Divine Justice

by Cheryl Kaye Tardif

  "Let's start here," Ben suggested.

  In less than six seconds Natassia unlocked the door.

  "IHD rocks," she whispered.

  "You rock," he said without thinking.

  Inside, they turned on flashlights and started at opposite sides of the room. Individual desks were divided by tall partitions and filing cabinets.

  "What are we looking for exactly?" Natassia whispered.

  "I'm not sure. But I think we'll know it when we see it."

  At least he hoped so.

  He was tempted to call Jasi again, but he was sure she wouldn't answer. Besides, she was probably back at the hotel, bored out of her skull.

  Boredom was the least of Jasi's worries.

  She stood in Zane's bathroom, trying to control her breathing. Why had she agreed on coming back to his room?

  "Because you're weak," she whispered to her reflection.

  There was a knock on the door.

  "Jasi?" Zane called. "Are you all right, love?"

  No. "I'm fine."

  She mentally kicked herself for not bringing her purse with her. At least then she could have used the excuse of needing to reapply her lipstick.

  She opened the door.

  Zane was leaning against the wall by the door. The sight of him stirred her and she resisted the temptation of stepping into his arms and giving herself to a night of passion.

  He smiled. "What shall we do for the rest of the evening?"

  She thought about Ben and Natassia. She really should call and let them know where she was.

  And if you'll be back tonight.

  "I have to call Ben."

  "Come on, love," Zane said coaxingly. "No more business tonight."

  She strode across the room and pulled her data-com from her purse. She blinked at the display.

  Damn! I must have turned it off without thinking.

  "Sorry, Zane. I have to call Ben."

  Her partner had left three messages. When she heard what he and Natassia had discovered, she gasped.

  "We're almost at Paragon," Ben's recorded message stated. "We're going to do some snooping around first to confirm my suspicions. I'll call you if we find anything."

  Shit!

  Zane moved beside her. "What's wrong, Jasmine?"

  "Ben and Natassia have found something."

  "What?"

  "Call Ben," she said, ignoring his question.

  Five rings later and the voice mail kicked in.

  "I'm on my way, Ben."

  "Jasmine," Zane said, visibly frustrated.

  "I have to go." She stuffed her data-com in her purse and strode toward the door. "I'm really sorry, Zane."

  "Hey, don't worry about me. But tell me, what did Ben find out?"

  She hesitated in the doorway.

  Zane grinned. "Come on, love. One hint."

  Faced with his irresistible charm, she sighed. "Fine, but don't mention this to anyone. There's a connection to Paragon Research Corporation, the company run by Monty Winkler's widow."

  "What kind of connection?"

  "That's all I can say. Ben and Natassia are heading there now, and I'm going to meet them." She gave him a hasty kiss. "I'll call you in the morning."

  "If I don't see you before then," he said seductively.

  As Jasi hurried to meet her partners, she wondered how long Zane would stick around this time. Would he leave her again for the excitement of the Big Apple? Or was he finally ready to settle down?

  One thing was certain. She needed an answer.

  Ben studied the computer monitor in front of him.

  "This is all gibberish to me," he admitted.

  Natassia had hacked into a hidden password-protected folder. There were dozens of files listed.

  "Where do we begin?" he asked.

  "Allow me," Natassia said, opening the files one by one until she came to a locked file labeled ProC. "Double security. This could be what we're looking for."

  Her fingers flew over the keys and the screen went black. Seconds later, she typed in a series of codes, bypassing firewalls until she reached a file with an intriguing name.

  "Project Chrysalis," Natassia hissed.

  "You're a damned magician, Agent Prushenko."

  She stood up, waving a hand at the computer. "Ta da!"

  Ben sat down. Plucking a flash drive from the desk, he plugged it in and copied the file.

  "I thought we weren't taking anything until the warrant comes in," Natassia said in a disapproving tone.

  "I'm not removing it, I'm copying it. It could be gone by tomorrow." He shrugged. "And who says we didn't retrieve it in the morning?"

  "You do realize that techies can find that info in two clicks," she said dryly.

  "Then it's a matter of national security."

  "Wait!" she said. "Scroll back."

  He'd almost missed it. Halfway up the previous page was a familiar design. It matched the logo from the CD they'd discovered in Sampson's home office.

  "Butterflies," he said.

  "Chrysalis," Natassia murmured.

  "This file talks about ghost transmissions and subliminal data inductions, but they make it sound like it's in relation to experimentation on butterflies. Listen to this…"

  "Larva subjects 1 to 26 show indications of conscious submission and receptiveness. This early stage of development is conducive to audible impressions."

  "Suggestion or hypnosis," Natassia murmured.

  "Pupa subjects 1 to 17 show varying degrees of success, with 7, 15 and 16 being the most resistant to direct suggestion or orders. Side note: Pupa 15 and 16 have been exterminated." He eyed Natassia. "I think we know what that means."

  He clicked on the next page. "Greater exposure to audible impressions over a longer duration is warranted, with mandatory follow-up and re-evaluation of all subjects. Testing on Pupa subjects 1 and 2 show unwavering loyalty and easy manipulation, making them the best case subjects for this experimental research. Side note: Pupa 1 and 2 - RELEASED."

  Ben struggled to tamp back his horror. "I think they're building their own private army, and at least two of them are already out in society somewhere with another thirty-nine unaccounted for."

  "So let me get this straight," Natassia said. "Larva subjects are people being conditioned through hypnotism via the CDs, and Pupa subjects are the ones watching subliminal mind control messages on their televisions." She shook her head slowly. "Sounds like something off a sci-fi channel."

  "Yeah, Invasion of the Body Snatchers meets Stepford Wives."

  Scrolling to the end of the page, Ben caught sight of a familiar name. The signature was perfectly legible.

  Beside him, Natassia let out a small gasp.

  "Now we can prove who's responsible," he muttered.

  A loud bang made them jump.

  "Behind that door," Natassia whispered, indicating a door marked Lab 3.

  He nodded and they both drew their guns.

  "You follow," he whispered.

  He reached for the door knob. It turned without making a sound. Slipping into the cavernous lab, he ducked behind a partition and waited for Natassia. She was right behind him. With his gun raised, he crept along the wall, then crouched behind a long counter. He couldn't see a thing. Somewhere up ahead, he heard the sound of something sliding along the floor. He moved along the counter in the direction of the noise.

  A half-open door came into view.

  He signaled Natassia and she moved to the opposite side of the door. A scraping sound covered any sounds they made and they sipped into the room, the only light coming from a closet in the far corner.

  Ben peered from behind a desk. A few yards away, a shadowed form was hunched over a haphazard stack of boxes. The form grabbed something and the sharp scent of gasoline wound its way back to Ben.

  "CFBI!" he called out. "Put the gas can down and keep your hands where I can see them."

  Before Ben could raise his flashlight to identify the face, the shadow darted towa
rd a back door.

  He fired a warning shot. The shadow fired back.

  Damn! I missed.

  However, he hadn't been so lucky. As Natassia moved toward him, a dismayed expression on her face, Ben felt blood trickle down his forehead. His vision clouded and he slumped to the floor.

  It took a phone call to Matthew before the guard at the gate would allow Jasi to pass through. Once on the Shirleys Bay grounds, she steered the car west toward Paragon Research Corporation, which was at the end of the street near the Ottawa River. Moonlight glimmered off the water, and to the west the city's lights were reflected in the mirrored surface.

  She spotted Ben's SUV and parked behind it.

  When she climbed from the car, the first thing that struck her was how quiet and dark it was. There were few outdoor lights, enough to cover the perimeter of the facility, which was surrounded by a fifteen-foot high voltage fence.

  Shirleys Bay was nearly deserted at night, but come tomorrow morning it would be filled with scientists, research assistants and government officials working on top secret assignments.

  She strode down the sidewalk that led to Paragon. It was an impressive brick building that housed Marilyn's company, plus two other research firms. She eyed the building, noting that the rooms beyond the windows remained dark.

  A muffled shot rang out. From inside Paragon.

  Shit! Ben and Natassia are in there, somewhere.

  She quickly sent Matthew a data-com message calling for backup. Then she clipped her data-com to her jacket. She tried calling Ben, but there was no answer. She tried Natassia's 'com and got the same result. She settled for a silent message, hoping they see it even if they were in vibrate mode.

  With her Beretta in hand, she reached the main entrance.

  The door was locked

  Don't think you're gonna stop me.

  She hastily retrieved the IHD from her back pocket. Natassia's expertise in areas of subterfuge was going to come in handy. Now all she had to do was remember how to use the damned thing.

  "Okay, insert the hacker card thingy," she said, trying to remain patient. "Then 911."

  Nothing happened.

  "Shit! 911, then the call button, dummy."

  The light on the IHD turned green and the door opened smoothly. She passed through the waiting area. The door to the main lab was open just a crack. She slipped inside and hid behind a filing cabinet.

  Where the hell are you, Ben?

  Her ears perked at the sound of voices. They were barely audible and she couldn't make out what was being said, but at least she knew they were up ahead somewhere.

  On the wall was a security camera, but the indicator light was off. She frowned. Someone had disengaged the security system.

  You're in the right place.

  A few yards down the hall, a shadow sat on the floor. She couldn't make out who it was, but as she approached, the shadow turned and metal glinted.

  She raised her gun.

  "Jasi?"

  It was Natassia.

  "Are you hurt?"

  "Not me."

  There was a tremor in Natassia's voice that made Jasi hurry to her side. That's when she saw him.

  Ben was stretched out on the floor, his eyes fluttering with pain. On the left side of his temple, an angry red wound sliced through the skin.

  "Hi, Jazz," he said weakly.

  She dropped to her knees beside him.

  "There's no bullet hole," she said after examining the wound. "The bullet grazed you pretty deep."

  The pallor of Ben's face didn't look good. They had to stop the bleeding and get him to a hospital.

  "Look for something to staunch the blood flow," she told Natassia.

  Minutes later, Natassia returned with a package of sterile gauze she'd found in the washroom.

  "You might have a concussion," Jasi said, wrapping Ben's head with the gauze. "We need to get you to a hospital."

  "Have to get the shooter first," he said, breathless.

  "Who shot at you?"

  "Don't know. Too dark."

  "It happened too fast," Natassia said, pulling her aside. "But whoever it is, they're still inside." She quickly told Jasi about the hypnosis CDs and Project Chrysalis.

  "Brainwashing?" Jasi was stunned.

  "Imagine the control someone would have."

  Jasi nodded. "And the power."

  Muffled thumps came from further down the hall.

  "I'm going in," she said, taking a deep breath. "Get Ben out of here while he can still walk."

  "You can't go in there alone!"

  "There's no time for arguing. Get Ben to safety and call the paramedics. I already called for backup. They should be here any minute."

  As she moved down the hall, Jasi flicked a look over her shoulder. Natassia looked like she was ready to cry.

  "Don't you dare die on me, Benjamin Roberts," the woman said, helping their injured partner to his feet.

  Jasi activated the recorder of her data-com and clipped it to her jacket. Then she moved down the hall toward the door that led from the Main Lab to the Satellite Research Room. That's where she'd find the mastermind behind the Parliament Murders.

  She stepped through the doorway, focused on the task at hand. She had to end this, once and for all. Crouching close to the concrete wall, she was careful not to make a sound.

  But her stealth was all in vain.

  "We meet again, Agent McLellan."

  30

  At the far end of the room, Deirdre Dailey paced the floor, tossing CDs, folders and binders into a duffle bag. Ignoring Jasi's presence, she moved quickly, her motions deliberate, the actions of someone who had a plan. If she was going to run, Jasi would have no choice but to stop her.

  "So you finally figured it out," the woman said without turning. "Good for you."

  "The agent you wounded figured it out. Not me."

  "Well, I knew one of you would figure things out. Eventually. I was too careless." She flicked a look over her shoulder, hesitating only a second when she spotted Jasi's weapon. "I apologize that I'm too busy to greet you, but I have to get my things in order."

  Jasi surveyed the room. Two exits. One a few yards from Deirdre, the other the door she'd just come through.

  Does she have a weapon?

  She inched closer to Deirdre. "I need you to turn around and keep your hands where I can see them."

  "Sorry, but that's not going to happen."

  "It's over, Deirdre."

  The woman spun on one heel, her mouth curved into a bright smile, her eyes filled with tears. "Yes, I know that."

  "Put down the bag and step away from the shelves."

  Deirdre went still. "I'm going away, Agent McLellan."

  "Yes, you are."

  "Life behind bars isn't for me."

  "You don't have a choice now."

  "We always have a choice."

  "And you made yours the day you started this," Jasi replied. "It's your legacy. Is this how you want people to think of you? As a murderer?"

  "Well, at least one person knew me and loved me for who I am," Deirdre said, sniffling.

  "Your sister."

  Deirdre sneered. "Marilyn will be more than happy to see me out of her life."

  "I'm sure that's not true. She loves you."

  "Love?" Her laugh bordered on maniacal. "Marilyn hates me. She always has."

  Keep her talking, Jasi.

  "Why do you say that, Deirdre?"

  "Because I tried to ruin Monty's career," the woman whispered. "And because she knew the truth about Daddy's death."

  "What truth?" she asked.

  The woman closed her mouth.

  "What happened with your father, Deirdre?"

  The woman grinned. "I killed him."

  "Your father died in a boating accident."

  Deirdre's eyes gleamed. "Really? An accident?"

  "Your sister said there was an explosion onboard. An engine problem."

  "Bombs aren't that d
ifficult to construct," the woman said. "You can learn how to do just about anything on the Internet. Daddy never thought I was as bright as Marilyn. Well, I showed him."

  Jasi shuddered at the satisfied gleam in the woman's eyes. The situation was critical. She had to get Deirdre to surrender.

  "I wish I'd been there to see the look on his face when he realized that someone had cut the gas line," Deirdre said with a laugh. "And when he found the bomb onboard. Too bad I only gave him ten seconds once he lifted the engine hatch."

  "You thought you'd get your inheritance," Jasi said. "But what you didn't know was that your father had drawn up a new will making your sister the executor of the estate and the one holding the purse strings."

  Deirdre pouted. "Marilyn had everything I ever wanted. Brains, beauty, a respected husband, wealth, power…and Daddy's love. I wanted her and Monty to split up. I thought she'd pay some attention to me, listen to my ideas about Paragon's future, maybe even let me have the money Daddy left me." She looked around the room. "Now she has nothing. Like me. There is justice after all."

  "What I don't understand," Jasi said, "is why you'd concoct a scheme to brainwash a couple of politicians. What have you got against them?"

  "Nothing."

  "What do you mean nothing?"

  Deirdre shrugged. "I had absolutely nothing against those men."

  "There are few motives for this kind of crime. Money―you'll get that from your sister―revenge or love."

  "Yes, I'd do almost anything for love. Wouldn't you?"

  The question caught Jasi off guard.

  "You would murder innocent men for love?"

  "They weren't all that innocent, Agent McLellan. Monty messed around on my sister."

  "What about Porter Sampson? What was his crime?"

  Deirdre gave her a sour look. "Like Monty, he was going to make decisions that would affect everyone, including future generations. Justice needed to be served. Their decisions would have resulted in more deaths, more corruption."

  "What you did was corrupt. Where's the justice in your actions?"

  "Justice is blind. And sometimes plain stupid." She laughed. "You think you're going to cuff me and take me off to prison where I'll wither away and die." Her voice dimmed to a whisper. "I'll die alone."

  "Maybe you should've thought of that before you decided to brainwash government officials into obeying your twisted agenda. What you did will be viewed as a terrorist act. That's quite an accomplishment, Deirdre."