“Who sent you?”
The felon took several deep breaths, and then croaked, “Sethanon.”
The name meant nothing to her, but it was one Gabriel obviously recognized. His expression was grim as he asked, “Why?”
“To collect Kazdan’s body.”
Gabriel’s expression was somewhat skeptical, and she wondered why.
“Why do you want Jack’s body?” she asked, keeping her voice soft. The man was in a bad enough state as it was. If they threatened him too much more, he might just faint.
“I don’t know.”
Gabriel tightened his grip again. The felon flapped his arms in agitation, a frantic look of fear twisting his face. “I’m telling you, I don’t know! I’m just a runner. I do what I’m told. They don’t tell me nothin’!”
“Really?” Gabriel’s tone implied disbelief, even though the fear in the felon’s eyes suggested he was telling the truth. “Where were you supposed to take the body?”
“To a warehouse in Carlton.”
“Address?”
“Five-ten Rathdown Street.”
Footsteps sounded in the outer room, and the lights once again came on. Help had arrived. She half expected Gabriel to release his grip on the felon, but again, he went against the norm, tightening it instead.
“Time?” he continued flatly.
The morgue door opened, and five gray-suited men filed in, weapons at the ready. On seeing them, they holstered their guns and approached.
The felon gagged a little, struggling to breathe. “Ten … ten-thirty.”
“Thank you.” Releasing his grip, Gabriel pushed him into the arms of the nearest gray suit. “Detain these two for further questioning.”
Two other gray suits approached the unconscious man at her feet and unceremoniously dragged him away. Obviously, the SIU didn’t give a hoot about prisoner rights. Jack would have been right at home with these boys.
Her gaze darted back to Jack’s body and she bit her lip. This wasn’t Jack; she was sure of that much. A damn good imitation maybe, but not the real thing. Which begged the question, where was the real Jack? Was he alive, as her hairy visitor had said? And if this wasn’t Jack, then who the hell was it?
Gabriel walked around the drawer and touched her arm, his fingers like fire, sending heat past the thickness of her sweater, down into her chilled skin—and causing heat of an entirely different kind to flit across her senses. She frowned, and did her best to ignore the sensation.
“Langston, I want you and Reynolds to stay here and guard this body until I arrange for its transfer down to the SIU vaults. No one is to touch it, not even State.”
Sam glanced at him in surprise. His expression was grim.
“Come on,” he said, and tightened his grip on her arm, hauling her from the room.
“You came here to check whether this was really Jack, didn’t you?” he said, once they were clear of the room.
She nodded. There was no point in denying the obvious.
“And?”
“It’s not.” She hesitated. “But you already know that, don’t you?”
“Maybe.” The elevator opened. He swiped his card and punched the button for sub-level twenty-eight. “What makes you so certain it’s not?”
“His lack of tan, a missing scar.” She hesitated. “The fact that he has no mark or indentation on his finger from his wedding ring.”
Indeed, that was the most telling. Jack’s love for Suzy was almost as obsessive as Suzy’s was for him. In the three years since his marriage, she’d never seen him take the ring off. Even if he’d lost it during the ten days he’d gone missing, there would have been a fading band of white on his finger.
She blinked suddenly. Suzy. Why had Suzy told the captain that she was having an affair with Jack? Suzy of all people would have been aware of the truth. She knew how little they saw of each other after hours, if only because Jack had spent all his spare time with her.
Unless, of course, she was involved in Jack’s schemes—whatever those schemes might be. Maybe the first person she should talk to when she got out of here was Suzy Kazdan.
“So who is lying in the morgue? Have you run a background check on him yet?”
“No need to.” Gabriel’s gaze met hers, the bright depths shadowed. Watchful. “It’s a clone, but one that’s undergone accelerated growth.”
She blinked. “How the hell could Jack have a clone? How is that even possible? I mean, I know cloning replacement body parts has been viable for a while, but a whole human being?”
“The whole being research has been up and running for a while, with varying degrees of success.”
“But why would Jack—” Her voice faded as she remembered again what her hirsute visitor had said. “He wanted to be officially declared dead.”
“More than likely,” Gabriel said, voice grim. “What tipped you off that it might not be the real Kazdan lying on that slab?”
She hesitated, for some reason reluctant to mention her visitor. “He was talking very strangely at the end. It was almost as if he wasn’t used to speaking.”
“He probably wasn’t. Clones who are accelerated rarely have the time or the chance to learn to speak fluently.”
The doors slid open, revealing the SIU foyer. Finley was waiting at reception for them.
“Next time she wants to go to the restroom, have someone escort her.” Though Gabriel’s voice was even, a hint of censure ran through it.
Finley flinched. “I’ve posted security at the lab doors.”
Gabriel nodded. She met his gaze and saw the anger burning bright in the intense depths of his eyes. He might not have said anything about her running off, but he would eventually. She smiled grimly. If he’d read her file, and he probably had, he’d know that following orders had never been a strong suit of hers, even though she had the rep for being a by-the-book cop. Given the slightest chance, she’d be out of here.
“I have a ten-thirty meeting I have to get to.” Though he was talking to Finley, his gaze was still on her.
She shifted uncomfortably and glanced at the clock. He was really going to have to fly if he was going to get to Carlton on time. Though the suburb was only a few minutes from the Central Business District, the traffic at this hour was hell.
“Watch her until I get back.”
Finley nodded, and Gabriel turned and walked away. As much as she wanted to go with him, she knew it was pointless to ask. He wanted her here, in Finley’s hands, to find out why she could see the kite-monsters when no one else could. And what Assistant Director Gabriel Stern wanted, he apparently got.
A situation that was about to end, she thought grimly.
Finley cleared his throat and then nervously motioned her up the hall, toward the labs. She knew she could get past Finley; once the doctor got his nose into his computers, his attention would wander. Security was another problem altogether.
Not to mention the fact that she had to get out before Gabriel got back. The man seemed to know the workings of her mind far too well. With him around, there would be no escape.
She had, at best, a couple of hours. And once she was free, Suzy Kazdan was the first port of call. That lying bitch would tell her exactly what was going on … or there’d be hell to pay.
GABRIEL GLANCED AT HIS WATCH as he ran across Rathdown Street. Ten-twenty. He was cutting it close. Whoever was waiting for the two men would probably be there by now.
But there had been nowhere else to shift shape except the park. Any closer and he could have run the risk of being sensed by those waiting inside the warehouse. He bent his arm back and forth, trying to ease the slight ache. It had been a long time since he’d flown so hard, or so fast. He was out of shape—something Stephan had warned might happen.
Still, given his work, and SIU’s policy of not flaunting your abilities in public, he’d had little chance to get in any significant flight time. And by the look of things, it was a situation not likely to change in a hurry.
>
He dodged a car trying to do an illegal right-hand turn and headed toward the warehouse. In reality, it was an old redbrick factory that somewhere along the line had been converted into apartments. Now, though, it was abandoned and waiting for a new owner to refurbish it. Given the scarcity of housing this close to the city, it was surprising that hadn’t happened already.
The light breeze whistled through the smashed windows on the upper floors and rattled the loose roofing atop the front veranda. It was a forlorn sound that jarred uneasily against the noise and rush of the morning traffic.
He took the front steps two at a time and stopped when he reached a wrought-iron gate. Beyond it, there was a long tunnel that opened out into an expanse of sunshine and grass. From where he stood, the courtyard seemed—and felt—empty. He twisted the handle and pushed the gate open. Then he studied the redbrick walls on either side of the tunnel, making sure there were no alcoves or doors. After determining there weren’t, he moved down cautiously.
No one waited in the courtyard. The sun shone on the pond that dominated the center, making the water sparkle like diamonds. In the surrounding patch of lawn, weeds had overtaken the grass. Surprisingly, there was very little litter, just the occasional glitter of glass shards.
He lifted his gaze, studying what remained of the windows that looked out onto the courtyard. The place looked, and felt, uninhabited. But if he went out into that sunshine, he’d be a sitting duck for anyone who might be hiding within the buildings. And unless he did, he’d never know if there was anyone up there to worry about.
He swept his gaze across the silent apartments, and then sprinted across to the nearest set of stairs. Silence greeted him. Anyone who was here obviously didn’t care about, or hadn’t yet noticed, his presence.
He searched the entire first floor and found nothing but debris and dust. Stopping near the stairs, he stared down at the pond and wondered what sort of trap he might be walking into. Thralls—humans who were shackled to the life of their vampire masters, but not actually vampires themselves—generally didn’t give up information on their masters so easily, and the mere fact that they had suggested they’d been ordered to do so. But it was now ten forty-five and there was absolutely no sign of life, let alone trouble.
Unless, of course, the men who were supposed to be here were stuck in traffic.
He pushed away from the railing. There were only a half dozen apartments on the second floor, so he might as well take a look. He headed up the stairs to the next floor. In the third apartment, he found a body.
After checking the remainder of the apartment to ensure no one else was around, he squatted beside the remains and felt for a pulse. Nothing. Not that he’d expected one. The smell of death was beginning to permeate the still apartment air.
He rolled the corpse over. It was a male, probably in his mid-fifties, and his bloated face was somewhat familiar, though where Gabriel had seen him he couldn’t remember. Frowning slightly, he patted down the man’s body. No identification card, no wallet, nothing that might even hint at who he was. So why had this body been dumped here? It wasn’t exactly the best of hiding spaces, especially when the gates were unlocked and these apartments were so accessible. Maybe—
His thoughts came to an abrupt halt as the stale air stirred. He dropped and swung around. Two men approached, one carrying a large club that already arced toward his head. He raised his arm and blocked the blow, but the force of the impact sent a shudder through the rest of his body. Ignoring the resulting pain, he surged upward and struck out with a clenched fist. The blow smashed into the stranger’s face, and bone and cartilage gave way. No vampire, then, he thought as the man staggered back, blood pouring from his shattered nose. Either that, or he was an extremely new one. Most seasoned vampires would have been fast enough to avoid such damage.
The second man moved in, fists swinging. Gabriel ducked several blows, then threw one of his own. The man went down like a ton of bricks. Gabriel frowned. He was fast, and he definitely had more speed and strength than mere humans, but this was almost too easy …
The stale air stirred again, warning him of another approach. He spun, catching a brief glimpse of two men before something smashed into his head and the lights went out.
SAM SAT ON THE TOILET seat and stared up at the ceiling. Time was growing short, and her hopes of escape even shorter. Finley was watching her closer than a shark did a potential meal, and he had two gorillas as assistants. Hell, they’d even come into the restroom with her, just to check that there were no vents or other likely escape routes present. They were back outside now, but if she sat here much longer, they’d be back in, wondering what was going on.
She bit her lip, her gaze sweeping the entire roof for what seemed like the hundredth time. Lots of ceiling tiles, and not one vent. Who could believe that? Christ, people were always escaping via the air ducts in movies. Just this once, couldn’t fact have followed fiction?
Sighing, she rose and turned around. But just as she was about to push the button, she noticed that one of the ceiling tiles above her head, near the wall, had a broken edge. They were fibro—or whatever fire-retardant material it was they were using these days—not proper tiles. And beyond the broken edge, metal gleamed.
Her heart began to race. She didn’t know much about buildings, and she’d never even thought about the fact that the building probably had a suspended ceiling to allow for all the cabling and ducts. But if the electrician and air-con guys could move around in the void between the suspended ceiling and the actual one, she certainly could.
First, though, she had to try to get up there. She flipped down the toilet seat lid and climbed from there onto the paper dispenser. Then, with one hand pressed against the wall for support and hoping like hell the dispenser would hold her weight long enough, she rose onto her tiptoes and tried to flip the tile back. But she was several inches too short.
She swore softly. After taking a deep breath to calm the anxiety clutching her stomach, she eased off a shoe and tried to move the tile that way. Her second attempt was successful, and the tile plopped to one side. The void beyond was dark, but it certainly looked like there was at least crawling space.
If she could get up there.
And if she could overcome her fear of enclosed spaces.
If she could achieve both of those things, all she’d have to worry about was not putting a foot—or more—through a tile and letting everyone know what she was up to.
Piece of cake, she thought wryly.
Taking another deep breath, she carefully hooked her leg over the stall wall and clambered up. Luckily, whoever had designed this building had installed strong partitions rather than the usual paper-thin ones. Maybe the designer figured a building housing the SIU and State Police needed decent toilet walls, just in case officers needed to throw a suspect or two around. Which wasn’t the joke it appeared to be, because she’d certainly seen Jack do it.
Once her butt was securely parked, she eased along the top of the stall until she neared the wall. Then, carefully, slowly, she rose and looked through the hole.
Darkness and dust. God, just the thought of clambering up there had sweat breaking out across her brow. She had no idea where this fear of small, dark spaces had come from. The State psych guys reckoned it was probably the result of a childhood trauma, but since she could remember nothing about her childhood, that wasn’t much help.
And standing here thinking about it wasn’t doing the fear any good, either. She needed to escape, and this was her only way out. End of story.
She gripped the steel bracing on either side of the tile and tested it for strength. It didn’t bend, but then, if it supported the guys who maintained the ducting and cabling, it was more than strong enough to support her. And this testing was merely another way of avoiding the inevitable.
She took another deep breath and pulled herself up into the darkness. Almost immediately, her stomach began to twist. She licked her lips but otherwise ignored
the fear as she waited for her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Thankfully, it didn’t take long.
The void was a mess of ducts, cabling, wires, and all sorts of building rubbish. She studied the crisscrossed lines of metal supports, trying to compare them with what she knew of the building’s layout. The concrete mass that was the core area wasn’t that far away, since this building, like many of its era, tended to have all its facilities crowded around the main core. Which meant the elevators were in the center, with the stairs and restrooms on either side of the shafts. But making her way toward the elevators wasn’t a good option, as that was probably the first place they’d look once they realized she was missing again. Which left the stairs. But how could she get there, especially when most of the offices on this floor were locked down tighter than Fort Knox? She doubted the security pass she’d been given would allow her access into any of them. And given that the security measures here in the SIU section of the building were far tighter than those in the State Police section, the key-coder she had hidden in her boot would probably raise alarms rather than open doors.
Her gaze settled on a mass of pipes not that far away. Surely that was the men’s restroom. And, like the ladies’, it was close to the stair area. If there was no one in there, it might be her best bet.
She blew out a breath, drew her legs fully into the void and shifted the tile back into its position. With her one spot of light gone, the darkness seemed to close in, pressing down on her, making it hard to breathe.
She swiped at a trickle of sweat running down her face, her hand trembling. It was ridiculous, this fear. There was nothing in the darkness that could harm her—nothing but the fear itself. And if she didn’t move, and move now, she’d blow her chance to escape. Finley’s goons would surely be wondering what the hell was taking her so long.
Besides, the enigma that was Assistant Director Stern would surely be on his way back from that meeting soon. And he’d have no doubt as to what she was doing in the restroom.