“Of course. Would Crow settle for anything less?”
They both grinned as they reached the Range Rover.
“Sleep tight, Sleeping Beauty,” Neo said to Nick. “I’ll supervise the terrorist preparations up in Tampa, at least until Lisa gets around to planting one mother of a lip-lock on your undeserving lips to wake you from the dead.”
Lisa clutched Nick’s arm. “He should be so lucky.”
She went around to the other side of the Range Rover and climbed inside while Nick pulled Neo aside.
“We still got problems, Neo. That damned demon’s still alive down there.”
“So I gathered. That means it’ll be coming after Blossom.”
“Right. As soon as her doctors elevate her health status, we’ve got to move her somewhere safe,” Nick explained.
“Yeah, but is there any place safe from that monster?”
“One.”
“Oh no, tell me you’re not thinking about that place, Nick.”
“I’m thinking about that place.”
“I asked you not to tell me that!” he whispered.
“Can’t be helped, old buddy. I presume you know the way?”
“I’ve tried to forget it.”
“Then I’ll take care of it.”
“No – no, I’ll do it. I was just fuckin’ with you.”
Nick shielded his face from the low, rising sun. “Thanks. Call me later if there are complications.”
“With Duneden, there’s always complications,” Neo grumbled.
Nick slid behind the steering wheel, and Lisa scooted beside him. After he negotiated a three-point turn, they were on their way to Fort Myers.
“Hand over Neo’s motel key,” she requested demurely.
He arched his left brow. “Give one good reason why.”
“I’ll give you three. Pizza, beer, and me. My room only.” She snuggled close to him.
“What about that little bottle in your bra? You going to throw that in, too?”
She stiffened. “How’d you . . .”
He smiled. “I caught a glimpse of it earlier.”
She seductively unbuttoned the front of her blouse. “Really? And did you see anything you’d like?”
“As a matter of fact, I did.”
“Good. Cause if you want the bottle, you’re going to have to get it yourself.”
His fingertips descended into her cleavage and pried the bottle away from its sensuous resting place. He immediately tossed it out the window. The glass shattered upon impact, and the liquid quickly evaporated on the warming, blacktop road.
She pressed against him during the short trip to the motel. Her blouse remained unbuttoned.
24
J
ay Walkingman emerged from the side doors of Arthur’s Bon Appetit Gourmet Catering van and lugged numerous cartons of catering supplies into the Tampa VA Hospital. His picture ID badge was pinned to his white uniform and read Carl Sanger, Assistant Manager. “Carl Sanger” was clean-shaven, had blue eyes, wore trendy clothes, and had frosted, gel-slick hair.
His terrorist contacts first got wind of the First Lady’s visit to the Tampa VA Hospital’s new medical center seven months ago. Five months later, Jay was instructed to establish himself as a model employee at Arthur’s to validate his cover as a worker at the VA Hospital luncheon celebrating the gala opening of its new cancer wing. The terrorist organization’s worldwide network of computer hackers implanted a complete life history for the counterfeit “Carl Sanger” in all the appropriate government and law enforcement databases.
It was late Thursday afternoon, and a seemingly endless stormy mélange of silver and soot shrouded the city and flooded the area creeks, rivers, and lakes. Jay was extremely pleased. The tri-county emergency management teams and the local law enforcement agencies were busy dealing with the floods and their victims, rather than concentrating on searching for a possible assassin.
Jay grinned as he stacked the remaining cartons packed with linen tablecloths and napkins onto his dolly and wheeled it into the hospital ballroom kitchen. He was pleased that the Secret Service, NSA, and FBI forces would be spread thin safeguarding the Vice President of the United States, two prominent U.S. Senators, and the First Lady in Tampa. Without the support of the local cops, there’d be no time for many of their usual, fastidious background checks; they would be fortunate if they were able to complete all the necessary bomb searches and staff their sniper positions.
Of course, Jay thought, his act of terrorism would be nonviolent, at least until the end. His grin widened. The end of United States president, Shelton Hanover.
Walkingman had already stashed his small satchel of mission accouterments in a large, unlocked cabinet located inside a maintenance closet near the ballroom. The satchel’s ID plate identified the contents as a replacement squeegee blade kit. He simply placed it among dozens of supply cartons. His underground terrorist instructors had taught him that the surest way to secure an item that he didn’t want found was to place it in plain sight. The most obvious display often attracted the least suspicion.
When he and his two Arthur’s Bon Appetit Gourmet Catering assistants finished unloading the nonperishable supplies for tomorrow’s luncheon, they climbed into the green and mauve company van and slowly approached one of the many FBI checkpoints recently set up at every hospital entrance and exit. The two agents manning the station merely waved the van through.
His operation tomorrow would be a piece of cake, he thought. Once it was completed, his terrorist counterparts would be kissing his ass. The organization’s head honcho had already promised to promote him to supervisor of the United States terrorist cell if he succeeded with the First Lady, Leann Hanover.
Despite his optimistic mind-set, Jay’s high spirits withered. It was a damn shame that Blossom couldn’t be at his side tomorrow to witness that historical moment. He exhaled heavily. Unfortunately, it couldn’t be helped. She was an uncontrollable risk, and a jinx to boot.
He forced a modest grin. No doubt, the snakes and rats in the bungalow had either given Blossom a heart attack or driven her insane by now. Either way, by the time someone discovered her, she’d be worm food.
His former sweetheart was no longer an obstacle to his impending, triumphant achievement.
Grant Donovan entered Tobias’s private office, poured himself a single malt scotch, and sat at the round conference table. Tobias Simpkins looked up from last month’s company accounting report, removed his glasses, and pinched the bridge of his nose. A black cloud hovered inside the ceiling air duct above the desk, unseen.
“Have you cleaned up our little mess?” Tobias asked his partner.
“Completely,” Grant replied and took a sip of the warm scotch. “The helicopters are at the bottom of the Atlantic past the continental shelf, well beyond salvage depth.”
“The pilots?”
“Went down with their helicopters,” he smiled.
“Good.” Tobias leaned back and frowned. “We have another problem.”
Grant leaned forward. “Oh?”
“We’re losing ground to our competitors. Aspirations, Inc.’s sales are down a quarter million the last fiscal month alone.”
Grant remained silent, tapping the small glass with his index finger. “May I make a suggestion?” he said at last.
“Go for it.”
“Let’s remix the real elixir into facials and other skin treatments for our wealthiest clients, which is the most desirable and profitable demographic in our industry,” he suggested. “That would give us a substantial edge on our competitors.”
“Aren’t you forgetting the nasty side effect on humans?”
“We’ll dilute the elixir so that the new formula results in surface absorption only. Minimal DNA restructuring. Of course, we’ll have to experiment on test subjects to determine the right mix,” Grant added.
“And where will you find such test subjects?”
“The streets. Whores, homeless b
roads – you know, the dregs of society.”
Tobias glowered. “All humans fall into that category.”
“Ah, but those filthy rich humans provide us with the power and money necessary for maintaining our lifestyles. Without them, we’d be headlining some carnival as a magician act.”
“And I resent it,” Tobias snapped. “I detest those inferior beings. I don’t want to owe those wretched, ill-bred creatures anything!”
Grant laughed. “Get off your soapbox, Tobias. This is business. Just business.”
“Sorry, I got carried away,” he apologized. “Where’s the elixir?”
Grant hesitated. “Inside our warehouse in Baltimore.”
Tobias noted Grant’s hesitation and eyed him charily. “All of it?”
“All of it,” Grant lied.
Tobias’s suspicion lingered. “Both tanks.”
“Right.” Their warehouse personnel weren’t aware that one tank held the elixir and the other plain water.
Tobias nodded. “How soon can you begin the experiments? I’d like to have these new products ready to utilize and promote in three months.”
“No problem. I was thinking more like three weeks.”
“Really! So Soon? But will we be able to establish experimental benchmarks in such a short time? I mean, three weeks doesn’t seem like a long enough period to thoroughly observe our subjects’ reactions to the elixir,” Tobias spoke up, worry knitting his brow.
“Trust me, it’ll be long enough,” Grant asserted.
“And what about the other side effect?”
“You mean the Zyloux?”
Tobias nodded again. “We can’t have that beast ripping our most profitable clients apart, now can we?”
“Absolutely not. The amount of elixir blended into our new product line will be so infinitesimal that even the Zyloux won’t be able to sniff out the users.”
“You’re sure?”
“Hey, I’m positive.” Grant paused. “What’s eating you? You’re behaving like that worrywart Sloan.”
Tobias’s eyes narrowed. “It’s Nick Bellamy who’s worrying me.”
“Yeah, I read about that big-shot, FBI man in the paper. He’s a real hero – saved the day for those imbeciles trapped in old Tobhor’s fortress,” Grant said sarcastically.
“Don’t forget, he brought down the Creeper and Senator Danforth, too. They were powerful allies.”
“Screw him. He won’t connect us to the theft of the elixir. I’ve covered our tracks too well. And besides, it’s our damned formula, anyway. How can he arrest us for swiping something that belongs to us?”
“He won’t see it that way, and neither will a jury.” Tobias stood. “Forget about Bellamy. I’ll take care of him.”
“And I’ll take care of our old partner, Sloan. He won’t want to get his hands dirty in our new product line testing,” Grant said.
“And just how are you planning to ‘take care of’ Sloan? I hope you realize that he’s no fool, Grant. The man is a powerful mage in his own right.”
Grant stood. “I won’t underestimate him, Tobias. I’m not actually going to eliminate him myself; I’m just going to set the wheels of his destruction in motion. I’m planning to leave the whole bloody business to the Zyloux after I slip Sloan an authentic elixir cocktail.”
“Just be careful. If he caught wind of your intensions, he could cause us a lot of trouble.”
Grant gulped the remaining scotch and slammed the empty glass down on the wet-bar counter on his way out of Tobias’s office. The black cloud drifted deeper into the air duct and vanished.
Grant closed his office door and sat behind his antique cherry desk. He swiveled in his chair and stared pensively out the ceiling-to-floor windows at the Manhattan skyline. He lowered his gaze to the throngs crowding the sidewalks. An infestation of human vermin. He agreed with Tobias’s disgust at owing that pathetic race anything for their existence, but they had no choice. Still, he rationalized, it was better to be the shepherd than the sheep.
Grant’s mind focused on the second elixir tank. No one but he knew where it was located. He planned to employ the precious liquid to eliminate some potential enemies; and by the time those would-be meddlers realized what was happening to them, it would be too late. Way too late.
He sneered.
Duneden would become a ghost town.
25
A
fter Nick and Lisa finished the pizza, they sat by the patio doors and watched the lightning spectacle as they sipped their beers.
“Funny, but I’m not the least bit tired now,” Lisa said.
“Me neither,” he agreed.
She put her beer can down on an end table, stood, and pulled Nick to his feet.
“Well, as long as we’re in agreement, there’s something I’ve wanted to do since the moment I met you,” she said demurely, and guided him into the bedroom.
“Oh? And what’s that?”
“I’d rather show you.”
Once they were in the bedroom, she seductively unbuttoned his shirt and tossed it aside. Then, she unbuckled his belt and tugged off his jeans, one leg at a time. The briefs followed. Lisa slid her top over her head and shoulders, removed her bra, and slid off her jeans and panties. She threw her arms around his neck and wrapped her legs around his warm body.
“That’s a start,” he whispered into her ear, and then he walked them to the bed where they tumbled onto the cool sheets.
Her hand roamed between his legs and fondled him. “Oooh, it feels like you’re ready to get it on.”
She slid a leg over him, guided him inside her, and slowly moved up and down.
“I see that all your big guns weren’t in the back of the Hummer,” she said breathlessly as she thrust harder against him.
“You seem to know what to do with it,” he grunted.
“You bet I do.”
The lightning flashed over their glistening bodies as they lay panting on the damp sheets.
“It’s been a long time,” Lisa said at last.
“For me, too.”
“That’s why we’ve got to go another round.”
“What kind of reasoning is that?”
“A horny woman’s reasoning. How about it, champ?”
“I don’t think I can without a rest.”
“Betcha you can,” she smiled.
He groaned. “You trying to kill me or what?”
“If you do kick off, it’ll be a helluva way to go.” Her hands worked their magic, massaging and kneading, and a couple of minutes later, she pulled him on top of her. “Time for that second round.”
He grinned. “I wouldn’t have believed I had it in me,” he said.
“Right. Now put it in me.”
And he did. After all, how could he rebuff such a sexy lady?
A small obsidian cloud, blacker than night, hovered outside Lisa’s bedroom window, watching her and Nick make love. After they finally slipped into an exhausted sleep, it drifted away from the motel and abruptly vanished.
Nick screamed.
Lisa rushed into the bedroom to find him sitting up in bed and perspiring profusely. She sat down beside him.
“Bad dream?” she asked softly, rubbing his shoulder.
Nick’s red-rimmed eyes blinked several times. “Where am I?”
“In my room at the Pirate’s Cove Motel.”
He turned to Lisa and noticed that she wore only a brief pair of denim cutoffs. He admired her alluring breasts. “For a minute there, I forgot I was . . .”
“It’s okay now. Just relax and tell me about your dream.”
“It was awful. I had a nightmare about Alick Tobhor.”
“The man who built that dreadful place where we were trapped?”
“That’s the one. I didn’t tell you everything I saw in my remote viewing episode,” he replied, drying his face on the sheet. “It was . . . unsettling to say the least.”
“Look, if you don’t want to tell me, that’s perfec
tly all right,” she added.
“No, no, it’s not that at all. I don’t really understand it myself.”
“Maybe between the two of us, we can figure it out,” she suggested.
He detailed his remote viewing incident, but he saved the disturbing segment for last. “A few moments before my consciousness returned to the present time, Alick turned toward me; but instead of looking at me, he looked through me. And believe me, whatever he saw, terrified him.” He shut his eyes. “Before I could see what he was staring at, I was zapped back to the present. His horrified expression has haunted me ever since.”
“I see what you’re driving at. What possibly could’ve frightened such a powerful man?”
“That question’s been tossing around inside my head, but there’s no answer,” Nick agreed. “And, it bugs the hell out of me.”
“I wonder if it could’ve been that monster, the demon guardian,” Lisa suggested. “That thing sure scares the hell out of me.”
“Maybe.” He sighed. “I’ve still got the jitters.”
“I can fix that, you know,” she said and kissed his cheek. “Now it’s all better.”
He laughed. “You bet.”
She stood and began unzipping her shorts.
Suddenly, he frowned. “Don’t.”
She shot him a puzzled look. “What’s the matter? Afraid you can’t go another round?”
“No, it’s nothing like that. It’s just that . . .” He hesitated.
Lisa saw he was serious. “It’s just what?”
A mix of anxiety and regret flashed across his face. “I’m . . . sorry.”
“For what?”
“For having to leave you like this.”
“Leave? You mean head up to Tampa?”
He smiled wanly. “I wish that was all there was to it.”
“If you’re afraid you’re running late, don’t be. Crow phoned early this morning and asked me to tell you that Geronimo is running background checks on all the people involved in this weekend’s events – whoever Geronimo is. Crow gave me explicit orders not to disturb the sleeping playboy, because he and Neo have everything under control.” Lisa grinned. “See, you have plenty of time to . . . mess around.”
The Ancient Breed Page 17
