“There’s only mine and four empty ones,” Marc said. “Nothing to see.” Jarrett didn’t push it. Nothing odd about not wanting a terrorist to see your bedroom, was there? Maybe he hadn’t tidied up. Jarrett would get in there later if he needed to. He had no doubt about that. If nothing else, he’d like to sleep in a proper bed, not a hospital bed. But the infirmary would be his bedroom for a while.
Jarrett stayed out in the rec room for a couple of hours while Marc puttered around, working, cleaning up, and taking instructions from the computer. The wheelchair was well padded and quite comfortable. With the warm blankets covering him, Jarrett eventually started to drift off. He didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to scope this place out and figure out an escape route or how to take control. Anyth
