“Hana’s politics lean toward the same values that Freedom have,” her mother finished.
Keiko reared back. “I’m the black sheep? Of course I’m the black sheep. Hana’s an archeologist just like you, married to another archeologist, and will probably produce little baby archeologists.” She gave her head a little shake and took a deep breath. “None of that matters right now. We can argue about this later. You should have told me what you were doing. I would never have sold you out to CommTECH—I would have helped you keep this a secret. I know people, skilled people, who would have hidden the information these fools dug up.” She gestured to the team around her.
“Hey,” Hunter said. “Don’t lump me in with them. I’m the brains of this operation.”
Keiko gave her parents a look that was filled with love but tinged with disappointment. “I love you both. I would have protected you. And I will now.” She looked at Striker, a cold determination in her eyes. “Don’t underestimate me. If one hair on their heads is harmed, I will find you and destroy you.”
Mace couldn’t help the surge of admiration he felt as he watched her stand up to his team. If they’d met under different circumstances, in a different century…
“Be careful with them,” Striker told the men standing guard over the couple, and then the screen went blank.
“It’s clear I don’t have a choice about getting you into the press conference.” Keiko had morphed into a cold business professional who would have been more at home in the boardroom than on the dance floor with an ex-Army Ranger. “But I can’t in good conscience help you if you’re planning to hurt people while you’re there.”
Striker shook his head. “This is purely an information-gathering exercise.”
“So, you’re thieves.” Her disgust was clear. “This is all about stealing secrets and selling them.”
“You don’t need to know the details of our operation,” Striker said.
But Mace disagreed, and for the first time in his military career, he went against his commanding officer. “We aren’t going in there to steal CommTECH’s research,” he said.
“Mace,” Striker warned. “This is team business.”
“No,” Mace said. “It’s her business, too. And like I told you right at the start of this night, she deserves to know what’s happening.” He turned back to Keiko. “Your company is deliberately manufacturing faulty implants and plans to sell them to unsuspecting customers just to make a buck and put their competition out of commission. We’re stepping up to make sure that doesn’t happen.”
“So, you’re the good guys.” She cocked an eyebrow at him. “Well forgive me if I don’t believe a word coming out of any of your mouths. Do you have any proof to back up your claims about this faulty chip?”
He clenched his jaw before answering. “That’s why we’re trying to get into the building. To get proof.”
“Convenient. So I’m supposed to believe that you’re blackmailing me for a noble cause—to save the world from CommTECH’s evil plan to implant everyone with dangerous datachips.” She stared down her nose at him, which was pretty impressive, considering how tiny she was. “CommTECH would never put people in danger by releasing a faulty chip. Never. The only part of that scenario I believe is that you’re going in there to steal information. What you plan to do with it, I can only imagine. Either way, you’re all delusional. CommTECH security is the best in the world. And what they aren’t watching, Enforcement is watching. You won’t last ten minutes. Which means you’re all going to get killed.”
He didn’t fool himself that she was concerned for his welfare. That boat had sailed on the sea of betrayal. “We can take care of ourselves. All you need to do is get me on that admittance list.”
“Oh, I’ll do my part.” She narrowed her eyes at them. “And you had better do yours. My parents better walk away from this without having one hair on their heads ruffled unnecessarily. Or there will be hell to pay.”
Before Mace could argue with her further, Striker held up a hand to stop him.
“Hunter will set up any calls you need to make,” he said. “Then he’ll allow you carefully monitored access to the systems you need to add Mace to the approved list of reporters for tomorrow’s press event. He also has to implant a temporary monitoring chip.”
She looked like her head might explode at that, taking them all out with her. “You’re going to listen in to all my communications?”
“We have to. You know that. It’s a matter of security for my team. There will be a five-second delay on everything you send out. Long enough for Hunter to catch anything that will endanger my team or our mission.”
“And when this is over?”
“We’ll remove the chip.”
“And what’s to stop me blowing the whistle on all of you then?”
“I’ll still have the information on your parents, chère.”
“Information you plan to hold over me forever.” It wasn’t a question. There was no walking away from this situation—ever.
Striker inclined his head in agreement.
Keiko radiated fury. “What happens the next time you want a favor? Do you take out that information, dust it off, and make me do what you want?”
“I know you don’t believe me,” Striker said, “but this won’t happen again. This is a one-time deal. The information on your parents will only be held for security purposes.”
“You’re right.” She glared at him. “I don’t believe you.”
Striker let out a heavy breath. “Sandi, Mace’s sister—the woman you pulled into the pool—has clothes for you. There are snacks in the kitchen, and the master suite is ready for you. We’ll each take turns standing guard over you until the press conference tomorrow.”
“No.” Mace stepped forward. “I’ll stay with her.”
The look of disgust Keiko shot him should have shriveled his balls to raisins. “I don’t want you in my room.”
“Tough.” He shrugged, and she gritted her teeth, obviously deciding to pick her battles.
“Go with Hunter,” Striker said. “Gray, you’re backup.”
“Yes”—Keiko scoffed—“because I need two big men watching me, in case I go crazy and take you all out with my bare hands.” With a huff of disgust, she followed his teammates out of the room.
Mace didn’t waste time. As soon as she was out of sight, he reared back, made a fist, and punched his best friend in the jaw.
Striker staggered back. “What the hell?”
“That’s for using the old couple. We didn’t agree to that part of the plan. We don’t operate like this. You’ve lost your sense of right and wrong because you’re too busy bending over backward to give your wife whatever she wants.”
“Leave Friday out of this.” Striker’s tone was pure warning.
Mace wasn’t intimidated. “I wish to hell we could. She’s the reason we’re in this mess. There’s been nothing but trouble since you decided to let her lead you around by the balls.”
Striker’s jaw clenched tight before he launched himself at Mace. A wave of adrenalin surged through him. He needed this. He needed an outlet for the feelings of betrayal, disappointment, and downright fury he felt for his team. And more than that, he needed to make his feelings clear to everyone around him. Which he planned to do. With his fists. Hopefully, once he was done, Striker would get the message loud and clear.
Mace didn’t take betrayal well.
Chapter Seven
“This isn’t an undercover op. It’s a suicide mission,” Mace murmured into the throat mic that connected him with his team, who were all holed up in their surveillance van, four blocks away.
Mace was on the sixty-sixth floor of CommTECH’s research building, waiting for the press conference to start. He may as well put his head in a lion’s mouth and hope it didn’t bite.
“Drama queen,” Hunter muttered, now that he was out of retaliation’s reach.
Like that would save his scrawny ass. Mace would t
each him another lesson on why he shouldn’t poke the bear after the op was over. In the meantime, he had a job to do. And a woman to worry about.
“Where’s Keiko?” he asked for at least the tenth time.
When he’d gone into the master bedroom to watch over her the night before, he’d found that she’d made a nest out of bedding in the middle of the floor of the walk-in closet and proceeded to lock the door on him. Without a word, she’d then gone to sleep in her nest and left him to pace around the bedroom. It was either that or kick the door down to make her talk to him. Unfortunately, the closet wasn’t that big, and kicking the door might have unintentionally hurt her. So he’d settled for pacing.
And he was not happy about it.
“For the last time,” Hunter said through his earpiece, “she’s prepping the scientists who’re taking part in the press conference.”
Mace couldn’t begin to express how much he hated the fact their tech guy was monitoring Keiko. He knew it was a sensible precaution, one that would protect the team, but he didn’t want anyone close to her. And being inside her head, monitoring her communications, was about as close as you could get.
“This had better start soon. I want out of here.” And out of Keiko’s life forever. He should have been happy at that thought, but instead he felt agitated—a reaction he chalked up to misplaced guilt.
“For goodness’ sake,” Friday snapped, reminding Mace that he was glad he’d sent her husband back to her with a split lip and bruised ribs. “It won’t last more than half an hour. Have some patience.”
“Yeah, I’ll get right on that.”
He scanned the area around him, making note of the exits. There were hand-painted Mexican tiles under his feet, full-grown trees offering shade above him, and strategically grouped seating areas of plush leather chairs for employees to use during their breaks. CommTECH hadn’t spared any expense in making sure their scientists were comfortable—and monitored. The terrace was packed with surveillance tech, and there was a fine mesh grid in the air several feet above them to stop any attempts to spy on the staff with drones or satellites. It was a pretty prison, with a billion-dollar view of Houston’s skyline.
And he felt just as trapped as the high-paid scientists. The sooner this assignment was over, the better. All he had to do was inject the lead scientist with a nano virus that would piggyback on his connection to the research facility mainframe and copy the information they needed. That was it. One little injection, and then he was out of there. He looked down at his datapad and frowned. The injector had been built into it, but he couldn’t remember how to access the damn thing.
“How do I get the injector off this thing again?” Hell, he couldn’t even see it. All he saw was the slim silver lens of a state-of-the-art handheld device.
Hunter let out a heavy sigh. “Friday, can you show him? I’m busy monitoring Keiko.”
“I’m taking remote control of your datapad,” Friday said as her image appeared in the top right-hand corner of the screen. The blonde was frowning at him. No surprise there. “See this box?” A dialogue box appeared on the screen. “You type in the release command, and the injector will pop out of the datapad. From the time it emerges, you only have about fifteen seconds to inject it into our target, otherwise it will be useless. So don’t release it until you know you’re going to use it.” She let out a long-suffering sigh. “When you get back to base, I’m making you take a Technology for Beginners course. Your ignorance makes you a danger to the team. And it’s embarrassing.”
“I know enough for what I need to do.” Generally. It wasn’t his fault he was a century out of date with the latest tech.
“Obviously not, or you’d be doing it.” She turned to her husband, who appeared behind her on the screen. “Is it too late to swap him out and put someone more capable in there? I’m worried he’s going to screw everything up and we won’t get the information we need. This is too important to let Mace loose on it. Millions of people could die if that chip is implanted in their heads.”
“Yeah, it’s too late to swap him out,” Striker said. “But don’t worry about it none. Mace’ll get the job done—he ain’t screwed up a mission yet. Take a deep breath and leave him be. You can fight it out with him once this is over.”
“Fine,” she huffed, “but if we ever have to infiltrate a research facility again, we send in someone who understands how to use a datapad. There are days I’m not even sure Mace can walk and talk at the same time.”
“Hey,” Mace said. “Still here.”
“I know,” Friday said. “I’m finished with your datapad. You can have control back. Do you think you can manage to wipe its memory once I log out, or do I need to talk you through that, too?”
“Why did we rescue her again?” Mace said.
“She’s great in bed,” Striker joked, earning a slap on the back of his head from his wife before the screen went blank.
“Are you sure Keiko is okay?” Mace said into his comm unit. “Security isn’t suspicious of her, are they?”
His stomach clenched. He didn’t like having her out of his sight and unprotected. If CommTECH’s security team got wind of what she was doing, she would be arrested and interrogated. Basically, his team had hung her out to dry. Another part of this mission that grated.
“She’s fine.” Hunter sounded bored. “She’s where she’s supposed to be, and she hasn’t sent out any calls for help.”
No, she wouldn’t. She was far too worried about what they’d do to her parents. Just thinking about that play made him want to punch his best friend all over again. “When this is done, Striker, you and I have a few things to settle.”
“Bring it on, mon ami,” his team leader drawled.
“Look lively.” Hunter was monitoring the feed from Mace’s cameras. They were props to help him fit in with the other reporters, but instead of broadcasting to a news station, his feed only went as far as his team’s van. “It’s showtime.”
There was a stirring at the front of the crowd, and hushed chatter quieted to murmurs, then silence. As one, the reporters surged toward the platform, where a wooden podium with the CommTECH logo dancing in 3-D animation on the front of it had been erected. Holographic projections appeared around the platform as shimmering figures told their stories about how CommTECH’s implants had changed their lives for the better.
Mace wasn’t interested in the presentations—all he cared about was when Keiko would step onto the stage—but the next hologram did manage to snag his attention. Mainly because it was a live feed showing CommTECH’s CEO, Miriam Shepherd. Her white-blond hair was fashioned into a sleek bob that stopped at her jaw. She wore a white pantsuit, but not the boxy kind that used to be Hillary Clinton’s trademark. This one fit like a glove, with the jacket wrapping around her body to fasten at the shoulder, and even though the crowd was seeing her as a holographic projection, it was still easy to tell the material was silk—a sign of status, power, and wealth. She was larger than life, a beacon of glowing white light in the middle of the stage. She was their leader. Their messiah. Their hope.
“Welcome to the product launch of our most advanced lens ever.” Miriam Shepherd’s holograph lifted her hands, and the applause grew louder. The roar only subsided once she lowered her arms again.
“Well-trained dogs,” Mace murmured. “What happened to an unbiased press?”
“That idea died decades ago,” Friday said helpfully.
“Thank you for coming.” Miriam’s voice surrounded them, resonating from well-hidden speakers positioned throughout the terrace. “I apologize for being unable to attend this launch in person, but when you run the most successful company in the world, there are many demands on your time.”
“Her humility is making me tear up,” Mace muttered into his throat mic. “Am I the only one getting cult-leader vibes from this performance?”
“Nope,” Striker said in his ear. “Any minute now, she’s gonna ask you to bow before her.”
“Good luck with that.” Mace had his share of bowing down to people when he was a kid. Now if people wanted his respect, they had to earn it.
“Today’s launch is the first of several this season,” Miriam continued. “Over the next few weeks, we’ll be rolling out a series of new products that will set market standards for years to come. One of which is the new neural datachip that’s being designed in this very facility, under the guidance of our head of research, Rueben Granger. Our team of scientists, the best in the world, has pushed the boundaries on every aspect of integrated living that the modern person needs. We’re talking faster processing, smoother connectivity, enhanced neural integration, and longer product life—across the board.”
“Notice she said longer product life, not longer customer life,” Striker said in Mace’s ear.
There was more applause, although this time she hadn’t signaled for it. The sheep were eager to eat the feed she was shoveling.
“Here to explain everything to you,” Miriam said, “is CommTECH’s press secretary, Keiko Sato. Accompanying her is the research team behind the world’s most advanced lens, the product we’re celebrating today. Please give them a warm welcome.” It was an order, and her audience jumped to comply.
As Miriam’s holograph disappeared in a shower of virtual-reality pyrotechnics, the doors behind the stage opened. A cheer went up, but Mace didn’t need the noise of the crowd to tell him that Keiko had arrived. He felt it in every cell of his body.
She wore another form-fitting dress, this one a shimmering silver, and her feet were clad in matching shoes with heels that were at least four inches tall. The woman had a thing for sexy shoes, and Mace appreciated it greatly.
Her presence filled the stage, her smile was friendly and welcoming, and there was a mischievous glint in her eye that made people think they were in on some joke with her. It was no wonder she’d risen through CommTECH’s ranks so quickly—her charisma would have been invaluable to them. As she beamed at the crowd, she made a point of looking straight through Mace, and although he deserved it, it still grated.
Red Awakening Page 6
