Mila 2.0 by Debra Driza

Author:Debra Driza
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers
Published: 2013-11-29T05:00:00+00:00

en minutes later, five guards marched us down a brightly lit hallway that smelled faintly of cigarettes. The leader stopped outside a room labeled DETAINMENT and unlocked it with a key card he produced from his pocket.

“Inside,” he said gruffly, shoving open the door. The guard holding my elbow steered me none too gently inside, and Mom followed.

The room was a small square of hopelessness.

A flash of red. And then:

Dimensions: 10 ft. by 9 ft.

I swallowed a horrified giggle. Perfect. And now I knew the exact measurements of hopelessness.

The flimsy folding metal table sitting in the middle bore the jagged scars of a knife or key or other sharp instrument across the top and was accompanied by four plastic chairs better suited for a patio, two on either side. A video camera angled down from the ceiling in the back left corner, its blinking red light confirming its functionality. No desk, no decorations, nothing that carried enough heft to be used as a weapon.

“Sit,” the leader barked.

Our guards escorted us around opposite ends of the table and slid the two chairs back, the scraping sound making my guard wince. I sank into my chair, watched Mom do the same in hers.

They didn’t even uncuff us to take our fingerprints. A guard just came up behind us and ran our fingers over some handheld scanner.

Absently I pushed against the cold metal that caged my wrists, feeling the chain tauten between them.

Tensile strength: 495 lbs.

Instead of reassuring me, the information only intensified the uneasiness gnawing at my stomach. Any escape attempts would put Mom in danger. I couldn’t chance it.

One guard left, while two guards remained in the room, with four more outside. The longer we went unquestioned, the harder the pounding in my ears. Not even bothering to talk to us had to be a very, very bad sign.

With the two guards there, we risked only minimal, bland conversation over the next few hours. Waiting. And waiting. Finally the door opened. One look at the dark-suited man who cautiously rounded the corner, his gaze sweeping over our positions and the room methodically, told me we were in trouble. This guy acted like a professional, much more so than the airport security. But who was he?

Target: Located.

I clenched my hands behind my chair. Stop it. Stop, stop, stop.

Mom’s entire body stiffened as the man pulled a CIA badge out of his suit pocket. Then her head fell forward. I turned to comfort her at the same time as the man said, “Hello, Nicole. We’ve missed you.”

We’ve missed you.

My head jerked back to the man, while my balled hands started to tremble. Mom . . . Mom knew this man. Which could only mean one thing.

The government had found us.

The man’s brown eyes swept from Mom to me, and our already slim odds of escape shrank to almost nothing.

“Nicole Laurent, you are wanted on the grounds of espionage and theft of military property. You and the MILA are to board a plane back to U.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.