by Jade Kerrion
He dropped his assault rifle and pulled out a dagger. His other hand clenched into a fist. He cursed the woman and swore to teach her what happened to bitches, to whores—
Zara snatched up a dagger from the ground. Her feet raced soundlessly over the sandy courtyard. Her right foot landed on his right calf, and she used the momentum to propel herself up along the length of his body. Before he could react, she yanked his head back and sliced the edge of the blade across his throat.
He collapsed, blood frothing from his throat.
Valeria smiled. On the threshold, her hand moved feebly toward her daughter.
Hot tears streaming down her face, Zara curled against her mother’s side. Valeria’s breaths caught with pain, growing weaker. The hand she had extended to wipe Zara’s tears from her face slipped to the ground. The violet eyes that had always glittered with passion finally emptied of life.
Zara’s father had found her hours later, still coiled around her mother’s cool body. Valeria had been buried the next day. Within a week, Bashir Itani turned his back on the country of his birth, on the country that had taken the love of his life from him. With his only daughter, he had departed for kinder shores and settled down in America.
Bashir had never pressed Zara for details about that fateful day when his wife had lost her life and his daughter had lost her innocence. He never questioned or challenged Zara’s ensuring obsession with becoming the mirror image of the mother she had lost, the woman who had been as adept with guns and daggers as other women were with handbags and jewelry.
Zara had sworn she would never again be driven by the incensed love that had fueled her first kill—the skittering sensation of a world tilting beneath her feet, the certainty that life would be forever changed for the worse. By degrees, as her skill as an assassin grew, so had her emotional distance. Of course, her hard-won equilibrium had gone straight to hell when Danyael entered her life.
She stifled the growl of frustration and resisted the urge to fist her hands against her eyes. Of all the stupid things, I fall in love with an alpha empath…the one person who can make me feel again.
“That one,” Amanda murmured. Her gaze cut through the crowd to focus on a short and balding man, his glasses precariously perched on his snub nose, as he scurried, carried along by the flow of the crowd.
Chloe angled her tablet in his direction. Her fingers tapped on the screen. “Are you sure?” she asked, her voice lowered. “NGI says he’s a nuclear physicist…neutrino scattering, dark matter interactions, and neutrinoless double beta decay…whatever the heck those things are.”
“Whatever he is, he has memories that include multiple copies of Galahad. He knows something about the clones; he’s seen them.”
“Good enough for me.” With her glass in her hand, Zara pushed to her feet. Her white dress contrasted against the bronzed honey color of her skin, and the short skirt displayed an unseemly length of leg. Her confident stride atop three-inch high stilettos suddenly wavered, and she stumbled against the nuclear physicist. The ice coffee from her glass sloshed over his briefcase and patent leather shoes. Pale brown drops stained his light blue shirt.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” she breathed. “Are you all right, sir?”
He turned to her, his face mottled, but the anger on his face drained away, replaced by open-mouthed disbelief. “I…I…fine.”
“I’m so glad. I’m so sorry; I’m not usually this clumsy.” Zara made as if to turn, but her breath caught and she sagged against him. Wincing, she leaned down to massage her ankle, offering him a leisurely view of her cleavage. “I think I might have sprained my ankle. Could you help me back to my table?”
His head swiveled in the direction of the table occupied by two women—one blond, the other brunette—both of whom were pretending not to pay Zara any attention. His grip tightened around Zara’s slim waist as he helped her hobble back to her table.
With another fabricated wince of pain, Zara lowered herself into her chair. “Thank you so much for your help.” She offered him a smile and gestured at the seat across from her. “Can I buy you a drink?”
~*~
T minus two
“Do men always fall for that trick?”
Zara shrugged off Chloe’s question. “Those who are still alive usually do, though some can be harder to convince than others.” She glanced at her watch. The prior two hours had been the most fruitful in the past day. Her gaze rested on Dr. Spencer Lee who sat, stiff as a board, on the couch in the suite at the Marina Bay Sands Hotel. Amanda sat across from him, her blue eyes narrowed with concentration. “How much longer is it going to take?” Zara demanded.
Amanda scowled at Zara. “Wiping memories of his encounter with us is harder than turning a man’s will into jelly with a smile.”
Zara strode up to Chloe and peered over her shoulder. “What have you found out?”
“USFS, the Underground Science Facility Singapore was built ten years ago, jointly funded by the Singaporean government, SCAAST, the Singapore-China Association for Advancement of Science and Technology, and WinSTAR.”
“WinSTAR? Lucien Winter’s WinSTAR? The not-for-profit organization that funds advanced research in science and technology?”
Chloe nodded and clarified, “The incredibly well-funded not-for-profit organization. According to this press release, USFS was constructed at a cost of half a billion dollars to facilitate research into rare nuclear physics processes, which can only be studied in the absence of cosmic rays, as well as geomicrobiology, geosciences, and mining engineering. However, two and a half years ago, the research projects were gradually phased out. Lee’s project was apparently one of the last to wrap up, and it seems that he caught a glimpse of the project that superseded the others, including Galahad-One and growth chambers containing young clones.”
“Who makes decisions on which projects get to use the facilities?” Zara asked.
“Not WinSTAR, if that’s what you’re wondering. It’s probably some combination of SCAAST and A*STAR.”
“Good,” Zara muttered. “It’d be a shame if I had to kill Lucien for his lack of judgment. What else do you know about this place?”
“The entrance to the facility is on Pulau Palawan, an island…an islet, really, south of Singapore, not much larger than an acre. The facility itself is three thousand feet underground, and it is built around a central shaft that serves two purposes, drawing heat from the Earth’s molten core to power the facility, and circulating air from the surface.” Chloe tilted her tablet to alter the perspective of the facility blueprints. “Because of the nascent heat from the planet’s core, and because the complex is so deep underground, thermal imaging isn’t going to work. You’re going in blind, and I’m not sure how to stay in touch with you once you’re in there.”
“Telepathy,” Amanda said. She looked up at Zara. “I’m going in too. You have no idea what’s waiting for you down there, and your best bet is to go in with strong psychic shields.”
Chloe opened her mouth. “I can—”
“No,” Zara said. “You can’t handle a gun, and you don’t have any psychic skills to contribute. I don’t want to have to explain to Danyael how I managed to get you killed.”
“Two of you against an army of Galahad clones? You don’t know how many there are.”
“Danyael said that there were at least five more, plus Galahad-One and other technicians and guards.”
Chloe frowned. “Those are crazy odds.”
“No one’s expecting us, though I’m sure the place will be monitored. It’s time to put in a call to her omniscient highness.”
“Xin?” Amanda chuckled. “I’ve never heard anyone call her that before, but it’s so apt.”
“Mu Xin? The clone of that Chinese lady?” Chloe asked.
“Fu Hao was not quite a lady,” Zara said. “No mere lady could have become a queen, high priestess, and general. Xin, I’d say, is doing a fairly respectable job of living up to her predecessor’s reputation
.” Walking to the window, she pulled out her cell phone and hit the second number on speed dial. Danyael was the first; she rarely called him though, since he rarely answered the phone. She found face-to-face encounters with Danyael far more effective. He had built formidable psychic shields around his emotions to keep them from affecting others, but had never quite learned how to keep his expressive eyes from betraying what he felt.
Her breath caught at the sharp pang in her chest. She hoped—prayed—that he was all right.
“Hello, Zara.” Xin’s voice came over the line.
“Xin. I need help breaking into USFS, the Underground Science—”
“Facility Singapore? Is that where they are? Give me a minute.”
Zara huffed, an impatient sound. Xin was probably kicking her secure computer network into high gear. The assassin drummed her fingers against the windowsill, mentally counting down the seconds. “Your minute’s over.” Actually, it had been fifty-eight seconds, but her patience ran out.
“Will you chill out? Magic takes time. I did a quick scan. The firewall’s massive; the security a bitch. Let’s see. I can jump through the bureaucratic hoops and secure official clearance from whoever’s in charge, but it’ll take at least twenty-four hours and will probably alert the current occupants—”
“I needed to get in there twenty-two hours ago.”
“Or I can hack it. I’ll need at least an hour’s head start. Get moving. You know where the entrance is, right?”
“Palawan. I’m going in with Amanda.”
“Try not to get her killed. She’s doing a great job as the NSA country manager in Singapore, and the director would be deeply unhappy if her position opened up again. He hates interviews.”
Zara snorted. “Yeah, sure. Anything to keep your director from having to do real work instead of improving his golf handicap.”
“I’ll let him know not to sit too comfortably on his Medal of Honor. God knows, it doesn’t hold much weight with you.”
“If he ever saves Danyael’s life, he’ll have all my gratitude. Get cracking, Xin. I want access to the USFS in an hour.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
T minus two
Danyael shifted, arching his shoulders against the tension locked in his shoulders. The handcuffs chafed his wrists, leaving them raw and bloody. He gritted his teeth against the cramp that seized the muscles in his left thigh, sending shafts of pain pulsing along the length of his entire leg.
Movement was difficult with the handcuff looped through a metal hook nailed into the wall. Set five feet off the ground, the position of the hook was problematic. He could neither comfortably stand nor sit. Forced to his knees, Danyael struggled to alleviate the weight off his left leg.
The nausea, at least, had passed, likely because he had not eaten anything in a full day. How much time did he have before Galahad’s bio-tracker reached zero? Two hours, perhaps less.
The only problem was he could not see any way of reaching Galahad. He had his chance, and he had blown it.
Joyce’s frail hands stroked his head. “You have to eat something. Do you think you can keep down the nutrient pills?”
Who knew what drugs Gage had laced into their food. He could not take that risk. “Water…from the tap.”
The lock on the door clicked back. Wearily, he raised his head as Joyce stood up, placing herself between Danyael and Gage. It’s a sad state of affairs when a ninety-two-year-old woman feels compelled to defend me.
Gage strode into the cell. His usual entourage of clones did not accompany him. He shut the door behind him and walked up to Danyael. His dark-eyed gaze raked over the alpha empath. “I can’t protect you from Galahad much longer.”
“Why would you need to protect me from Galahad?”
“He hates you.”
“Tell me something I haven’t known for the past three years.”
“He wants to kill you and Zara.”
Danyael shrugged, though the motion spiked pain through his cramping shoulder muscles. “You’re a fool if you think you can bring Zara in here without repercussions.”
“She’s just a woman and a human.”
“Yes, she is, and so much more. You can tell where she’s been because it’s either on fire or there are dead bodies spilling out of the door. She’ll be the last mistake you make.”
“You’re an alpha empath, yet you concede that a human woman is stronger than you are?”
“We have different strengths, and she’s not burdened by a conscience.”
Gage tilted his head, studying Danyael. “Conscience or no, empathic link notwithstanding, I suspect you’ll kill me if I were foolish enough to touch you.”
Danyael’s only response was a smile.
“You’d die.” Gage’s voice cracked. “You’d die to stop me. Why? Why would you let Galahad live and not me? Why is his life worth more than mine? Is it because I’m a clone?”
Danyael braced against the echo of pain in Gage’s voice. It rang with the same note of bewilderment he had once heard in Galahad’s voice. Why would they choose someone else over me? Neither Galahad nor Gage had ever been subjected to the lessons most people learned in the course of a normal childhood. Apparently, how to deal with rejection was a harder lesson for adults, and especially hard for the epitomes of perfection.
The alpha empath fought down the inevitable surge of compassion and averted his gaze. The damn neon light over my head must be flashing “sucker” again. I can’t save the world. I shouldn't even try.
Gage did not step any closer, but the plea in his eyes closed the distance. “You’ve been like a father to Galahad. You’ve helped him so many times, given him so many chances. He hasn’t deserved any of them, nor repaid any of them. Give me a chance. Heal me; stop the accelerated aging. I’ll release you. I’ll protect you and Zara from Galahad.”
Danyael shook his head.
“You’re running out of time.”
More than you know.
“He’ll kill her. He’ll kill the both of you. He wants his daughter.”
“I know.” Danyael released his breath in a shuddering sigh. “But whatever happens to Zara, Galahad will take care of Laura. He wants her love; he wants family. He’ll treat her well.”
Gage’s eyes narrowed. “But you want to kill him, don’t you?”
His heart pounding in his chest, Danyael looked up and met Gage’s gaze squarely. “No, I don’t.”
~*~
In the control room, Galahad pressed a button, disconnecting the video feed from Danyael’s cell, and turned away from the monitor.
A muscle twitched in his smooth cheek.
Gage’s pathetic, secret attempt to negotiate with Danyael had backfired. Danyael had not wavered. His promise, his commitment to Galahad had not changed.
But what does it mean for me?
Galahad shook his head, the motion sharp and dismissive in spite of the leaden weight in his heart.
It meant nothing. He would retrieve Zara, as he had promised Gage, and then he would leave. Whatever happened to Zara was between Danyael and Gage, and whatever happened to Zara and Danyael after that would be Gage’s problem.
Gage’s problem, not mine.
Galahad could not—would not—kill the alpha empath. He knew now that nothing on Earth could induce him into dealing a deathblow to the empath, but hate and resentment still flourished in spite of his growing respect for Danyael. Galahad would wash his hands of Danyael and count his obligations to Danyael repaid. I’ll spare his life, but I owe him nothing more.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
T minus one
Zara expertly maneuvered the powerboat to the wooden dock and cut the engine. Her gaze traveled around the islet, lingering on the single building on the island, an innocuous entrance to an underground laboratory. She glanced over her shoulder at Amanda.
The telepath nodded. She wore a black T-shirt over military combat pants. Standing up, she shrugged on a bulletproof vest, slipped a handgun into
her holster, and reached for her assault rifle. She checked her equipment, including the microphone in her ear that would keep her connected with Zara and Xin.
Zara was similarly dressed. She pressed against the microphone she had slipped into her ear canal. “Xin, you there?”
Xin answered immediately. “All security cameras are down and I’ve unlocked all the doors. I’ve also hacked into their video feeds. The lab is built in a circle around a central shaft. Danyael is in a room on the lowest level, on the southern curve of the circle. Joyce is with him. The elevator, which stops on the highest of the three floors, is on the northern end of the curve. It’s probably the best way to anchor your sense of direction.”
“How is he?”
“Alive, but not in good shape. No visible wounds that I can see, but there are many ways to torture an alpha empath without physically touching him.”
Zara’s eyes narrowed. “You think someone’s empathically linked to him?”
“It’s what I’d do if I were crazy enough to kidnap an alpha empath in the first place.”
Zara cursed under her breath. Obviously, Plan A, which was to shoot first, ask questions later, wasn’t going to work. “What am I up against?”
“Galahad-One. He looks like he’s seventy, but still robust. I counted five clones, in addition to Galahad.”
“Any way to tell them apart?”
“Yes. Galahad’s different—not in appearance, but there’s something about his stance. It’s hard to pin down precisely what the difference is…more erect, more alert, is about as close as I can get. There are five lab technicians. I checked their profiles. My guess is that all of them will start racing for the elevator as soon as the bullets start flying. Actually, three of them are asleep right now; only two are on duty.”
“Lock the three technicians who are sleeping in their rooms. I don’t have bullets to waste. In fact, lock down any room that is currently empty. I don’t want to play hide and seek either.”
