Chapter 400:
The second man took a more hands-on approach. He gripped her arm with rough fingers, pulled aside a corner of her hospital gown to inspect her skin, then pressed a stethoscope against her chest.
To her chest. The drug-induced sluggish rhythm of her heart passed the test — weak, but steady, with no signs of irregularity.
Finally, he swept the detector slowly across her entire body. Beneath the layer of artificial skin, Rylie carried only a miniature satellite implant, crafted from a specialized material designed to bypass standard detection.
“Not bad for your first time, Marsha,” one of the men remarked, glancing at her with a hint of approval. “The donor checks out. I’ll let Mr. Boyd know the handoff went clean.”
Marsha allowed herself a small, relieved smile as the tightness in her chest finally loosened.
From this point on, she had no doubt — Rylie’s abilities were nothing short of extraordinary, bordering on the unreal.
They administered a powerful sedative to Rylie, now in the disguise of a middle-aged woman, on the bed. Within moments, Rylie’s vision clouded, her body went limp, and she slipped fully into unconsciousness.
The truck jolted over rough terrain, its heavy frame groaning with each bump, until it reached a quiet, hidden harbor far from prying eyes.
Rylie was moved onto what appeared to be an ordinary, medium-sized cargo ship. The vessel was aged and reeked of a nauseating blend of oil and fish. She was confined to a cramped, windowless compartment deep within the lower deck, where the stench of disinfectant clung to the damp air, mingling with the mildew on the walls. The iron door was bolted tight. Inside, there was nothing but a narrow, rigid bed and a stained bucket in the corner.
Rylie lay curled on the bed, motionless, her body slack and seemingly unconscious.
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As soon as the cabin door closed and the footsteps faded, Rylie’s eyes fluttered open.
The blank, dazed expression vanished. Her gaze turned sharp, cold, and calculating. She checked herself quickly. The satellite transmitter was still in place. Then, with steady fingers, she pulled out a tiny camera and mic — no bigger than a grain of salt — tucked inside her hair. It looked like nothing more than a flake of dandruff. She’d hidden it there before the trip began.
The device was hard to spot. It had its own micro-battery and a satellite link. The signal was weak, but if angled right, it could still connect.
She passed it off to Marsha, who somehow earned Ronan’s trust after he gained full leverage over her. He even started giving her more responsibilities. Marsha had never stepped foot on a ship this rundown before. When a guard opened the door to Rylie’s cabin, he muttered to a coworker, “The fuel line’s leaking again. Tell the guys to quit smoking down there — I ain’t dying over this hunk of junk.”
His voice faded as Marsha entered and the door closed behind her.
She leaned over Rylie, who pretended to be unconscious. She began a fake check-up and whispered, “First time on a ship like this — I didn’t think they’d be harvesting organs in a place this filthy.”
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