Time warped as they crawled. He stopped when he saw Davy, sprawled on his belly, a Ruger 10/22 semiautomatic rifle poised on a rotten log, taking aim. Davy was a crack shot, the best of the brothers. He'd inherited the ice-cold inner stillness that had made their father a legendary sniper. The rest of them had not. They were good shots, but not on Davy's or Dad's level. They waited, all holding their breaths. Three hundred meters or so. The distance was nothing for Davy.
Bam. Half the man's head exploded. Davy barely flinched. Deep in the zone. Kev envied him. He himself was a fucking shattered mess.
Then another belly-to-the-ground slither through bushes and dead leaves and pine needles. Three of the guys in winter camo were crouched behind Aaro's battered, mud-splattered gray van, conferring angrily in whispers. Con popped up and lifted a long tube with two telescopic ends onto his shoulder. It took Kev a few seconds to place it.
Holy shit, that was an AT4. An anti-tank weapon. Those guys were toast. Aaro had some serious shit in his toy box. In fact, Aaro's eyes were wide as he silently gestured at Con to stop, stop, stop--
Kaboom. The vehicle lifted up with strange, aerial grace, bashing down onto its side. Glass, shattering. A column of greasy smoke. Flames licking.
Aaro clapped his hands over his eyes, cursing in some thick Slavic language. "My van," he moaned. "Did he have to kill my van?"
Deathly silence, then nervous muttering. A guy desperately trying to raise someone on the com equipment. He was huddled behind Zia Rosa's Taurus sedan that Tony had driven, talking into a com device. From his desperate tone of voice, he wasn't getting a reply.
Davy had a clear shot. He positioned the rifle, but Kev waved him down. The guy was alone. The tone in his voice, indicated that he wasn't a threat on his own. He'd panic, and bolt.
Sure enough. The guy dove into the trees and fled.
Kev rose to his feet, and started running. It wasn't a decision. He just couldn't wait anymore, no matter who might be shooting at him.
The others came after him, merging with the last path Edie had taken. He saw them from across the meadow, and began to sprint. Two bodies on the ground. A big guy, sprawled on top of a long, slender woman, dark hair spread out in a fan. The wet gleam of blood beneath her. He ran faster, breath jerking, heart thundering, chest burning and cramping with anguish, denial--
That hair. Too straight, too shiny. The hand. Those fingers were longer, olive gold, not the pale pink tint of Edie's. This was Tam.
Kev hurled himself to his knees, and heaved the big guy off her. She'd been shot. In the leg, and the shoulder. It looked bad. Her face was gray, her lips blue, but she as still alive.
The big guy, Tom, was very dead. His eyes were blank, his mouth wide open. His bowels had loosened. He smelled foul.
Davy, Con, Sean, Miles, and Bruno crouched down around her while Aaro circled, gun out, on the lookout. Davy and Sean yanked off their belt pouches, and got going with bandages, tourniquets.
"Jesus, Tam," Davy growled. "What did you do to that poor guy?"
Her lips twitched. She lifted her fingers, fluttered long gold nails at them. "Cat scratch fever," she whispered. "Nerve toxin."
Kev focused on the tiny needle that stuck out from under the nail of her index finger. Her down coat was soaked with blood.
Davy looked up at Sean. "Call Val. Tell him to charter a private plane from Friday Harbor to the Hillsboro airport," he said. "Tell him to hurry."
Sean got on it. Kev stared down into the woman's grayish face. Blood spatters at the corner of her mouth. Jesus. She looked like she was dying. He felt like a user, but he had to know. "Tam." His voice shook. "I know you're hurt, but please. Where did they take Edie?"
Her eyes fluttered open. She dragged in air, face contracting in pain at the effort. "Des Marr," she said. "Car trunk. All I know."
Davy dug into the dead man's pockets and pulled out a wad of car keys. "Take the bastard's rig," he said. "He doesn't need it anymore."
"To where?" Kev snarled. "In which fucking direction?"
Davy's lips twitched in a short, grim smile. "She's got my cell phone, little brother. At least, I hope she still has it."
"Yeah? And so?"
"So you're set." Davy jerked his chin at Miles and Sean. "Con and Aaro will get Tam to the hospital. And the rest of us will show our little brother the wonderful world of X-Ray Specs and SafeGuard beacons."
"We don't have a hand-held," Sean said.
"Call Nick. Have him spot you from Stone Island," Davy said. "He has all our codes."
Sean punched in another number. Started muttering to someone about beacon codes, coordinates. Kev stared at Tam, panting. Blood soaked into the leaves beneath her. The woman had been so strange, so rude to them the night before. But she'd tried to protect Edie. Maybe at the cost of her life. He inclined his head, respectfully. "Thank you."
She nodded. "Edie's tough." Her golden eyes were slitted with pain. "Hang on to her. That's...rare."
"I mean to," he said.
He took off running. Toward the end of the world, probably, but it no longer mattered to him. As long as he could see Edie.
Just one more time, before he went over the brink.
Ava leaned closer to the bathroom mirror, struggling to repair her face into something she could use as a weapon. It was hard, tonight.
She'd slathered on foundation to cover her sickly pallor and spots, but it wasn't the right shade for her skin. Several coats of old, lumpy mascara made her eyes big and kittenish. Lip gloss, and that was it. She left the master crown on, and ran a brush through her hair. Good thing she had the cap, because her hair was wretched. And no time for a shower. Des and Edie would be there in a half an hour.
The blessed event was at hand.
She shoved plastic cuffs up her tight, fitted sleeve. Wadded the flexible slave crown into the waistband of her jeans, which were looser than usual. Stress made her slimmer. More room for the gun. That went into the back. She gave herself a critical once-over.
Lost sex kitten left in the rain. But that look had its uses.
She put an ear to Ronnie's door, heard the thump of headphones. The girl was sulking, listening to her iPod. Ava descended the stairs and peeked into Parrish's study. She spotted it instantly. A silver letter opener in a fine leather case. CWP. Parrish's monogram. She pulled out a scarf she'd gotten from Edie's drawer, wrapped it without touching it.
She slid it into the pocket on the side of her pants. The monogram gave the murder weapon that personal touch that meant so much.
Then she headed down to the security room and peeked in. Big eyed, self-conscious and shy. "Um, excuse me?" she said softly.
Two security guys looked over. The other two were out making the rounds. "Dr. Cheung," the older, senior one said. "Can we help you?"
Paul was his name. She pulled in her lower lip, leaving half to dangle, plump and enticing. Fluttering with the gummy eyelashes, waif-like. "I couldn't sleep," she said. "Have you heard from her?"
"From Edie, you mean?" Paul's lip curled. "Don't count on it."
Paul wouldn't do. Too big, too fat, too old. Robert was more like it. He was fifteen years younger, maybe thirty-five. A big, handsome black man. No wedding ring, she noted. He'd be more believable as Edie's patsy. That poor fool Edie fucked into dazed submission, along with the promise of the moon, and billions of dollars. Yes, Robert was her man.
"There's something I need to show one of you gentlemen," she said timidly. "In Edie's room. Nothing urgent. I don't want to, you know, bother you, or take up your valuable time. But I want someone to see."
"Just tell us what is it that you saw, Dr. Cheung," Paul suggested.
"You have to see it to understand," Ava said. She gave Robert a pleading smile. "Would you...? Please. It'll just take a moment."
"Go check it out, Robert," Paul said grimly. "And hurry back."
Robert walked her out, polite doubt on his face. She pulled him into the kitchen, looked around to make sure they were alone.
"Dr. Cheung?" he said, baffled. "I thought you said--"
"Shhh," she whispered. "Just a moment." She heaved her chest, arching her back. Pressing on her bosom in just such a way as to tug down on the stretchy shirt, and simultaneously shove up her enhanced breasts. "I just...wonder if you'd just take a second to...to..."
Robert looked almost afraid, staring at her tits. "To what?"
She blinked her heavily mascaraed lashes. "Hold me," she blurted. "P-p-please. I feel so lost." She pressed her face to his chest, grabbed his hand, brought it up to her breast with a pleading whimper.
His hand shook. She struggled not to smile. She had him. So easy. They were always so easy, the filthy fucking pigs.
Stab. The needle went into his arm, the plunger came down.
Robert stiffened. His jaw stretched in a taut grimace. Air rasped into laboring lungs. Poor Robert. She was almost sorry for him. So cute.
She got to work with the crown, attaching sensors quickly. Robert's shaved brown head made it easy. She braced him against the wall, confident that his locked knees would hold him upright.
She looked into his staring, white-rimmed eyes. Sweat stood out on his brow. She grabbed a paper towel from the kitchen counter and dabbed it tenderly. Stood on her tiptoes. Gave him a light kiss.
"Showtime," she whispered, and sank in her mental claws.
Surprisingly, after the first shocked resistence, it was an excellent interface. As high as seven, on a scale of one to ten. Granted, she'd given him an enormous dose, but he was also a macho man, probably ex-military, certainly not the usual optimal interface profile. She was pleasantly surprised to find lots of fine muscle control after just a few moments of manipulating him. But with such a high dose, her window of opportunity was tight. She compelled him to pull his gun, staying a few steps behind as he paced back to the security center.
She didn't go inside, having ascertained that there was a security camera in there. Excellent, for her purposes. Very convenient.
Paul turned when he came in, but turned away when he saw who it was, so Ava didn't even have to deal with the iffy proposition of aiming the gun without the X-Cog goggles. She just walked Robert over, compelled him to put the gun to the nape of Paul's neck, and fire.
Paul slumped over the keyboard, a dark hole in the nape of his neck. Blood spewed all over the keyboard and computer monitor.
She forced Robert to shut off the computer that ran the surveillance program on the blood-spattered keyboard. Just in time.
The others came running, having heard the shot. She brought Robert back out into the corridor, and slunk behind the open door of the kitchen to keep eye contact. Surprise and quickness was key, here.
"Robert?" one of them gasped, huffing. "What the fuck was--"
Bam. Bam. Both men fell. She stepped out, watched the arterial blood spread from death wounds in the forehead, throat. Silence. Just the labored sound of Robert's breathing. Evelyn and Tanya were screaming. She had Robert walk into the room where they huddled on the couch. Dr. Katz cowered there, too, begging incoherently.
No one noticed her lurking in the corner behind the door.
Robert trained the gun on them. Ava tried speaking through him.
"Sit down in the chairs," Robert said. His voice was thick and hollow, but comprehensible. What a nice, deep voice he had.
A little gun waving got them twittering and squeaking, rushing to obey. She compelled Robert to cuff them to the chair, hands behind them. They let themselves be trussed, without resistance, begging and squawking. Stupid geese. Already dead, and they just didn't know it yet.
Then Robert was done, and a good thing, too. Robert was played out. A short-termer. She could feel the pressure building up in his eyes. Blood was flooding out his nose already. He was drooling, too. Bloody drool. God, how she hated it when they drooled.
He made it to the entrance hall, thudded to his knees, then fell heavily on his face. She rolled him over with her toe, grimacing as she plucked the slave crown off. She'd make Edie shoot him in the face, to cover up the mess. X-Cog metabolized quickly, but the broken blood vessels would look suspicious to an attentive coroner.
Though she doubted it would occur to anyone to ask questions.
So far, it had gone beautifully. Relatives trussed and sniveling, awaiting their doom. Des and Edie should be arriving right about now.
A chime announced someone at the gate. She giggled as she realized that it fell to her to open the place up. Oops! Of course! Everyone else was dead, dying, or handcuffed to a chair! She found the button to open the gate, and a flash of movement on the stairs caught her eye. The girl's eyes were wide with shock and terror. Fucking brat.
Ava smiled, and aimed. "Don't move, Ronnie."
The constant scream of the motor had eased off. Some ten minutes ago, Edie felt the highway off-ramp, and now, city streets. Traffic lights. An unnatural calm settled into her. She was past the worst. She was trying to keep a clear sense on how much time had passed, the velocities they were going, but she kept zoning out.
We have other plans for you. She shuddered, longing for the Ruger at her ankle, but it was lying on top of Aaro's dresser. Des would have found it when he frisked her anyhow. No tricks up her sleeve now.
The car slowed, idled. Another traffic light? A lurch, and the engine stopped. Her calm evaporated.
She heard the door pop open. Des, walking away. Time passed, interminable, impossible to measure. She counted her heartbeats.
The trunk popped open. Trees towered overhead. Des grinned down at her. He grabbed her by the armpits, yanked her out of the car. She realized where she was. Fear multiplied, tenfold. The Parrish home. Ronnie. Oh, God. They still had the power to crush her heart. Even now.
She sagged. Des grabbed her by the hair, dragging her after himself. "None of that," he growled. "On your feet."
The pistol barrel pressed under the point of her jaw. She'd almost be relieved if he pulled the trigger. Where was everyone?
A woman stood in the front doorway. Small and delicate. Asian. A velvet cap hid her hair. The first impression, from a distance, was that she was beautiful, but as Edie approached, the illusion of beauty faded.
She stared at Edie, black eyes hot with predatory hunger.
"You're Ava Cheung?" Edie asked.
"So happy to meet you at last, Edie," the woman said. "Do you remember me from the Haven?"
Edie shook her head. Ava's lips drew back. "Of course you don't. Why would the lofty princess notice one of the lab rats?"
Edie didn't have any answer to that. "Kev told me about you."
"Did he? By the way, my condolences. I heard he got blown up."
Edie couldn't hide the flinch. "Where is the security staff?"
"Oh. Them." Ava's smile thinned. "You'll see. Come take a look."
Des forced her forward, jabbing with the pistol. She jerked back with a gasp when she saw Robert's long body stretched out on the marble floor. Blood pooled under his head. "Oh, God. Is he..."
"Dead? Not quite, maybe, but he will be soon. We'll just leave him to it. Come on to the dining room, and I'll show you what we've--"
Edie dug in her heels. "I don't want to see."
Smack. Ava slapped her face, hard. "I don't give a shit what you want!" the woman shrieked. "Do as you're told, you stupid bitch!"
"Ava!" Des scolded. "No marks! She's the aggressor, remember?"
Ava waved that away with a hand that was covered with a latex glove. "We can do whatever we want," she said airily. "They'll attribute all that to Larsen. Rough sex, punishment. Maybe they'll think Larsen found out about her dirty affair with Robert, do you suppose?"
"Affair...?" Edie looked back at Robert. "My what with Robert?"
Ava giggled. "Or maybe Larsen himself forced her to seduce Robert. Oh, that's even dirtier. I love it." Edie stared at her, confused. "To persuade him to be your accomplice, of course," Ava explained, impatiently. "To take out the security staff, the cameras and all that."
"No." Edie shook her head, frantically. "No one will believe that."
"You'd be surprised," Ava said. "People are foul and filthy, you know. There's nothing they love more than thinking that other people are even filthier and fouler. Oh, look! Your favorite people! Say hello!"
Edie struggled to focus her eyes in the dim room. The sounds clued her in. Mewling, muffled weeping, squeaks. Aunt Evelyn, Tanya, and Dr. Katz, in bathrobes, pyjamas. Cuffed to the dining room chairs.
"Why?" She turned to Des. "They have nothing to do with this!"
Ava's giggle was shrill. "I gagged them with panties that I found in your drawers. It's those depraved details that make the story work. Oh, while I'm thinking of it." She grabbed Edie's hair, and yanked. Edie gasped. Ava dropped Edie's hairs on the carpet, on Aunt Evelyn's lap, Tanya's slipper, over Dr. Katz's arm. He flinched at her touch.
"Where's Ronnie?" Fear strangled Edie's voice into a squeak.
"All in good time," Ava chided. "First, the costume. You can't slaughter your entire family dressed in that. You look awful, Edie."
Faintness welled up, threatening to pull her down. Ava slapped her face, and bent her double. "No way, bitch. Get your head down. You can't faint. That's not in the script." Ava hauled her back up by the hair, and smacked her again. "Try that again, and you'll be sorry."
A senseless desire to laugh seized her. "I'm already sorry."
Smack. "Sorrier, then. Come on, Des. Get her up the stairs."
"There's no time for costumes," Des groused. "Don't be childish."
"Why not? It's only five forty-six. The next shift of security guys won't be here until eight. We can take a few minutes to dress her. And I'm not being childish. It's called 'attention to detail.' Idiot."
Des sighed, and prodded Edie with the gun. "Whatever."
They didn't stop at Ronnie's room, but pushed right on past to her own. It was topsy-turvy, the drawers tugged out, clothes dangling. Shoes were scattered over the floor, dresses lying everywhere in bright pools of color. Ava picked up one of them. It was pale peach, strapless, with whimsical lacy ties up the front of a tight, fitted bodice, and a full skirt. She swung the thing around, humming. "I like this one," she said, almost dreamily. "A princess dress. Take off your clothes."
Fade to Midnight Page 54
