by Brett King
Turning a corner, she recognized a long corridor, now blackened with smoke. It looked like the one in the video. Covering her mouth, she found the room where Brynstone had hugged the woman. The door had been blown wide open and was embedded in the opposite wall. Flames curled out of the opening, warming her skin. She tried to see in the room, but it was impossible to make anything out in the blaze. She lost hope. No one could survive that blast.
Smoke. Everywhere.
Brynstone curled forward, coughing and wheezing. A blanket of debris covered his body. Dazed, he rubbed his neck, his hand spotted gray with dust. His mind flashed to before the explosion. He and Cori had escaped from the locked room and scrambled out into the corridor. After the detonation, the room had disappeared in the blaze. It had blasted this wing of the building, rocketing them off their feet.
Cori. He had to find her.
Rising in a shower of shattered glass and plaster, he searched for her, finding nothing in his initial exploration of the wreckage. Then he spotted her motionless body sprawled on an altar of rubble. Her eyes were closed.
He dropped to his knees and pressed his fingers to her neck. He found a pulse. Running his hand along her forehead, he brushed back tangled bangs.
“Cori. Can you hear me?”
No answer.
He didn’t want to move her. Her back was twisted in an awkward angle and dirt coated her face. He cleared away rubble from her leg.
Cori slowly batted open her eyes. He gave her a relieved smile. She rubbed her head, then curled on her side. Good thing. No spinal injury.
He reached down for her, and she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her head cradled against his shoulder. He hadn’t forgotten the ever-present curiosity in her bright eyes or her sunshine-tinted hair, but this raw moment of survival heightened her charm. Even coming out of an explosion, she glowed. He enjoyed the lingering pleasure of her body pressed against his and mourned a little when she pulled back.
After a lengthy separation from Kaylyn, he had dated women, but he had never connected with them. It was different now with Cori. He cared for her more than he had allowed himself to realize. Grabbing her hand, he directed her around chunks of masonry, then ducked under a bent girder beam. He knew the way out.
Rashmi Raja didn’t like it. Inside the destroyed building, she could hear the blare of fire engines and police sirens in the distance. She had to get out of here. Hurrying down the opposite end of the corridor, stepping over debris as she went, she followed a sign that must have spelled out Exit in the Greek language. She turned, making a right at the corner.
To her surprise, she saw John Brynstone and the blonde woman from the video surveillance. With filthy clothes and disheveled hair, they looked like they had survived a major earthquake.
Raja blinked. “Thought you died in the explosion.”
He patted a dusty backpack. “Good thing I had a screwdriver and pliers. The door was locked, so I pulled out the pins on the hinges.”
“He’s fast,” the blonde added. “Cut it close, but we made it out in time.”
“Popping the hinges off the door, huh?” Raja marveled. “Gotta admit, I never would have thought of that.”
“Let’s get out of here,” Brynstone said.
Raja followed them out of the building. Hellenic police and firefighters arrived at the same time. In all the chaos, the trio managed to slip into the crowd and escape without anyone asking questions.
Farther down the block, the woman introduced herself.
“I’m Cori,” she said, walking on the opposite side of Brynstone.
He didn’t say a word, keeping a determined stride.
“Rashmi Raja,” she answered, not hinting that she knew the woman’s name after talking to Booth.
“Turn at this corner,” he said, glancing back to see if anyone had followed.
They moved to the next street, taking them out of view from the exploded building.
“I have a question for you, Dr. Brynstone,” Raja said. “Mind telling me why you followed me to Greece?”
Brynstone came around to face her. “I have a better question,” he asked between gritted teeth. “Why are you working for Viktor Nebola?”
“Don’t know him. Nebola? Told you, I work for Nicholas Booth.”
“Guy you think is Booth is actually Nebola.”
She didn’t believe him at first.
Walking down the sidewalk, Brynstone told her a little about Nebola’s involvement in an organization known as the Shadow Chapter. She had looked into Booth’s background before working with him. It had checked out. Was it true about Nebola?
She didn’t like that Brynstone had followed her here, but she didn’t mention it. The man was angry. Let him cool down.
After that? Send Tinker Bell back to Neverland.
Cori couldn’t stop looking at John Brynstone. It didn’t seem real that he was here walking beside her. She thought about the best way to give him the news about Kaylyn and Shayna. There wouldn’t be a good time to do it. And what about Rashmi Raja? How much should she say in front of her?
The other woman was a sultry beauty with long, lavish hair and gorgeous clothes. Cori sensed a connection between Raja and Brynstone. She didn’t know how to feel about that. She remembered meeting another colleague of his years ago, a woman named Jordan Rayne. Victim to an insatiable curiosity, Cori had wanted to know more about her, but Brynstone had made it clear back then not to ask questions about Jordan.
What had happened to her?
Now, Brynstone and Raja were talking about this Nebola guy, the conversation sounding intense. It wasn’t a good time, but she had to interrupt. As they headed to his rental car parked outside a Greek restaurant, Cori touched his arm.
“John, I have terrible news.”
“It can wait.”
“No, it can’t,” she blurted. “It’s about Kaylyn.”
His eyes darkened. “What about her?”
“Sh-she was killed.”
He looked down. The muscles in his jaw tightened as he swallowed hard. For a moment, his composure wavered, but he regained it. No doubt about it. John Brynstone was the Fort Knox of emotion.
“There’s more.” Her voice choked. “This guy chased after us back in New York. He shot Kaylyn.”
“What guy?”
“Outside Shay’s school.”
“Did they fire at my daughter?”
“She wasn’t hurt. I got her away from the gunmen. John, they came to kidnap Shayna and Kaylyn tried to stop them. That’s when they killed her.”
“Where’s Shay?” he demanded.
“Don’t know,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry, John. I tried to protect her, but I lost her.”
She became aware of the woman listening in on their conversation. Brynstone came at Cori with question after question. She recounted how she had fled with the child through Manhattan and how she had ended up in Crete. At least, she gave her best guess about ending up here.
Brynstone knew how to conceal his emotions, but a trace of pain colored his expression. A distant look came over his eyes. In a hushed voice, he said, “Gotta get back to the States. Need to find Shayna.”
“You don’t have to go to the United States,” the Indian woman said. She stepped closer, cutting the distance between them. “I saw a little blonde girl, John. She was about six or seven. Maybe she was your daughter.”
He grabbed her shoulder, intensity in his voice. “Where?”
“Hey, take it easy. I could be wrong.”
He released her. “Why do think she was Shayna?”
“She looked like you. She has your eyes.”
“When did you see her?”
“After the explosion.”
“Where?”
“With Booth. Well, I guess you’re calling him Viktor Nebola.” She gla
nced at Cori. “He said he didn’t need you anymore. Guess that’s why he tried to blow you up.”
“Nebola has Shayna?” Brynstone muttered.
“He climbed into an SUV. I saw the little girl with him, right before the door closed.”
“Where did they go?”
“Don’t know. I ran back to see if you were still alive.”
“Can you get in touch with Nebola?”
“Only if he calls. He uses a different phone every time. Anyway, I should probably find Math McHardy.”
“Why Math?”
“Nebola wants me to work with him. He’ll be unhappy if he calls and I’m not consulting with Math on the helmet pieces.”
“Does he know you worked with me?”
“Yeah,” Raja confessed, “but now he thinks you’re dead.”
That gave Brynstone an idea. Cori saw it spelled all over his face.
He opened the car door. “Let’s move. We have work to do.”
Chapter 35
Airborne over the Mediterranean
4:32 p.m.
Briefcase in hand, Nebola strutted into a suite at the back of the luxury jet. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, Shayna Brynstone played with toys. She looked up as he entered.
Not a word from her.
He had to admit, the kid had a fierce stare.
“Nice jet, isn’t it?” he asked. “You like flying?”
No answer, but she stared at the briefcase, curiosity in her eyes. She was a tough one to crack.
“Know what, kid? I like you.”
He didn’t, of course, but he was playing nice. If the Shadow Chapter was right about the girl, she could prove to be an important asset.
“Sorry, mister, but I don’t like you,” she answered. “You’re a very bad man.”
He smirked. “Sounds like you’ve been talking to my ex-wife and her attorney.”
The child held her defiant gaze.
“What?” Nebola asked, chuckling. “Not a fan of divorce humor?”
He eased into a seat near her. The kid was missing two front teeth. It was a look that charmed on the face of a child, less so on a hockey player.
“I’m not a bad man, Shayna. I’m a good man.”
The child furrowed her brow. “A good man wouldn’t put me on a plane and take me away from my friend, Cori.”
“Look, getting Cori Cassidy out of your life? I did you a huge favor. She is not your friend.”
“Cori is so my friend.”
“She’s dangerous, my dear. A few years ago, Cori Cassidy escaped from a psychiatric hospital. Bet you didn’t know that.”
“I don’t know what a psych-qwe-atric hospital is.”
“Place where they keep crazy people. Baltimore police believed she killed two hospital workers before escaping. She was also suspected of attacking her roommate.”
“I don’t believe you,” she answered with a hurt look.
“Better believe me.” Nebola pulled a folder from the briefcase. It contained a forensic report on Cori Cassidy. “Want to see for yourself?”
The child dropped her head.
He placed the folder on a table. “I know something about you, Shayna. I know you are special.”
“I’m not special,” she said in a weak voice. “I’m just a girl.”
“Perhaps that’s what you hear. Perhaps that’s what your parents and Cori tell you, but I know the truth. You have a gift.”
When they had removed Cassidy from the accident back in New York State, she had a USB drive in her pocket. It confirmed what the Shadow Chapter had suspected about Shayna.
“I read the report from your school,” he continued. “It said you have a name for your gift. What is it?”
She folded her small arms over her chest.
“What do you call your special ability, kid?”
“It’s just a word. I don’t know what it means.”
He leaned forward. “What is it? Tell me the name.”
“The Hollow.”
“That’s right. The Hollow. Strange word for a little girl.”
“Told you, I don’t know what it means.”
“Where did you hear that word?”
She sighed. “My imaginary friend told me.”
“Your imaginary friend has a peculiar vocabulary. Who told you about the Hollow? What’s the name?”
“Monkey Guns. I don’t talk about him.”
“Why not?”
“’Cause. He’s mean like you.”
“I’m not mean.”
“You’re a bad killer.”
A cold smile. “You’re mistaken, my dear. I’ve never killed anyone in my life.”
He wasn’t counting Marcus Tanzer back in the Manhattan office. Electricity had killed him, not Nebola.
The child glared. “You get other people to kill for you.”
Her words shocked him. How could she possibly know?
“You say all the right words to trick me,” Shayna continued, “but your aura tells the truth.”
“My aura?”
“A glow around your body. A tiny little fire that shoots out all around you. I can see it.”
“Can you?” he asked. “That’s how you knew I get people to kill for me?”
“If you were a killer, you’d have a black aura.”
“What color’s my aura?”
“Red, but the flames have little black tips.”
“What?”
“Your aura is black on the ends,” she said, concentrating like she could see something around his head. “Most of the time, you make people kill for you.”
“You have quite the imagination, young lady.”
“I’m not a young lady. I’m a big girl.”
“A big girl who can see auras. Is that what you mean by a Hollow?”
“That’s something else.”
Nebola leaned forward. “Shayna, can you show me an example of the Hollow?”
The girl stared at him.
Chapter 36
Cairo, Egypt
6:04 p.m.
A band of mocha-colored pollution crawled the skies over Cairo. Yawning, Cori turned her gaze from the airplane window. Still groggy from medication, she had slept most of the three-and-a-half-hour flight from Crete with a stopover in Athens. John Brynstone had done some fast-talking with contacts in the United States government and managed to get a quick flight for Cori, Raja, and himself.
Before takeoff, they had hit a cramped shop inside Heraklion International Airport where Brynstone had purchased a black T-shirt with a small silhouette of a Minotaur on the chest. Cori got one in blue with a labyrinth emblazoned above her breast. Another place sold herbal creams and oils as well as a few cosmetics. Raja went crazy and bought makeup for them both. Nice gesture, really, but Cori wasn’t connecting with the woman. Was it an issue of trust? Brynstone seemed cool with Raja, but something about her made Cori uneasy. Maybe they just needed some serious warm-up time.
During the flight, Cori had slipped into the bathroom to clean up. Pulling off her ruined shirt, she had checked on the surgical bandages. Peeling them back, she saw that Dr. Spanos had told the truth—there was no sign of any incisions or sutures. Brynstone believed that Nebola was behind the hospital deception.
After a touchy landing in Cairo, they spilled out happily onto the tarmac. Situated northeast of the city, Cairo International was as congested as its skies, earning its reputation as Egypt’s busiest airfield. Wandering inside the bright terminal, Cori saw curving ceilings, polished floors, and rows of potted palm trees.
Brynstone was back on the phone, talking to former colleagues in the intelligence community. He was trying to locate a retired professor named McHardy. She sensed he didn’t want his conversation overheard. Cori got the message and wande
red away.
Raja finished her call and strutted over to chat with Cori. They visited a little, playing nice. The woman was probing for clues about Brynstone.
“You and John seem close.”
“We worked together once. It wasn’t simple. Let’s leave it at that.” She bit her lip. “How do you know John?”
“I like your answer. It’s not simple.” Raja gave a sly grin. “Nothing about John Brynstone is simple.”
“Can’t argue with that one.”
Raja pointed across the terminal. “I need to use the ladies’ room. Be right back.”
Cori nodded and watched her walk across the terminal. She had a graceful stride, almost like a dancer. She had mixed feelings about Rashmi Raja. There was too much she didn’t know about the woman. How much did Brynstone know?
He had moved now, but was still talking on the phone. He was framed inside a window with an EgyptAir jet in the background. The rudder was emblazoned with a blue falcon symbolizing Horus, the Egyptian sky god.
The man was good at keeping his cool. Even when a little intensity showed, he seemed like he was holding back a million times more. As a psychology grad student, she prided herself on reading people, but Brynstone was opaque. Maybe that was part of his allure. His way of keeping her guessing gave him a natural mystique, and his blend of charm and mystery appealed to Cori.
It also worked magic on Rashmi Raja. That’s the way it seemed anyway.
He came over, finishing a text as he walked. He looked at her with his legendary magnetism.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Yeah. You?”
“Will be once we find Shay.” He took a step closer, speaking in that low voice. “I always knew we’d see each other again, Cori. Figured it would happen under better circumstances.”
She smiled and found herself embracing him again, finding strength in his arms. His daughter had been kidnapped. His ex-wife had been murdered. She needed to give comfort, but here she was, taking it.
“Where’s Rashmi?” he asked, pulling back to look around.
