Folding her arms as Aden returned to the room, Zaira focused a hard stare on Smith. The man visibly wilted. Damn it, she muttered. He’s the worst excuse for a terrorist I’ve ever seen.
Giving Smith the water, Aden sat in patient silence while the other man glugged it down.
Smith handed the glass back with a hand that trembled. “Th-thank you.”
Aden placed the glass on the floor beside his chair. “Do you know why you’re here?”
Smith’s eyes shifted left then right, his hands twisting in his lap. When he shook his head, Aden spoke very quietly. “Hashri, I can scan your mind, pick out anything I need to know. I can strip you of every one of your secrets.”
The man’s Adam’s apple bobbed, his breathing turning ragged.
“But I won’t,” Aden continued. “That would make me no better than the murderers we hunt.” It was a decision Aden had made with the fall of Silence. “However,” he said when the businessman looked hopeful, “my personal moral choice isn’t stronger than my loyalty to the squad. I will do whatever is necessary to protect my men and women and, in this case, an innocent child.”
“I don’t know anything,” Smith blurted out, tears streaking out of his eyes. “I really don’t.”
Aden knew no further persuasion would be needed. As Zaira had realized, Smith wasn’t a criminal mastermind—he was a bit player who’d been given just enough power to feel useful and not question his masters. “Tell me how and when this all began.”
“Um.” Smith wiped his face with his knuckles, his expression eager to please. “Eight months ago, I received a letter—an actual, printed letter—asking if I’d like to be part of a networking group designed to connect business owners together in a mutually beneficial way. It said I’d been chosen because of my innovative advertising techniques.”
Smith swallowed convulsively again. “My business wasn’t doing so well, so I thought, why not? I figured I might find someone who could maybe help me get a few more contracts.”
Eight months ago, Vasic said inside his mind. Same timeline as the BlackSea abductions and months before the fall of Silence.
The cracks had begun to appear to anyone who was paying careful attention. Aden had noticed, known those cracks were permanent. Psy or non-Psy alike could’ve read the signs.
“Did you keep the letter?” he asked the pajama-clad man in front of him.
He shook his head. “Later, they told me to get rid of it.”
Aden decided to follow up on that instruction later. “What did you do after deciding to join the group?”
“I RSVP’d to the number included in the letter and got a recorded message saying I’d soon be sent another letter with further details.” Smith looked up, the whites of his eyes now red with burst blood vessels. “I don’t know why I’m here.” His voice was a plea. “I just did a favor for a friend.”
“Finish your story.” Aden made no threat, his tone even, but Smith trembled.
“A week after that first contact, I received another letter. It listed the names of three other businesspeople in my area who were interested in the networking opportunity. We contacted one another, got together. I figured one would be the person who’d started the group in the first place, but no one copped to it.” Smith shrugged. “I didn’t really worry too much about it—the others were good people and we made an agreement to help each other where we could.”
“Your business improved,” Aden guessed.
“Yeah.” A shaky smile. “I suddenly started getting more contracts. Nothing huge, but enough to bring me out of the red. When I was sent a third letter four months later saying that the organization that had brought us all together and ensured our prosperity would like a favor in return, I called back on the number provided and left a message saying yes. I figured I owed them.”
“What occurred?” Aden said when the other man paused and looked to him as if for further instruction.
“I got a letter thanking me for my assistance and asking me to pay for a couple of apartments. But first, I had to follow instructions to set up a shell corporation and all that.” Smith sighed and seemed to slump in his chair. “Soon as I saw the shell corporation stuff I knew something was hinky, so I ignored it . . . and my contracts started falling away.” Shoulders shaking, he began to cry. “I have kids, a wife. I can’t go bankrupt. I did what they asked.”
“Where did you get the money for the rents?” Smith had paid for a full year in advance, and Venice rentals weren’t cheap. If there had been a money transfer, Tamar might be able to track it.
“I was overpaid a couple, maybe three times on invoices, and since the letter said the money would be provided, I figured out quick that the extra was for the rent.”
Aden had already made sure Tamar had full access to Smith’s files. Now he questioned the older man in detail about the specific contracts that had brought him the money, and telepathically alerted Tamar to push those forensic investigations to priority status. “Did you ever hear from your benefactors again?”
Smith shook his head. “When I heard about what happened in Venice—about the suicide—and I realized it was from one of the rentals, I called the number I had, but it was disconnected. I talked to the others in the group to see if anyone else had an e-mail or something, but the others had the same number.”
And had no doubt been asked to do small tasks of their own. It turned out Smith knew the basic gist of those tasks, but Aden would get the details from the others. When he did a few hours later, he saw why Hashri Smith and his associates continued to breathe. All knew only a minuscule detail at best, and none of those details led to anything but dead ends.
Also interesting was that all four reported a gradual downturn in business over the past two months. Used up and discarded, Aden thought. Nevertheless, he released the terrified businesspeople with the coda that should they be contacted again, they were to alert the squad. “I don’t believe they’ll be contacted,” he told his team of senior Arrows late that afternoon. “Smith and his cohorts played their roles and have now been written out.”
Their opponent was not only smart and sly but ruthless and calculating. If it was a human or changeling, they had to have high-level Psy support or the ability to hack into secure Psy databases. Aden’s bet was on the former—all the conflict-causing “tricks” to date that had to do with the Psy had been too well designed and targeted to have been thought up by an outsider.
It had to be someone who had deep knowledge of the PsyNet and the politics within it.
He said as much to Zaira as they took an hour out to de-stress with hand-to-hand combat in a quiet corner of the valley. Spinning out with a kick that tapped his ribs without causing harm, she said, “Your instincts are usually right on things like this.”
Avoiding a blow that would’ve connected with her jaw if he hadn’t pulled it, she tried to get in under his guard, got a shoulder tap for her trouble. “Clever.”
“I wouldn’t want you to think me easy prey.”
Zaira knew that was ludicrous. “Never . . . unless it’s in bed.”
Molten heat in his gaze. “What shall we try tonight?”
She sent him an image.
Barely avoiding what would’ve been a mock-killing blow, he shot her an image in answer. She stumbled, then narrowed her eyes. If you ever want me to do that, you have to do what I suggested.
Deal.
She pointed an accusatory finger. You wanted both anyway. The faint smile on his face gave him away.
So did I, she admitted before she went at him, no playing now.
He held his own, both of them breathing hard by the time they called a halt. “Where are you headed?”
“Miane called,” Zaira said, the break over and her mind on a little girl who probably didn’t understand why she was locked up, why her mommy hadn’t come for her. “Olivia’s memory wa
sn’t as shot as we initially thought—she remembers being with her daughter, so they were both held at the same place.”
It eased some of the raw fury in Zaira to have it confirmed that at least Persephone hadn’t been alone the entire time she and her mother had been held captive. “I’ve been invited to one of BlackSea’s floating cities to sit down with Olivia and Miane to see if we can narrow down the location.”
Aden ran a hand through his hair. “The alpha wants an Arrow in the mix.”
Nodding, Zaira said, “She knows we have access and contacts closed to BlackSea.” And vice versa. “I better get going. The meet is in fifteen and I need to shower—Vasic’s offered to do the transport.”
“Have they promised not to shoot him this time?”
The darkness inside Zaira flickered with what might have been laughter. “According to Miane, as long as he doesn’t return uninvited, he’ll leave without holes in his body.”
Aden suddenly frowned. “Did Vasic attempt to lock onto Persephone’s face using the extra photographs Miane was able to locate?”
“Yes.” Over and over. “But the images were all from months before her abduction. Children grow too fast.” Vasic couldn’t lock on to the one-year-old girl because she no longer existed.
“But if Olivia’s memories are coming back,” Aden said, “then she may have an image inside her head. See if you can get that out.”
Zaira nodded. “I will.” The only problem was that Olivia was changeling, with the attendant natural shields. “I have to go.” Sliding her hand over Aden’s cheek, she pressed her lips to his, the kiss soft. A promise to return and a gift she took with her as she walked once more into the darkness, the rage inside her black lava that became blood in her veins as she sat down in front of a broken woman whose mate was dead and whose baby was in the hands of monsters.
“They’ll kill her,” Olivia whispered, rocking back and forth in a room inside a city that moved with the sway of the waves. “They’ll kill my poor, sweet girl. Mama’s here, Mama’s here, that’s what I always told her after they took us to that place. Mama’s here.” Sobs rocked her frame, horror in her eyes as she looked up. “Where is she?” She grabbed at Zaira’s hand. “Where’s my baby?”
Chapter 69
BLAKE WASN’T AN idiot; he understood he was a threat. That was why he came three hours early to the rendezvous location and set up a hidden surveillance post. The individual who arrived at the spot at the exact time they’d agreed upon immediately eliminated his concerns.
Walking out onto the pathway hidden in a mostly forgotten part of Central Park, he said, “I didn’t expect you to turn up yourself.” Their being seen together could bring down his reluctant ally’s entire house of cards.
“When something needs to be done, it’s better to do it yourself.” A glance at a sleek silver timepiece that, until then, had been hidden under the battered gray sleeve of the hooded sweatshirt that his “savior” wore with the hood pulled up, mirrored sunglasses obscuring a highly recognizable face. “You’re ready?”
“Yes.” Amin’s team was breathing down his neck. Blake had known, walking into the park, that if he had to walk back out, he was dead. “I’m pretty sure the squad’s surrounded the park within a one-block radius.”
“No matter.” Hands shoved into the sweatshirt’s large front pocket in the way of young humans and changelings, his ally began to move. “I have a vehicle parked in a bay used by maintenance crews. It has the city markings and we can take it directly to the heliport.”
Planning and intelligence, Blake thought. Perhaps a little too much planning. “I’ll drive.” He wasn’t about to be driven to the slaughter.
“Suit yourself.”
“You realize I could be an asset?”
“Of course I do. Why else would I be here?”
Because he’d threatened blackmail. Blake didn’t speak the words aloud and, well aware he was with someone as dangerous as an Arrow, watched for guns, for injectors, for lethal backup. The one thing he didn’t watch for was his own arrogance. He thought he was safe behind the wheel of the vehicle. He never felt the toxin that entered through the skin of his palms when he put them on the steering wheel.
Leaving him in the stolen city truck, the other party got out on sneakered feet. It took three minutes to walk to a well-trafficked part of the park and blend into a group of youths who eventually flowed out onto the streets. A pity to discard the Arrow but he’d proven himself an unstable threat; with him dead, there was no risk of premature exposure.
The next stage of the plan could be put safely into operation.
Chapter 70
WHEN AMIN CALLED in the discovery of Blake’s body, Aden went to collect it himself. The cause of death was simple enough to determine, as was the fact that he’d been murdered.
“No surveillance feeds anywhere in the vicinity,” Amin told him, and though his dark face was impassive, Aden could guess at his frustration. “I have him two blocks from this location, but no glimpse of any other viable suspect.”
Leaving a team behind to go back over Blake’s entire trail in case he’d left behind a fail-safe data cache, Aden took Blake home, and that night, he was laid to rest in the simple graveyard situated at the foot of the mountains on one end of the valley.
“When Blake did what he did,” Aden said, “he surrendered his status as an Arrow. Many of you have asked me why I brought him back.” He looked around at his gathered brethren, Zaira’s hand tight around his. She, too, had asked, and when he’d told her why, she’d nodded in solemn acceptance.
“He is here because, for all his mistakes and the horrific acts he perpetrated, he was family,” Aden told the others now. “Just because he went rogue and we had to hunt him with a view to execution doesn’t mean he was excised from the family. He was no longer an Arrow, but he remained part of us.” Those words, he spoke for all the Arrows around them, young and old. Every child from age thirteen onward was present.
It was important they understand that this family was forever.
Even Beatrice had chosen to attend. Zaira had spoken to the girl ahead of time and her other hand was currently linked with Beatrice’s. She’s fine, Zaira told him when he touched her mind with the question. Your words mean more to her than what Blake did. She’s been hurt before, but she’s never been certain of belonging anywhere.
That was exactly why Aden was doing this, not just for Beatrice, but for all his people. Squeezing Zaira’s hand, he continued to speak. “We can abhor the actions Blake took without cutting him from the family tree,” he said, wanting to make sure no one had any doubts about the point he was making on this dark night veiled with starlight, the mountains shadowy sentinels around them.
“We can consider him a murderous threat to society and a traitor to the oaths that bind us together as Arrows, without attempting to erase the fact that he was one of us. He wasn’t a good man but he was an Arrow. He watched my back and yours for many years.” Blake hadn’t been all evil all the time. “We do not erase those who were our own. We do not forget. He existed. For better or worse, he was one of us.”
Stepping back, he watched as the memorial was put in place, Blake’s ashes buried in a biodegradable container that meant he would eventually become part of the earth. The small memorial set into the ground with his name on it would remain, however, and it would be kept clean and free of debris by a rotation of Arrows and older trainees.
For many years, there had been no memorials, Arrows passing and gone without leaving a sign. Aden had begun the memorials behind Ming’s back. The day he’d finally ousted the other man, he’d ordered a larger memorial that listed the names of all the Arrows who had come and gone from the formation of the squad, starting with Zaid Adelaja.
Each had existed. Each had a claim to the family of Arrows.
Warm, strong fingers flexed against his palm, curled even tig
hter around it. He let Zaira’s fire warm him as they committed Blake’s soul to whatever lay beyond.
• • •
WITH Blake dead, and his incipient reign of terror ended, the squad and Aden had one less thing on their plates, but that didn’t mean much.
“Olivia tried so hard,” Zaira told him that night as they got ready to catch the five hours of sleep that was the minimum on which they could function at full capacity. “I could see her trying to squeeze her memories dry. She even offered to let me smash her shields even though it might cause permanent brain damage or death.”
Zaira rubbed her face. “She was hysterical by the time we finally left.” Eyes bleak, she put her head against Aden’s shoulder. “Vasic ’ported to every location he could think of from Olivia’s scattered memories, but she didn’t see anything specific enough.” Her arms slid around his rib cage, her hands closing over his shoulders from the back as she held on to him. “If we don’t find Persephone, I think Olivia will find a way to commit suicide.”
Aden wanted to promise her it wouldn’t come to that, but they’d both seen too much evil to believe in fairy tales. “We’re fighting for Persephone,” he said instead. “And if her mother, drug addicted and abused, is strong enough to retain some memories, then the child will also be strong.”
Zaira nodded. “I just hope we make it in time.”
They fell asleep tangled in one another and woke to their duties.
First, the technical specifics of Blake’s death remained under investigation—the neurotoxin had been quickly identified, but, while not common, it was readily enough available that no one supplier could be pinpointed.
“Given Blake’s disruptive activities and mode of death,” Aden said to Vasic that afternoon, “it’s possible he was either inadvertently or consciously working for the people who’ve been trying to undermine the squad. The fact that it’s highly likely he caused Jim Savua’s death further ties it all together into a single conspiracy.”
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