Lethal Game

by Christine Feehan

  This was going to be a hard one to live with, but the hell with it. Jorganson was right, they were sheep and they wouldn’t listen to reason. They couldn’t hear when they were told a simple truth. They wanted to believe everyone in the world was good. Some people really were too stupid to live. That was Jorgey’s laughing mantra and it was the truth. He took a deep breath, straightened and began the long walk back to his car. It was on the third floor of the parking garage just up the street.

  It was getting hot already, although it wasn’t yet afternoon. Sweat broke out and he slapped at an insect on his neck. One nailed him on the inside of his wrist, and he smacked at that one too. He didn’t like bugs. He sprayed for them all the time, but he’d never found a bug spray that really deterred mosquitoes. He walked briskly, but after a few minutes he found his arm felt numb and he was having difficulty catching his breath. He didn’t want Callendine to see him like that, because he’d make him run for days until he got back in shape. Too much time sitting around watching football and basketball.

  By the time he reached his vehicle, his lungs were burning. He put his head back on the seat and closed his eyes, giving himself permission to rest, hoping Callendine didn’t have eyes on him. He was just going to stay there for a few minutes . . .

  He’s down, Bellisia confirmed.

  That was four. Malichai glanced at his watch. They’d identified and taken down more than half of them in under five minutes, but Ezekiel was still working on the first bomb. Not one had said they were clear.

  “Back entrance, all the way to the left. John Sawyer,” Avery said.

  Malichai nodded to let Avery know he heard. Shylah, John Sawyer back entrance, all the way to the left. He’s lighting a cigarette on the sidewalk and he just flipped off the building. You see him? You there?

  Yes, he’s grinning. Thinks he’s getting off scot-free. That’s not happening. I’m moving up on him now.

  Don’t take him close to the center. Callendine probably has eyes on him. If he knows we’re onto him, and killing his men, he’ll blow this place. We have to find where every bomb is and then get them out.

  It was a huge chance they were taking, but they were certain Callendine was prepared to kill everyone if he was discovered.

  “You’re not supposed to smoke here, sir.”

  John Sawyer whirled around to see a young girl with freckles spread across her nose looking at him through wide, brown eyes. Her hair was tied back in a ponytail, but even that style failed to tame the mass of waves and wild curls. She was smiling at him with her generous mouth as if she’d given him a compliment instead of telling him, a soldier, a man who had secured her fucking freedom, her right to breathe, what he could and couldn’t do.

  “Fuck you,” he said and flicked the cigarette right at her face.

  She was close to him and it should have hit her right in her eye, that glowing end. He’d even stopped to see the results so he could think about them for a long time. He’d had lots of practice hurting the weak, showing them what fools they were and how they should treat men like him with far more respect. Callendine would probably shoot him if he knew some of the shit he’d done, but he’d been careful. He’d like to see this little sweet-faced bitch reach the understanding of just who was in charge.

  Somehow, her hand moved with blurring speed. She was so fast he hadn’t even blinked yet he didn’t see her move and the cigarette hadn’t hit her. She caught it and smiled at him. That smile wasn’t sweet. Those dark brown eyes were suddenly cool and not at all friendly. She went from looking like a young teen to something altogether different.

  Found the bomb, Mordichai confirmed. Go for it, Shylah.

  “Who are you?” He turned away from her.

  Something bit his neck as he turned, and he slapped at it. He walked briskly away, slapping at the insect and then just covering the bite because it throbbed. He felt a trickle of sweat sliding down his neck to soak into his tee and he walked faster. He was almost to the parking garage, but his legs felt rubbery. He made his way to the grass and sank down, thinking he’d just rest for a minute. He found himself lying down, staring up at the sky.

  A woman’s face swam into view above him. He recognized those freckles. She didn’t say anything, she just reached over his body to his neck where the bug had stung him and then she was gone, leaving him in peace to stare up at the sky until everything just faded away.

  He’s gone. Can they defuse the bomb?

  Mordichai’s still on it. That’s five. We’re looking for one more.

  Malichai turned to Avery. “Come on, brother, we need the last one. We’ve got to find that last man.” Even as he put it on the tech, he was scanning the screens. There were just so many people. Hundreds. Thousands. Where had they all come from? They’d worked fast, but Callendine would be listening to the scanners, listening for the alerts that would go out for the police to go to the bed-and-breakfast. That had been arranged, although Rubin wasn’t at the B and B, he was already in the building searching for the last bomb.

  Callendine would be satisfied with the call to the police, but when the fire department and then ambulances weren’t called, he would instantly know something wasn’t right. He went by the book, by the numbers, and when a mission didn’t go right, he hit his fail-safe. They were ensuring the bombs couldn’t be detonated by remote, so what was his fail-safe? He might consider that the remotes would be jammed.

  “There,” Avery said, his voice that same calm. “The last one, Nathan Treadway. He’s just now walking out the middle exit back way, he’s stopped to talk with a family walking in.”

  Malichai spotted the man, crouched down beside a double stroller. The parents looked young and they had four children. The older ones were obviously twins, and they looked to be about four or five and the ones in the stroller couldn’t have been yet two. Treadway knew he left a bomb inside that building and yet he stopped so casually to talk with children he planned to kill.

  Amaryllis, do you see Nathan Treadway? He’s right at the middle exit in the back. Crouched down with a family of four children, double stroller. Young parents. He’s laughing and talking with the parents, rubbing the curls on the babies in the stroller. He tried to keep his voice impersonal, but even with that, his emotions were there for his entire team to feel.

  I’ve got him. There was complete confidence in Amaryllis’s voice.

  Malichai saw her now. She moved into position just outside the door, a few feet up the sidewalk, stopping to fiddle with her shoestrings. Treadway got to his feet and with a small, friendly wave at the parents, strode out the door, apparently whistling.

  Found the bomb. I’m on it, Rubin said.

  I’ll be there in two, Ezekiel said. This one is disarmed.

  It was a beautiful day. Treadway wished he could be there when the building came down. It was huge and the bombs were set to take out the main supports. It would collapse on itself and those inside would be trapped as the ceiling came down. It would be a thing of beauty to watch. He hoped there were outside cameras that would capture the actual fall of the convention center and the slow deaths of those inside. Debris falling. Dirt. Heavy fixtures. Beams. Cement. Brick. The ceiling. It was going to be glorious.

  He made his way around a woman tying her shoe without looking at her, although he wanted to swat her ass just because women protested every little thing now, as if men shouldn’t even look. He wasn’t going to go on a rant about that or be distracted from having the best day. The sun was shining, and the building was coming down on all those idiot people who couldn’t think for themselves. They were followers. Every single one of them. They were teaching their children to be followers. They didn’t take responsibility for themselves. They lived off the government. They didn’t appreciate those who took care of them; in fact, they constantly tore them down. He’d had enough and was fighting back. He knew how to fight. Did they?

&n
bsp; Whistling, he walked briskly toward the garage where his rental was parked. He really detested that Callendine had given the order for them to leave, and he even considered pretending there was a problem with his car so he could see the building go up. It didn’t seem very fair to plan it all out and then not get to see the actual results. He hoped there was plenty of footage of the bed-and-breakfast burning to the ground as well. If they were lucky, they’d score plenty of victims there too.

  As he entered the parking garage, he paused to look around. There was a group of people gathered around someone on the ground. He avoided them and went straight to the stairway leading to the next story where his SUV was parked. It had tinted windows because he didn’t give a fuck if he wasn’t supposed to have them. He should be able to have them. He sauntered toward the vehicle when he heard a soft sigh behind him.

  He spun around. It was the woman from the peace convention center, the one with the shoe that had needing tying. She had red hair and dark eyes. She smiled at him. “You dropped this. You walk so fast, I couldn’t catch up with you.” She handed him his wallet.

  There was a moment he thought he felt a small sensation as he took the wallet when her fingers brushed his palm, but then she was giving him a sweet smile and walking away.

  “Wait. Thanks. That was unexpected.” It was. She looked like one of those idiots, but she didn’t act like one.

  “No problem,” she said without turning around. “It’s a gorgeous day. I think the beach is calling.”

  He wished he could go to the beach and he was glad she was heading that way instead of back with the sheep. He unlocked the door to the SUV and grabbed the door handle. He missed. It was weird. His hand just fell off. He stared at it, trying to make out the actual grip. He was seeing double. Pain began to shoot from his palm up his arm and it was excruciating. He found he couldn’t move his arm, almost as if it was paralyzed.

  He tried to turn his head, looking for help, but his neck wouldn’t turn. His lungs felt as if they were burning but he couldn’t drag in air. He found himself slumping helplessly against the vehicle and then folding in on himself and landing hard on cement half under the car. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t see. Pain engulfed him from head to toe and he had no idea what was happening to him. Then his world just went black.

  He’s gone, Amaryllis said.

  Something in her voice bothered him. Malichai should have been elated. That was Callendine’s entire team. What’s wrong, Amaryllis?

  Callendine is here, in the parking garage. I thought he would be closer to the building, but he’s up high, on the third floor, overseeing everything from above. He watched all of his men come to the garage, but they never left. He saw me approach Treadway with his wallet and he’s on his way to investigate. My guess is, he’s going to deploy the fail-safe. Get everyone out if you can, Malichai.

  He wasn’t with her. His leg was stretched out, being babied, while she was on the top floor of a parking garage with a man who would shoot her the moment he saw his dead soldier. The GhostWalker teams not busy removing the bomb threats and the SEAL teams immediately began to remove the masses of people as fast but as safely as they possibly could.

  Everyone was coming out of the building fast, running. Trying to get away from it. He kept his eyes on the screens, but his mind was with Amaryllis.

  Baby, listen to me. He’ll shoot first and ask questions later. Meaning, he’ll shoot you where it will cause the most pain but not kill you. You can’t let him see you. Can you get out of there?

  He’s at the SUV, crouched beside Treadway, examining him while he’s talking into his phone. I’m certain he’s trying to blow that building. Get those people out. You have to get them out. He’s looking around and he’s trying to raise the others. I can hear him calling them.

  She was going after him. Malichai knew she was. She wasn’t going to let Callendine go. Because he was so completely terrified he was going to lose Amaryllis, that she didn’t realize just how ruthless a man she was dealing with, he nearly missed the woman walking out of the building so smugly. Beside her were Tania and Tommy Leven. They were holding hands. Once outside, they separated.

  His breath caught in his throat. Shit. Shit. It’s Major Salsberry. She’s the fail-safe. She armed a seventh bomb. Get them out of there. Bellisia, Shylah, if either of you are close, she’s going out the front entrance right now, to the north, heading away from the parking garage. If you can, one of you get to Amaryllis at the top of the garage, she’s hunting Callendine. Tania and Tommy Leven headed toward the parking garage. They’re together.

  He was already up and knocking open the van doors. There was no one else. Every single bomb expert was otherwise occupied or on the other side of the building. His brothers. His team. The women. All those innocent people the teams were desperately trying to evacuate without a stampede that would kill everyone. He knew the cost even as he jumped to the ground. He would lose his leg. He had to make that choice. There was no choice. No real other choice, not for a man like him. It might be his worst nightmare, but he couldn’t stay in the van and watch those innocent people die.

  The moment he landed on his feet, even though he tried to protect his injured leg, Malichai felt the pain rush up from his calf to his thigh like a freight train. Bile rose, but he shoved it down, along with the blackness that edged his vision. He ran, shoving people out of his way, shouting at them to move fast, to get away from the building. He managed to make it inside without mowing anyone down.

  Instincts had him turning toward the main support to his right, the main beam they’d all worried about. Ezekiel had already defused the bomb. Salsberry had looked so smug as she’d come out of the convention center, her face portraying her contempt and distaste for the people she was about to kill. She was definitely Callendine’s devoted fail-safe. She would have died for him. This wasn’t done for money or even because she believed so deeply in the cause, she’d done it for Callendine.

  He found the newly planted bomb unerringly and his heart nearly stopped as he flung himself beside it. Shit, shit. This is bad. Get these people out. Zeke, she’s hooked the bombs together. I’m looking it over and she’s rewired them both— He broke off to study the wiring, refusing to look at the minutes counting down so fast. There was so little time and she’d done that deliberately, giving herself just enough time to walk away.

  I’m on my way.

  That was Zeke, and Malichai wanted him gone. Get out of here. All of you get out of here. Get these people out. God. God. There were so many. Too many. He could hear children crying. People screaming. The sounds of chaos. The SEAL teams speaking calmly, trying to bring order into a situation of pure madness.

  He had to breathe. He had to get beyond the waves of sickness the excruciating pain in his leg sent up to his brain. He knew the bone was broken. Maybe even shattered into a million pieces, but what did it matter if all these people died? He had to be able to disarm this bomb fast. He’d always been good at this. One of the best. If he could get beyond his own personal discomfort, block the pain and just focus . . .

  * * *

  Shylah was still on the other side of the building to aid the teams removing people through the back exits. Bellisia had stayed just in front to help get the people to leave as fast but as orderly as possible. She was small and she knew few would listen to her, but if she could help in any way, she was determined to do so. Ezekiel and Joe bridged the other GhostWalker team members telepathically, setting up the communication so they all knew what was going on simultaneously.

  Major Roseland Salsberry had just condemned hundreds, if not thousands, of innocent men, women and children to death. She’d included the soldiers trying to stop the rogue unit, the GhostWalkers and SEALs, the men from the Navy base, the security men desperately trying to help get the innocent out. Bellisia wasn’t about to let her get away with it.

  She could see the woman walking
so casually while around her the crowd was running. Crying children were pushed to the ground while frantic parents tried to yank them up before they could be trampled over. Salsberry smiled as she surveyed the scene of utter chaos, as if she knew that was what would happen, and she was so happy it had.

  Bellisia slipped up beside her, brushed close, close enough to deliver the bite that would end Salsberry’s life. It was easy enough to push the venom of the blue-ringed octopus into her system without her even feeling more than an insect sting for a second. The woman was too busy basking in the glory of her success to even notice. It was easy to match those careful, measured steps as they moved away from the crowd and in the opposite direction of the parking garage.

  Already the venom was beginning to work. Whitney had made certain to amp up the amount of venom she released into the body of her victim so there was no way they could be saved. Salsberry was obviously feeling something in her hands and arms, most likely numbness or tingling, because she kept rubbing them.

  “My name is Bellisia Fortunes,” she said softly as they walked together through the crowd. Deliberately, she spoke in a low tone so Salsberry would have to listen. “I don’t know if your security clearance is high enough or not, but there’s a program in the military known as the GhostWalkers.”

  She saw by Salsberry’s face, that quick glance at her, that she had heard of them. The woman tried to speak, but nothing came out, her voice box was already affected by the poison. It was taking hold fast with the walking, moving it through her system very quickly. In another minute she would go down and there would be nothing anyone could do.