Upon opening the package, Megan knew her life had jumped track, but not the extent—until watching the news. Her veterinary partner hadn’t understood why she needed to take leave but would cover the practice until she returned. If I return.
Reviewing the precautions taken per the instructions of her now-dead friend, deleting all traces of her current existence, location, social media, and known ties with the outside world, she wondered how well she’d covered her tracks. It had seemed ludicrous at the time. During college, her roommate had prepared her with the know-how when it came to living under the radar, but it was a game then. Jackie taught me, and she was OCD with details. How did they track her down?
Further precautions included the fake credentials included with the package, documents that wouldn’t withstand close scrutiny. As suggested in the instructions, cash and a tight-knit sweater distracted the questionable salesman and eased the purchase of Megan’s souped-up clunker lacking a GPS chip. It had depleted the last of her savings.
She’d traveled a hundred miles and rented a home near Portland but now wondered if any distance would be enough. The goal was to interpret the information and pass it off to the proper authorities. Unfortunately, she had no way of knowing which authorities were already corrupted.
The anonymity of securing a rental home in the foothills obtained over the internet proved a double-edged sword. The cabin was remote enough to afford privacy, but if discovered, too far away for timely police intervention.
Research led to news describing the careers of two neurosurgeons developing techniques for brain surgery and confirmed Jackie’s notes. The original procedure, skull base surgery performed through the nasal cavity in 2009, was theorized to be the beginning of an incredible journey.
“Holy shit, Leyna.” Warmth from her partner’s cuddling couldn’t counter the cold seeping into her bones.
“I knew scientists were using nanotechnology, but I’d never think to employ it like this. How is it they can affect people’s behavior?” With an intensity not experienced since school, Megan pored over the research and used the internet to decipher what she didn’t understand.
Screen after screen translated advanced practices into layman’s terms. “India, 2015, Pharmaceutical Nano Systems.” Megan continued reading about the applications of nano particles and carbon nano tubes in drug delivery during cancer treatment. “Christ, they’re using them in Parkinson’s and Alzheimer’s disease, ophthalmology, and immune response assessments.” She felt like she’d taken a left turn into a twisted sci-fi fantasy.
“What kind of shit did you step in, Jackie?”
Digital breadcrumbs revealed British surgeons picked up where earlier research left off, with a slightly different tangent. And now one doctor from Dover is dead.
“According to the current scientist’s bio, he’s spent the bulk of his career theorizing how nanos could advance ophthalmology. And now he’s found a way.” The last bit of information related how two doctors had joined with a Dr. Salinar in Dover, Delaware.
Jackie’s scribbled warning to not trust anyone from any agency may have been her last communication. Keen instincts had led her to be one of the top journalists in her field yet hadn’t prevented her death.
It had to have been murder. “Dammit, I’m just a vet. What am I supposed to do with this?”
Friend and foe wore the same expressions, and until she threw a spotlight on the current research, she was a target. If a government agency was involved, they’d have more thorough searching and tracking resources at their disposal. Megan was ill-prepared to survive a federal manhunt.
Jackie’s documentation contained communications between CSV Pharmaceuticals in Dover and ClickChip, in Portland. Experiments were planned for subsets of the city’s population, without defining which ones.
“It looks like Dr. Schmidt is the one spearheading the work, but what’s their end game, Leyna?” Megan stroked the shepherd’s soft fur, comforted by her furbaby’s presence.
Leyna chuffed and nudged her knee in commiseration. “Yeah, girl, this is more than fishy. It’s a smorgasbord of why and what the hell.”
Page after page of scientific jargon brought new layers of anxiety. “Shit. It’s like grasping the end of a thread and finding it leads to the darkest reaches of moral corruption.” Phrases like “building devices on a molecular level” and “transmitting signals via the blanket” sketched a horrifying future where no one was safe. What type of signals would they transmit? Visual, audio, memories? “It sounds like they want to control every aspect of a person’s behavior, and they have the technology to do it.”
Another section detailed the fiery lab accident and death of a scientist working in a large biotech firm in Delaware and how the lost research set back the scientific community. The obituary portrayed the doctor as a loving husband and doting father of two small children.
One question stood forefront in her mind. Had she covered her tracks sufficiently to protect her identity? Jackie had been more than her equal in skill and intuition and was dead, passing the ball before her execution.
The sound of boots stomping up the porch steps brought Megan to full consciousness in her isolated surroundings. A seedy imagination conjured an enraged and mindless animal who’d come to wipe her from existence.
Chapter Two
Leyna scrambled to the back door and roared her intruder’s bark. The vicious snarling should have given any sane person pause. However, the mysterious they had already proven their lack of sanity.
Her heart stuttered with the conjured scenario of an automated robot with her as its target. Information overload prevented her brain from delegating directives. She became an observer in an otherworldly nightmare.
Adrenaline surged, sending her to her feet. Cool air brushing her thighs reminded her she wore a thin tank top and boy shorts. Great attire for a daring escape. She wouldn’t intimidate anything fiercer than a rabbit.
Trembling legs supported her weight after she’d locked her knees, but her normally quick wit failed to summon a plan. He’d be inside before she could get dressed. Her car was parked out back. She wasn’t fast enough to circle around even if she managed to grab her clothes and wallet first.
Leyna leaped up and scratched at the window inset while continuing her vocal warning. She’d never bitten anyone but threatened anything that ranged too close.
Wildlife curtains fluttered with the doorknob’s rattle, the Canadian geese flying yet traveling no distance when the shadowed shoulder rammed the doorframe and shook the glass inset.
Morbid fascination cast her glance to the rage taking human form. He was tall enough she’d have to tilt her head back to see his face if standing close. While he’s strangling me.
A flicker of confusion regarding his intent stemmed from his shaking the handle instead of smashing the glass. Garbed in death’s colors, he wore a leather duster and a wide-brimmed hat that shadowed his face.
Curiosity carried her two steps forward.
“Leyna.” The intended command issued in a harsh whisper cut short when the phantom brute growled.
After Jackie’s suspicious death, there’d be no more hiding. She had no other ID and little cash. Since they had tracked her to Portland in such short order, she’d have to deal with the situation, whatever the outcome.
How do you stand against the force of a hurricane?
A moment’s pause where she judged the barrier’s strength. It was solid, but so was her uninvited guest. Progressive fury waited for a soft target.
The news cast had detailed bizarre acts of violence ending in death. Like this.
It wasn’t until Jackie’s picture flashed through her thoughts that fate returned her body’s functions to conscious control. Yet his slow and deliberate chest expansion sucked courage from the atmosphere, a steady syphoning from a colossal creature not acquainted with apprehension, uncertainty, or fear, an anger barely controlled.
In slow motion, the wide brim sloped upward to
reveal the reaper’s face, a fraction at a time; bristled square jaw, lean cheeks straddling a straight nose—and then those eyes.
Glacier blue framed by thick coal lashes anesthetized her mind. Those artic orbs would burn before anything could penetrate the depths of his thoughts.
They’ll be the last thing I see.
Full lips pursed before he cocked his head to the side. He said nothing while his gaze pierced the air thickened with her fear. He’d locked onto his next target.
Megan.
Spellbound and unable to move, her heart raced faster than the myriad expressions now twisting his handsome features. She wondered if he’d smash through the glass and take her by the throat.
Megan had one weapon. In the study, her CO2, gas propelled tranq pistol lay on the desk. The dosage would be light for the furious beast but enough to subdue the grizzly long enough to secure him and make her escape. If she couldn’t reason with him, she’d drug him.
A cold fury smoldered underneath the hardened jaw and narrowed eyes while the feral gleam assessed his quarry. Here was a man who mowed down anything in his path.
“Go away. I’ve called the police.” Perhaps he’d interpret her fist’s tremor for a threat.
“Go away? This is my house! Open this door or I’ll smash it in.” Again, he rattled the door. “And for the record, I am a cop.”
“Oh yeah? Show me your badge.” Her burner phone might as well have been miles away. It sat on the sofa.
“I don’t have it on me. I’ve been…on vacation.” As if offering proof, he nodded toward the suitcase by his side.
“Well, if this was your house, your badge would be here, but it’s not.” Though her words appeared to energize him to a new level of rage, she held her ground, only because she was frozen, and Leyna stood between them.
“You’ve searched my house? Looking for anything in particular you could sell?” Figurative steam rolled off him in waves.
Sensing he was about to blow, Megan took a step back. “I rented it, asshole. It’s mine for six months.
“You’ve slept here? Eaten here? What the hell?” Garbed like an angel of death and with murder in his eyes, he rammed his gloved fist through the lower pane of glass. His gaze never left her face, his intent clear in reaching for the brass knob.
Shattering glass tinkled to the floor.
Leyna bore her own agenda and lunged for the intruder’s hand. Two furious creatures growled their wrath.
Megan turned and fled. If the glass didn’t gouge through the glove to leave DNA evidence, her dog would. The police would have a place to start in searching for the murderer.
“Leyna, come!”
Barefoot and clad in next to nothing, she ran for the office, snatching up her phone en route and urging her dog to follow.
Transition between the rug and gleaming hardwood registered as cold against her bare feet yet didn’t compare to the icy terror encircling her vertebrae. When she slammed and locked the door, small satisfaction boosted her spirit. Again, Leyna faced the threat with curled lip and a growl rumbling in her chest.
The lighter barrier wouldn’t last long. With her ear pressed to the wood panel, she listened.
A loud thud signaled the kitchen door slamming and preceded crunching glass under boot.
Adrenaline supplemented her strength in sliding the heavy end table as an added barrier. From the desk, she grabbed her dart gun and checked its load. She’d have one shot. Even with a direct hit, it would take the drug several minutes to slow the brute. Time enough for him to snap my neck.
The door rattled. Leaning against the end table hindered his progress. The simple knob lock meant the lock cylinder lay in the knob and could be broken off using a crude weapon. What would Jackie do?
Calling 911 wasn’t an option. If he were the assassin who murdered Jackie, he might have a partner listening to police channels able to intervene before help could arrive, especially a secluded spot in the mountains. At the very least, she’d give away her position.
If she killed him, she’d have the police on her trail. I’m not a killer. Glancing at the bank of windows overlooking the lake, she had small chance of escaping without confrontation. If the creep heard sirens in the distance, he might run.
“Open the door. Let’s talk.”
Hysterical laughter bubbled up from her chest. “Would that be before or after you’ve gutted me?”
“I’m not going to hurt you, damn it. I’m trying to figure out what gives you the right to move into my home while I’m gone.”
“First of all, if this was your home, there’d be more of that lived-in feeling. All I’ve seen are a few kitchen necessities and furniture, which came with the rent. The landlord said vacationers often leave things behind.”
“I left some stuff in the dryer.”
“Cremated remains of missing socks?”
“What?”
“Dryer lint.”
“What?”
“Your lint trap was full.”
“That makes no sense. Why would I want to keep lint? You’re sounding very strange. I only trap things I want to keep.”
Spoken like a predator. “Right…humor doesn’t become you. Maybe you should stick to growling.”
“I was staying here temporarily to help my family. After I was injured, I took time off to regroup. Change of scenery.”
“Sounds like bullshit to me.” If he carried a gun and started shooting through the door, the room offered little in the way of cover.
To reason with him, she needed equal footing. The boy shorts and tank top might provide a brief distraction, long enough for sedation to take effect, but left her at a distinct disadvantage.
“Look. I’m not going away. I saw you pick up your cell when you streaked through my living room. Nice camo, by the way. Call 911 and let’s get this straightened out. Okay?” Exhaustion and disgust tinged his tone.
Silence filled the void.
What’s he up to?
Despite the muffled quality of his words, an undertone of sincerity had surfaced to again question her first impression of an assassin. On the other hand, she couldn’t afford to have an official investigation started.
Functioning gray matter provided a middle ground. “I can prove I’m here legally. Go to the kitchen and you’ll see the rental agreement on the table.”
Another pregnant pause.
Heavy asymmetrical steps drifting away indicated some type of leg injury, but he was at least playing along with the charade.
Minutes later, roared expletives left little doubt that he considered the cabin his own. When his booted echoes approached then stopped, she waited.
Silence, again.
What was he planning?
“Okay. I read the agreement. It seems we’ve both been had, which means you’re not the one responsible for my stuff missing.”
“You mean you actually had stuff—like pictures on the walls?” Tentatively, Megan thumbed the lock off. Clammy fingers made gripping her dart gun difficult. Her slight weight against the barricade probably wouldn’t secure it against one of his thrusts. An eerie stillness trailed the small click and no forceful shove tested her strength. Leyna growled.
“No. I enjoy viewing the 3D portraits of nails on each wall.”
“Sounds about right from what I’ve seen.”
“Well? Do I have to talk to the wood planks or are you going to open up? After all, you’ve got your hellhound for protection.”
“At least she has a semblance of manners.”
“She bit me.”
“You deserved it. ’Sides, even without wearing gloves, your hide is probably thick as an alligator’s. There’re two things she doesn’t like, guns and anything that threatens me. You’ve included both in your warm welcome.”
“I’ve done nothing but try to enter my house.”
“Because most people have to break the door down to get inside their own home.”
“My key didn’t fit.”
; “Imagine that. Gee, my key fit my house. And I’d think that was normal. Wouldn’t you?”
“Somebody switched the locks while I was away.”
“Sounds convenient.”
“Call your landlord.”
“I didn’t keep the number.” So, I couldn’t lead my troubles to someone else’s door.
“Sounds convenient.”
Turning her words back on her didn’t help his cause. Still, he wasn’t trying to force his way through. Perhaps he’s had enough of Leyna.
Scooting back several inches left her room to shoot while maintaining minimal cover. As if placating a tiger, she pulled the door open a few inches.
She was rewarded with a loud huff. The only other sound was the tapping of his boot on the hardwood.
“Peachy. I’m supposed to talk through the gap? Seriously? What are you—ten?”
“I’m a woman whose house has been broken into and I will shoot you if you make a wrong move.”
“Like you keep a gun in the office? Most homeowners keep one in their bedroom, maybe the kitchen.”
Another brief pause.
Nothing more than a huffed sigh.
In slow motion, she slid the table back several inches but kept her gun barrel pointed chest high. It would be easy enough to step back if he pushed the barricade aside, giving her a big, close-up target. Shooting him will only piss him off.
Edging a half step back and closer to the door’s gap, she eyed him like a snake about to strike.
His quick intake of breath in sync with his gaze zeroing in on her gun advised she’d poked the bear.
“Fuck no. Not again.” The blur of his hand’s movement toward the gun produced an instinctual reaction.
She pulled the trigger.
A deep roar of rage filled the air as he threw his weight against the door.
She pushed back with all her strength.
Each tick of the clock rendered a thousand different what-ifs wherein she’d never received Jackie’s fateful text message, never cried over her friend’s death, and never felt like a hunted animal. Instead, she played with Leyna in her backyard, enjoyed long hikes, and dreamed of cooking gourmet meals. The only nano part of that existence was her love life.
McAllister Justice Series Box Set Volume Two Page 2
