by T. K. Toppin
“That I will. But I’ll leave my team here. It still doesn’t smell right. Surrey will be with me. Madds can look after things here. Have you spoken with Aline?”
“Aline? Ah, right. No, not yet. I’ll have her head straight to Iceland without delay. She’ll just have to reschedule her appointments. I want another crack at the girl. She knows more. She thinks it’s over, so maybe she’ll let her guard down. But she might try to be submissive and sorry and attempt to use that to her advantage. I think I have her figured out some.”
“John.” Simon, no doubt seeing the strain on his face, dropped his tone a notch. “She will be all right. The Rogue’s objective is to deliver her to Ho. He won’t harm her unless she tries to run. I don’t think she’ll attempt that, knowing how skilled he is.”
“She can be very impulsive, and we don’t know yet if she’s with Ho now or not,” John reminded Simon, then pictured that cocky, smug look from the surveillance footage. The way James had possessively held his wife’s hand. “Damn it! Where have they taken her?”
Chapter 19
Having consumed a full breakfast of eggs, sausages, and pancakes, drowning with syrup and butter, washed down with three cups of coffee, witnessed with mild interest by James, I felt much better.
I ate with the aloof and regal air expected of a woman in my current standing—I’d been practicing—and the gruff, single-mindedness of a combat soldier.
“You’ve a healthy appetite,” James commented, his eyes wide, mouth parted.
“So I’ve been told. I missed my dinner.” I sent him a pointed glare. “I was hungry.”
Pushing my plate away, I wiped my mouth with satisfaction, and sighed. “Where is my krima? I want it back. I promise not to use it…on you, that is. It was a gift, you see. I’d hate to lose it.”
“It is safe.”
“Where is it?”
“It is safe.”
“Why are we in Iceland?”
“I’m not at liberty to say.” James finished his coffee. Unable to mask whatever discomfort he felt, his mouth twisted. Something told me he didn’t like Ho, his objectives or his methods. That was something both he and I could agree on.
James clicked his tongue. “But I have a feeling that what Ho has planned is not going to be pleasant. It’s good you’ve eaten well. Discomfort is always best faced when you have a full stomach.”
I gaped on purpose. “You have a conscience? I’m amazed. But I take it the money was just too good to refuse, so fuck the conscience, right?”
“True.”
James gave me a weird look, like he was suffering from some internal conflict or he had to poop. Was he weighing his standards against Ho and the job? Or was it just his way of dealing with the way I cursed so much. It’s been known to happen in this century.
“They say you are very dangerous,” he asked conversationally.
“They say a lot of things about me. You’d have to be more specific.”
He seemed pleased with my quick response and made a low mmm of appreciation. I’d heard Adam use that many times when he and I spoke.
“You saved your husband by stepping before a flying disc. Took a full blast from an explosive and helped bring down Uron Koh.”
“Oh…that,” I shrugged. “All in a day’s work. Are you getting scared?”
“Is it true you jumped onto his back and rode him like a horse, and then led him straight into a wall?”
I rolled my eyes. “Somewhat true. I had no reins, so it was a bit difficult to steer him.” I faked a stupid laugh. “Would you like me to demonstrate on you?”
He sat considering something, ignoring my remark. “Mmm, you will fight to protect those you care about; the most honorable way to fight, to live.”
“So I hear. How about you?”
“I…appear to have lost mine somewhere. Thank you for reminding me of it.”
“Uhh…you’re welcome?”
James dropped his gaze to his hands resting on the table. Did he look a little sad? It was hard to tell. Something in him deflated.
“What’s the matter?” I ventured. “Conscience bothering you?”
“Be wary of Ho,” he said. “He cares only for himself. Once he’s done with you, you’ll be discarded. He’ll go back for the girl—not yet, but in due course. He cares a great deal for her, yet he can hurt her without a second thought. He did not say so, but it shows in his manner, how he speaks to her. Do not trust her even though she is young. She has been…influenced. They are both evil.”
My brows flew up high. I swallowed something bitter and painful and couldn’t speak for a moment. Instead, I concentrated hard on keeping my composure. James stared at me, his face frozen like one watching something terrifying about to happen.
“I thought you liked the girl?” I said when my voice returned.
“Admiration for her courage is one thing. That does not mean she isn’t evil.”
“What do you mean?” I pushed back from the table, emotions seasoning my words like acid. “Why are you telling me this?”
James sat between the only possible exit and me. All the drapes were drawn over the windows, making them too difficult to flee out of at a moment’s notice. On top of that, I didn’t even know how high up we were.
“Are you telling me the girl means to harm me as well? As in, after Ho’s done with me, I get to go back? Or did you mean she’s a threat? As in, now.”
John filled my thoughts, knowing he would be out of his mind with worry. Instinct would make him turn to Margeaux for answers. He could handle himself, but if he was distracted…if he used discretion because of my possible connection to Margeaux, he might tread too carefully. And that might be a mistake.
I stopped myself from thinking the worst.
Seeing my inward battle, James shook his head. “He is not the target. At least, not yet, I think.”
“Just fucking tell me. What does Ho want?” I demanded, standing up now.
“Your blood.”
“My…blood?”
* * *
The first explosion took out the entire security post in Docking Bay 4. The second, a section of the main control room on the lower levels. By the time the alarms sounded, the control room had been commandeered by a small group of mercenaries. It coincided with the lock-down of all the docking bay doors that led to the main body of the Scrap Yard. Those that were still inside were stranded.
Before the first alarm pulse ended, Simon was at a dead run, heading straight for Governor Mwenye’s office. He’d only just seen the governor, briefing him of his impending departure and whom he planned to leave behind. Mwenye had insisted Simon hold onto Jane until this whole “nasty business” was over.
He found Mwenye braced over his desk and barking into his communications dock, demanding to know what was happening. There was no response.
“Forget that!” Simon ordered. “With me, now. They’ll come straight here for you once they know the code doesn’t work. And take your jacket off so they can’t spot you easily.” Wrenching out his personal unit, he summoned Madds. “Get to the mainframe, now.”
“Already here. Secure. Team’s in place.”
“Excellent.” Simon cocked his head to Mwenye, who had hastily shucked off his general’s jacket and tossed it into his chair. “Governor? With me—now.”
They went straight to the upper level safe zones, which were a series of chambers lining the entire topmost part of the Scrap Yard. Once separated and ejected, the chambers became ten large, self-contained shuttles, each capable of carrying seventy personnel. It was in one of these, reserved for the governor and other senior personnel, that Simon and Mwenye took refuge.
Renna was already there with six specially trained Junkies, a term loosely used to describe the hardcore private militia who lived, breathed, and died for the love of fighting, and all else they swore an oath to protect. So long at it happened in space, where the majority were born, they were ready for action. Junkies were brutal, ruthless, and s
ingle-minded in their purpose to defend. Dotted throughout the station were hundreds more of them, mixed in with the programmed security droids that ringed the docking bays, manufacturing and production sectors and, of course, the mainframe.
Ox, because of his technical abilities, remained stationed in the mainframe. It was a large room, no-nonsense in its purpose, with a multitude of computers and electronics. A skeleton staff of fifteen scared technicians and specialists manned the equipment and consoles. They cast nervous glances at Ox as if hoping he’d give them some sort of direction that would save their lives. Also on hand were several Junkies with varying grades of weaponry and security droids gleaming in their sinister metal frames.
Ox sat with his chin propped on his hand. Waiting.
* * *
Aline Lancaster never had any reason to visit the Hontag-Sonnet Research and Archives Facility in Iceland. Because of who she was and the position she held, her name had been automatically added to its anemic list of specially approved physicians and scientists who were allowed access to its facilities. She had a seat reserved as a member of its 56-strong board of directors, and shared views, approved and passed mandates, directives, and whatever else required of her. She even attended the annual Hontag-Sonnet Charity Dinner and Benefit Ball along with thousands of other members, affiliates, and specially invited guests across the globe.
Each year she was required to renew her membership and update her pass-code, which allowed her to access its facilities, archives, and many other services. And each year, she diligently complied.
To be associated with Hontag-Sonnet was like being associated with the god of medicine and science. They were an independent, international medical association with a history and tradition of a hundred and ninety-six years. They had many fingers and arms that infiltrated many pies from private sectors, corporate groups, military, and governmental organizations.
To prove her allegiance, and as a mark of pride and dedication to her profession, she wore the platinum signet ring with the double-helix emblem inlaid with emeralds to signify life.
Flanked by two body-assistants, one hers, the other because she was the president’s sister, she disembarked from her shuttle. Aline rolled her shoulders to ease the tension away. Aside from the irritating spat she’d had with John, who’d insisted she leave for Iceland immediately, she was annoyed with Dr. Shui and their disagreement over her new biohazard emergency treatment protocol they’d been implementing. She’d left Shui in charge at the clinic, which further irked her. But Shui was more qualified than the other directors.
Aline had never considered herself a weak woman. She’d inherited the bold and forthright manner from her mother, and the shrewd and calculating nature of her father. Like the rest of the Lancasters, she was a force to be reckoned with. Her position and upbringing had assured her the finest in physical and mental training, and she ranked as a Second Level in the Bushi Code. Had she not answered to a different calling, she would surely have been president. But politics had never interested her, saving lives did. Unfortunately, the two seemed indelibly linked.
Not much passed her canny eyes, and not much dared. In order to surprise her completely, one had to be bold enough to walk right up to her and knock her over the head.
The sniveling, wiry-looking man who approached her now in the Hontag-Sonnet Members Only docking bay did just that. Surprise her. He may not have knocked her over the head, but he offered his hand in greeting, which from upbringing and custom, she declined to accept.
Realizing his mistake, in an embarrassed gesture of placing both hands to his chest, he mumbled some apology and bowed his head in a comical gesture of subservience.
In a flash, he flung his arms outward. A shield-penetrating, barbed explosive dart, known as the prick-stick, shot out from each sleeve and struck the two body-assistants standing on either side of Aline. A second later, a dull, punching sound soiled the air as the explosives injected into their chests and detonated. No blood, no mess, just swift death as the missiles mangled their chest cavities to a pulp.
They fell to the floor like crumpled rugs, surprise still etched on their faces, followed by a faint scent of burning flesh.
Aline had just enough time to blink with confusion. Reflex and conditioning had her muscles limber but on alert, calm and ready. Another man joined the wiry man and they flanked her immediately. The newcomer gripped her arm and stuck something cold and metallic to her side. The body-shield she wore crackled and hissed as its protective bubble was penetrated and neutralized.
She fell into step with them, not so much as a moment’s hesitation hindering her movements. Aline knew when she was out-numbered and out-maneuvered. Feeling only mild regret—it wasn’t the time for prolonged sentiment—for her fallen body-assistants, she allowed herself just one final look behind.
With swift efficiency, two more individuals had materialized and were already carting her assistants back into the shuttle. Around the shuttle were more darkly dressed individuals; they crawled around like ants. Just before Aline turned her head away, she caught the blue-white muzzle-flash of an assault weapon discharging in the cockpit.
Shit, she thought, borrowing an expression from Josie. Under the circumstances, that particular invective seemed appropriate.
Not much scared Aline; she had a core like steel and nerves to match. But what did rattle her was the thought that she may never see her children again. With that in mind, a cold wash of fury drenched her as she allowed the men to lead her to the reception hall of the facility.
It had been a very long time since she’d been in an all-out combat situation. Almost six years. And like a true Lancaster, she was quite looking forward to it.
Aline knew all there was to know about saving lives. And she knew how to take them too.
Chapter 20
I was made to wear the long blonde wig again, but instead of being sprayed with more eye-dye, James thrust a pair of sunglasses on my face. They blocked my vision out completely. To keep me secured, he tied my thumbs with a hair-thin cord that ran the length of my body down to my ankles. To run wasn’t an option. Then, in a gesture I didn’t understand, he gently, almost lovingly, placed a long overcoat on my shoulders, smoothing it into place with errant hands that lingered a fraction longer than was necessary. The coat smelled of him, faint traces of sweet cologne mixed with maleness. I cringed, swallowing hard to calm my disgust.
“What now?” Testing the give on the cord, I shifted and moved my arms. The thin cord was razor sharp. My thumbs would be severed with any sudden movement.
“Five minutes,” James replied close to my right ear, still carrying a sad and subdued twinge in his voice. “He’s very prompt.”
We used the elevators and walked out a few steps. I’d no idea where, but judging by the cloying air and slight echo, I sensed a wall not far away.
“Can I at least look him in the eyes when he comes?” I asked.
“I’m sorry, no. It is his wish we remove you as quickly and quietly as possible.” James shifted to stand beside me. “Timing is everything.”
“Fine. Now stop looking at me.” Even though I was sightless, I sensed his stare creeping all over my body.
“You are beautiful and I will look where I want. I may not have a chance afterward.” He sounded sincere. Then he touched my wigged hair.
I flinched in reflex. “Stop that,” I said, and sidled away.
“Your husband is a lucky man.”
“My husband will kill you first chance he gets.”
“Perhaps.”
“And if he doesn’t, I will.”
James snickered. “You are an exciting woman. I adore that. Attractive, not overly, and those green eyes are incredible. And your mouth, soft…full. What comes out of it is another matter but…” James groaned with pleasure. “I can look past it.”
“You’re a pervert.” I worked hard to control my breathing. The idea of him touching me again made me want to hurl. “You fucking disgust me. I
would slit your throat now and end you if I could.”
James sucked in a trembling breath, close to my ear. “Macabre. How appealing.”
“Fuck off!”
The sound of locks disengaging made me realize I stood before a door, not a wall. As it opened, my stomach dropped. I tried to calm the sudden panic. Resistance seemed useless at this point. I cursed myself that I should’ve at least tried to fight or escape earlier. Light footfalls approached, and I knew it was him. The presence of Michael Ho all but sucked the air out of my lungs.
“Josie, my dear,” Ho crooned. “Such a pleasure it is to see you again.”
“I could say the same, but…” Glad to hear my voice was steady, I concentrated hard on my breathing. Remain calm, remain calm.
“I am sorry for your discomfort, but you understand the need for security and to ensure your safety. Your face is quite well recognized the world over.”
He drew closer, and I willed myself not to recoil in revulsion.
“Are we ready?” Ho directed this to James. “Ah, good. Shall we go?”
James took my arm, a firm grasp, and led me out.
We left the area. Another set of footsteps joined in ahead of us, where I imagined Ho was, walking with his trademark cat saunter. A door opened, and we went through. I sensed a few more people around us, and the area seemed a lot bigger. Someone muttered as another door slid open with a gentle hiss.
A blast of cold air hit me like a shockwave, making me flinch and gasp. James’ hand stayed firm as a warning for me to remain calm. We walked a short distance, then ascended steps, which I guessed belonged to a shuttle, a small shuttle by the sound of it. The smell of exhaust and machine oils, and overly strong carpet cleaners, reminded me so much of boarding planes in the twenty-first century.
Once inside, James removed my restraints with a quick snick of his knife. He took the sunglasses off, and was about to go for my wig when I snapped out my hand and blocked him.
