The Master Key

Home > Other > The Master Key > Page 13
The Master Key Page 13

by T. K. Toppin


  John gave me an odd sideways glance, making me a little uncomfortable. “I want—would like it—when you speak with her, to be there.”

  I nodded and reached out to hold his hand as we walked. I was about to object, but then, thinking about it, I decided he was right. And right now, I needed him more. Whatever it was I felt, I knew that if he were there, everything would be all right.

  Chapter 12

  John left her to wolf down a quick breakfast and take a shower. He even made the cereal and coffee. Crocker had been manually shut down and locked in her storage cupboard. In fact, all the Citadel’s droids were on manual shutdown as a precautionary measure. The reason given was technical issues with the latest download commands. A mild uproar ensued as residents of the Citadel voiced their displeasure, demanding explanations. John left that problem in Loeb’s capable hands.

  John had been informed that Governor Ayo Mwenye was re-routing the mainframe controls to manual override. One item was off the checklist so far.

  The nod Simon had given him confirmed that he’d managed to switch the master code with a fake at the last minute. John expected Ho to summon him once the deception was revealed, no doubt in a roaring rage. The thought made John chuckle.

  Simon, aside from being the best at what he did, was nimble-fingered. It had been Simon’s idea to make the switch, an idea sparked by Josie’s idle suggestion. They’d needed the real code to pass the scan, since they couldn’t put it past Ho to not use the same scanner he’d used when Mwenye had gift-wrapped the code to him. Most code scanners kept a log of what they’d scanned. So Simon had made sure that, at whatever cost, he was the one to hand over the key-card.

  “What are you grinning at?” Josie asked as she emerged from the bathroom, her hair dripping. She looked fresh and scrubbed pink, though shadows of exhaustion still smudged under her eyes.

  John felt a slight stir in his stomach as she strode up to him, that flutter of excitement he got every time he saw her. The towel draped over her shoulders to catch the water from her hair did nothing to cover her bare body. He indulged himself with a lazy gaze along her long, lean body.

  “I’m too tired.” Josie warned him with a look when he grazed a hand against her breast.

  “Tease,” John muttered, unable to take his eyes off her nipple. It glistened.

  “What are you smirking at?”

  “Private joke.” He pulled her in, nuzzling her neck as he tossed the towel aside. He drew in her clean scent and groaned.

  “Really? What of?” Despite her earlier reproach, she pressed in close and wrapped her arms around his waist.

  “Did you really think we were going to just give the code to Ho?” He nibbled her ear and heard her sharp inhale.

  “I don’t get it?” Her voice slurred. “Oh, my God!”

  “Wha—You can’t have come already?”

  “No, you idiot!” Pushing back, she gaped at him. “You gave him another code?”

  John grinned.

  “You did not! But… How? It passed the scanner thingy.”

  “Josie,” he scooped her up into his arms and placed her onto the bed. “In a previous life, Simon was a great magician.” He settled on top of her, cocooning her with his body, trapping her.

  “He switched it? How? When?” Josie swiveled her eyes up as if replaying the entire event. “There’s just no way Simon could’ve made the switch.”

  “Josie. Be quiet.” John covered her mouth with his; stifling whatever else she was about to say.

  He kissed her slowly, drinking her in. He was in no hurry. He needed to taste her, feel her, touch her. To reassure himself that she was still there. His. To squash the panic he’d felt, the sickness his heart had felt when he’d thought something had taken her away from him. She responded readily; the easy slide of her hands along his body, the soft sounds of pleasure as her body relaxed.

  They took their time exploring each other like it was their first time, so when he finally slid into her, it was like a warm furry sigh. And at the final moment, when they lost all track of everything else, when the need for release empowered them and drove them blind, he cried out. In desperation, he clung to her, his anchor. He felt her release like a slow, rolling storm. Her breath faltered then, as he emptied himself into oblivion.

  They lay tangled, bodies and limbs, loose and relaxed, and…together.

  “I like how you welcome me home,” Josie murmured, thick like syrup.

  “You are so easily pleased.” He spoke into her neck. His muscles felt like gelatin and he wished he could stay this way forever.

  She giggled. “You make me sound like such a sl—”

  “Don’t…say that word.” He shifted and nipped her neck. “You’ll ruin the moment. Umph,” he groaned. “Too late.”

  “Sorry.” She continued to giggle and turned under him so they lay side by side, facing each other. “So. I take it Michael Ho won’t be too pleased when he finds out.”

  A lazy smile spread across John’s face. “I don’t care.”

  “Yes, you do.” She poked his belly. “Thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” John frowned. “For what?”

  “For letting me get Margeaux—and Mrs. Patel—out safe.”

  “Hmm.” He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, running his hand rhythmically over his chest and belly and pulling at the few hairs growing there. “Mrs. Patel was quite unexpected. And it’s unfortunate about her husband.” John’s words started to slur. With effort, he tried to stay awake, but it was a losing battle. He made a soft, snuffling sort of noise, which meant sleep was near.

  “You don’t think they’ll let him live either, do you?”

  “The possibility of him being spared, now, is extremely unlikely.”

  “How long do you think it’ll take before Ho finds out?”

  “Depends on how soon he wants to take over the world. No doubt that will be soon.” John turned his head to look at Josie. Her hair was a damp and tangled mess, her face screwed up in thought. “Ho strikes me as a man who doesn’t like to be pushed around or outsmarted. He also strikes me as someone who will bide his time and wait for the right moment before he shows us his displeasure. Tell me more about this man James.”

  Josie blinked, realigning her thoughts. “You only ever change the subject so fast when you’re over-thinking something. But James? Tall, athletic—drop-dead gorgeous with a supermodel bod.” Her face was deadpan.

  John stared at her for a moment, then squinted his eyes when he realized she was teasing. “So, you fancy this man, do you?” He clamped his lips together and tried to sound casual.

  “Well, he is good looking, in a scary sort of way.”

  “That’s what you thought of me. And look where we ended up.” He returned her blank look and received a snort.

  “He’s skilled, extremely skilled,” her tone went serious. “He and Simon looked equally matched and, well, he just disappeared.”

  “That’s nothing,” John shrugged. “Distractions and foils to take your attention away. Ancient methods that never go out of style. You’ll find he’s no more a magician than Simon is.”

  “But it means he’s been trained like you guys. Do you think he could’ve been one of yours? Military? Special ops?”

  “Perhaps. But we are not the only ones trained this way, nor are we exclusive to the training of it. We just have better teachers.”

  “Stop boasting.” Josie rolled off the bed and headed back to the bathroom. “I bet I can take you on any time. And flatten you,” she called over her shoulder and quirked a brow toward the shower. “I know all your weak spots. Wanna see?”

  “Who’s boasting, now?” Sleep forgotten, John pounced off the bed with the grace of a cat, a very dangerous cat, and followed his wife into the shower. “I’ll show you who’s skilled.”

  He grabbed her rump and she squealed. With a quick twirl, he had her pressed against the shower stall, arms pinned above her head. She made a curse, a howl of laughter, a
nd then a sharp moan before he feasted on her.

  * * *

  Simon eased back into his seat, pushed the recline button and tried to relax. He hated space travel. There was just too much of it…space, that is. Too much you couldn’t see. He’d spent his entire life looking at things before they came, being ready, alert. Space made him go blind with its nothingness.

  He ordered his mind to empty, leveled out his breathing and tried to focus on…nothing. Gazing out the window, he stared out at the blackness of space beyond. His heart rate dropped, his mind cleared, and he re-focused on the matter of James.

  James was definitely adept and trained. Quick, sure, and most definitely lethal—like him.

  Out of curiosity, Simon ran a scan on him. So far, nothing. Not surprising. His records could’ve been wiped just as easily as if they’d been written in sand.

  But the man didn’t strike Simon as being strictly loyal to Ho, which meant that he was a Rogue. A hired gun. Not an assassin, they weren’t secretive or overly particular about their assignments; they just preferred long-term employment. Rogues were like glorified operatives, which was why they usually tended to be so cocky. Money motivated people like James, nothing else. The petty squabbles and desires of the power-hungry meant little to them. The only loyalties they had were to themselves and how much money they could milk out of their contracts. When the going got tough, they got the hell going and moved on to greener pastures.

  During his career, Simon had come across a few and knew how to deal with them. If they couldn’t be bought, then they were best dead. Only two had ever slipped through his fingers. The first, because he’d been young and distracted by her guile and it still shamed him to this day. The second because he’d taken a hit from the Rogue to protect John.

  And now, this James. The way he moved, his style of fighting, a rapid two-one beat. Punch-punch, PUNCH. It was a little old school and somewhat familiar. Familiar enough that it bothered Simon—like he’d forgotten something he should be remembering. Where had he seen that style before? He pushed the niggling thoughts away and let his mind refocus.

  It also bothered Simon that James had gotten away. He should’ve been able to stop the Rogue, but he’d had to choose between prolonging the fight or fleeing to protect Josie. To be honest, given the choice again, he would do exactly the same. Josie was indelibly connected to John—the two were one. To lose one, you lost the other. And he wasn’t about to lose either of them.

  Once the deception was discovered, Ho would go on the warpath. And so would James. If there was one thing a Rogue didn’t like, it was being out-smarted and missing out on getting their paycheck. It was with this in mind that Simon had made haste to board the Bullet to the Scrap Yard. Smaller, compact, and stripped of all the usual amenities space travel had to offer, the Bullet was designed for speed. It could reach a destination like the Scrap Yard, the closest space station beside the Agro Colony, in just under twelve hours as opposed to the thirty-six normal deep-space shuttles took.

  Governor Ayo Mwenye had been warned of the possibility of an attack. He hadn’t taken it well, but he wasn’t in a position to argue.

  Simon glanced at his team. There were six of them, handpicked by him. Like Simon, they wore the stark black suits with crimson trim on the collars to mark them as Elites. With no other marks or insignia to show rank, the Elites were known the world over for their specialized skills.

  Surrey was here. He’d proved his worth yet again during the recent siege of the Citadel. Thick-necked, stoic and a musical genius, the bland look on his face made his mixed Asian features appear a little simple-minded. No doubt composing another masterpiece in his mind, judging from the way his calm brown eyes were glazed over. Surrey was a classical musician at heart, able to lose himself in symphonies that resonated inside him. He was gentle, polite, careful, and always thoughtful with himself and others. Simon knew that if it meant protecting Josie, Surrey could be depended on to fight to the very last. He was smitten with her like a schoolboy.

  Ox, a large black man born Mikah Oxley Watts, sat nearby like a giant in a child’s chair. For a big guy, he moved with grace and speed. His specialty with electronics had earned him permanent placement with Deidre Moorjani, the Citadel’s Chief of Communications. Simon recalled the hissy-fit she’d made when he’d taken Ox from her. For such a tiny woman, Moorjani carried a truckload of temper and insults. Not to mention the same amount of brute force Ox possessed. There was even talk that the two of them were an item.

  Minnows sat close to Ox. He was like his name, small and slight of build. While Ox was gifted with too much speech, his friend Minnows was quiet and shy. Pale, platinum-haired, with almost see-through blue eyes, Minnows was borderline albino. He looked just like his mother, Anya. The youngest of the team, Minnows had a tendency to second-guess himself, but he was nimble and quick with his krima. And the titanium chest plate that had replaced his sternum and ribs, crushed in an incident when he was younger, was a definite advantage in close combat.

  Agnes, weapons expert. There wasn’t a single weapon that intimidated her, or one she couldn’t rig up out of nothing at all. Long, lean, and graceful, with golden hair cut in a brutal straight line around her neck and brows, Agnes could have been mistaken for a superstar. Her face was soft, a delicate heart-shape, with a gentle mouth and warm amber eyes. Her only fault was that she sometimes didn’t know when to stop her lethal destruction, preferring to kill everything in sight and ask questions later. Her past was hazy, but Simon didn’t care. So long as she did the job and proved her loyalty, which she’d done countless times in the past, then she was fine by him.

  Renna Djankovskaya, like Simon, came from a long line of body-assistants and special operatives. They’d trained together with and grown up with John. She’d once had a fierce crush on John, who’d been far too busy chasing the Italian minister of trade’s daughter to notice. Renna was a trusted friend and their history proved that. And, like John, she rarely needed to speak or receive verbal direction.

  She’d just had a baby four months ago and was a first-time mother. Simon hoped her mind could stay focused on the job. He, too, sometimes caught himself drifting when he thought of his own daughter, Yumi. Renna was built sturdy, not stocky. Solid. Her raven-colored hair was tied severely back from her oval face. Her quick brown eyes darted around, taking in everything, and her generous mouth was in a permanent crooked purse. Sultry was what came to mind when one saw her, and her mixed-race complexion only added to her beauty.

  The last member of the team was Madds Ols, an unassuming, average-sized man. A year younger, he had also trained with Simon. His father was now a trainer in hand-to-hand combat, Josie’s other private instructor. Madds was skilled, and close to Simon in his abilities, a degree shy of being First Level. Simon was confidant that, should anything happen, Madds could replace him. Madds, like his former partner John, used his mind first, then his fists. And he didn’t balk or freeze in the face of John’s wrath; a definite plus, considering Simon was grooming Madds to one day replace him.

  While Simon and John had been an unbeatable pair, circumstances prevented Simon from dragging his old friend into this particular fray. As much as John would’ve loved to join him, being world president had its drawbacks. Simon recalled a sullen twist on John’s face when they last spoke. Though John would never pout on purpose, there had seemed to be an internal struggle going on.

  In any case, John needed to be with Josie and guard her while she was with Margeaux. Something niggled Simon about the girl. This man James had set the ball rolling in his head about deceptions and foils. Tricks…

  He’d seen Josie’s expression when Margeaux had appeared. Longing. The fact that Margeaux looked a lot like Josie only added to his unease. Like a beautifully wrapped gift that, when opened, would reveal an ugliness like Pandora’s Box.

  Yes. John needed to keep Josie safe. Needed to remind her that family ties, whether true or not, didn’t necessarily mean innocent.

&nb
sp; Just look at Adam, Simon mused as he stared out the window.

  He hoped Margeaux was genuine, really hoped so. Josie was smart and tough, but she wasn’t immune to being hurt in the way only Margeaux could hurt her.

  Pulling out his person unit, Simon sent a coded message to his wife with his concerns about Margeaux. He instructed her to keep her eyes open with Mrs. Patel, and told her how much he missed her. Then he reminded her to read chapter five for him in the storybook Yumi liked. He’d promised to do it, and a guilty stab pricked his heart. Simon knew exactly how Josie felt about wanting a connection, a family. He wondered if he could picture a life without his.

  He couldn’t.

  Chapter 13

  The room was just as I remembered it. It even smelled the same, that cloying odor of a room that’s been closed up for some time, with a hint of stale disinfectant mingled with dust and that empty cupboard fragrance. I hadn’t been there in over a year, yet seeing it now made my stomach clench.

  The place in question was a subtly guarded unit, specifically reserved for detainees. It was a sterile single room that included a living area with a lone couch, a small kitchen offering the most basic amenities, and a bed. An opening by the foot of the bed led to a tiny bathroom with no door. Leading out from the living area, the unit boasted a stingy terrace enclosed by a fifteen-foot brick wall. A single wooden bench sat on a square patch of artificial grass, opposite a lone scraggly bush in dire need of watering.

  In my time, I’d been given three pairs of white pants, the same number of shirts and underwear, and one pair of canvas shoes. The kitchen was stocked with two days’ worth of meals. The only beverages allowed were water, coffee, and tea. I noted things hadn’t improved much since I’d last been there.

  Margeaux had been sent to Medical, checked, cleaned, and fed. Dressed now in all white, she sat with a weary slant to her posture on the edge of the bed, cradling her bandaged left hand in her lap. A saline and antibiotic patch was attached in the crook of her arm. The starkness of her new clothes did little for her pale complexion. She looked like an apparition.

 

‹ Prev