stare at her.

Yrah gulped when the pervert dragged his leering gaze over her body. Her arms and legs sprouted goosebumps, but she didn’t train to be G.I. Jane in three months just to hide behind Ysiah at the first sign of trouble. 

“Ooh, what do we have here, hmm?” His voice was at odds with his body. It was higher-pitched than Yrah would have guessed he’d have. He still sounds like a teenage boy. 

As if his words contained a spell, all of the recovering inmates turned to look their way. Some intimates struggled to stand and get to her, but the guards were ready with their tasers and nightsticks. 

“If you bastards don’t return to your cells now, I’m going to get the warden’s cattle prod and stick it up your arses. Or would you sweethearts like that too much?”

But some were more persistent. Three big guys managed to get past the guards and were about to reach her when they all heard a deep male voice cursing up a storm coming from the corridor. 

“Stay right where you are, motherfuckers, or I’m gonna be busting some heads open. Get back to your fucking cells right now before I yank your guts out with my bare hands. You pieces of shit, get out of here.” 

“Well, shit, boss. Do you want us to stay put or get back to our cells?” one of the braver inmates ventured forth. 

Yrah stopped breathing. Her jaw dropped open, and her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when the inmates parted like the Red Sea before Moses. They revealed a large man carrying a baseball bat over his shoulder, wearing an orange prison jumpsuit with the top half pulled down and the sleeves tied around his waist. Only a white sleeveless shirt covered his muscled upper body. She gasped and unconsciously reached out to Ysiah in support as her knees had turned into rubber. 

The man’s glittering green gaze had the same impact on her on the day they met. He was a tidal wave. He didn’t blink, didn’t look away from her, daring her to be the one to delope. The stupid butterflies were tiny finches now, awake and tearing at the lining of her stomach as though they were trying to escape. And the heart pounding within her ribcage seemed to be in league with the stupid birds. 

She swallowed the pooling saliva in her mouth as she watched one corner of his mouth slowly lift. Without looking away from her, he took a step in her direction and began to approach. The guards barred his way. Yrah’s excitement turned to anxiety when she noticed he’d allowed them to stop him. 

He inclined his chin and released a melodramatic sigh. “Ah, little mouse, back for more, eh? Didn’t learn your lesson the first time.” He clicked his tongue before smirking.

Without warning, he smacked one guard at the side of his head with the bat like he was hitting a baseball, then took another down before the first one could even reach the ground. He stomped on them and hit them with his bat. At one point, he posed like a golf pro, yelled “Fore!” before using his bat like a nine-iron and smacking the guard’s head on an upswing. 

The other guards rushed to aid their fallen comrades, but this newcomer only pointed his bat at them in a warning. To Yrah’s surprise, they stopped. 

“No one touches the black-haired doctor.”

Yrah gasped when Gresso looked back at her over his shoulder. His eyes glittered with desire as both corners of his lips curved to form his devilish smile.

“This little lady is mine.”