by Jillian Dodd
“Because we are three smart and gorgeous women who were cheated on. What is this world coming to? It would be one thing if Chad had traded up, found someone prettier or skinnier than me, but, no, he goes for some basic twat because she gets him. And poor Madelyn here was with her beau through uni, and just when she was expecting a proposal, he broke up with her to go to some third-world country to find himself—oh, Sheila is here. You two talk.”
Madelyn appraises me. “I’ve seen you in the tabloids.”
“Yeah.” I roll my eyes.
“Leslie is pretty drunk already. Although I suppose, with everything going on in both the world and her life, why shouldn’t she be?”
“Maybe we all should be. I ordered a pint but couldn’t stomach it. My breakup is pretty fresh.”
“And you just ruined all my fantasies about the extremely fit Daniel Spear. Who did he get pregnant?”
“I think I’m going to need that shot first,” I tell her.
She goes over to the bar, orders shots, and brings them back. “To love,” she toasts.
“To love? Why would you toast to that?”
“Because, without love, there is no hope for our world,” she replies.
I suck in a breath, her words touching me deeply.
“I feel the same way.” I take her shot glass and set both it and mine on the table. “And I’m here tonight not because of a bad breakup—although that did happen—but because I need to talk to Sophie. I know she’s been staying with you.”
The change in her demeanor is instant. She’s scared.
“How—”
“Did she tell you anything about the time she lived in Iraq?”
“She said she hated it. Her mom had died, and there was sand everywhere.”
“That’s where we met. My mother had a meeting with her father. Not long after, she was murdered. I know Sophie’s father died recently, and I don’t believe it was an accident. A man like her father, if he knew he was in danger, I know he would have left Sophie something important. She’s on the run, right? Are there people after her?”
Madelyn nods. “She hasn’t turned on her phone since it happened. Men came to her house and ransacked the place. She was lucky to get out alive.”
“She told me her dad was like a superhero because he was able to fight viruses. I believe there are evil men in this world. I believe they took one of his discoveries and unleashed it on the world for one reason—to force the mandatory vaccines. And I believe that it’s the vaccines that will kill off most of the population.”
“She doesn’t know what to do,” Madelyn says, tears filling her eyes. “She’s so scared.”
“Does she have information about the disease? Did her father leave her something?”
“I think so. Maybe.” She nods. “Two days after he died, I received a post from her father. Inside was an envelope with Sophie’s name on it. I hadn’t heard about the accident, and when I couldn’t get ahold of her, I set the letter aside. I figured she was traveling and that I’d hear from her when she got back. She showed up at my flat a short time later.”
“Where is she now?”
“I can’t tell you. She swore me to secrecy. I’ve said too much already. I have to go,” she says, rushing out of the pub.
I take a deep breath.
There’s no need to follow her. I know where she’s going.
T-MINUS:10:27:15
The fact that I showed up at the pub and not at her home means that Madelyn will assume I don’t know where she lives and will feel safe going there. More than likely, she has a throwaway cell phone that she will use to contact Sophie. I’m hoping that, if she does, Sophie will remember me. Maybe even request to see me.
I’m also hoping, for Madelyn’s sake, that this doesn’t get ugly. I don’t want to hurt her, but if I don’t find Sophie, she’ll die soon anyway.
M’s smiling face pops into my head. We lived together for two years, and she was the closest thing I ever had to a real friend. I really wish Black X had taught her how to keep her mouth shut. She should have known I was working undercover. And she should have known better.
And so should Madelyn.
I understand secrets. I learned to thrive on them. But I also understand there are times when you need to trust someone with what you know—particularly times like now, when our world is in jeopardy.
I leave the pub and walk back to Madelyn’s building where I take a seat on a nearby bench. I have a feeling Madelyn might come back out and lead me straight to Sophie.
While I’m waiting, I get a call from Intrepid.
“The Society sent another message,” he says. “It’s not good.”
“What did it say?”
“They have acquired a special supply of vaccines that are of a slightly stronger dose than what will be administered to the general public. Each member, as well as the one hundred people on their lists, will have their vaccines delivered directly to their doorstep via drone for their convenience.”
“That means, they know how to cure it. We just—”
“I’m not done yet,” he interrupts. “It also said that, for those in Montrovia, they are sorry, but they cannot get into the country, and they suggest members take the vaccine that will be made available to them.”
“They are going to kill off everyone in Montrovia,” I say in stunned shock. “Even their members?”
“It appears so.”
“You need to get some of their special supply! It must be the real cure.”
“We don’t believe that to be the case,” Ares says, surprising me.
I didn’t realize I was on speaker, but I’m glad to know they are still working together to try to unravel this mess.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“I might have hacked into a certain World Health Organization’s database. Here’s what we know. A deadly disease was spread at the opening ceremonies, for which there is no known cure. If there were, The Society would find a way to save those of us here. That means that it was the point of the sword—the start of the attack. They needed people to die so that the vaccines would be given worldwide. If the disease was going to actually spread globally and kill everyone, why would they even need the vaccine?”
“Because it won’t,” I say in understanding. “Has anyone who wasn’t at the opening ceremonies actually died?”
“Not from what I can tell. Their plan worked. They even have scientists panicked,” Intrepid says.
“So, in other words, whatever they are sending to Society members is neither vaccine nor cure.”
“That’s our theory,” Ares says. “It must be a placebo or a simple vitamin shot. The instructions mentioned taking the shot upon its arrival and then retreating to their vaults until the all-clear is given.”
“That probably won’t be until a lot of people are dead,” I surmise.
“Exactly,” Intrepid says. “And think about how many world leaders were at the opening ceremonies. Their deaths alone will change the political landscape of the world.”
“Nearly everyone I care about was there. And not only did Lorenzo attend, but he also took the vaccine. Are you saying that they will all die, and there’s nothing we can do to stop it?”
“You were there, too,” Ares reminds me. “Are you ill yet?”
I swallow, testing my throat. Still sore, but I say, “Not so far. What do you think it means for Lorenzo?”
Ares sighs audibly. “I would expect that he will die very soon. That the combination of being exposed to the virus at the opening ceremonies and taking the vaccine will speed up the process. Any luck finding the girl?”
“Not so far,” I say before I end the call.
T-MINUS:10:04:49
I’m considering my next move when I notice two men dressed in black enter Madelyn’s building. While it’s not a full eight-man team, the guys have the same look as the other Echelon mercenaries I’ve recently seen.
That means one thing: her phone was tapped, and s
he made a call.
I spring into action, sprinting across the street. I stand with my back against the front facade and then carefully peek into the foyer. The men aren’t visible.
The old door squeaks upon my entrance, but no one is there to notice. As I make my way further into the posh foyer, I discover a bloodstain on the wall behind where the concierge usually stands. I don’t need to look to know what happened. The men entered the building and dispensed of him without thought.
I take the stairs, not wanting the dinging elevator to announce my presence on Madelyn’s floor. I’m almost to the top when the door for the third floor opens, and a woman rushes in.
“There’s something bad going on in the apartment next to me. I heard a girl screaming!” she says.
“Did you call the police?”
“No, I was going to ask the concierge to investigate.”
“The concierge was shot.” I hand her my phone and hit the button for Intrepid. “The man you’re going to talk to works for MI6. Please tell him everything you know and get out of the building until the authorities arrive. I’ll get my phone from you later.”
“Ohmigosh. Okay,” she says, clutching her robe to her chest as she flees down the stairs.
I open the fire door to the third floor and hear Madelyn cry out.
I don’t waste any time. I slam my hand onto the concrete wall in the stairwell, causing the spike to come out of the setting of my black diamond ring. I click the Givenchy flats I’m wearing on the floor, each one equipped with a knife at the toe. I set my bag down. Even though it can be turned into a small bomb equal to three grenades, I don’t want to kill the innocent people living here.
So, I move.
Madelyn’s door is standing open, the mercenaries not caring to be subtle. No one is in the main living area, which tells me both men are in her bedroom. That, and I can hear them talking—well, interrogating her by asking a question and then slapping her when she doesn’t respond.
I could go in there, but then it would be two against one in very tight quarters.
It might be better to play this another way.
I yell out, “Madelyn! Are you okay? I thought I heard you scream, and your front door is wide open!”
I hear a muffled scream and a deep voice whisper, “Go take care of that.”
The next thing I see is a gun, held out in front of a man coming out of the hallway opening. I’m standing flat against the wall separating the living room from the bedroom. The second I see the gun, I knock it from the man’s hand, so I don’t end up like the concierge.
The man is surprised but recovers quickly, barreling toward me, assuming that his strength is his greatest asset. I simply move my hand upward in a way that looks like I’m trying to protect myself from a blow to the head but instead causes the poisoned spike to connect with his chin—the spike that causes paralysis and then death.
It works quickly, the man toppling to the ground. I leap over his body and rush into the bedroom. Madelyn is duct-taped to a wooden desk chair, and the second mercenary is moving away from her, toward the door, wondering why his partner hasn’t returned.
He sees me and reaches for the pistol holstered at his hip. I throw my arm out, my knuckles connecting with his face, tearing a gash above the bone over his right eye. I follow it up with quick blows to his kidneys.
But the man isn’t fazed.
He comes at me with a barrage of punches. One connects, hitting my cheekbone and making him feel as if he has the upper hand. He grins and then pushes me hard, causing me to fall, but just before I hit the ground, I swing my foot in a circular motion, the blade on my shoe slicing both his trousers and the skin on his upper thigh.
I don’t manage to hit an artery though, and all it seems to do is piss him off more. He lets out a guttural growl and moves closer to me. I know what’s coming next—debilitating kicks to the head, meaning I must move fast.
I tuck and roll in a neat somersault, his leg slashing through the air and causing him to lose his balance and slam into the wall behind him. It’s at that moment I leap for the pistol on the floor.
Afraid of me getting the gun, he jumps toward it, but he’s too late. I roll away from him with the gun in my hand.
He lunges at me just as I fire three successive shots to his chest, stopping him in his tracks and killing him dead.
Madelyn screams.
I tuck the gun in the back of my pants, run to the kitchen, grab a pair of scissors, and then go into the bedroom.
“It’s you!” Madelyn says, mixed emotions crossing her face. I can tell she’s both happy I’m here and worried that I am. “Cut this tape off of me. We need to get out of here in case more men are coming.”
But I don’t.
Instead, I pace in a circle around the chair.
“I’m not doing anything until you tell me where Sophie is.”
“How did you know how to kill them?” she asks.
“I went to a special school, and I know why those men showed up. As soon as you got home, you called her, didn’t you?”
“Yes,” she says. “I’m only supposed to call her with a burner phone, but I was flustered and used the phone in my flat.”
“That means, they had tapped your phone and heard everything you said to her.”
“She didn’t answer. I had to leave a message.”
“What did you say?”
“That someone was asking about her tonight. That I was scared.”
“Did you mention my name? Any other details?”
“No, I was very vague,” she replies as I notice an overnight bag lying open on the closet floor.
“You packed a bag. Where were you going?”
“To see her. We have a code thing set up—a place I can go, so she will know if it’s safe.”
“Do you understand now that you are in danger?” I ask her, pointing at the dead man. “Do you believe me?”
“Yes,” she says, tears filling her eyes.
“That’s why you must tell me everything. It’s the only way I can help protect you both.”
And, thankfully, she does.
Once she’s spilled out the truth, I cut her loose and say, “Since the message you left Sophie was short, they wouldn’t have been able to pinpoint her exact location, but they will get close enough. I need to go help her.”
“I’m coming with you,” Madelyn says. Her eyes are full of tears. She’s scared. But she’s willing to risk her life for her friend.
And, for that, I admire her.
“No, it’s much too dangerous. Do you have somewhere you could go hide out for a few days? Somewhere not in London?”
“My grandmother has a cottage up in the Lake District. I could drive there.”
“They might have tagged your car with a tracking device. Actually, come downstairs with me. I have an idea.”
She grabs her bag, and we take the stairs down to the lobby.
“You wait here,” I tell her as I run out the front door, finding the woman with my phone.
“Help is on the way,” she says.
“It’s okay. The men are dead. And Madelyn is safe.”
“Oh, thank goodness,” she says, handing me my phone. “He has a very sexy voice.”
“Yes, he does. I have to go, but would you wait inside with Madelyn until help arrives?”
“Of course I will.”
“Oh, and tell her the men will take her somewhere very safe.”
“If that man on the phone is going to be there, I might have to escort her.”
“You should do that,” I say before taking off in a sprint toward the nearest train station.
T-MINUS:09:36:41
Once I’m on the train, I call the villa.
Intrepid answers.
“I need a cleanup in aisle four,” I say, trying to make light of the situation even though my cheek is sore and my throat is killing me—probably literally.
“That woman you told to call me was a hoot. I’ve got two
agents currently on the scene. They’ll be taking her and Madelyn to a safe house to ride this out. The mercenaries’ bodies are being discreetly removed from the premises and will be identified ASAP.”
“Thank you. Can you tell Ares that I’m on a train, headed to the heliport, and I’ll need a ride back to the airport?”
“Does that mean you found Sophie?”
“I found out where she is, yes. But those two men showed up after Madelyn panicked and called Sophie from her house phone. Sophie didn’t answer, fortunately, and the message was very short, so I’m thinking they shouldn’t be able to pinpoint her exact location.”
“That’s correct,” Ares says, coming onto the line. “If we’re lucky, they would have traced only the general region, not a specific cell tower. The chopper and the plane are on standby. Where are you going?”
“Ronda, Spain.”
“Before you go, Huntley, you should know, this might be the last time we are able to communicate with you,” Ares says. “A cyberattack on Montrovia has started. I’m not sure if it’s from a rogue nation wanting to take advantage of the situation here—”
“Or if that’s the reason Sergey Olander was invited to join The Echelon,” I finish.
“That was my thought as well. The internet has been down for a couple of hours, cell service is intermittent, and even the satellites seem to have been affected. I believe they want Montrovia cut off from the rest of the world.”
T-MINUS:08:52:22
I’ve just taken my seat on the jet, and I am buckled in, ready for takeoff, when my phone rings with a call from Daniel.
“I’ve got the rash,” is the first thing out of his mouth when I answer.
I let out a rush of air like I just got punched in the gut.
“I watched my mother die,” he says. “I’m going to watch my father die, my friends die, and then I’m going to die. Are you not sick yet?”
“I was sitting next to your parents at the opening ceremonies, Daniel. I’m going to die, too.”
