Suddenly, the buzz in the room goes quiet. A man in a dark suit walks in.
Holy crap! It’s Sonor Breece! He moves toward the head of the table and takes the first seat on the right—the second most important seat in the room.
A few seconds later, the host arrives.
I’ve only seen his face on posters and video screens. He’s taller than I expected, and—I hate to say it—better-looking. As soon as he walks in, everybody stands at attention and lowers their eyes. He looks around the table slowly, like he’s counting heads. Nobody says a word. Nobody moves a muscle. Total silence. Total fear.
“That’s him!” I whisper to Lamont. “That’s Nal Gismonde!”
“No,” he says. “That’s Shiwan Khan.”
CHAPTER 63
GISMONDE STOOD COMPLETELY still and let the room absorb his presence. He understood that silence was often the ultimate power play. It made the ministers around the table feel anxious, uncomfortable, off-balance—exactly how he wanted them. At the point where it felt natural to speak, Gismonde held back and let the silence hang a bit longer. He looked from face to face, causing little stings of worry as he went, making each attendee think about possible offenses—a political indiscretion, an unfulfilled promise, a careless alliance.
At Gismonde’s first sentence—a soft, simple “I am honored by your presence”—the whole room eased a little. “Please, sit,” he continued. The ministers quickly lowered themselves and pulled their chairs up to the table. They sat like attentive schoolchildren, hands on their laps or clasped tightly on the edge of the table.
Gismonde had no need for notes. His message was simple, his thoughts clear and well organized. He spoke slowly and deliberately, letting each phrase sink in before moving on to the next. A total master.
“My friends, I think we can agree that our problem—our collective problem—is intensifying around the world. You need only to look outside these very walls for the evidence. The breeding rate has not decreased, in spite of severe austerity measures. Or perhaps because of them. After all, what else is left for these people to do?”
Gismonde’s lifted eyebrow telegraphed his little witticism, and Breece’s smile gave the others permission to titter. But not too much.
“As the masses grow,” Gismonde continued, “so does the threat. Tonight, we sit in privilege, as did the Qin dynasty, the French Court, the Russian czars. Unassailable. Or so they thought. Until—one after the other—they awoke to the sound of the rabble at their gates.”
Watching from the balcony, Maddy felt the heat rising in her invisible cheeks. Her hands gripped the balcony rail tighter. Pompous bastard! she thought. She looked over at Lamont. His eyes were locked on Gismonde.
The world president’s voice was smooth and evenly modulated. But now it began to build in urgency, even as he lowered his volume. An effective technique. The ministers around the table leaned in.
“Tonight,” he said, “the people who contribute to the progress of the world must find the strength to move against those who add nothing. If we do not act soon, we may not have time to act at all. Those of us in this room must decide—and the moment has come. We have the method. Do we have the nerve?”
Silent nods of support all around the table.
“What’s he talking about?” whispered Maddy.
“Murder,” Lamont whispered back. “Mass murder.”
Maddy had a long history of problems with authority figures. But until now, she had never been face-to-face with pure evil. It radiated like palpable, dark energy from Gismonde’s smooth, attractive face. As Maddy listened, her anger escalated. Her grip on the balcony rail tightened and her whole body stiffened. She felt herself losing focus. She wanted to yell something, throw something, do something!
“Mr. Breece,” Gismonde continued, “will now discuss the particulars of the…” He stopped in midsentence and looked up at the balcony. Where there had been only empty space, he now saw a flicker. The faint outline of a female figure. Gismonde turned toward the hall, his voice now loud and commanding.
“Guards!”
CHAPTER 64
A SECOND LATER, two heavily armed men were in the doorway.
Lamont knew that he and Maddy were in big trouble. He’d known it the instant he saw her begin to flicker back to visibility. They had already been invisible for nearly twenty minutes—longer than any of Maddy’s practice sessions, and longer than any of his own short bursts since being revived. In his prime, he could stay unseen for hours at a time. But his powers were eroded. He had lectured Maddy about being cautious, and he had broken his own rule. Before he could think or do anything about it, he turned visible too.
As two massive guards charged up the staircase toward them, Lamont pulled Maddy to the opposite side of the balcony. He vaulted over the edge, dangling from the railing before dropping the extra six feet to the floor. Maddy was right behind him.
“They can see us!” said Maddy. “Both of us!”
“Looks that way,” said Lamont. “Move!”
Lamont pushed against a panel in the rear dining room wall. It swung open into the huge main kitchen, where white-uniformed cooks huddled over steaming pots. The cooks looked up, wide-eyed, as Lamont and Maddy raced past.
“C’mon!” said Lamont, glancing over his shoulder as the two guards burst through the kitchen door. He pulled Maddy through a back exit into a service corridor—a maze-like passage where butlers and servers could move unseen behind the walls of the mansion.
“There’s a staircase ahead!” said Lamont. Maddy followed at a dead run. They ducked down a short passage that ended abruptly in a thick plaster wall.
“Dammit,” said Lamont. “They remodeled!”
They could hear the guards approaching the last turn behind them. They huddled in the short hallway as the guards rushed past. Lamont looked up. There was a metal hatch in the wall, about three feet off the floor.
“The dumbwaiter!” said Lamont.
“The what?” said Maddy.
Lamont yanked open the door to reveal a stainless steel compartment, about the size of a large suitcase.
“Get in!” he whispered.
“You’re kidding,” said Maddy.
“Now!” said Lamont.
Maddy folded herself into the tight cabinet, her knees bent up against her chin. Lamont closed the hatch and pressed a button on the wall. When he heard the motor and cables begin to whine, he stepped out carefully into the main corridor.
When the tiny lift lurched to a stop on the second floor, Maddy shoved the door open and tumbled out into a small alcove barely big enough for a serving cart. Lamont was already there. The relocated service stairs had led him to the same spot. He kicked at a corner of the baseboard in the alcove. A section of the wall spun open. Maddy’s eyes popped.
“Who was your architect?” she asked. “Houdini?”
Lamont pushed her through the opening into the next room. The false wall spun closed behind them. They heard guards passing by in the hallway outside, but nothing behind them.
Lamont was breathing hard. Running from villains had never been his forte. He always preferred to use his wits and his powers of deception. But now he felt drained—and guilty. He had pulled Maddy into another bad situation that could get them both killed. She needed more practice. And obviously so did he.
“Where the hell are we?” asked Maddy.
The room was huge, with floor-to-ceiling windows and a lush Oriental carpet. At the far end was a massive four-poster bed. Seeing it gave Lamont a jolt. The last time he saw that bed, he and Margo were lying in it.
“It’s my bedroom,” said Lamont. “Or was.”
A small table near the marble fireplace held a tray with a wedge of cheese, a tin of olives, and a split of champagne. Maddy grabbed a small bag from a dresser top and started filling it with the fancy provisions.
“What are you doing?” whispered Lamont.
“Habit,” said Maddy. “I see food, I take it.”
/> Lamont moved quietly to the long side of the room opposite the windows. It was lined with wide closet doors. He opened the first door to reveal a row of expensive suits. The style was too European for his taste, but he knew exquisite tailoring when he saw it. The floor of the closet was lined with equally elegant shoes. At the far end of the hanging rod, past the suits, Lamont caught a flash of color. He shoved the row of suits aside to expose an impossibly beautiful robe. Not the kind you’d wear to the bathroom. The kind you’d wear to rule an empire. The collar was ermine, and the clasps were pure gold.
The noise from the hallway got louder. Suddenly, the main door to the bedroom burst open, slamming back against the wall as a squad of huge guards rushed through. Once again, Maddy was staring at the green beams of laser sights. But this time the men holding the weapons were not everyday TinGrins. They were elite palace guards. The best and the biggest. Well trained and terrifying.
Lamont moved quickly to the center of the room. He pulled Maddy behind him so that the laser beams danced across his chest instead of hers. He’d been in tight spots before. He’d faced down plenty of evildoers with guns. It came with the job. But now he had somebody else to protect—somebody who’d never planned on this kind of life, or this kind of danger.
And at the moment, he was fresh out of secret powers.
CHAPTER 65
THE GUARDS ADVANCED into the room, sweeping it high and low with their rifle barrels. But two rifles stayed trained on Lamont and Maddy.
“On your knees! Now!” one of the guards commanded.
Lamont turned to Maddy. For the first time since he’d known her, he saw fear in her eyes. All her bravado was gone, and she looked like exactly what she was—a teenager who was in way over her head. His fault.
“Maddy,” he said softly. “Do exactly what they say.”
She slowly crouched down until her knees touched the carpet. Lamont knelt beside her. As the two lead guards moved forward, one pulled a small device from his belt. He held it up in front of the captives, waving it close to Lamont’s face.
“We’ve got him,” he called out to the rest of the squad. “We’ve got Cranston.”
Now all the guards moved in to surround them. One of the guards wrapped a set of plastic ties around Lamont’s wrists and pulled them tight. So tight that they bit into his flesh. Then two guards grabbed him under the arms and started dragging him toward the doorway. Two other guards kept their rifles on Maddy.
“What about the girl?” asked one, the green dot of his sight on the back of Maddy’s head.
“She’s all yours,” said the guard in charge. “Then dispose of her.”
The two guards dropped their rifles onto the carpet. One grabbed Maddy around her rib cage. The other slid his arms under her knees. Maddy arched her back and twisted furiously.
“Don’t touch me, you goddamn robots!” she shouted.
Maddy thrashed with every fiber of strength in her body, but the men were too much for her. Solid muscle, surrounded by solid armor. They tightened their grip and started carrying her toward the bed.
“Lamont!” Maddy cried out.
Lamont was at the doorway now, pressed between his two handlers. He kicked against the door jamb.
“Stop!” he shouted. “Leave her alone!”
The guards threw Maddy roughly onto the bed and climbed on top of her. One pinned her arms over her head while the other swung his legs over hers.
“Get off me!” screamed Maddy. “I’ll kill you!”
The guards pulled Lamont halfway into the hallway as he struggled against them. He twisted his head to look back.
“Maddy!” he shouted.
“Wait!” said one of the guards, grabbing Lamont roughly by the shoulders and pinning him against the doorframe. “Maybe we should let him watch.”
“Leave her alone!” Lamont shouted into the guard’s visor. “I’m the one you want! Not her! Let her go!”
Maddy felt a gloved hand hook under the waistband of her shorts. She screamed again. No words. Just sounds, muffled by the thick glove over her mouth.
Lamont leaned his head back and screamed too—something wild and primal, from a place so deep inside him he didn’t know it even existed. He strained at the plastic ties. He bent his head and went silent, as if giving in. For a few seconds, it was as if time stood still. He felt warmth in his hands, then heat. The plastic cuffs started to bubble and melt, forming red welts around his wrists.
Maddy rolled her torso furiously from side to side and strained to pull her arms free.
“Hold still, you little bitch!” said the guard straddling her legs. He leaned forward and slapped her hard across the face.
“Don’t fight me!” he yelled.
“Lamont!” Maddy cried out again, or tried to.
The guard had his hand back for another slap when the fireball hit him. It struck with the force of a cannon blast, knocking him off the bed and against the wall. He fell in a heap to the floor. Maddy turned to see Lamont standing with his arms free—his right palm stretched forward, melted plastic dangling from his wrist, a strange haze surrounding his whole body. He looked as stunned as everybody else in the room.
The guards surrounding Lamont were rocked back. As they recovered their footing, their rifle barrels came up. Spinning toward them, Lamont gathered the barrels together like flower stems and pressed them between his palms. The rifles melted into a single drooping wad of metal. He swept his arm across the guards, shielding himself with a curtain of flame. He was surging with a force he barely knew how to control.
Maddy twisted free of the remaining guard, shoving him off onto the floor. The guard quickly rolled toward his rifle, lying just a few yards away on the carpet. Maddy flipped herself off the bed and made a flying leap over the guard’s back. She got to the weapon first, raised it like an axe, and brought the stock down on top of the guard’s helmet—so hard that the rifle snapped in half.
Lamont ran to Maddy as reinforcements poured into the room. With one hand, he pushed her behind him and thrust the other out toward the oncoming guards. A swirl of flame emerged from his open palm and shot across the room like a meteor. The fireball blasted the entire squad back into the hallway, helmets shattered, rifles and equipment flying.
A fresh squad rushed up the staircase. The guards took positions on both sides of the doorway, rifles held tight to their breastplates. On a hand signal, they burst into the room, stepping over prone guards and weapons somehow melted into abstract sculptures.
The fugitives were gone.
CHAPTER 66
LAMONT KNEW THAT in a perimeter search, the main entrance often got the least attention. So he and Maddy didn’t bother with secret exits. They simply walked briskly out the front door, invisible to the milling guards in the foyer. Mostly invisible. The effect was not perfect. Neither of them was close to full strength. But in the chaos, it was enough.
Two minutes later, sitting on top of Rat Rock at the edge of the park, they were both fully visible and completely exhausted. At this time of night, the forbidding park was actually the safest place to be—for them, anyway. No FR cameras. No patrols. And they doubted that the presidential guards would roam this far from the mansion.
They sat for a few minutes, side by side, not saying anything. Just breathing hard. Relieved to be breathing at all. They hadn’t found Jessica, but at least they hadn’t ended up captured, or dead. Lamont rubbed his wrists, still red and sore. Maddy stared into the dark foliage. The flicker of faraway barrel fires glowed through the leaves. Her wrists hurt too, from her attacker’s rough tactical gloves. In fact, now that the adrenaline was fading, her whole body was starting to ache.
Lamont spoke first.
“Maddy,” he said, “I’m sorry.”
Maddy stared straight ahead.
“Why?” she replied softly. “We’re alive, aren’t we?”
“It was a careless plan,” said Lamont. “I was arrogant. I should have gone in there by myself. There was no
reason to put you in peril. Nothing like that will ever happen again.”
“Yes, it will,” said Maddy. “I’m in this too.”
“No,” said Lamont, “the fight with Khan is my fight, not yours.”
“Not just yours,” said Maddy. “You heard him. He’s planning to wipe an entire class of human beings off the planet! People like my grandmother. People like me.”
Maddy turned her head back toward Fifth Avenue. In the distance, landscape lighting illuminated wrought-iron gates and stately homes.
“Those people with the big houses and fancy lawns? Those are your people. Rich people. They’ll be fine. Meanwhile, everybody I’ve ever known will be gone.”
Lamont didn’t say anything. He just listened.
“Look,” Maddy continued. “I didn’t ask for…whatever it is I’ve turned into. But now it’s part of me. Just like it’s part of you. And you can’t just leave me out. It’s not your decision to make. You’re not my father.”
Lamont dipped his head.
“You’re right,” he said. “I’m not.”
“Besides,” said Maddy, “I obviously still have a lot to learn.” She looked down at the welts on Lamont’s wrists. Lamont exhaled slowly.
“The fireballs?” asked Lamont.
“Yeah,” said Maddy. “Let’s start there.”
“The truth?” said Lamont.
“Please,” said Maddy.
“Apparently I developed some new powers while I was sleeping,” said Lamont, rubbing his wrists. “I guess fireballs are one of them.”
CHAPTER 67
WE’RE BACK AT the warehouse, and I’m dumping out the bag of goodies I stole from the mansion. Margo is really relieved to see us. And she’s very excited about the champagne. She rubs the bottle between her hands.
“Darling,” she says to Lamont. “We cannot drink Dom Perignon out of tin cups. That is where I draw the line!”
The Shadow Page 15
