GhostWalkers 4 - Conspiracy Game

by Christine Feehan

  And right at this moment, Ken, you’re protecting what I hold most dear. I’ll never be able to repay you for what you’ve done this day.

  Shut the hell up, you’re going to make me cry. Ken sent it back with sarcasm, but the truth was, the naked emotion in Jack’s mind was enough to make tears burn behind his eyes.

  As Briony came up on what appeared to be a giant tangle of blackberry bushes, it suddenly occurred to her that Ken wasn’t comfortable around others any more than Jack was, but for his brother’s sake he pushed himself to deal with the everyday things in life.

  She sent him a brief smile. “You drag him to the bar just to keep him civil, don’t you?”

  “He’d live in a cave if I didn’t,” Ken said. And you would too, including his brother in the conversation.

  She studied his face. “So would you.”

  He flashed a faint grin, but it never reached his eyes, and faded immediately. “I’m not all that different from Jack. I’ve got my father in me too. I know Jack told you about him. We both have to live with what we might become given the right circumstances, and we both work hard at avoiding any situation that could bring him out in us.”

  “He isn’t in you, Ken.”

  “Yes he is. I feel him there, crouched like a monster just waiting for me to let him out. Jack may have been the one to kill him, but I would have done it had I been able to. I attacked him with the bat when he was beating my mother’s dead body. He took it away and broke my arms.”

  “It was self-defense. We all have a right to protect ourselves. I don’t see how either of you can possibly equate who you are with that man. Both of you have been nothing but kind to me, protective of me.”

  “Jack is quite capable of violence, and so am I.”

  She shook her head. “That’s not exactly a news flash, Ken. I am too. Most people are, given the right circumstances. Both of you have a much skewed view of who you really are. I’d take either of you over most people any day of the week.”

  “That’s only because we’re saving your butt right now, not bossing you around.” He handed her a pair of gloves. “Put those on, they’ll help.”

  “Thanks. You know, Ken, men can’t boss women unless we let them. I let Jack take the lead because I want to learn from him. He knows how to survive, and he can teach me, and that will help me keep the children safe, but trust me, I’ve always been the type to do pretty much what I wanted to do and damn the consequences. My brothers were always lulled into a false sense of security because I went along with most of what they wanted. If something isn’t that important to me one way or the other”—she shrugged—“if it’s important to the other person, why not let them have their way?”

  “Is that why you were performing in public when it caused you pain?”

  “No, silly, I did that because I love my family. Do you go to the grocery store and deal with the woodshops when you’d rather pull out your fingernails one by one?”

  “Point taken.”

  Briony caught the edges of two strands of thick tangled vines looping toward her and dragged them to her right. “I’ve never been fond of berry bushes.”

  “Making an opening can be particularly uncomfortable if a bear happens to be having a little snack.”

  “Thanks for the warning.”

  “I did offer to be manly and go out first.”

  “Yes, you did. Thankfully I don’t smell a bear close by, although I think your brother is coming up behind us fast.”

  You must stink. Briony can smell you already, Ken informed his brother.

  Pure aphrodisiac, Jack sent back.

  Jack slithered through the tunnel at top speed, wanting to get back to Briony. He’d felt such a burst of love—of pride and admiration—when she’d made the decision to trust him with her life. He’d felt humbled by her faith in him, by the love he saw in her eyes right before she turned and ran into an open field filled with smoke.

  He needed to get to her to clean the laceration in her side. The last thing she needed was an infection, and with the wound open she could easily get one. Mostly he wanted to find a place to take shelter and let her rest. He had told her the babies would be fine, but he wasn’t so certain. He hadn’t had a chance to read the entire book on pregnancy, and he was worried.

  Briony parted the brambles and stepped out cautiously. Black smoke drifted by and curled around the tops of bushes and scrub trees. Ken moved up in front of her, his gun ready, eyes quartering the area around them with methodical patience. Behind them, Jack did the same thing.

  “Follow Ken, baby. He’ll lead you through the brush. Not too far from here we’ve got a small camp set up. You can rest there until nightfall.”

  “You don’t think they’ll come after us?”

  “That’s the idea. They’ll think we’re trapped here, and sooner or later they’ll make their move.”

  “I need to find Luther, Jack. He can lead us back to Mari.”

  “You’re absolutely certain you have a sister? Whitney might be just as capable of planting memories as taking them away.”

  Briony reached for him, mind to mind, trying to make him feel what she felt—the emptiness, the joy of discovery, the sound of two voices mingling together. Jack and Ken had used telepathy—so had Briony and Mari.

  “Try it. Try now,” Jack suggested. He took her arm as they walked into a shallow stream. “The rocks are brutal, here, Briony. Watch your step.”

  Briony concentrated on remembering her sister—how it felt to be with her, to see her and interact with her, to be close to her. She felt the rocks sharp and slippery beneath her feet and the cold water seeping into her shoes, but her mind was already stretching, reaching for Mari. Where are you? I can’t find you. Do you know me—remember me? Mari. Answer me.

  Silence. Emptiness. Briony pressed a hand to her aching heart. “I can’t reach her, Jack.”

  “Then we know she isn’t somewhere close by,” he answered.

  His usual calm steadied her. “She’s probably here in the States, though, right?”

  “It won’t be hard to trace Luther. If he flew in or out of the country at any point, we should be able to find a starting point. If he attacked you in Italy, he had to fly home and report to someone.”

  “I don’t think Whitney is in the States. I would get sick and Mom would call a number and Dr. Sparks would be there in a day. Sometimes within hours. Kadan told me Whitney has several private jets able to land at military bases around the world. If he has that kind of clout, he could easily smuggle someone out of one country and into another,” Briony protested. “If these jets are used to bring prisoners from one place to another without the world knowing, Whitney could certainly get Luther in and out of the United States with no problem.” She placed both hands protectively over her stomach. “He could take me out of the country.”

  “Not a chance, little darlin’,” Ken said. “The United States was Whitney’s stomping ground. He has friends in high places, and he certainly uses CIA tactics to run covert operations. He’s embedded deep here, and yes, he may have places overseas, but he’s going to want to stay right where he knows he has help—and that’s the United States.”

  “How can we trust anyone?” Briony asked. “In the file Kadan gave me, there was an entire section on corporations that were fronts, and jets and military bases around the world, and hidden laboratories. You know he’s got to have help. He isn’t alone in this. He’s creating an army of supersoldiers for someone.”

  Jack helped her over a particularly large set of rocks, up onto the embankment. “Don’t sound so scared, Briony. He isn’t going to get you.”

  “He has my sister.”

  “We’ll find her. I’ve got a few friends I trust,” Jack said, glancing at Ken over her head. Is that true anymore? Who can we trust?

  We trust each other and the members of our team—because that’s all we have, Jack. They’re in this with us. If we’re expendable, they’re expendable.

  Ken clea
red his throat. “We’re going on the assumption your sister—if she really exists—wants out. Whitney’s managed to get quite a few men working for him and they appear fanatical. Is it possible she wants to be exactly where she is?”

  “Luther said it wasn’t necessary for the woman to agree. I think Whitney wants to see how far she’ll go to fight him—and how far his supersoldier walking sperm banks will go to keep her.” She touched her cheek. “Luther went from being gentle with me, talking reasonable, to flashes of jealousy and anger. No, I don’t think she wants to be there, Ken. I think she’s being held prisoner and they’re hurting her to get her cooperation. I want to find her.”

  “We’ll find her, Briony,” Jack assured her.

  They followed a faint deer path into a thick grove of trees. The branches overhead intertwined to form a thick canopy, providing shade and a refuge against the helicopter searching methodically above them. Jack went directly over to several thick ferns and pushed the leaves back, feeling along the ground until he found a rope.

  The trapdoor opened to reveal a pit wide enough to accommodate supplies. He pulled out a heavy crate and set it to one side. Beneath it was a second one.

  “Good grief. Are you planning on staying awhile?”

  “We like comfort,” Ken explained. “All the amenities of home. It’s called being prepared, little sister. Better to stash a few supplies here and there then get caught with your pants down.”

  Jack spread out a groundsheet and tossed a sleeping bag on it, gesturing for Briony to sit down. “Everything but the baby book. Next time, we’ll think to include things like that in all our caches, so if we lose one, we’ll have another.”

  “You’ve got to be kidding.”

  “He’s not,” Ken said. “He’s always got books to read. I’m a music man myself.”

  She sat in the shade watching the two men set up a lethal field around the small camp. They seemed to have thought of everything. They had several small tabs to use should they need warmth, as well as supplies to eat. Mostly, she noticed, they had ammunition, guns, and explosives.

  “Lay back, baby. Let me take care of that wound on your hip,” Jack instructed. He heated up water using one of the field tabs. Crouching beside her, he pushed up her shirt and indicated she shove down her jeans enough to give him room to work.

  “It doesn’t hurt as bad now that we’re not running,” she told him.

  “You’re covered in blood.”

  “I was running. It was bound to bleed a lot. I didn’t stick anything important,” she said. “I was very careful.”

  He removed the blood-soaked gauze and peered closely at the small stitches. “Not a bad job, but a little uneven. You did better on me.”

  “Not a bad job?” She squeaked the words, glaring at him. “I sewed it up myself, thank you very much.”

  Ken burst out laughing. “He said the same thing to me once.”

  Briony winced as Jack cleaned the wound again with the hot water and antiseptic. It burned and stung enough to bring tears to her eyes. “Where were you? How’d you get hurt?”

  “Afghanistan,” Ken said. “There’s a ten-thousand-foot ridge known as the Whale’s Back on the west side of a valley, and on the east the Shah-e-Kot mountains rise above, with the enemy sitting up around ten to twelve thousand feet, using everything from small arms, to mortar and heavy machine guns. The infantry was caught in the valley humping over bare ground with heavy gear and no cover. The enemy had all the advantages, sending heavy fire from very defensible positions, inflicting heavy causalities on the infantrymen.”

  “When you say infantry, aren’t you talking a lot of troops?”

  Ken shrugged. “I think a couple of battalions. They were chasing the resistance into the mountains in an attempt to mop up after the battle. We were sent in to provide additional defense for the troops.”

  “Ow!” Briony slapped at Jack’s hand as he poured liquid over the wound. It burned even worse than the first brew he’d used.

  “Stop being a baby,” Jack murmured. “You sound just like Ken.”

  “I take it the situation got bad,” Briony prompted, gritting her teeth. Her side hurt worse than when she was running. The talk distracted her, and in any case, she liked catching glimpses into their world.

  Jack pressed fresh gauze to the wound. “It went to hell very fast. The two battalions were taking heavy casualties and were pinned down. Six of us went in to try to clear out the enemy and get our men out of there. The enemy had them right where they wanted them.”

  “How did Ken get hurt?”

  “I think he has ADD,” Jack said. “He can’t stay still.”

  Briony laughed, in spite of the fact that he was taping the gauze in place and the wound still burned from the double dose of disinfectant. She knew Ken could remain still for hours.

  “You laugh,” Jack said, “but it’s the truth. We hooked up with the Airborne’s brigade, and the enemy was throwing everything at us but the kitchen sink. We moved up to a better vantage point and began picking them off, but as soon as we got rid of one, another would take his place. The fighting went on so long we were running low on ammunition. We’d cached our gear below and Ken decided he’d just take a little run across the bare valley and up to a ridge about another one hundred meters and collect it for us. You, know, a little stroll through the park.”

  “And you sat up there and protected him while he did it,” Briony guessed.

  “Hell, someone had to. He’s a maniac. He took a grenade launcher with him and made the run back and forth through heavy fire at over eleven thousand feet. The air’s pretty thin, but not only did he drag our gear and ammo back, but he took out a nest of al-Qaeda hidden in a streambed firing mortars at us. Just as he came up over the ridge, I caught the edge of tree cancer just above us and knew a sniper had set up.”

  “What’s tree cancer?”

  “Snipers set up, and sometimes you catch the edge of their blind. It looks like a growth on the trunk, so we refer to it as cancer.”

  “Okay, I get it. So what happened after you spotted him?”

  “I took out the shooter, but he got off a round and nailed Ken.”

  “He failed to mention the only reason I was able to make the run and live was because he took out anyone trying to cap my ass,” Ken said.

  “You do something like that again and I’ll shoot you myself.” Briony caught the rough affection and the fear for his brother swirling in Jack’s mind, but as always his voice was calm and matter-of-fact.

  “I picked up a pretty medal,” Ken pointed out.

  “You nearly picked it up after we buried you.” Jack soaked a cloth in the warm water and pressed it gently to Briony’s face. “Ken insisted on sewing up his wound, although he let me dig the bullet out of him.”

  “Precisely why you weren’t sewing me up, you sadistic bastard. It hurt like hell.”

  Jack threw him a sleeping bag. “It’s going to be a long night. I’ll take first watch while you get some sleep.”

  Briony waited until Ken settled down a few yards from them before touching the tattoo on Jack’s arm. “You, Ken, and Kadan all have the same tattoos. What are they?”

  Jack studied the crest on his arm and the symbol. “Only GhostWalkers wear these tattoos. This is the GhostWalker crest. The globe represents the world, which basically is our hunting ground. We’re responsible for protecting those who can’t protect themselves. The keys signify our various missions, to walk unseen in enemy camps and collect the necessary information, and the knives are, of course, a silent kill. The Latin—nox noctis est nostri—means “the night is ours,” which it is. The GhostWalkers own the night.”

  “And the other one?”

  “The symbols put together have meaning. The triangle signifies shadow; this is the Greek letter for psi; this is protection against evil forces; and the last is the qualities of a knight. So basically the meaning is—shadow knights protect against evil forces using psychic powers, courage, and
honor. We have a creed as well. It means something to us and we live by it.”

  “I like the tattoos, and I think it’s especially cool that you use ink that requires special vision to even see them.”

  “You’re a GhostWalker, Briony. You’re more than entitled to wear them.”

  “Well, I might just get one—after I have the babies.” She frowned. “Why did your team leave you behind in the enemy camp, Jack? You were wounded.”

  “I went in to get Ken out. I told them to leave and I knew they’d come back for me. The GhostWalker team mounted two strikes against Ekabela, but I was moved before they hit the camp, both times. They were planning another attack and would have kept doing so until they either found my body or got me out alive.”

  “You mean Ken would have.”

  “No, I mean all of them would have, orders or not.” He grinned at her. “But Ken would have been leading the pack.”

  She flashed a small answering smile. “I really like your brother. He’s a good man. He worries about it too, you know, about being like your father. He doesn’t like being around people any more than you do.”

  “He’s the best man I know, Briony, and he sure as hell isn’t like our father.”

  “You look at me as if I’m your equal, Jack—your partner. Luther looked at me as I was his possession. You’re nothing like your father, Jack. Nothing at all—and neither is Ken. If we don’t get out of this, I want you to know I’m not sorry for one minute I’ve been able to have with you.”

  He groaned softly. “That’s a hell of thing for you to say with my brother only a few feet away.”

  She laid her head on his shoulder. “It wasn’t meant to be sexual, you nut; I was being emotional.”

  “Just looking at you is sexual, let alone you saying something like that.”

  “Shut the hell up, Jack,” Ken said without opening his eyes. “I feel like I’m at a porn movie. It’s just wrong.”

  Briony laughed. “Are you both really going to go to sleep? Aren’t we surrounded?”

  “Ken is; he should be asleep already,” Jack said. “We’ll take turns. If the troops try to move into the canyon, we’ll know. I’ll just mosey on up to the top of that ridge and discourage them. They’ll most likely wait until nightfall—just like we’re waiting.”