With her other hand, she lifted the loose air hose that rested in her lap. Normally the hose connected the anesthetic machine to the oxygen bib on the wall. She had disconnected the anesthetic machine but left the hose running up to the wall, where plumbed pipes ran from here to the oxygen tanks in the mechanical room. Afterward, she had spent two minutes backfilling that line with propane gas.

Lifting the hose now, she unpinched its end and raised the striker.

With a fast squeeze, the flint scraped, spit out a spark, and ignited the leaking gas.

Flames spat out the hose end. She pinched it closed again and watched a blue flame shoot down the propane-filled hose. The glow rushed up to the wall bib and vanished away. She pictured the fire continuing, sweeping through the pipes, a flaming arrow headed straight toward-

THE HISSING DREW Duncan’s attention as soon as he stepped across the threshold. Snake was his first thought, jumping immediately to a bestial threat. But it came from the left, from behind a closed room plastered with a pair of hazardous-warning emblems.

Blood rushed to his temples and pounded there.

Across the room, a tiny flicker of flame flared in his night-vision equipment. It could mean only one thing.

Ambush…

He didn’t have time to warn the others who had flanked right and left. He lunged away from the hissing door, shouldering into Takeo. His other teammate stood directly in front of the door-

– when it exploded.

A blue fireball shattered the door off its hinges. It struck the unsuspecting man in the back, splitting in half. A secondary explosion followed. Duncan managed to roll Takeo’s body between him and the blast.

Shrapnel blew, along with the tumbling clang of a green oxygen tank.

With the din still ringing, Duncan pushed Takeo off him.

The Asian man rolled to his knees, dazed, stunned. He turned toward Duncan as if looking for an explanation. Shrapnel peppered his face. Blood flowed. He was missing one ear.

Then the man slapped a hand to his neck.

His fingers removed a dart from under the angle of his chin.

A tranquilizer dart…

Deafened by the blast, Duncan hadn’t even heard the shot.

Takeo’s head fell back. He garbled something, choking up a thick white froth-then went rigid and fell back to the floor.

Before Duncan could move, something struck him square in the throat like a punch to the larynx. He scrabbled and knocked the dart off, furious at being caught off guard.

Despite his forewarning, it seemed he had still underestimated Dr. Polk. But there was nothing he could do now except curse her.

Fuck you, bitch…

LORNA WATCHED THE second man drop. She could tell he fought against the tranquilizer. But even a pinprick of M99 could be fatal. And she’d shot them both in the throat, where blood vessels were rich, and unloaded enough drugs to drop a rhino.

Still, she waited for thirty seconds until there was not even a twitch.

But she dared wait no longer.

Across the room, the flames spread, making the night-vision goggles a hindrance. She swept them off, cautiously stepped out, and headed toward the exit. She didn’t want to risk being trapped here by the fire. She also wanted another weapon. Her rifle had held only the two cartridges. She was out of ammunition.

She crossed to the first man and scooped his rifle from the floor. It was heavy, muscular, and unfamiliar. She studied the weapon as she sidled past the second man-but as she stepped away, something snagged her ankle, jerked her leg, and flipped her face forward to the ground.

DUNCAN ROSE AS the doctor’s face struck the floor. She cried out and tried to roll over, dazed, her chin split and bloody. With a savage grin, he climbed on top of her, swung his Sig Sauer, and cracked the pistol’s butt against the back of her skull.

Under him, her body went slack. Out cold. Only she wasn’t playing possum like he’d been doing a moment ago.

In the end, who underestimated who, Dr. Polk?

Duncan rubbed his throat. It still stung from the impact of the dart. He’d likely be hoarse for days. But nothing worse. The dart had struck his throat mike, blunting the needle enough that it only lodged shallowly into a thick callus of scar tissue. Not a hard target, considering most of his neck was wrapped in leathery scars from that old attack.

He flipped her over. She was still breathing. Good.

He also noted she was quite the looker. And blond, just the way he liked them.

Satisfied with his trophy, he leaned down and hauled the woman up and over a shoulder. He clamped a hand on her buttocks to hold her and headed back through the facility, intending to vacate the building the same way he came in.

Riding on the adrenaline, he quickly reached the main hall. Smoke choked the passageway. Out there, he spotted a body in camo gear, sitting and leaning up against one wall.

A hand lifted as he appeared, beckoning. A voice croaked out to him. “Sir.”

It was Korey, the assault-team leader.

The man had been down in the morgue, supposedly blowing his way into a meat locker to fetch one of the scientists. Fat lot of good that did. He plainly screwed it up, leaving Duncan to take matters into his own hands.

Korey groaned and dropped his arm, too weak to hold it up. The man sat on the floor, in his own blood-and shit from the smell of it-holding a fist to a belly wound. It looked like he’d taken a cannonball through his gut.

“Help…”

Someone must have gotten the drop on Korey’s team.

Duncan glanced back down the smoky hall, suddenly feeling eyes on him. It was time to get out of here. Ignoring the wounded man, he hurried to the open window.

He had what he came for. Fuck the rest.

Reaching the window, he hunkered down and climbed through the window with the woman. Once outside, he touched his throat mike and called up his second-in-command.

“Connor, prepare the team to move out.”

“Sir?”

“You have your orders. I’ll meet you out front.”

He headed in that direction.

“What about the escaped specimens?” Connor asked. “We’ve still not found them. These tracking transponders are shit in close quarters.”

That was true. The GPS was only good for pinning down a location to a quarter square mile or so. With so much forest and brush, it was a needle-in-a-haystack situation out there.

Connor continued. “All we’ve spotted so far is some stray dog.”

Dog?

Duncan then remembered the hound from the Chevy, the one who’d startled him. Fire entered his voice. “Did you kill the motherfucker?”

“No. Bastard ran off.”

Too bad.

“Then abandon the search,” he ordered with finality. “Once clear, blow this place to hell.”

“Understood.”

He hurried toward the truck parked out front. Whatever pride had fueled his need to apprehend all the animals had cooled. He had a good enough trophy in his arms. The remaining animals were weak and immature. They wouldn’t survive long on their own in the wild. And besides, he had what he needed for damage control. The woman could tell them what was learned here and who else knew. That should satisfy his superiors at Lost Eden Cay.

Then the woman would be his to dispose of as he pleased.

And he intended to be pleased.