Ellis froze, just for a second, but it was obvious the question caught him off guard. I would have loved to have seen him squirm longer but he caught himself, and smiled, probably wondering how the reporter knew about Emerald Biologic's connection to him.
"Ellis Systemic will be funding the program." That was it.
He turned and answered a softball question from a television reporter about what he liked best about Portland. Everyone laughed at his answer, even the Oregon Journal reporter, who should have been pissed
"Okay, let's go," Keisha whispered in my ear.
My chest tightened. None of these people knew what his companies had been up to.
Those kids in Colombia, with green fuzz growing over them. The teenager who could have been Ava or Ella, walking around like some kind of fucking zombie.
I pushed through the line of reporters, holding Keisha's sketch pad and the digital recorder I'd brought and forgot to turn on.
"Mister Ellis." I waved at him, forced myself to smile. He looked over at me.
I pulled a name out of thin air. "Julie Jackson. I'm a student at Portland State. Can I ask you a few questions for an assignment?"
He was one of those people who didn't just look at you. He looked into you, like he was trying to discover what you really wanted. I lifted my chin, forced myself to be all enthusiastic. I'd rather snarl at him.
He stepped closer, smiling that pearly smile of his again. His styled hair gleamed black in the sunlight. "What's your major?”
"Biology."
He nodded. "Thinking about coming to work for one of my companies when you graduate?"
People around me chuckled, and smiled at him and me. Sickening.
"Maybe." I resisted an urge to slug him. "Why is your subsidiary Emerald Biologic doing experiments in modified life forms in South America?"
The chuckles and laughter stopped.
But Ellis kept his slick smile plastered on his face.
"Modified life forms? That sounds like the stuff of fantasy, Miss Jackson."
"There have been reports of experimental plant forms being seen in Colombia."
The smile continued, but the skin around his eyes tightened. "I assure you Emerald Biologic is not engaged in creating anything like that."
"I heard there were—“ I struggled to find the words, "environmental problems in the rain forest."
He cocked an eyebrow. "Really? If you call research on monitoring and replicating the natural flora of the region a problem, perhaps. But it's not. We’re engaged in helping the environment by collecting data and using that data.” His smile turned condescending, and his voice dropped. “Something for you to keep in mind when you do research—make sure you have all the facts.”
If there had been any earth poking up on the cement where we stood, I’d have created blackberry vines to throttle him with, but there wasn’t. I stood there and fumed, forced myself to keep my arms down and not slug him.
He turned away, took another cake-walk of a question from some TV type, and the two security goons came over to encourage me to get back into the crowd.
I gave them a hard look. The nearest one, a big white guy with a shaved head, flexed his muscles. A quick kick to his crotch would end his confident, in-control expression. We stared at each other for a moment, two bull dogs, then I shrugged, turned, and disappeared back into the crowd.
Keisha met me near the back of the crowd, pulled me close to her.
“What the hell was that?” Her voice was a sharp rasp in my ear.
“Man pissed me off.” My heart pounded. Damn it. I’d been so close to the person, the very person who owned the company responsible for the horror show. I’d done exactly squat about it.
“You could have been busted, then what?” Her mouth was tight. For an instant we stood there, practically nose to nose, glaring at each other, until she shook her head and looked down at her feet. I looked over the heads of the crowd to find Ellis. He must have been answering a question, because applause broke out. Idiots.
“See, they wouldn’t have understood,” Keisha said.
“You think I’m full of shit about wanting to do something about what we found down south?”
She jerked her head up, narrowed her eyes. “Why the hell would you say that?”
“Everyone else thinks so.”
Her laugh was harsh. “Since when do you give a shit about what other people think?”
“Since no one is doing anything about the crap we found.”
She shrugged. “You gotta give them evidence, and you sure as hell aren’t going to be doing it shoving your sorry assed, pissed off face at some zillionaire dude.”
Damn it, Keisha was right.
I laughed. It was pretty freaking funny when she put it that way.
“We just need to find evidence to show them,” she added as we headed back to the Dasher.
A flash of white in the sky. The Hero Council Surveillance blimp was back, cruising off to the north, with Mount St. Helen’s snow-capped peak gleaming white in the sun far beyond the blimp.
We were out of there in the nick of time.
Chapter 12
My chest was vibrating, like a thousand needles were pricking my skin. Static discharge. I jerked awake.
Was Connor going after me again?
The bedroom was dark. I was alone in the room. I listened. The rest of the duplex was quiet. I remembered now. Connor was sleeping out in the living room on the couch. Simon had gone back to his place after checking in.
My chest vibrated again and my fingers brushed the Scourge necklace. Ashula was contacting me. It wasn’t telepathy, more like bone conduction.
Her voice so close, thanks to the bone conduction.
“Mat, I apologize for waking you at this hour, but we need your cell in northern California, Redding, by this evening.”
I tightened my grip, put my other hand against my throat, and whispered a reply. “What are your instructions?” Freaking strange, but it worked. How, I had no idea.
“Go to this address in Redding.” Ashula read me the location, which I memorized.
“No more information at this time?”
“Your contact will have the job information.”
“Then what?” I asked.
“Come back to Portland. You will switch trucks after the job in Redding.”
“Just like that?”
“Yes,” she said. “Then you’ll call the number, and be told where to meet me.”
Did I say I loved being a mushroom? “Okay.” What the hell else could I say? Nothing.
“Thank you for your patience, Mat. I know you want to act.”
You’re an open book, Brandt, I could almost hear Winterfield say, in that sour way of his.
Maybe it wasn’t so hard to figure out I was antsy.
“Goodbye,” she said in my ear.
“Goodbye.”
I fingered the necklace. Nothing. No more vibration.
Time to wake up my cell.
We had a long way to go today.
I called Simon, had him bring his van. We all piled in and headed for California before sunrise. The drive south was dull and long. Simon stayed behind the wheel the whole time. We reached Redding before dark.
I called the number Ashula had given me from a payphone at a gas station.
“This is Frank,” an older-sounding woman’s voice said on the other end.
“The band is here,” I said. Stupid pass phrase. Between Support and the Scourge, all my phone calls were dumb spy stuff.
“Need to see you.” She gave me an address. “Bring sundaes.”
“With sprinkles.” Blech. Should have to say with extra nuts, because this was crazy stupid.
I had no idea if Support bugged the phone lines, but Ashula said the “pass phrases” were necessary. You’d think they’d come up with something more clever.
We drove to a dead-end street at the edge of Redding, where the houses all had overgrown lawns that had turned bro
wn in the fall. We parked in front of an old farmhouse with a big porch, the kind where Grandma waited in a floral dress with a freshly baked apple pie, next to the American flag.
There was no flag, and no one on the porch.
We all got out of Simon’s van and trooped up to the door. The porch creaked when I stepped on the boards. The rest of my cell waited at the foot of the step. Keisha scowled. I knew how she felt, times two, since this was the kind of bullshit I had to do in Support.
Sometimes it was impossible to tell which was which. Between the devil and the deep blue sea, I could almost hear Ruth say.
The screen door was half-open, so I rapped my knuckles on the door frame.
The porch light stayed off. The front door unlocked and opened. Someone stood there in shadow, nearly as tall as me, but wider.
“Let me see your necklace,” a woman’s voice said.
My breath caught in my throat, but I pulled up my necklace and leaned forward, holding it out. I wasn’t taking it off for anyone, since it was the only way I could reach Ashula. I hadn’t had the necklace for more than a few months.
Long fingers stroked the necklace, while I leaned forward like an idiot. An ugly thought reared up in my brain, and I took a calming breath. I never wore the necklace when I met with Winterfield or Alex when he wasn’t being a stoner.
I could just make the outlines of a round face with a blade-like nose, below narrow eyes that were shut. A muscle throbbed in that round face.
The fingers released my necklace. She blinked and focused on me. Alex in stoner mode and I had talked about Support stuff when I was wearing the necklace. Shit.
“You’re approved,” she said. “Come in.”
I tucked the necklace back inside my shirt, took another calming breath. “Frank, right?”
“Yes. You must be Brandt.”
I nodded. “You’re a reader,” I said.
A low laugh. “Got it in one, missy.”
I’d never been around a reader before, but I’d heard about them. I guess I hadn’t been around Alex enough for her to pick up on that.
I turned to face the others waiting on the sidewalk. “Come on in.”
We trooped inside. The place stank of cigar smoke and onions. I just gave Frank first names, and Frank didn’t give me anything more about her own name.
“Boss woman says I’m going to work with you,” she said. She brushed a lock of crow black hair out of her eyes. Her hair was a tangled snarl, tinged with grey streaks. If Frank were going for the crazy-old-woman-in-training look, she’d succeeded. Her eyes narrowed. “Let’s get one thing straight. I’m doing this as an independent contractor for boss woman. I’m not with the Scourge anymore.”
I wondered how many “contracts” Frank did for the Scourge. Would they really let a reader leave the Scourge? Readers were way too valuable.
I shrugged. “Okay.”
“Good, just so you understand.” She cut to the chase. “There’s a black semi, with a couple of SUV escorts that will be coming down I-5 tomorrow. You can ambush them near the Oregon border. Say seven thirty.”
“How did you learn about that?” I asked.
“I read things, remember.”
“Not good enough.”
Simon nodded. “I agree. It’s mighty thin to go in on someone’s say so.”
Frank shook her head, her face sour. “You’ve gotta go make it difficult, don’t you? Fine.” She flexed her long bony fingers, reached toward Keisha. “I need something of yours to touch.”
Keisha took a step back. “Why me?”
“Why not? You look like the skeptical type.”
Keisha backed up further. “What, and they don’t?”
“I want something of yours, girl.” Bony fingers snatched at Keisha.
I shrugged when Keisha looked desperately at me for help. “Just get it over with.”
“Thanks, Mat.” She rolled her eyes. Reached inside her black leather jacket and handed an ancient looking ballpoint pen.
Frank took the pen, closed her eyes.
Licked her lips.
Was she going to read it, eat it, or make love to it?
Her eyes shot open. “This belonged to an old man, who lived in a shack down by the Gulf of Mexico. Mississippi. He used to write his sermons with it.”
Keisha grabbed the pen. “Okay, fine, so you’ve convinced me.” She turned to me. “That was my grandad. He gave that to me a few years ago.”
Frank chuckled, her face smug. “They always believe when I read.”
Still didn’t add up. “Fine, so you can remote view or whatever an object. But how do you know when the shipment we are supposed to knock off will be there?”
Her smile became creepy. “Because I can read people, too, and connect them with other people. That’s how I got the info.”
“You read a person.”
“Yes.” She laughed. “Doing so ain’t easy. It takes a helluva lot of time, and hurts like shit. And I ain’t going to tell you who or where or when. Just that I can string things together. Objects to people. People to objects. Good enough?”
It would have to be.
I’d better never give her a reason to read me, or I’d be dead.
Chapter 13
The forest of fir trees murmured in my head, as we waited for the truck and its escorts to show up. I was halfway up a big fir, standing in the crook of two branches. The world swayed as the breeze picked up. Shit. I hated heights but I needed to see.
I-5 narrowed to two lanes here in each direction. The box truck was parked on the turnoff across the freeway, Simon behind the wheel and Connor riding shotgun. The sun was just clearing the trees to the east. Shadows still covered the interstate.
Keisha crouched below me. “Make sure you don’t drop a tree on my head, bitch,” she’d said, tapping my arm.
“Can’t guarantee anything,” I had replied. She stuck her tongue out at me.
It wasn’t so funny now that I was about to kill a fir and drop it onto the freeway. I’d picked one over a hundred feet tall. It had to be two hundred years old.
It sucked to kill it but we had to stop the semi.
The lead SUV appeared north of us, roaring downhill in our direction, headlights still on. A moment later the black semi came into view. Couldn’t see the side, but this had to be it.
A few seconds later the trailing SUV showed up.
I reached down into the fir tree off to my right, stirred the rot I had started an hour ago and been working through the tree. It moaned, a pitiful sound in my head, tugging at my heart. The rot spread through the fir faster and faster, and then the tree began to topple.
I had wanted to time it so that the lead SUV would be past where the tree would fall, but I didn’t want to let the semi past, so I went early.
A hundred feet of fir smacked onto the highway with a crackling boom. The lead SUV hit the brakes, fishtailing toward the whipping mass of branches, and skidding hard, hitting the branches and smacking up against the tree. The SUV rocked.
The semi was a hundred yards back, so it had more time, but going sixty plus downhill with all that weight had to be a bitch when it came time to slam on the brakes.
The airbrakes shrieked, and the tractor trailer shuddered and groaned.
“Kill the tires,” I said into my wrist comm.
“Got it,” I heard Keisha answer.
The semi hadn’t stopped yet when a volley of railroad spikes streaked into the right side tires. The tires below the cab went bang and deflated. The ones at the front of the trailer went bang. She missed the rear ones. The semi leaned hard to the right but didn’t roll. Too bad. That would have made it impossible for them to leave, but chances were excellent the semi wasn’t going anywhere.
The trailing SUV stopped behind the trailer. Doors opened and men in military style camouflage jumped out. The driver and the front passenger hunkered down behind open doors, pointing assault rifles at either side of the road, while two more men jogged past, cro
uching, also pointing their guns in our general direction.
Passengers in the lead SUV tried to open their doors, but the doors’ metal had melded into the frame, thanks to Keisha. The dead fir’s dying moan still scoured my mind, but I smiled anyway, because they’d have to shoot the windows out and crawl over broken glass to get out.
The guys in the cab stayed put. I waited for the trailer doors to open. There had to be security inside. They’d be pissed off and a bit bruised maybe, but no doubt armed like their pals outside.
The two guards from the trailing SUV had almost reached the semi when the air went snap, crackle, pop! They stiffened, shaking like puppets, then fell to the ground.
“Got it in one, Connor,” I said over the wrist comm.
I reached into a fir tree opposite the rear SUV and spread rot through it. This tree was younger, maybe only a century old. Like the first tree, I pulled it toward the road by one last spurt of growth on that side before killing it. The tree’s dying scream filled my mind. It fell like God’s hammer on the SUV, crushing the roof and slamming the two goons hunkered down behind open doors onto the ground, the twisting metal shrieking in protest.
My stomach twisted. I’d just killed two men. I sagged against the tree. They may have been goons, but there should have been another way. I forced myself to focus. Only there wasn’t. Not that time. I had to do better with the next one.
Simon drove the box truck alongside the tractor trailer.
Gunfire banged from the front SUV as the goons inside shot out the windows.
Another snap, crackle pop! The gun fire stopped. The guards’ bodies slumped in their seats. Connor’s “static smack” was nasty. But hopefully they were just stunned.
That left whoever was inside the trailer and the cab.
The cab door facing me suddenly began steaming. Metal flowed and the door seem disappeared. I was too far to hear screams but it had to be hot inside that cab. Steam rose from both sides. Yeah, the driver and his security weren’t getting out any time soon.
So, we were down to the trailer.
I glanced at my wrist comm. Four minutes had passed. Cars came over the hill and screeched to a stop. A truck, too. South of us the same thing. We had to haul ass.
Empowered: Traitor (The Empowered Series Book 2) Page 11
