Sidney Sheldon Untitled Book 2. Сидни ШелдонЧитать онлайн книгу.

       CHAPTER SEVEN

       They’re trying to kill me. They are actually trying to kill me.

      Ella sank to her knees, unable to move another step. Her lungs were in agony. After an eight-mile run in punishing midday heat, she felt as if she’d inhaled a bag of razor blades. Her skin burned, the blisters on her feet screamed and a dreadful feeling of nausea rose all the way from the pit of her (empty) stomach to her parched throat. Forget the Marine Corps. The first day’s ‘introductory’ physical training at Camp Hope had clearly been devised by an experienced torturer, possibly headhunted by The Group from a Malaysian prison.

      ‘All right, ladies. One-minute water break and then you’re in active recovery. That means a light jog back to base. No walking.’ The tracksuit-wearing giant from yesterday smiled at Ella and the two other young women slumped on the ground beside her, as if he’d just done them a favor. He’d apparently abandoned yesterday’s tag-team of skeletons to initiate Ella and the other new recruits into the joys of ops training, an experience Ella would categorically not be repeating after today. Astonishingly, both the other girls smiled weakly back at him, earning themselves a withering glare from Ella. These brainwashed, cult groupies were too much for her. She could tell they were intimidated by her anger, but she couldn’t have cared less if her life depended on it.

      Jogging back through the forest, she felt her frustration building, even as the agony in her lungs began to recede. She’d heard nothing from the man today, about this ‘briefing’ she was supposed to receive, or anything else. The voices in her head had gone completely silent. She didn’t have a watch on, but she reckoned it must be three o’clock at least, judging by the position of the sun, and the long, grueling hours she’d been out training. She’d longed to tell the Adidas giant where he could stick his barked orders, but having come this far she didn’t want to do anything to jeopardize the promised meeting and explanation. Now, however, she was beginning to think that the man was simply stringing her along again, dangling carrots he never had any intention of actually delivering.

      Back at the camp, Ella stopped for a moment to catch her breath before heading straight up the path that Christine had told her led to the administrative offices.

      ‘Praeger!’ the giant boomed. ‘Where do you think you’re going? The showers are this way.’

      Ella’s only answer was a succinct middle finger raised above her head as she kept walking, to audible shocked gasps from her training mates. A few minutes later, pulling open the door to the main office so violently it might have come off its hinges, she stood like an angry bull in front of the reception desk, sweating and panting. ‘I demand to see whoever’s in charge of this dump,’ she snapped at the young man behind the desk. ‘Right now.’

      The young man didn’t bat an eyelid. ‘Of course, Ms Praeger,’ he smiled. ‘Ms MacAvoy’s been expecting you. Can I get you a glass of water or would you prefer to go straight through?’

      Thrown by his reaction, Ella hesitated. Before she could answer, the glass door behind the reception desk swung open and an attractive, professional-looking woman in her early fifties stepped forwards.

      ‘Ah, Ella. I thought it was you. I’m Katherine MacAvoy, the supervisor here at Camp Hope.’ Extending her arm she shook Ella’s hand warmly. ‘Do come in.’

      Inside the office was bright and clean, with a lot of white, modern furniture and chrome accents. An enormous picture window provided panoramic views of the redwoods and distant pastures beyond, and there were photographs of waterfalls and autumnal scenes on the walls. Katherine MacAvoy’s desk was bare except for an open MacBook Air, a charging iPhone and a single beige manila file with Ella’s name typed on the front.

      ‘Please.’ Sitting down at the desk, Katherine gestured for Ella to take the chair opposite. ‘You must be exhausted. I remember my own first day of training. It’s no picnic, is it?’

      She smiled but Ella didn’t reciprocate. No way was she falling for these people’s charm offensives.

      ‘I’m not interested in your training. I’m not a member of your stupid Group, OK? I came here to learn more about my parents, William and Rachel Praeger, and what they may or may not have done to my brain. That is literally the only reason I am sitting here right now. Because I was promised answers. Not because I’m buying into this, or you, in any way.’

      Katherine MacAvoy nodded calmly. ‘I understand.’

      ‘No you don’t!’ Ella snapped. ‘How could you possibly?’

      ‘You’re agitated,’ the older woman said gently. ‘Why don’t you—’

      ‘The man who contacted me, who came to my grandmother’s funeral and told me about this place … he claimed that my mother and father used to be part of your organization. He showed me a video file of my father that seemed to confirm it. He also said that my parents were scientists and that they’d …’ She searched around for the right word. ‘… edited certain parts of my brain.’

      ‘That’s right,’ the older woman assented.

      ‘I was brought up to believe that my mother and father died in a car crash in 1998. Is that correct?’

      Katherine MacAvoy met Ella’s hostile gaze with her own steady one.

      ‘It is not correct, no. But I imagine the man you met explained that to you already?’

      ‘He said my parents were murdered.’

      Katherine cleared her throat. ‘I’m afraid that’s true, Ella.’

      ‘Yes, well, you’ll excuse me if I don’t take your word for it,’ Ella hissed, as impotently furious as a trapped snake. ‘I want to see proof.’

      ‘I see. Well …’

      ‘I also want proof that it really was my parents and not you people who messed around with my brain so that I hear these goddamn … things. All the time!’ Ella banged the side of her temples with her fists. She felt as if years of repressed anger and fear and frustration were in imminent danger of bursting out of her. As if her skull might literally explode, like a grenade. ‘Because he said that too, this man. And he said coming here would help me, but it hasn’t helped me, and he promised me again last night, sending goddamn audio messages into my brain like he has some right of access, which he doesn’t, and I actually think all you people are full of shit!’ She banged her fist on the table, sending the manila folder skidding across the polished wood of the desk. Seeing her name on the front, Ella picked it up.

      ‘So this is for me, is it?’ she demanded, still furious.

      ‘It is.’ Katherine MacAvoy’s calm demeanor never wavered.

      ‘And is it proof?’

      ‘No,’