The Delphi Revolution (The Delphi Trilogy Book 3)

by Rysa Walker

  “Who was that man?” the guard asks, panting heavily. “Why did you shove him into traffic?”

  Whistler has paused next to the kiosk, which is about halfway between their car and the corner where I’m standing. I’m pretty sure he recognizes me, even though my hair was longer, at least five shades lighter, and far less blue when he last saw me.

  “I don’t know who he was. He stole my bag. I was trying to get it back.”

  The guard casts a skeptical eye at my knapsack, still across my shoulder.

  “My shopping bag. From the Apple store. I just bought a new iPad, because mine has a cracked screen.” At least that’ll check out if necessary.

  Whistler walks toward us. Whistling. Now I’m certain that’s not his real name.

  “Excuse me, Officer. Could you raise the gate?” He nods toward the barrier arm blocking the exit. “We need to get this witness back to Perkins.”

  “Sure thing,” the guard wheezes, tapping a control attached to his belt. The parking arm slides upward.

  Whistler thanks him, then says, “You need to hold that girl for questioning. She’s a mutant.” He gives me a smug grin and retreats back toward the car.

  “He’s lying! I can show you ID.” I reach one hand into my windbreaker, planning to retrieve the Ophelia Duncan driver’s license.

  But the guard, whose name tag reads Guffey, is having none of it. “Keep . . . your hands . . . up!” he says as he reaches down to his belt to retrieve a handheld radio.

  The car pulls out of the drive. Whistler grins at me as they pass, but I’m focused more on the man they shoved into the back seat. He’s alive, so I guess I achieved my objective. But it’s really hard to see this as a win, given that Abbott got away and I’m stuck here with the federal government equivalent of Paul Blart: Mall Cop.

  “I have ID,” I repeat. “He must have mistaken me for someone. I took the blood test and everything. I’m not a mutant. Just let me get my—”

  “Save it,” Guffey says. “Otherwise, you’re going to have to say it all over again.”

  “You don’t need to call this in.” The voice behind me is so very familiar, I almost think it’s coming from inside my head.

  “Her ID checked out.” Daniel’s words are slurred—but not much, and I’m not even sure I’d have noticed if I hadn’t heard his voice almost nonstop when he was my hitcher. “The girl didn’t see anything. Go back to your booth.”

  Guffey looks confused for a moment, but then says, “You’re clear to go. Just be more careful next time, okay?”

  I nod and take a few steps toward Daniel, who is leaning against Aaron. Neither of them looks happy, but I don’t know whether that’s due to their close physical proximity to each other or to our current situation. Probably both.

  “Nothing to see here but a dumb girl who ran into the street and nearly got herself killed,” Daniel adds. Guffey doesn’t hear him—he’s already back inside his little hut—so that sentence was 100 percent for my benefit.

  Aaron looks like he’s on the brink of exploding. “We need to go,” he says.

  And that’s all he says. He doesn’t even look at me as he pivots Daniel back in the direction of C Street.

  Once we’re well past the point where the guard can hear us, Aaron stops abruptly next to one of the oak trees along the road and half leans, half shoves Daniel against it. Daniel gives him a withering look, but Aaron isn’t paying attention to him. He whirls around to face me, staring directly into my eyes. He’s looking for something, the same way he did at the beach yesterday. Back then, I thought he was simply trying to see if I was telling the truth. But now I’m pretty sure he’s looking for Cregg. Do my eyes turn red or something when Cregg is in control?

  Spider eyes. Flat black spider eyes like the ones you saw in the reflection last night.

  I shove that memory away and hold Aaron’s stare defiantly. “It’s me, Aaron.”

  I’m fairly certain he believes me, but there’s also a hefty dose of doubt. Maybe he can sense Cregg just under the surface.

  “It’s me, damn it. I’ve been in control since last night. The whole time.”

  Relief battles with hurt and anger in his hazel eyes. Eventually, anger wins out. “Which means you don’t even have an excuse.”

  Before I can respond, Aaron stomps off toward his brother. Daniel gives me a confused but somewhat sympathetic look, and then they both start down the sidewalk again.

  “Shouldn’t she be in front of us?” Daniel asks. “Given her recent—”

  “She wants to leave, she’ll leave. Last night proved that.”

  I bite back my retort, since I’d really prefer to have this conversation in private. To be fair, I can’t blame him for being angry. I would be, too, if he’d taken off like that, putting himself in danger without telling me.

  But by the time I crawl into the Kia SUV they’re driving—which is parked very illegally in an alley two blocks down—I realize swallowing my anger isn’t the best idea at the moment. It seems to be strengthening Cregg, and it makes my stomach twist. Daniel and I don’t have many secrets anyway. He spent enough time in my head that he probably knows exactly what I’m going to say before it’s even out of my mouth.

  So, once Aaron is on the road, I reach forward and touch his elbow. “I get that you’re angry, okay? I’m sorry I worried you. But I did what I had to do. I did what I saw in the vision. And Stan said—”

  “I don’t give a damn what Stan said!” Aaron says, catching my eye briefly in the rearview mirror. “Not one single solitary damn. All I know is you didn’t trust me enough to tell me what you were up to.”

  Daniel sighs. “Could this wait? Like, maybe, until he’s not driving?”

  “No. Now you know how I feel when you guys get into one of your Quinn family battles royale.” I turn back to Aaron. “Do you really mean to say you’d have let me leave, knowing what I had to do? You’d have let me walk out of the camper alone knowing two of Cregg’s men were going to pick me up?”

  “No, because you walking out alone was stupid. You could have been killed.”

  “Not if they wanted to get the money Cregg promised them. I knew that. I also knew I’d get away from them unharmed in time to stop the attack on my father.”

  “As much as I hate to spoil your victory party,” Daniel says, “your father is still in the hands of the Senator’s people.”

  “Yes. But he’s not dead, which is what Graham Cregg wanted. And not dead means we still have options.”

  Daniel gives me a point-taken nod, and I realize with a bit of surprise that I’m happy he’s here. He can be annoying, and that was doubly true when we were sharing a body, but Daniel is a good guy. And the fact that he’s up, reasonably mobile, and still in possession of his abilities is a big plus for our side.

  “I’m glad you’re better, Daniel.”

  “You and me both.”

  “Thanks for the save back there.”

  “No problem. I’m just glad it worked. My ability isn’t back to full strength yet. It’s a muscle, like anything else, and I wasn’t using it in the hospital. Even so, it was a hell of a lot easier to nudge that guard using my own body than it was when I had to work through yours.”

  Aaron’s back stiffens. I wonder whether that was a deliberate poke on Daniel’s part. He knows how unhappy Aaron was about our previous living arrangements. No matter how unavoidable it may have been, having Daniel inside my head meant we had no privacy. Plus, their sibling rivalry doesn’t really need extra fuel for the flames. But Daniel actually looks somewhat chagrined at his word choice.

  “Well, I’m definitely happy to be spared the post-nudge headaches,” I say. “Those were grueling. Are the others back at the RV park?”

  The question is actually for Aaron, but he doesn’t respond. Daniel gives the two of us a sideways glance and answers for him. “Yeah, they’re still at the campground. Aaron picked me up this morning. Sam’s out doing a surveillance job, and Mom is at the New York offi
ce until Saturday.”

  “Are they leaving you at the house alone when she’s at work?” Aaron asks.

  He’s trying to keep his tone casual, but the Quinns’ house was broken into last year by someone working for Cregg. And Cregg’s people have killed three individuals who worked with the Delphi program back when it was connected to the government, including Jaden’s mother up in Boston. All of those killed knew firsthand exactly how involved both Graham Cregg and the Senator had been in that program. They also tried to kill Beth, a friend of Aaron’s dad, who handled a lot of the paperwork and contracts, but she’s tough.

  “Don’t need a babysitter,” Daniel says. “I can get by on my own now. And I’m rarely alone anyway, between Sam, Porter, the guy who does my rehab . . . seems to be someone there all the damn time. But yeah, if you’re wondering about security, we’ve got it covered. I worry more about Mom traveling, to be honest.”

  Aaron gives his brother a troubled glance and then focuses on the road again. He’s not even using the rearview mirror now—just the side mirrors. Worried he might catch my eye, and that wouldn’t mesh with his tactic of pretending I don’t exist right now. While it’s beginning to bug me, I know Aaron well enough to let him stew. He has a tough time staying mad. He’ll eventually step in to fill an uncomfortable silence with some comment that meets me halfway. I’ll simply wait.

  So I lean back in my seat and watch the panorama of buildings and people and cars. It only takes a couple of minutes, however, for me to realize this plan is flawed. My adrenaline rush is fading fast, and exhaustion is closing in. Despite multiple cups of coffee, I want nothing more than to close my eyes. Just for a few minutes.

  My resident evil has been rather quiet since I foiled his plans, just hanging out in the back of my head. But that stray thought about sleep perks him right up.

  Nope. Can’t have that. So I rub my eyes, shake my head to clear away the cobwebs, and pick a fight. Or rather pick back up on the one Aaron and I were about to have earlier.

  “Leaving by myself was the right choice, Aaron. You know it was. I understand why you’re angry, and you’re right. I’d be mad at you if the situation was reversed. But Stan said one of you would be hurt if I waited.”

  “Here’s the thing, Anna. Stan’s visions aren’t like the ones Jaden had, that you have now. There are always options. Different choices that could be made. And you made the one that shut me—and everyone else—out.”

  “But I saw myself here in the vision I had last night. Alone. I saw everything exactly the way it happened.”

  “Including me and Aaron being there to keep that guard from carting you off to one of those Sanctuary for Psychics centers?” Daniel asks.

  “No,” I admit. “The vision ended before you guys showed up.”

  “So,” Daniel says, “we could have simply dropped you there, or maybe a block away, fifteen minutes ago.”

  “Exactly!” Aaron says. “Rather than you running off in the middle of the night.”

  Fabulous. The one time Aaron and Daniel Quinn take the same side on anything, it has to be against me. When I haven’t slept in about thirty-six hours.

  “So, who was the man talking to the guard?” Aaron asks. “The one who was escorting your father? He knew you.”

  I start to correct him, since I meant Abbott, but Aaron’s voice is still tight, on edge. That’s when I realize the anger I sensed rolling off of him in waves wasn’t just him being mad at me for leaving . . . again . . . without telling him. He was close enough to have picked up on any violent thoughts Abbott had during our struggle. Whistler may have had a few nasty impulses, too. He and Grady were colleagues. Maybe even friends. And while Whistler may not know the specifics of what happened that night in the woods at Overhills, he knows I was there and he knows Grady didn’t come out of it alive. Whistler might even have been friends with Lucas, also dead, and I’m sure he knows the role I played in that.

  “It was Whistler.”

  Daniel frowns. Aaron does too, although I think his look is more one of confusion as he tries to place the name.

  “Not good,” Daniel says. “Even if we had gotten here in time, I’m not sure I’d have been able to nudge Whistler long enough for us to grab Pfeifer.”

  “He can block you?” Aaron asks.

  “Not fully. It’s more that anything I tell him won’t hold very long. Might not even take at full strength. He’s worked at Python for . . . hell, I don’t know how long he was there.”

  Python Diagnostic was Graham Cregg’s business cover for his work on the Delphi Project. The company operated as a subsidiary of a much larger organization, Decathlon Services Group, which makes the bulk of its money from military and government outsourcing projects.

  “He may even have been there from the beginning. More to the point, though, I heard Cregg put him in charge of watching Dacia a few years back because he was pretty good at keeping her out of his head. And he was also pretty good at keeping her in line. None of the other guards at The Warren wanted Dacia duty. Not even Lucas, and he was sleeping with her.”

  “Who was the other guy?” Aaron asks. “The guy who would have gladly dismembered you right there in the middle of the street.”

  As much as I hate having to tell them—or anyone—about the skirmish at Joe’s, there’s really no way around it. And it will keep me talking, which will help keep me awake.

  So I spend the next few minutes explaining most of what happened since I left the RV in the wee hours of the morning. Amazingly, neither of them interrupt. I leave out the part about seeing rat-spiders in the mirror. And I play down exactly how close I was to getting my head bashed in at the deli.

  “Oh, and I got this.” I pull the envelope and cracked tablet out of the knapsack. “Mostly legal documents, from what I can tell. The tablet still works, it’s just cracked . . .” I lean back into the seat as another one of those weird dizzy spells washes over me.

  “You okay?” Aaron asks.

  “I will be. Just . . . light-headed. Happened a few times earlier. It’ll pass.”

  Aaron and Daniel exchange a look.

  “Maybe it’s lack of sleep?” Aaron says.

  “Yeah, and way too much caffeine.” I close my eyes and take a few more deep breaths. The two of them are mercifully silent, and the rhythm of the road is soothing. Another minute or two of this and I’ll be asleep, however, so I shake my head to clear the last of the fog away and keep my eyes pinned on the floorboard as I talk.

  “Like I was saying, the tablet works, but I haven’t been able to figure out the password yet. Maybe Taylor can give it a go when we get back.”

  “I’d be a lot happier,” Aaron says, “if this was information from Senator Cregg, rather than his son. Unless Cregg had some sort of a backup plan, in case this attempt failed, I doubt there’s anything in there to help us figure out where they’re taking Pfeifer. But I sent Sam the tag number to run through the system. Maybe he’ll get a lead.”

  “Wait.” I feel something starting to click into place, but it’s not quite there yet. “Whistler told the guy at the kiosk that they were taking him back to Perkins. That’s the hospital where he’s been for the past fifteen years, right?”

  “Yeah,” Aaron says. “Pretty sure he was lying, though. Sam and Porter have been taking turns surveilling the entrance. Yesterday, Pfeifer came and left with the doctor and two other guys, both medical security officers from Perkins. Today, he arrives with the doctor and the same two security personnel. But he leaves with Whistler. I think they’re headed—”

  “To Port Deposit,” I say.

  “What?” Aaron asks.

  “Yeah,” Daniel says. “What makes you think they’re headed back to The Warren? There’s nothing of value left at the Delphi facility. It’s just a burned-out husk. There have to be other, better places where they could hide your father.”

  “There may still be something they value inside that wreckage. They don’t want to hide Pfeifer. They want him beca
use he’s a vessel. Like me. They’re taking him back to The Warren to fill him up.”

  NEWS ITEM FROM THE COEUR D’ALENE PRESS

  April 23, 2020

  Charges will not be filed against Oscar Fray, the Kootenai County deputy who fatally shot a 17-year-old resident of Athol during a routine traffic stop on Interstate 90.

  The teenager, who was identified on Friday as Isaac Eaton, was shot after the officer was hit in the head by an aluminum can. According to the officer, the can came out of nowhere, traveling at high velocity, and struck him on the temple.

  “Deputy Fray remains convinced the youth hurled the can at him purposefully, using mental powers,” said Kootenai County Attorney Jessica Hebert. “While we were unable to confirm the Eaton boy is infected, the officer was wearing a body camera that supports his claim that he was indeed hit by a small metal object.”

  There was one witness to the incident, 16-year-old Ellery Paul, also of Athol, who was a passenger in Eaton’s car. She asserts that the beer can was set into motion by a passing semitruck. The officer’s body camera did pick up the noise of a vehicle at approximately the same time, but video evidence was inconclusive.

  Kootenai County Sheriff Bert McAfee said the situation was traumatic for everyone involved. “Deputy Fray was reasonably convinced he was under attack. It’s a tragic situation, but I’m afraid this sort of thing is going to be fairly common until we manage to round up those affected and get this problem under control.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Laurel, Maryland

  April 24, 2020, 5:53 p.m.

  The camper is near the back of the Maryland Welcome Center lot when we arrive, parked next to a Metro DC police cruiser. The sight makes me nervous, even though I know it’s Detective Baker, Daniel’s partner during his brief tenure on the force. Daniel called him as we fought our way through traffic, asking if some of the other officers could keep an eye out for Whistler’s vehicle on the vague grounds of suspicious activity. He also mentioned the white delivery van Abbott hijacked, but I didn’t see the tag, so there wasn’t much for them to go on.