by Jaime Rush
Zoe tilted her head. “And you found out that your skill is actually a psychic ability.”
“Yeah. And that I inherited it from my father.” He tested the strength of a table nearby and leaned against it. “Darkwell promised to teach me to develop my skills so that I could help locate hostages. I liked that idea. Plus he offered me a wad of money to do it, enough so when I’m done with my contract, I can start my own business. He taught me how to remote-view, psychically see distant places, explaining that it was an extension of my location skill. But before I can find any hostages, I’m ordered to find these bad-ass Rogues—all of you.
“You’re supposed to be terrorists, but you seem like ordinary Americans like me. He told me he wanted to question you. Then you guys break into the hospital and”—he rubbed his hand over his face—“that was some hairy shit, but what bothered me as much as anything you did was seeing one of our guards holding two women at gunpoint. I knew he would have killed them.
“When it was over, Darkwell told me it was an unprovoked attack, but I overheard him talking about a prisoner being rescued. I had no idea there were any prisoners. Darkwell denied it when I asked him. I knew he was lying. That was the first thing that had me suspicious. I haven’t been comfortable since, but I’ve got another month on my contract.”
Rand stood rigid, ready for anything. “Lucas Vanderwyck and I were being held at the asylum. Darkwell was using us as guinea pigs, shooting us up with drugs to see if they would boost our abilities.”
The horror of that colored Nicholas’s expression. “Earlier this week I was told to try to find the women again. When Petra told me I was on the wrong side, it jibed with my suspicions. She said something about the classified program my dad worked in twenty years ago. That he died because of it.”
Zoe nodded. “Darkwell created a program that put people with psychic abilities to work finding hostages and terrorists.”
“Darkwell mentioned the program but never said he’d created it.”
They filled him in on the original program, the Booster, and what it had done to their parents.
Rand crossed his arms in front of his chest. “How many of you are working in the DARK MATTER program? We met with Jerryl Evrard, who pretended to be interested in what we had to say, then nearly took out Zoe.”
“What did he do?”
Zoe felt the anger of those terrible minutes all over again. “Grabbed me, put a gun to my head, then jumped into the water with me.”
“Jerryl.” Nicholas shook his head. “He’s a Marine. All he ever talks about is serving his country and killing people, like both are a privilege and pleasure. There are three of us. Fonda’s the third, and she’s tight with Jerryl. Little thing, but fierce.”
Only three. And if they could bring Nicholas over…
Don’t get too excited yet. This could still be a trap.
Zoe leaned against the wall so she could face Nicholas. “What is Jerryl’s psychic ability?”
“He remote-views, but I think he can do more than that. He and Darkwell spend a lot more time together than they do with me. They’re like coconspirators, both with that killer gleam in their eyes.”
“Jerryl can mind-control,” Rand said.
Nicholas’s eyebrows furrowed. “As in, getting into someone’s head and making them do something against their will?”
Rand’s expression hardened. “Exactly.”
“And I thought this Cheveyo guy getting into my head was freaky enough.”
Zoe narrowed her eyes. “Were you the one who found me in Key West?”
Nicholas scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “That was me.”
“Darkwell sent an assassin after me. And he’s come after Rand and me twice.”
“In an apartment in Baltimore. The two of you were, uh…” Nicholas’s cheeks actually flushed.
“Yeah,” Rand said. “Talk about killing the afterglow.”
Of course, that had already been squashed.
Nicholas rubbed his mouth. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
Zoe checked her watch. “And the thing at your house, that was a setup. Darkwell knew we were going to contact you—contact, not kill—and he put one of his thugs in there to pose as you. The goal was to take all of us out, no questions first.”
Nicholas massaged his temples and closed his eyes for a second. “This confirms the bad feeling I’ve had about this for a while now.” He opened his eyes. “This…Booster stuff in us…”
Rand said, “We don’t know what it is. Our parents were told it was some kind of nutritional cocktail, but it was obviously more than that. And it’s a good bet that it could make us crazy, too.”
That was something she didn’t want to think about.
“Why is Darkwell out to kill you?” Nicholas asked.
Rand stuffed the tips of his fingers into his front jeans pocket. “He would have approached us the same way he did you, but we got suspicious and started digging. No way would we work for the dude who caused our parents to die. He can’t take the chance that we’ll expose him.”
“Is that what you want to do?”
She said, “We want to shut him down. He’s hurt a lot of people, and he’s going to keep on hurting them. Some will be terrorists. Others will just be people in his way. Like us.”
Rand asked, “Where did Darkwell move the operation?”
Nicholas met their gazes. “Not until I understand more about what’s going on. You’re not going to storm the place, are you? Innocent people work there. How do I know you are the good guys?”
Zoe pushed away from the wall, the signal to wrap it up. “Find out for yourself. Ask about your dad, what he was doing before he died. Talk to Jerryl and find out what he’s up to. Ask questions about what’s really going on there. You already know they’re not being straight with you. You decide who the good guys are. But be careful. Darkwell kills curious cats.”
Rand handed him one of their untraceable cell phones. “We’ll be in touch. It’s set to vibrate. We’ll call once, disconnect, then call back in thirty minutes. That’ll give you time to get someplace where you can talk.”
Rand crossed his arms in front of his chest. “There’s something you need to know. If you stay on Darkwell’s side, you may not get out alive.”
“You’d kill me?”
“If you’re the enemy, and you help him find us or set us up, we’ll have to. Or you may get hit in the cross fire. This is a war between Darkwell and us. And like in any war, people are going to get killed. We’re going to make damned sure it’s not one of us.”
Zoe said, “But if you join us, you’ll be a target like we are.” She walked toward the hallway. “We’d better get you back to your car. If Jerryl remote-views and sees you with us, you’re toast. Unless you’re a setup.”
“I’m not.” Nicholas met their eyes. “Either you or Darkwell is lying. I’m going to find out which one.”
He shoved the phone in his pocket and followed Rand out of the building.
At the creak on the stairs behind her, Zoe turned to find Lucas and Amy coming down.
“What do you think?” Lucas asked.
“He may be legit. If he is, he’ll be a huge asset. And he’ll lead us to Robbins.”
They walked outside and got into the ’Cuda, Zoe now in the back. They drove to Eric’s location. He yanked open the passenger door and jabbed his finger at them. “Bastards! There was no relay stop here. You cut me out of the loop, and you lied about where you were meeting Braden.”
Amy pursed her lips. “So you went there?”
He dropped into the seat and slammed the door closed. “I don’t like being left out of the action.”
“Which is exactly why we left you out,” Lucas said. “You’re like a spark in a house filled with gas. We couldn’t take the chance of you sending the whole operation up in flames. Figuratively speaking, not literally.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Since I still can’t start any fires, I figured that. So,
what happened?”
Zoe gave him a bright smile. “No one got shot. That was nice for a change. Amazing what makes me happy these days. Seriously, I think Nicholas may work out. We’ve got him digging now. He’ll find out that Darkwell’s a sack of lies, then he’ll be ours.”
Rand saw the ’Cuda drive up at the same time that Taze returned on his bike. Asia, Pith, and four other graffiti artists who’d been watching the area for them all waited, too. Rand’s body tightened as Zoe approached. The female Rogues were the strongest women he’d ever known, besides his gram. Zoe’s hair was in the familiar wavy ’do, her full lips dark red against her pale skin. Damn, she was beautiful. He hadn’t meant to kiss her back at the tomb. He hadn’t meant to do a lot of things he’d done with her.
Everyone converged outside another abandoned building. Nearby construction workers banged away at a renovation project.
Eric’s scowl was no surprise. It was worth angering him to protect the operation. And the Rogues. He wasn’t going to let that hothead put anyone in danger again.
Taze extended his hand to Rand in their particular handshake. “Everything work?”
“Yeah, thanks. You guys are dope.”
Taze looked at the Rogues. “Who are these people?”
Lucas said, “We’re his family.”
Those simple words struck Rand in the chest. He’d never really had much of a family, only his gram.
Taze wasn’t convinced, but he said, “That’s cool. All right, dude, we’ll see you on the street?”
“You bet.”
The guys filed out, and once they were gone, Lucas asked, “So, who were those guys? You hang out in the streets a lot?”
Rand looked at the group, at Zoe’s knowing smile…and he told them what he did for fun.
Petra squealed as though he’d just revealed he was Jon Bon Jovi. “Oh, my gawd, I love Freedom!” She turned to Amy. “Weren’t we just talking about him?”
Lucas grinned. “We have quite the artistic contingent in our group. Me, Zoe, and you.”
No one said that graffiti was vandalism, a nuisance, or chided him about hanging with guys he knew only by nickname. Damn, for just this moment, he wanted a family. It gnawed at his belly like hunger pangs.
“We’d better get going.”
Danger always lurked, and that danger reminded him how easily he could lose these people who considered him family.
CHAPTER 25
S
am Robbins paused outside of Darkwell’s door and listened. He could barely hear through the thick wood, but what he could hear made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. Darkwell was making arrangements to transfer Sayre Andrus out of prison. In rare instances, CIA could transfer prisoners who had specific value to the government into their custody. That meant Andrus was willing to work with Darkwell.
Sam had read some of Andrus’s file. The prison warden would probably be happy to see his troublesome prisoner go. Several accusations had been filed against Andrus, ranging from “voodoo spells” to unexplained deaths. None could be proven.
The door opened, and Darkwell stopped at the sight of Sam hovering there.
Darkwell’s voice was terse. “Come in.”
“You wanted the statistics report…”
Darkwell snagged the folder out of his hand. “I suppose you heard my conversation.”
“Not intentionally. You’re trying to get Andrus out of prison? He murdered a woman.”
Darkwell sat at his massive desk. “He never admitted to that. The evidence was circumstantial at best. Besides, that has nothing to do with what I want him for. If he has murdered someone, then he’s not squeamish. We already have one subject who’s opposed to violence, and frankly, that’s a hindrance.”
Sam couldn’t believe his ears. “You know Andrus is a cold-blooded psychopath.”
“Yes, I do.” Darkwell’s black eyes glittered “But he’ll be our psychopath.”
The truth hit Sam like a wave of ice-cold water: he’d been working for a psychopath all along. He didn’t want to let on how repulsed he was by both Andrus and Darkwell. Instinct said to play along. “I suppose you have a point. But I thought Andrus wasn’t interested.”
“I must have piqued his interest. He called to set up another meeting. He wants out of prison. I just got off the phone with a judge I know in Florida to find out what the process entails. I need permission from the court, and a judge authorizes the release. Should be easy enough. Andrus will work here with us for four months, and I’ll let him think it could go on longer. He’ll have to go back, of course. I’ll blame it on red tape, regulations, whatever. If he escapes, or if word gets out to the public that he’s been released, it’ll create a media frenzy.”
Sam approached the desk. “Does the director know?”
“I’m not involving him unless and until I have to. He’s very impressed with the information I’ve already given him. We just got word that Jerryl’s information led operatives to a terrorist cell in Afghanistan. If I need to approach the director, I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”
Sam rubbed his balding head, nervous at the thought of that man here on the grounds. “Will he be kept secure?”
“Of course. He’ll have a guard posted to him at all times.”
“What is he capable of?”
“You know his heritage. There are several possibilities.” Darkwell smiled with satisfaction. “I’m going to give him a test assignment. Andrus is going to be the turning point in DARK MATTER. He’s going to get rid of the Rogues. That should make you happy.” His smile faded when he didn’t see agreement on Sam’s face. “Was there anything else?”
It was useless to warn him. Sam shook his head and left. Bringing in Andrus would be Darkwell’s biggest mistake yet. Sam wasn’t going to stick around for the fallout.
He paused outside his office door, remembering the subtle warning he’d been given when he’d wanted out before. He had no doubt that Darkwell would eliminate him to protect the program. The man had had his own brother killed, for God’s sake.
Sam went into his office and searched his computer for any relevant files. He printed them out and looked them over. Sensitive, but not enough. He needed security: files he could hold over Darkwell’s head should anything suspicious happen to him. He didn’t think Nicholas would harm him, but Darkwell’s protégé, Jerryl, would take him out.
As he stepped out of his office, Darkwell headed down the hallway to the winding staircase. Sam followed at a distance and watched his superior get into his black Mercedes and pull away. He turned and went back upstairs, waiting until the hall was clear before trying Darkwell’s door. It was locked.
Olivia, Darkwell’s assistant, stepped out of her office, startling him. “He’s gone for the day.”
“I gave him a file earlier, and he set it on his desk. I just realized I gave him the wrong papers, and you know how he gets when we make a mistake.”
She nodded in a knowing way. “Hold on, I’ll get the key.” She returned a minute later and unlocked the door. “Go ahead.”
She followed him in, though. He grabbed up the file he’d just given to Darkwell. “Let me get the other file. I’ll be right back.”
Unfortunately, she was waiting when he returned. He set the same file on the desk, reached around the doorknob, and made the appropriate motions. “I locked it. Thanks. You saved me a browbeating.”
She smiled as she pulled the door closed. “No problem.”
Four hours later, after he thought Olivia had gone home, he walked the long, paneled hallway to see who was around. One guard always wandered the hallways in addition to the two patrolling the grounds. He doubted the interior guard knew that he had no business in Darkwell’s office, but he couldn’t be sure. Not enough to risk his life.
He passed Evrard’s room and heard him and, presumably, his girlfriend, going at it as usual. He remembered the first round of subjects in BLUE EYES, how they’d been consumed by lust. He passed Braden’s room
, too, but it was quiet.
His heart thudded softly as he stood outside Darkwell’s office. He reached out, turned the knob, and slipped inside.
He knew the computer would be password protected. His only hope was to find something in his physical files. He pulled open one of the drawers, found nothing relevant. He tried another, then another. Finally, he found a drawer in the credenza that looked interesting: partial notes on BLUE EYES. Something, at least, that might keep Darkwell from dispatching him.
He turned on the copier. He was halfway through copying the pages when he heard a noise. Adrenaline shot through him. If Darkwell found him, he’d be killed immediately. He had no legitimate reason for being there, and Darkwell wouldn’t believe anything he might dream up.
He shut off the copier and cracked open the door. He heard the echo of conversation in the grand foyer, one man’s voice getting louder as he ascended the stairs. The office offered no place to hide. If he didn’t lock the door, and that was Darkwell, he’d be suspicious, especially with Sam loitering in the hallway. Reluctantly, he turned the lock, his file tucked beneath his arm, and closed the door.
He headed toward his office, fighting the urge to look back.
“Robbins, what are you doing here so late?”
Cringing, he turned to face Darkwell.
“Just heading home.” He pressed the folder closer to his body as Darkwell’s gaze fell on it.
“What are you working on?”
The blood drained from Sam’s face. “Different ways to look at the statistical data.”
“Really? Let me have a look.” He reached for the folder.
Sam swallowed hard, trying to find some excuse to refuse. That would only pique his suspicions. How would he explain having the data in his possession? He pulled out the folder and his trembling hand dropped it on the floor, spilling the papers. “Damn.” The word fit the situation. He knelt and pulled the papers together. “They’re all out of order now. I’d better get them sorted.”
Another sound caught Darkwell’s attention. His eyes narrowed at Olivia and Nicholas Braden walking down the hallway in a serious discussion. “I’ll talk to you about it later.” He walked up to the two. “Olivia, can we speak in private, please?”
