by Keri Arthur
“Setup? No.” Gabriel hesitated slightly. “But is that one of its goals? Yes. We need to uncover who is behind Wetherton, and stop this whole clone replacement business before it goes any further up the government ladder.”
“Meaning Wetherton’s bait, and so am I. So what? No matter what the dangers, it’s sure as hell better than spending the rest of my life in this broom closet.” She watched the impact of her words hit him, watched the regret and annoyance flit through his expression, then added, “And I’ll be careful. Anything else, Assistant Director?”
He hesitated again, then shook his head. “Keep in touch,” he said softly.
A hint of regret was in his eyes and she steeled herself against it. She’d tried hard enough. Now it was his turn. “Why? I thought it was your life’s ambition to get rid of me.”
“I never said I wanted you out of my life.”
But he’d never said he wanted her in it, either. He had never truly thrust out the hand of friendship. Everything she knew about him she’d learned during the course of their work. And he’d never attempted to extend the boundaries of their working relationship, despite the fact that there was obviously some sort of attraction between them.
Whether that attraction would have led to anything more than a night or two in the sack was anyone’s guess. If she were the betting type, she would have said yes. But it takes two to tango, and Gabriel was having no part of it.
“Why do you think it’s safer to have me as a friend than as a partner?” she asked. “I know you’ve lost partners, but you’ve also lost a sister and, I believe, a brother. Not being your partner is no protection from death. Not when you, the SIU and the Federation pursue the type of characters for whom dispensing death comes as easily as breathing.”
He stared at her. His face held no emotion, and yet she could sense his unease as clearly as if it were her own. He didn’t want to examine his reasoning, didn’t want to look closely at his feelings. If he had shut himself off from his twin brother, what made her think she had a hope of cracking his reserve?
She waved a hand before he could answer her question. “Forget it, Gabriel. Call me sometime and we’ll go out for coffee or something.”
“I will.” He stared at her a moment longer, his gaze searching her face, as if memorizing her features. Then he turned and walked away.
She picked up the folder and shoved it into her bag. Then she opened her desk drawer, grabbing the few personal items she’d left in there: perfume, the pin Joe had given her, a hairbrush and several scrunchies.
Then she stood and grabbed the coat from the back of her chair. But on the verge of leaving, she hesitated. As much as she’d hated what the broom closet had represented, at least it had been hers—somewhere she could escape to and be safe. A place few people knew existed or could be bothered finding. Whatever happened after the Wetherton assignment, she knew she wouldn’t be coming back here. One way or another, her life was about to change.
Whether it was for the good or the bad, she wasn’t entirely sure. And right at this moment, she didn’t really care. Any sort of change had to be better than stagnating—which was precisely what she’d spent the last few years doing. She’d let Jack take over her life to the extent that she had no life beyond the force. And, in some ways, she’d started to make the same mistake again with the SIU and with Gabriel.
“No more,” she vowed to the emptiness. From now on, she would try to follow her own course, no matter what.
Grabbing her bag, she turned and headed down to the labs.
—
Gabriel climbed out of the car and slammed the door shut. The headquarters of the Pegasus Foundation was on a huge strip of barren land out in the middle of goddamn nowhere. The main building was square-shaped, draped in black glass that seemed to suck in the light and cast thick shadows over the parking lot and the nearby limp-looking garden.
He took off his sunglasses and looked upward, squinting slightly against the bright sunlight. The building was six stories high, and even from where he stood he could see the radar dishes, antennas and various other bits of apparatus bristling from the roof. But he also caught sight of something else—security, armed with guns. And the uniforms those men were wearing looked a hell of a lot like military uniforms.
Once again, the same question arose. If the military was this involved with Pegasus, then why bring in the SIU? It didn’t make sense.
They were clearly being played—but to what ends? Well, he’d never find out by standing here. He rubbed the back of his neck and headed across the parking lot toward two black-glass front doors.
Behind him, the passenger door slammed and footsteps echoed, and Gabriel found himself clenching his fists. He slowly flexed them in an effort to relax. An hour in Illie’s company and he was ready to punch the man. Not the best of beginnings.
The glass doors opened. He headed across to security and flashed his badge. “We’ve an appointment with Director Douglass.”
The security officer nodded. “Take the second elevator down to level five. Someone will meet you in the foyer and take you to the director’s office.”
“Thanks.” Gabriel continued on. His new partner followed quietly. Maybe he’d finally caught on to the fact that silence got him more than an endless stream of chatter did.
As Gabriel punched the elevator call button, Illie stopped and cleared his throat. “Have you seen the recent photos of the director? She’s quite the babe.”
Then again, maybe Illie was silent only because he’d temporarily run out of inane things to say. “We’re not here to assess the director’s hotness rating.”
Illie’s responding grin was pure cheese. “Hell, man, it doesn’t hurt to look, does it?”
“I’d prefer it if you concentrated on the matter at hand, not on adding another notch to your belt,” Gabriel said severely. He stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for sublevel five.
Illie’s gray eyes narrowed slightly. “That would be easier if I knew why the hell we were here.”
Gabriel shrugged. “If you’ve read the file, you know as much as I do.”
“Nothing like sending agents out blind,” Illie muttered. “Though it’s no wonder this place got robbed. Security didn’t even bother checking us for weapons.”
Gabriel smiled. Despite his years in the State Police, Illie had a lot to learn. “They didn’t have to. Did you notice the black globe in the ceiling?”
Illie frowned. “Yeah. Camera, wasn’t it?”
“No, it’s a device that renders energy weapons ineffective. There were also metal detectors on either side of the entrance, so if we’d been carrying standard weapons, the guard would have known.”
“I didn’t see any metal detectors.”
“You wouldn’t; they’re built into the frame. The only giveaway is a faint red beam.” Something human sight rarely picked up.
“Damn,” Illie commented. “Must have missed that session of training.”
According to his file, Illie hadn’t missed any—but that didn’t mean he was actually paying attention. “O’Donnell was your instructor, wasn’t she?”
A slow smile stretched Illie’s mouth. “Yeah.”
Which accounted for the lack of memory. O’Donnell was a pretty blonde in her mid-thirties, and decidedly single.
The elevator doors slid open and the waiting guard led them down a sterile white corridor.
They passed through two more security stations before the whiteness began to bleed away, replaced by muted greens and blues.
Kathryn Douglass turned from the window when they were ushered into her office. She was a tall, slender woman with silver-flecked brown hair and alabaster skin. Her age was hard to guess. Gabriel thought mid-fifties, but he wouldn’t have been surprised if she was older. Either way, she was striking.
“Assistant Director Stern,” she said, offering her hand. “Thank you for being so prompt.”
Gabriel clasped her hand. Her touch was firm, almo
st challenging, more like a man’s than a woman’s. “This is my partner, James Illie.”
She ignored Illie’s outstretched hand and waved them toward two well-padded armchairs before sitting down herself. Her gaze was assessing, almost critical.
“I was under the impression that your partner was a woman,” she said.
The back of Gabriel’s neck began to itch. The director’s manner wasn’t what he’d expected from a woman whose company had just suffered a major robbery. No concern, no tension, just an odd sort of watchfulness.
He met her cool, gray gaze. “Then your informant was wrong. Tell us about the break-in.”
The director leaned back in her chair, a slight frown marring her almost perfect features. “One of our research wings was breached last night around two. The destruction was localized to one section of our secure file rooms that houses our more recent project notes and findings.”
“Was all the research in the secure room destroyed?”
“No, because the fire was very localized, and only lasted a few minutes. Fortunately, that project happened to be one I have a keen interest in, and I’d taken a copy of the notes home with me to study the night before.”
“Meaning you don’t use computer filing? You use paper?” Illie said, almost in disbelief.
The director’s smile edged toward condescending. “Computers can be hacked too easily. Most of our top projects are paper-only. This is a high-security center. Until last night, we’d thought it perfectly safe.”
No building or security system was ever impervious. There was always a weak spot somewhere. All you had to do was find it. “So you had no idea this building had been breached until the culprit set fire to your files?”
“None at all. It’s most vexing.”
She didn’t sound particularly vexed. “What was destroyed?”
She hesitated. “The lab is involved in the development of a light-and-matter shield for the military.”
“Then why call us in? Wouldn’t it have been more appropriate to call in the military?”
“We did. But whoever broke into the lab first managed to get past five security stations and three laser alarms, and they were never picked up by the cameras. Clearly they were in some nonhuman form—and maybe in no form at all—and that is more SIU territory than the military’s.”
But not if what they’d learned about Hopeworth over the last month was true. “Who recommended that you call me?”
Illie gave him a sharp glance. Obviously he hadn’t known they’d been requested.
“General Frank Lloyd. He said he’d had some dealings with your partner.” She hesitated, her gaze shifting to Illie. “I’m sure he said your partner was female.”
“Does it really matter what sex my partner is?” Gabriel said, unable to keep the slight edge of annoyance from his tone. This was looking more and more like a setup. But why?
The director raised an eyebrow. “No, I suppose it doesn’t. Do you wish to see the lab?”
“If you want us to actually solve the crime, then yes, that would be a good idea.”
A small smile stretched her too-perfect lips, but there was little amusement in her cold gray eyes. She reached to her left and pressed a button on the intercom. “Security will escort you there. Please feel free to come back if you have any further questions.”
Gabriel rose. “We will need to see the security tapes from last night.”
“Of course. They’ll be available by the time you finish in the lab.”
“And we will need to question the guards who were on last night.”
She nodded. “They’re off duty, but a list of names and addresses will be provided.”
This whole situation just wasn’t sitting right. This was a top-secret facility, one with tight military ties. No matter how seriously they wanted the crime solved, the director was being entirely too helpful.
No, whatever they wanted, it had something to do with Sam, not with solving this crime. But why was Sam so important to them?
“We’ll see you afterward, then,” Gabriel said, and followed Illie from the room.
As promised, a second security guard waited for them beyond the office doors. He led them back into the antiseptic white corridors and down a series of ramps.
Gabriel glanced at the ceiling. Cameras tracked their movements, but as far as he could tell, there were no voice recorders attached.
“Opinion?” he said softly. As an empath, Illie was able to read and define emotions to such a degree that he could practically tell what a person was thinking.
Illie cast a wary look at the security officer in front of them, then met Gabriel’s gaze. “That woman was lying through her back teeth,” he muttered. “She has another agenda entirely.”
That much he’d already guessed. “Did any particular statement stand out?”
Illie frowned. “Yeah. The bit about it not being important whether your partner was male or female.”
Because they wanted Sam, not Illie. But why? What had they intended to do once they’d gotten her here? Not even the military could think they could kidnap an SIU agent and get away with it.
“Who was your partner before me?” Illie asked.
“She’s not important right now.” But even as he said the words, he knew it for a lie. Sam was important.
But he’d been through hell once with the death of Andrea, who’d been not only his childhood sweetheart but both his lover and his partner, and that, more than anything, strengthened his resolve to remain alone whenever it started slipping.
He blew out a breath and added, “Did you detect any lies when Douglass spoke about the break-in?”
“No, that much was true.” Illie studied him thoughtfully. “You have unresolved issues with your former partner, haven’t you?”
“I told you, it’s not important.” And certainly it wasn’t anything he intended to discuss with a man who’d been his partner for precisely an hour and a half.
Illie raised a skeptical eyebrow, but amusement danced in his eyes. “Maybe I’ll have to get a second opinion on that.”
Gabriel found himself clenching his fist again. “Let sleeping dogs lie, Illie.”
The younger man studied him a minute longer, then smiled slightly. Surprisingly, he made no further comment. Though, as an empath, he would know when to push—and when to stop.
They continued on. The white corridor seemed to stretch on without end. The itch at the back of Gabriel’s neck grew.
He tapped the security officer on the shoulder. “Where the hell is this lab? Siberia?”
The man shrugged. “It’s one of the outer labs. We’re accessing it through the underground tunnel system.”
They finally approached another doorway. The guard swept his pass card through the slot and the metal door slid aside to reveal a pale green corridor. Several doors led off it, though they were all currently closed. Windows lined one wall, and through them they could see several white-coated technicians going about their business.
The guard continued on, but Illie nudged Gabriel’s arm and pointed toward the lab. “They seem okay to you?”
Gabriel watched a scientist measure some clear liquid into a vial. “I suppose so. Why?”
Illie’s frown deepened. “Because I’m not getting any readings from them. It’s as if they’re emotionally nonexistent.”
“Might distance be a factor? The walls look fairly thick here in the labs.”
Illie shook his head. “It shouldn’t matter when I’m this close.”
“Maybe the labs are psi nullified?”
“Then I wouldn’t be able to read you, would I? Or the guard.”
True. So what was going on? “Can you feel anything else about them? Anything odd?”
Illie hesitated, his expression thoughtful. “No, but look at them. It’s almost like they’re on automatic—as if they’re doing nothing more than following a set list of instructions.”
“Which they could well be if they’re perform
ing a specific experiment.” Even so, as Gabriel stared at the five men, he couldn’t help noticing that they all seemed to be doing the exact same thing.
“I know,” Illie muttered. “But it just doesn’t feel right. They don’t feel right.”
The guard stopped and punched several numbers on a keypad to the right of a doorway. The door slid open.
“This is the lab, gentlemen. I’ll be out here if you need anything.”
Illie stepped past the guard and Gabriel followed. The lab was narrow but long, all white walls and gleaming metal benches. The far end was lined with a map and upright cabinets, and nearby were several tables strewn with papers and folders—none of which had been so much as scorched. The only things that had been burned were two cabinets to the far right of the tables, and these were little more than melted blobs. A fire fierce enough to do that should have destroyed the rest of the lab, let alone the nearby cabinets and scattered paperwork. But they weren’t even scorched.
“None of this makes sense.” Illie walked down the aisle between the rows of tables, his footsteps echoing in the cold silence. “If our thieves could get into this lab unseen, why just destroy only a couple of cabinets? Why not destroy the lot?”
“Maybe they wanted to destroy something very specific.”
“Maybe.” Illie stopped beside one of the tables. “Yet the alarms went off the minute the fire was set, so how the hell did they escape? I get the feeling there’s only one entrance to this place.”
“One entrance, but perhaps more than one exit.” Gabriel bent to study the melted remains of what looked like a lock—probably from one of the cabinets. It appeared to have been made of tungsten metal, which was yet another pointer as to how hot the fire had been. And that had to mean it was no ordinary fire.
“I’ll tell you one thing—some of these projects weren’t new, if these plans are anything to go by.”
Gabriel glanced up. Illie leaned against the table, studying the papers strewn there. “Why do you say that?”
