Eugene leaned back and stared at his hands. “I was going to propose to her—had the ring in my glove box for weeks. But now, after what I’ve done to her, I wouldn’t blame her if she never wanted to see me again.”
San cocked an eyebrow. “You’re not giving her enough credit. She’s a tough woman, and she has a level head. She’ll know who really deserves the blame. And you should hold off on any doomsday judgments until after she sees a doctor.” He shrugged. “Who knows? Maybe there’s still hope for you two and your eventual offspring.”
Eugene glanced at him, and his eyes narrowed. “Hold up. Are you…giving me your blessing to join the family?”
San sighed and interlaced his fingers. “You both get on my nerves sometimes, and you’re ten times worse when you’re together. But in the end, your relationship has nothing to do with me. I think you two are good for each other.” San cleared his throat and rose from his chair. “But you have bigger things to worry about. I’ll call Susana and tell her what happened. You go deal with Katharos.”
The operative hopped up and strode toward the door; San called after him.
“And Eugene, if you manage to save the world, I’ll be happy to look past the…incident this morning.”
Eugene gave him a weak smile. “Consider it saved.”
Eli Graham hurried into the operations center, wearing a half-buttoned shirt over his black armor. He had a rifle slung over one shoulder, a tan backpack over the other, and he had yet to tie his hiking boots.
As he entered the bustling room, the new recruit on the security team swiveled in his chair and waved him over.
“What’s up, Hank?” he asked, dropping the backpack and leaning in. To the rest of the team, Hank was simply known as FNG, but Eli had been the “new guy” more times than he could count and refused to use derogatory nicknames.
“It’s good news and bad news, I guess.” The recruit ran a hand through his short, spiky hair. “There’s new signal intelligence that supports the, uh, prisoner’s claims.”
Hank brought up an image on his computer, depicting a thin man with a narrow face that was partially obscured by a hood and sunglasses. The man was huddled in the back seat of a car, his back hunched and his chin against his chest.
“The image was captured by a security camera in south Manhattan, and facial recognition rates it at a 26% match. But, given our other Intel, it’s a safe bet it’s him.”
“How long until he reaches the university?”
“Traffic is bad right now, so…maybe an hour.”
Eli nodded. “And what’s the bad news?”
“This.” Hank brought up another image, this one taken from across the street. “See the guy next to him? He’s a congressman from New York’s ninth district. And he has his own security. They have him covered with two separate SUV’s—one ahead and one behind.”
Eli pinched his eyes shut. “Is he working with them? With Katharos?”
“That’s the problem. The FBI and NSA haven’t been able to figure that out, and local law enforcement won’t make a move until we can say for sure.”
“And Lukas will probably have men in the laboratory. Which means we might have friendlies mixed with hostiles.” He set his hands on his hips and paced the room for several seconds then shook his head. “We’ll make it work. Jarrod should be able to sort them out. Eli clapped Hank on the back. “Good work. I’ll let Eugene know what we’re walking into. Feel free to contact me personally if something changes.”
The young man smiled and gave a thumbs-up. “Will do.”
Eli glanced at his watch as he left the Operations Center. By now, the helo should be ready for takeoff, and Eugene would be waiting for him above ground.
He hurried to the elevator, jostling with his gear as he finished buttoning his shirt. When the door opened, he was surprised to see Jarrod, Eugene, and Yuri clustered together.
“Going up?” Eugene asked.
“Yeah.” He shouldered his way into the elevator. “I thought you would be on the bird already.”
“Got held up,” Eugene replied, pointing a thumb at Jarrod. “This guy needed a shower. Badly.”
“What did the FNG want?” Yuri asked.
“Hank had an important SITREP to pass along. Apparently, we have confirmation that Lukas is in New York. But he has a congressman riding shotgun.”
“Hell,” Eugene said, shaking his head. “That’s just what we need. Are you sure he isn’t a hostage?”
“Not in the usual sense. He has his bodyguards with him, so he’s probably not being held at gunpoint. But we have no way of knowing if he’s being duped or coerced, or if he really is supporting Katharos.”
Eugene exhaled sharply. “Jarrod, I’ll need you to be our point man. Figure out who’s not a friendly and mark them so we know who’s who.”
“How should I mark them?”
“You can start by punching them in the face, or maybe breaking their kneecaps. Just don’t threaten the congressman. Even if he is dirty, his guards probably aren’t. But they’ll attack if they think their client is in danger.”
“I understand.”
The elevator reached ground level, and the team left the secure room at the center of the building. They jogged along the brightly-colored hallways of the main facility until they reached a service stairwell and climbed to the roof.
Eli grabbed the door and held it open for his teammates. A sharp wind gusted into the stairwell—the helicopter was already spinning up on the nearby helipad—and Eugene raised a leg to step through the door
Jarrod grabbed the team leader by his shoulder and held him back. “Wait.”
Eugene stopped short and let Jarrod go by. “What is it?”
“She’s out there,” he said, tilting his head back and sniffing the air.
“Who? Janson?” Eli asked, gripping the door tighter.
Jarrod started to nod, and then his head rocked back. A spray of silvery-red blood erupted into the stairwell, covering the operatives. Jarrod staggered back, and his armored body hit the ground.
33
Janson took shallow breaths, not wanting to give away her position. She had been in her hide-site, beneath a painter’s blanket on a rooftop adjacent to Hillcrest, for nearly fourteen hours. But when the aircrew began prepping the helicopter, she knew her wait was about to pay off. From her position, she could see into the Hillcrest parking lot, but if the team emerged in the armored vehicles, she wouldn’t have a clean shot at Jarrod. She would have to disable the vehicle and hope to land a shot when he emerged. The odds of hitting her target dropped exponentially when he knew she was there.
But it seemed luck was with her. If the team left the building in a helicopter, they would have to expose themselves to travel between the service door and the helipad. She would be able to identify Jarrod and land a kill-shot before he even knew she was watching.
The helicopter’s rotors began to spin, and she swallowed. If they were moving fast enough, the rotor wash would throw off the bullet trajectory. At a distance of seventy-five yards, it might change the point of impact by a few inches. Not enough to make her miss entirely, but enough to make a headshot risky.
The rotors spun faster and faster, and still the service door didn’t budge. She forced herself to blink and dropped the tip of her finger into the trigger well. Any second now…
Suddenly, a dark seam appeared around the edge of the door. Her eyes instantly adjusted, and she peered into the dark stairwell.
The team was huddled together, and Eugene was the first to step into the light. Then something stopped him.
She frowned. There was no way the team leader could have seen her. She was positive she had avoided the cameras surrounding Hillcrest, and no one knew her intentions but Wagner.
Seconds later, a burly figure stepped past Eugene. It was that thing. The creature that had taken Clint away from her.
A pit formed in her stomach as the beast threw its head back and tasted the air. Was it possible th
at it knew she was here?
There was no time to wonder. She leveled the reticle on its chest—an easy shot from this distance. But the burning need for revenge rose up within her; she adjusted her aim at the last moment and pulled the trigger. The rifle bucked against her shoulder, sending the experimental metamaterial round streaking toward her target. She didn’t blink, and she watched the round knock the thing’s head back before impacting the edge of the building.
The beast stumbled for a moment before falling flat onto its back. In an instant, she leveled the reticle on its chest, but her finger hesitated, barely touching the trigger. He was dead, wasn’t he? Was it wrong to mutilate his body, after everything he had taken from her?
Not he, it, she reminded herself. But before she could fire again, Eugene threw himself onto Jarrod’s body, acting as a human shield.
Janson cursed under her breath and threw the painter’s blanket aside. Holding her rifle close, she jumped off the edge of the building, dropping thirty feet to the street below.
Eugene winced, shrugging his shoulders up to his ears. He couldn’t be certain that Janson wouldn’t keep shooting with him in the way, but he hoped she wouldn’t.
A few seconds passed, and Eugene relaxed a little. “Stay with me, Jarrod,” he said, thumping him on the chest. He examined the wound and let out a sigh of relief.
The bullet had passed through Jarrod’s cheek, just below his eyes. It had punched straight through and left a nasty exit wound, but it wasn’t fatal.
“Get back inside,” Eugene said. “We’ll handle Janson.”
Jarrod blinked and shook his head. The bullet had damaged his mouth so badly that he couldn’t speak. Pushing Eugene aside, he rolled forward and stood. Black tendrils crept up his neck and enveloped his head, and he stood with his arms spread wide, shielding his teammates.
“Get behind cover,” Eugene barked. “That’s an order.”
Jarrod glanced back at the team leader then toward the edge of the building. He hesitated and, at last, turned around.
“Holy crap. He does know how to follow orders.” Eugene waved him on. “Shake the lead out, soldier.”
But before Jarrod could take a second step, he stopped short.
A flash of movement at the far end of the rooftop caught Eugene’s attention, and he realized what had given Jarrod pause.
Janson landed on the roof, halfway between them and the helipad. She raised her rifle—one of the next-gen variants that should have been in the armory—and shouted for Jarrod to stop.
The beast turned slowly, its arms up in apparent surrender. But she wouldn’t allow herself to trust the creature. Not for a single millisecond.
“Janson, you don’t have to do this,” Eugene said. He took a tiny step, moving at an angle that would put him between her and Jarrod.
She adjusted her aim and squeezed the trigger, sending a round through the roof an inch away from his left foot. “Move again, and the next one takes off your big toe.”
Eugene fixed her in an icy stare. “Janson, you’re holding up an important mission right now. Probably the most important mission we’ve ever had.” He jerked his head toward the creature. “And we need him to pull it off.”
“And I’m supposed to trust you after you chose his side over mine?”
“I’m not making this up. Put the gun down, and we can talk this—”
Before he could finish, she moved the rifle barrel and pulled the trigger. The round whizzed past the beast’s ribcage, missing him by inches. She fired again and again, and each time the creature anticipated her point of aim, dodging left and right a fraction of a second before she fired.
The edges of her vision closed in, forming a tunnel of blackness. At this distance, one of her rounds would eventually find its mark. It was only a matter of time—and concentration.
The creature danced about in jerky, unpredictable movements, trying to flee, but her shots boxed it in. The passage of time seemed to slow, and the black tunnel closed in around her target. She squeezed the trigger, sending an electronic signal through the next-generation rifle. The firing pin struck the titanium casing, triggering a small explosion that propelled the metamaterial bullet forward at three times the speed of sound. The round hit its mark, puncturing the beast’s abdomen and spraying blood into the air behind it.
Somewhere beyond the spotlight, in another world—a meaningless, trivial world—Eli shouted at her. His voice was strained and pitiful as he begged her to stop.
She shut him out; even the briefest hesitation might mean failure. The tunnel closed in completely, enveloping the world in blackness, and the creature was in the center, lit up as if by a spotlight.
She squeezed the trigger again, and the creature was powerless to avoid the oncoming projectile. It cut a neat hole through his right leg, and the round that followed punctured the beast’s pelvis.
Two more rounds shot through the beast’s chest, and it collapsed, landing on its side. She lowered her rifle and strode forward, walking heel-to-toe.
The creature rolled onto its stomach and tried to pull itself forward—back to its friends, the men who had betrayed her.
“There’s nowhere to run.” She raised her boot and stomped on the beast’s right knee. “They can’t save you. Not now.”
The beast let out a rasping sound, dug its claws into the roof, and slid forward several inches, leaving a trail of dark blood behind.
Janson’s voice rose in pitch and volume. “It’s over! You’re finally going to pay for what you’ve done.”
Another rasping sound. It was trying to speak.
She aimed the rifle, pumped six more rounds into its back, then pinned a boot against its tailbone and leaned in. “What did you say?”
“Eee…” It inhaled sharply and tried again. Eee—liii.”
Reality washed over her like a torrent breaching a dam. The blue sky, the thrumming helicopter, the artificial breeze, and the coppery scent of blood assaulted her senses. She whipped her head left and right, taking in the scene around her. The roof was dotted with holes where there once had been none, and Eugene and Yuri were kneeling in a pool of bright red blood.
She dropped the rifle. All her strength suddenly vanished, and she staggered forward on shaky legs.
Eugene saw her coming and stood. He marched forward, closing the distance in three wide steps, then he shoved hard against her chest. “Look what you’ve done!” he roared. “Look what you’ve done!”
Janson barely felt his blows. She lashed out with one hand, knocking him to the ground, and moved to Yuri’s side.
The medic was kneeling over Eli, holding the operative’s hands in his own.
“Wh—what happened?” Janson murmured, dropping to her knees.
Yuri didn’t answer. He rested his forehead against Eli’s and whispered. “It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”
Janson glanced at Eli’s chest. There were two wide bloodstains on his shirt, and they grew wider and darker by the second, despite the hemostatic agent Yuri had poured into the wounds.
“Is he…going to make it?”
Yuri clenched his jaw and gave a tight shake of his head.
Eli’s face had lost its color, and his eyes fluttered on the edge of consciousness, but he managed to pull one hand free of Yuri’s grip and reach out to her.
She took his hand and held it close. Tears rolled down her cheeks and onto his chest, mingling with his blood.
“I…don’t…blame you.” He closed his eyes for a moment and gathered his strength.
“Eli, don’t do this.” The tears made it hard for her to see, and she blinked them away. “Don’t go.”
“You aren’t…you.” He shook his head. “But you can be…again. I pray to God…you will be again.”
His eyes rolled back, and he rested his head in Yuri’s lap.
“Eli!” She ran the back of her hand along his cheek. “Eli, I’m so sorry. Please, forgive me.”
A slow breath passed through his li
ps; his chest sank and didn’t rise again.
“Eli!” Her voice was high, desperate. “Please, tell me you forgive me!”
The steady pulsing of blood into his shirt and onto the roof suddenly stopped, and Eli’s body went limp.
“No,” she said, shaking her head. “No, no, no, no. He can’t be gone.” She glanced wildly at Yuri. “There has to be something we can do!”
Yuri looked like he wanted to rip her throat out, but he didn’t take his hands off Eli. “You’ve done enough.”
Suddenly, Janson became aware of the lifeless hand in her grip. She dropped it and shot to her feet, shaking her head. This isn’t real, she told herself. It’s just a nightmare—just a bad dream, nothing more. She backed away, and her head kept shaking uncontrollably.
“No,” she whispered. “It can’t be. I—I can’t…”
The world grew dark once more, leaving behind a single swath of light. It was a path, leading away from Hillcrest. Away from the pain.
Turning, she broke into a run. Leaping from the edge of the building, she landed in the street and continued on. She sprinted as fast as her legs would carry her, dodging pedestrians and leaping over cars—hoping to leave the woman she had become far behind.
34
New York, New York
Lukas Woodfall, Benjamin Tenley, and Congressman Harold Costa approached the main entrance to the Brown Building, flanked by the Congressman’s team of bodyguards. The President of the University and the Dean of the School of Medicine met them at the door and exchanged an overabundance of greetings. Lukas nodded and said his salutations in a soft voice. He no longer wore a hood over his head, so he kept his gaze downcast.
Heir to the Nightmare Page 18
