“Were the Twins killed?”
Stern shook his head. “No one knows. There are rumors both ways.”
“And why would we believe this Lebanese guy?”
Stern smiled. “Because he gave us the keys to the kingdom. He showed us the way into the AFGC system.”
The possibilities made Plath’s head spin. Against all odds they had scored a victory. The FBI and Secret Service were frantically chasing down every rumor having to do with the president’s bizarre and shattering suicide. And intelligence services the world over were investigating the Hong Kong incident.
Soon they would find out about BZRK, too.
But they had taken Bug Man out of the game. Burnofsky had been released—a changed man. Vincent was perhaps on his way back…. They walked on in silence for a while.
“There’s an island,” Stern said. “It’s called Île Sainte-Marie and it’s
MICHAEL GRANT off the coast of Madagascar, quite inaccessible, easy to monitor the single small airport, and the local officials can be bought off for a song.” Plath smiled at him. “Beaches?”
“The most beautiful white sand beaches. Mile after mile of them. We could keep you safe there.”
“I know you could. For a while, Mr Stern. But the technology has been created, and if the Twins are still alive …No place would be safe if they take that last step.”
“So.”
She nodded. “I was trapped into this. I’ve seen some terrible things, and I’ve done some terrible things.” She couldn’t remember Burnofsky’s exact words, but these were close. “Lear knew once I was in it would be impossible to get myself back out.”
“But we can get you out, Sadie.”
Plath looked past him, to Keats, who walked at a distance, watching, waiting until she was done, waiting to see whether, in the end, she would run or stand and fight.
And she looked on beyond Keats, to the man who stood under the trees, shadows muting the lilac and green of his clothing, silhouetting his tall hat.
“There is no out,” she said.
She turned abruptly away, then stopped, looked back at him. “One more thing, Mr Stern. You know the phony search for Lear? Make it real. Find him for me. Find Lear.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Author’s Note: There are so many people involved in the writing of a book, and I can’t thank them all. But one name has to be mentioned: Leah Thaxton, my editor for the first BZRK and this one as well. Leah has left Egmont to take on even greater challenges than dealing with certain cranky writers. BZRK wouldn’t exist without Leah. A lot of good books wouldn’t exist without Leah, and because of her ongoing work, many more will be created.
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