by N. J. Croft
“What’s she saying?” Lauren asked.
“She wants him to scream.”
It was obvious he was in no state to make any noise, panic clear on his face as he struggled to breathe. Jenna ripped his shirt and Lauren saw the blood and the white bone protruding from his chest. He died moments later. Jenna banged on the door, finally sliding to the floor. Mark pressed fast-forward, and she watched as Jenna passed out.
“The guards put gas into the room. She lost consciousness.”
“Is she alive?”
“Yes. They have her in full restraints, though.”
“Did she say anything during the interrogation? Anything at all?”
Mark shook his head.
“A lucky strike?”
“The doctor examined Lynch’s body. She broke eight of his ribs. Hardly lucky for Lynch.”
Lauren stared at the screen showing the frozen image of the blond woman slumped against the wall, hair falling forward over her face. That same sense of recognition niggled at her insides.
“Do we have a background file on her yet?”
“They’ve been working on it. I’ll go see what they’ve come up with and send it through to you.”
Lauren waited until he’d left the room then got up and poured herself a whiskey. She stood at the window, peered at the bustling city, and gulped the drink in one swallow. When Mark came back into the room, she was pouring a second.
“It should be there now.”
After returning to her desk, she scrolled through the report. Jenna Young, twenty-six years old. Mother: Sandra Leavsey, deceased. Father: Dr. Jonathon Young, deceased. She noticed the date of death was recent. A coincidence? She clicked on his name and brought up a photograph.
Shock hit her in the solar plexus, and she released her breath on a gasp.
“What is it?” Mark asked from beside her. “Have you found something?”
For a minute, she couldn’t speak while she studied the photograph. He was older, but it was definitely John. She switched to the photograph of Jenna Young and immediately saw the similarities in the bone structure. The narrow nose, the wide generous mouth—but her eyes didn’t come from John, they came from her biological mother. She tried to tell herself she was wrong, but the ages matched. Jennifer would have been twenty-six now. If she had lived.
If she had lived? She shook her head. Here was the proof she had lived and that John had lied to her.
After they’d terminated the original Descartes project, John had wanted nothing more to do with them or her, and for the first and last time in her life, Lauren had done something not in her or the Conclave’s best interests.
She’d let him go, told him how to hide himself, and given him the means to change his identity and become a new man. Merrick had continued to work for them on and off, but John had wanted out. Lauren had helped him because she understood his bitterness. She’d been bitter, too, though she’d never felt the personal connection John had—she’d never allowed herself to.
John hadn’t been so important that the Conclave would waste their time hunting him down. Besides, she’d vouched for him and then put him from her mind.
Christ. All this time, and it had never occurred to her that he’d lied.
Twenty-two years ago, he told her he’d terminated the Descartes project. Now here was the proof it still existed. She stared in fascination at the woman on the screen.
“Jesus Christ,” she muttered. “What have we made?”
Chapter Thirty-Three
Luke checked Haughton’s pulse as the truck parked in the underground garage of an office block in Canary Wharf not far from their main headquarters. Luke owned the building through a number of untraceable intermediary companies. While most of the floors were rented out to other businesses, the ground floor contained a private clinic and an apartment, and the lower levels holding cells and a secondary control center. Callum waited by the elevator but hurried over as Talbot turned off the engine.
“How is he?”
“Alive but unconscious,” Luke answered. “And I need him conscious sooner rather than later.”
“The doctor’s waiting for him.”
Two men wheeled up a trolley, and Luke stepped out of the way, watched as they pulled Haughton from the vehicle and laid him on it. His head rolled to the side and his eyes fluttered open. “My wife? Can I see her?”
Luke stared down at him but felt no pity for the person responsible for the death of hundreds and involved in a plan that would potentially kill thousands. Maybe millions. He had given up the right to be pitied. “Once you’ve told me what I need to know.”
Haughton didn’t speak again as they disappeared into the elevator.
Luke ran a hand through his hair and pressed his fingers to his eyeballs.
“You look like shit,” Callum said.
“Thanks. I could do with coffee and some food before we start the interrogation.”
“You think he’ll talk?”
Luke led them into the second elevator and pressed the button for the ground floor apartment. “Hell, yes. He knows he’s got no options left. They tried to take him out back there. All he can hope for is to make some sort of deal with us.”
“And will you deal?”
“Yes.” To get Jenna back he would make a deal with the devil. “How’s the wife?”
Callum shrugged. “She’s good. I didn’t even have to touch her. Just threatened to hurt the kid if she didn’t scream nice and loud.”
“Where are they?”
“Down in the basement cells. They’re fine. You can bet your life they’re a damn sight more comfortable than your lady friend right now.”
The doors slid open, and he led the way into the kitchen. Luke didn’t want to think of where Jenna might be or what she might be going through. His job was to concentrate on getting her back and stopping Descartes. At least now they had a chance. While Haughton wasn’t top level, Luke was pretty sure they would get something useful from him that would lead them to Jenna. Hopefully in time.
He’d seen minds totally torn apart by the drugs the Conclave used, and once they decided she knew nothing else, they would kill her and dispose of the body, and he would find no trace of Jenna Young.
By the time the doctor called up to tell him Haughton was stable and they could talk to him, he was on his second coffee.
He stepped into the clinic. Callum followed him and leaned against the door just inside the room. Haughton lay on a trolley with his arm hooked up to an IV; a doctor stood at his side. “My wife?”
Luke shrugged. “She’s fine. Frightened but unhurt. So far. When I see my friend, you’ll see your wife.”
“I told you—I don’t know anything about your friend.”
“Well you’d better start thinking of a way to find out.” He needed to discover where Jenna was being held. Even if Haughton knew nothing about her, there must be a way he could obtain that information. “How do you contact the Conclave?” he asked.
“I don’t. They contact me.”
Luke wiped all expression from his face, leaned down close to the other man, and whispered in his ear. “You’ll get your wife back in pieces if you don’t cooperate. I know how that feels. Believe me, you do not want it to happen.”
He stepped away, shoving his hands in his pockets as he waited for Haughton to decide. “You’ll let us go if I talk?”
Luke shrugged. “If you tell me anything useful.”
Haughton took a deep breath. “I have a contact. If anything goes wrong, I have a number I can call.”
“What is it?”
He reeled off the number.
“Got it,” Callum said from behind him. “I’ll go get working on a trace.”
“You ever called it?” Luke asked.
“Once.”
“Why?�
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“I thought someone was investigating the company. Poking their noses where they didn’t belong.”
“What happened?”
“I rang the number, and the problem went away.”
Luke paced the room. The number wouldn’t help, but he was sure a man of Haughton’s position and intelligence wouldn’t blindly follow an organization without at least attempting to discover who was in control.
“And you’ve never tried to find out more about the Conclave? You’ve never been curious? Come on, Haughton, you know the number’s not going to give us anything.”
For a second, some of the old arrogance flashed across his face. “Do you know who and what you’re dealing with? How many people are involved in the Conclave? And you expect me to find one woman?”
“If you want to live, you will. Yes, the organization is huge, but I’m guessing there has to be somewhere central, somewhere they do their dirty work, where the low-level soldiers hang out.”
Haughton licked his lips “Was she taken in London?”
“Yes.”
His gaze darted to the doorway and back to Luke. “Maybe…there might be one place.”
“Go on.”
“After I phoned in that problem, I had him tailed.”
“And?”
“The problem was killed. The men I hired followed the killers.”
“What happened to them?”
“I received a phone call.” He swallowed nervously. “From my contact at the Conclave. He said my men had been taken care of. They sent me a picture. They’d been tortured, mutilated. They said they would pass on it this time, that it was human nature to be curious, but if I ever got ‘curious’ again they’d do the same thing to me and my family.”
“So, I’m guessing these men passed on some information before they were taken.”
Haughton nodded. “They were wearing tracking devices, which they destroyed just before they were captured.”
“So the Conclave are unaware you know this location?”
“As far as I know.”
“You’ve never been tempted to make a visit?”
“No.”
“The address?”
Luke tried to subdue the excitement rising inside him. He didn’t know this was where they were keeping Jenna—it could be a complete waste of time—but his gut instinct told him he’d found her.
He left Haughton and made his way down to the control center, where he found Callum.
“The number’s a dead end,” Callum said. “It was cancelled an hour ago.”
“That makes sense if they know we have Haughton. But he’s given us an address. I think it might be a lead.” He sat down and tapped in the address. “I want to know everything about this place. I want satellite images, building specs…”
“Do you want me to send someone over there?”
“No. I want nothing that might tip them off. Keep it low key, but get me the information.” He glanced at his watch. It was late afternoon; they had only a few hours to prepare this. “We’re going in there tonight.”
Surprise flared briefly in the other man’s face, but he nodded. “I’m on it.”
“I’ll go back and see what other information we can get out of Haughton. Call me when we have what we need.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Was she still alive? Would she even be here, or was he chasing shadows?
Luke willed his mind to blankness. So many thoughts whirled in his head, and he needed to focus. This was the closest he had ever gotten to the Conclave, and Jenna had led him here.
As the vehicle came to a halt, he glanced out of the darkened windows. They were in a parking lot a couple of blocks down from the building. Callum slouched beside him, and on the bench opposite sat three of their best men, all veterans of either the Legion or the British SAS.
They were dressed in full combat gear, with Kevlar vests and weapons belts, carrying silenced weapons and stun grenades.
The back door opened, and Talbot, who was going to be coordinating the attack from the vehicle, jumped in. He made his way between them to the far end and punched a button, and a console swung out from the front of the space, the monitors flickering to life.
“Are you all online?” Talbot spoke softly.
Luke heard him clearly through the comm unit in his ear and nodded. One by one, the other members of the team gave the thumbs-up. Beside him, he could sense Callum’s barely leashed excitement.
For many men—Luke included—combat was in their blood. Like a drug, you got so you craved it, and some men reached the point where they couldn’t do without the rush. Luke had never gone so far but he, too, felt the stirring of the adrenaline in his veins. A dark excitement that tightened his gut, clenched his muscles, and focused his mind so everything became clearer.
Luke led the way, jumping down from the van into the shadows of the warehouse, before pausing at the edge of the wall to study their target.
The building appeared to be an ordinary office block, but from the intel it went far beneath the ground. No doubt the cells and interrogation units would be beneath them.
So close.
But if Jenna wasn’t here, he was back to nothing.
They had identified a point of entry on the third floor. A few lights were dotted on here and there, but the third floor was in darkness. He led the way along the side of the building to where the metal fire escape clung to the wall.
Stefan had hacked in and pulled off the override codes for the security system, and Luke sent up a silent prayer that they were still valid. He pressed the nine-digit code into the keypad, waited until he heard the lock click, and pushed the door open. His shoulders twitched as he waited for the alarms. Nothing happened.
They were in.
“Is there anybody on this floor?” he spoke into the comm unit.
“Not that I can see,” Talbot replied. “I’m sending a thermal imaging shot to your cell. I’ll update it every thirty seconds.”
Luke pulled his cell out of his pocket, punched it on, switching to the incoming image, and flashed through the floors. The imaging showed nobody on either the first, second, or third floors, although there were three people on the ground floor, probably manning the security station. The imaging would not reach underground. Gesturing to the others to follow, he turned and made his way along the corridor to the stairwell.
He reached the door to the ground floor and held up a hand to halt the others, then slipped open the door a few inches and peered around. Three men in security uniforms stood at the far side, faces turned away, talking among themselves. Security was slack, but he reckoned they mainly relied on secrecy to keep this place safe.
Luke slipped the night-vision goggles on. “Now,” he murmured down the comm unit, and the building went dark. Outside, through the glass walls, the power had gone off all around them; even the streetlights were out. The guards might not believe it was a power cut, but the confusion would give them a better chance.
One of the guards stepped up to the glass doors and peered out. He spoke into a radio and then came back to the reception desk, picked up the phone, and made a call.
A minute later, Talbot spoke. “I intercepted a call to the power company. They think the grid is down. You’re on.”
Luke turned to the others, held up three fingers, and made a cutting motion with his hand.
Callum remained at his side as the other three entered the reception area. They crossed the room silently, each picking a target, and the guards were dispatched, the bodies lowered to the floor and dragged behind the counter in the center of the room.
Luke turned to Callum and nodded. They had thirty minutes until the guards were due to call in, and Luke needed to be out of there and clear by that point. The hum of the backup generator came on. According to their intel, it would cover the ele
vators, but the cameras in the main building would be down.
Crossing the floor, he punched in the security code and followed Callum into the elevator. They drew their silenced weapons as the doors shut.
He raised his pistol as the elevator came to a halt. The doors slid open, revealing three security officers. Luke aimed at the one on the right, pulled the trigger, and moved smoothly to the next. Beside him, Callum took out the third, and they dragged the bodies inside and out of sight.
A long corridor stretched ahead of them, the walls white and the lighting a dim orange glow. Luke led the way, hugging the wall as the murmur of voices drifted toward them from up ahead. They came to a doorway and he peered around; four men sat at computer screens. He and Callum pulled gas masks on as he rolled a gas grenade into the room. It went off with a quiet pfft of gas and a few seconds later, the men slumped down over their terminals.
He turned to Callum. “Okay, you go for the hard drives and anything else you can find. I’m going to search for Jenna.”
A door a little farther on opened into a stairwell to the lower level. At the bottom, he took out another guard. Down here, the air was clean, and he removed his mask while he searched.
The first two rooms were laboratories; he passed them and continued on to a row of cells. All were empty, and he swore softly. She had to be here. The alternative was she’d never been here or they had already killed her and disposed of the body. That thought was unbearable, and he pushed on.
At the end of the corridor, he found the interrogation rooms. Jenna was in the second. He peered through the small glass pane in the steel door, and his heart stopped beating. She lay on a steel table in the center of the white-tiled room with her eyes closed, but he could make out the shallow rise and fall of her chest, and some of his tension drained away. Her wrists and ankles were fastened with steel cuffs to the corners of the table, her white T-shirt stained with darkened blood and torn to the waist, exposing her breasts.
He drew his pistol, shot out the lock mechanism on the door, and kicked it in. Her head rolled to face him as he entered the room, and her eyes fluttered open. They widened as she took him in. “Luke?”
