by Anne Stuart
“They would have survived a couple of days thinking that. They’re pragmatic people.”
“No one’s pragmatic enough to accept the loss of their child.”
“Maybe. But did you stop and think about what your little good deed for the day might have done?”
“They couldn’t trace the call, if that’s what you’re worried about. I used Osborn’s cellular phone—there’s no way they could tap it.”
“You’d be surprised at what they can do. But they wouldn’t have to tap Osborn’s phone. They just have to tap the phones of people you’d be likely to call. My parents would have been first on the list. Hell and damnation!”
“I didn’t even talk to them. I just told Vinnie to call, and I didn’t give him any specific information, apart from telling him we were still alive and Osborn was dead. We’ll be perfectly safe.”
“I’m not worried about us. I’m worried about my parents. About your damned Uncle Vinnie, for that matter. If they know we care enough to be in touch with them, they’ll use them for bargaining chips. And I don’t think they’re about to let anybody walk away from this mess.”
“Oh, God,” Suzanna murmured. “Daniel, I’m sorry.”
There was a stunned silence. “And here I thought supersensitive hearing was part of my metamorphosis. Suzanna Molloy is not a girl to say she’s sorry.”
“Don’t call me girl,” she said miserably in token protest.
She felt his hand reach up under her hair and stroke her face gently. “They’ll be all right, Molloy. We’ll get the bad guys. I’m not about to let them get away with this.”
“But there are so many of them,” she said.
“Yeah, but you forget. I’m Cinderman, crusader for truth and justice. With my faithful companion, Suzanna the mind-reading swami, beside me, there’s no way the armies of evil will triumph.”
“This isn’t a comic book, Daniel,” she said sternly.
“Life’s a comic book, Molloy. The sooner you realize that, the better off you’ll be.”
She stared up at him. The moon had reappeared from behind the clouds, and she could see his outline in the darkness. “It must be after eight,” she said.
“It is. I changed back while you were sleeping.” He reached over and turned on the light, and she closed her eyes against the brightness. “We’ve got to get moving, swami,” he muttered. “We don’t have any time to waste.”
She scrambled for her clothes on the far side of the bed, yanking her T-shirt over her head in belated embarrassment. It had been easy enough to be a wanton in the dark, with no visible witness. The memory of what they’d done was suddenly overwhelming.
Daniel was standing in the middle of the room, motionless, staring past her. He’d pulled on his jeans, and there was a bemused expression on his face.
“What are you staring at?” she demanded.
“The bed.”
She didn’t know what she’d expected. She was almost afraid to look. When she turned to follow his gaze, she was momentarily breathless.
The sturdy iron bedstead had been bent like an old wire coat hanger.
She remembered her hands on his in the darkness, clutching those heavy iron bars. “Goodness,” she said quietly.
“Or as Mae West once said, ‘Goodness has nothing to do with it,”’ he replied. “Get your clothes on, Suzanna. You’re far too distracting that way, and we have work to do.”
She was tempted to point out just how distracting he was, then thought better of it. “Where are we going?”
“To get the bad guys, Suzanna. Before they get us.”
IF HE’D HAD THE CHOICE, Daniel thought, he would have clipped Ms. Suzanna Molloy on the chin and left her safely tied up back at the deserted old house. But he didn’t have the choice. She knew half the things he was thinking—there’d be no way he could sneak up on her without her guessing. And he had no guarantee she’d be any safer back there. At least, with him, she had supernatural powers on her side. For some reason he didn’t think twenty-twenty vision and the ability to read certain thoughts were going to be enough to protect her from people like Armstead and his crew of disenchanted ex-Green Berets.
There was never any doubt in his mind where he’d find Armstead. He’d be at Beebe, waiting for him to come in. They understood each other in ways far more direct than Suzanna’s swami act. They were too much alike. Megalo-maniacs, with only one purpose. For Armstead, it was the control of the world with his own particular agenda. For Daniel, it was the quest for knowledge.
Except that he had another purpose, one that had sneaked up on him when he wasn’t looking. Another interest, one he was as passionately devoted to as he was to bi-level molecular transfer. And that was Suzanna Molloy.
One thing was certain—if they were going to stay together, he was going to have to figure out a way to shield his thoughts from her. He didn’t fancy spending the rest of his life with a mental voyeur in his bed.
But he didn’t fancy spending the rest of his life without her, either.
There’d be time enough for dealing with that later. Assuming there was a later. For now he had to concentrate on bringing Armstead and his army of creeps down. There was simply too damned much at stake.
The huge white headquarters of Beebe Control Systems International looked deserted when he drove Osborn’s Jaguar into the empty parking lot, but Daniel wasn’t fooled for a moment. They were there, behind those darkened windows, waiting for him. He only hoped Cinderman was ready for them.
Suzanna slid out of the car and came to stand beside him. He’d parked in front of the entrance, taking a cool sip of defiance in leaving the front tires on the handicapped accessible walkway that had never seen anyone in a wheelchair. There was a cool breeze, one that he barely felt with his heated skin, but it blew Suzanna’s hair back against his shoulder, and he caught the faint trace of her shampoo. He wanted to stop right then and there, drag her back to the Jaguar and push her down onto the back seat.
He simply took her hand, running his thumb over her long, strong fingers. “I can’t persuade you to run away and hide, can I?” he asked, almost absently.
“No.”
He glanced down at her. “I have a funny feeling about tonight.”
He saw the flicker of sheer panic in her eyes, saw her swiftly control it. “Funny like what?”
“Funny like I’m not going to walk out of there alive.”
She didn’t make a sound, but he could hear the sudden panicked lurch of her heart. “In that case, it doesn’t really matter whether I come with you or not,” she observed in a deceptive drawl. “You don’t have any funny feelings that I’m not going to make it, do you?”
“No.”
“Then I’ll come with you,” she said firmly. “Two against an army is better than one.”
“I don’t want you doing anything foolish.”
“Like what?”
“Like making any dramatic gestures to save me if things get out of control. I want you to promise me.”
“Promise you what?”
“That you’ll do as I say. That you’ll trust my judgment.”
She turned and stared at him, and he thought he could see the faint glimmer of tears in her perfect eyes. “Are you crazy, Daniel? Me, trust your judgment? Give me a good reason.”
“Because I don’t want you to die, too.”
She was silent. And then she rallied, as he knew she would, and he found it in him to grin. “Why not?” she demanded.
“Read my mind,” he whispered, leaning down and brushing his lips against hers.
He felt the shock that went through her, the yearning. And then he set her away, staring up at the monstrous edifice that housed Armstead and his goons and the fruits of his own work for the last five years. The secrets to bi-level molecular transfer.
“No,” she said, following his gaze. “You can’t do it.”
He didn’t bother denying it. “Why not? Just a stare, a blink, a scrunch of my nose and t
his place will be a pile of cinders. Those are the bad guys inside, Molloy. Tell me why I should give them a chance to get us first.”
“Because we’re the good guys.”
He considered it for a moment. “The problem with you, Molloy,” he drawled, “is that you’re usually right. Come on.”
She held back, just for a moment. “How are we going to get in?”
“I expect they’ve unlocked the door for us. There’ll be a welcoming party. Are you sure you don’t want to run while you still have the chance?”
“Do you?”
“Not on your life.”
“Then I’m coming with you.”
Chapter Seventeen
“We expected you earlier, Dr. Crompton.” The man stepped out of the shadows in the cavernous, deserted hallway, and Daniel didn’t need any light to identify him.
“I try not to be predictable, Cole,” he said easily. “I don’t think you met Suzanna when we were here earlier. Suzanna, this is General Armstead’s favorite gofer. Cole Slaughter.”
“Great name,” Suzanna muttered, glancing at Slaughter’s camouflage fatigues and blunt, brutal face.
He didn’t even register her presence. “General Armstead is awaiting your presence, sir,” he said, the essence of military politeness.
“I’m sure he is,” Daniel drawled. “Are you going to escort us, or shall we find him ourselves?”
“He wasn’t expecting Ms. Molloy.”
“If you know her last name, then you must have had a fairly good idea she’d be with me. She stays with me, Slaughter. Got that?”
“Yes, sir. If you’ll follow me.” He turned, leading the way through the shadowy hallway, and Daniel reached out his hand for Suzanna’s, wondering if she’d take it, or if she’d be determined to prove how tough she still was.
A moment later her hand was tucked into his, holding tightly. He could feel the chill in her flesh—magnified because he was so hot. He wished there was some way to keep her out of this mess, but she was already in it up to her ears. His best chance of keeping her safe was keeping her with him, no matter what they ended up confronting.
“There you are.” General Armstead rose from his thronelike seat at the end of the huge walnut table. He’d taken up residence in the boardroom, and he looked like a squat, evil spider. He was wearing a combat uniform not unlike Slaughter’s—an odd choice for a retired soldier. But then, the truth was, Armstead was far from retired.
“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Daniel murmured, still holding Suzanna’s hand tightly. “Where are the rest of your little soldier boys? Surely you don’t think you can rule the world with an army of one Robocop?”
Slaughter made a growling noise in the back of his throat, but he didn’t move. He remained standing to one side, awaiting orders.
Armstead took a step toward them, a genial expression on his face. “But I don’t need an army, son. It’s better to keep your team down to the bare minimum—less fuss, less danger of betrayal. Slaughter here has been with me since Nam. He was just a boy then—fifteen—but big for his age. He already had a real gift back then. One he’s honed.”
“I can imagine,” Daniel said dryly.
“By the way, where’s Osborn? I sent him to get you. That, or dispose of you. Am I to assume, since you arrived here in his car, that he didn’t make it back from Oregon?”
“You can assume all you like. At least part of that news story you fed the press was correct.”
“Dear me,” Armstead said, not the slightest bit disturbed. “Slaughter, I’ll let you be the one to console his wife. The woman’s a bit too hungry for me.”
“Yes, sir,” said Slaughter, sounding more and more like a robot.
“And now, my dear Dr. Crompton, I’m afraid we’ve wasted far too much time playing games. You know what I want. Beebe has paid for it, paid you extravagant sums of money, along with footing your research. It’s time for the results.”
“What if I told you I didn’t have any results? That it had all been a waste?”
“I wouldn’t believe you,” Armstead said simply. “I’d be willing to bet you all that money you have squirreled away in some Swiss bank account that you possess the secret that could rule the universe. And I want that secret, Daniel. I have no intention of waiting any longer. This whole organization has already been compromised. With Osborn dead, we’ll be facing some unpleasant questions. I’ll find a good use for your research, my boy. After all, I paid for it.”
“You and your rich, paranoid cronies.” Daniel shrugged. “You stole my notes. You know as much as I do.”
“Ah, yes, those notes. Very cryptic of you. We almost overlooked that disk when we searched your apartment. Fortunately Slaughter pointed out that you were hardly the man to own a Neil Diamond CD. And there wasn’t even a stereo in your condo.”
Daniel glanced over at the enigmatic Slaughter. “All this, and brains too, Cole? Will wonders never cease.”
Again that low, warning growl. “I wouldn’t, if I were you, Crompton,” Armstead said gently. “Major Slaughter doesn’t possess much of a sense of humor. And he’s experienced enough to know who to take it out on. I don’t think you’d enjoy seeing what a man with Slaughter’s talent would do with Ms. Molloy.”
Daniel’s hand tightened automatically around Suzanna’s, and it was sheer force of will that kept him from imagining exactly what kind of things Slaughter might do. Suzanna was entirely capable of reading his thoughts, and if she wasn’t terrified already, it would send her over the edge.
“So tell me what you want, Armstead,” Daniel said with deceptive calm. “You have my notes. Surely Beebe can afford to pay a competent scientist to decipher them, to replicate my experiments.”
“We’ve already had a competent scientist do just that. Unfortunately, Dr. Jackson showed an unfortunate level of greed. That’s the problem with working within an organization. You’re only as strong as your weakest link. That’s why I decided to take Slaughter and Osborn on as partners in our own little enterprise, and not worry about the rest of Beebe’s infrastructure. You can never be sure of anyone’s limits. I would have had Jackson join us, too, if he hadn’t proven so acquisitive.”
“Is that why you killed him?”
“Actually, Slaughter and Osborn did the honors. Slaughter finished him up, but not before he had Jackson explain exactly what bi-level molecular transfer is.”
Daniel didn’t even blink. “And what does he think it is?”
“Alchemy.” It was a little more than a groan from Slaughter, but not much.
Daniel managed a wintry smile. “That’s succinct.”
“I want the formula,” Armstead said.
“You have it.”
“You know as well as I do that it’s missing one crucial piece. I want to know where that is.”
“Someplace where you’ll never find it,” Daniel replied.
“Son,” Armstead said heavily, “don’t make me do this.”
“I’m not your son,” Daniel said. “And I’m not one of your damned Robocops. You’re not getting it out of me—you’ll have to kill me first.”
Armstead simply shook his grizzled gray head. “I’m afraid, dear boy,” he murmured, “that’s hardly a threat. We were going to kill you, anyway. We’ll just start with Ms. Molloy. And it will be very, very painful. Slaughter.”
“Keep your hands off her,” Crompton snarled, enraged, but he didn’t move fast enough. Slaughter had already spun her away, and if Daniel had made the mistake of holding on, her wrist would have been crushed.
Suzanna didn’t say a word. She just looked at him, silent, horrified, and Slaughter pulled her back against his uniformed body, a slender, professional-looking knife at the delicate column of her throat.
“I think we’re at a standoff,” Armstead announced pleasantly. “Do you feel like being more cooperative, Dr. Crompton? Or do you want to see how much blood it will take to soak through that offensive T-shirt? Where is the missing piece of infor
mation?”
He didn’t hesitate any longer. “In my brain. And if you don’t get away from her, right now, you’re never going to find out the answer.”
“Dear me,” the general murmured. “That’s quite unfortunate. I wonder, Slaughter, whether we ought to call his bluff?”
“You needn’t worry, sir. I can finish with this one and then get what you want out of the doctor,” Slaughter said confidently, and the knife glittered in the low light like the caress of a silver-fingered butcher. “He’s not going to be able to stand up to me.”
“You’d be surprised, Slaughter,” Armstead said, leaning back against the table. “The good doctor has had a surprising amount of training. As a matter of fact, I was one of the ones who approved it, back before I retired. With an asset like his mind, we didn’t want to take any risks. He’d be harder to crack than you think. Let the girl go.”
“Don’t,” Suzanna said, her voice strangled against the pressure of the knife, “call me girl.” And she slammed her elbow backward into Slaughter’s unprotected belly.
He doubled over in shock, and she kicked back, directly into his groin. In a few seconds he was writhing on the floor, shrieking with pain, the knife skittering across the thick carpeted floor.
She leapt for Daniel, but Armstead’s voice stopped her. “Don’t move,” he said. He had a gun trained on her, and it was a very large, very nasty-looking one.
“Not again,” she said wearily. “Aren’t you men tired of playing spies?”
Armstead’s smile was a travesty. “I’m going to shoot you in the knee, Ms. Molloy. If Dr. Crompton doesn’t start talking, I’ll shoot you in the other knee. And then I’ll work my way upward. This gun has eight bullets, and they’re large ones. I can do a great deal of damage, cause a great deal of pain. I do, however, promise that the final one will go in your brain.”
“Kind of you,” she said faintly. She glanced at Daniel. “I think you should know, Daniel, that he’s really going to do it. You have no choice.”
He accepted the message as gospel. There was no way out—Suzanna had heard Armstead’s thoughts and knew just how bad they were. If he didn’t stop him, the one way he could, then Suzanna would be dead.
