It was as if Swain had physically pushed Cam into another reality. Suddenly he could smell the pump room again, hear the hum of the motors as the Nephilim’s words whispered through his mind. “Come down now, little mouse. . . . ”
With a gasp he slammed his mental doors against the voice, fumbling his fork into his plate as he tried to set it down.
Everyone at the table watched him wide-eyed. Except Swain, whose gaze had turned intent, the smugness gone, blue eyes glittering. He did that on purpose, Cam thought. Does he know I’ve heard them here? He recalled Rudy’s theory that Swain believed Cam knew how to open his pods and shuddered. But I don’t know. And even if I did, I’d never do it for him. I’d never do it for anyone. . . .
To Cam’s relief, Swain’s cell phone beeped and he was pulled away from the table. A moment later, Cam left, too, not caring if the others saw him as a dog fleeing with his tail between his legs. As he walked out of the dining hall, he checked his voice mail. Rudy had responded to his request to meet face-to-face; he should go to the library after breakfast and wait near the books on wind power. Someone would contact him. He was texting a response that it needed to be Rudy, not “someone,” when he nearly ran down Lacey McHenry in the hallway.
“Oh, excuse me, Doctor!” she exclaimed as she bounced off him.
“I’m sorry,” he blurted simultaneously, stopping to face her. “I didn’t see you.”
She didn’t look terribly unhappy about their collision. For a moment they stood staring at each other. And though he sought desperately for something to say in order to prolong the moment, nothing came. She glanced over his shoulder, then gave him a smile and said, “See you tonight.”
He watched her walk away, transfixed, fire rushing up from the soles of his feet to the top of the head. He had not been so strongly attracted to a woman in years. Maybe ever. Was it the bonding they’d experienced through the ordeal with Frogeater? Or was it more than that? He’ d read her file. There were many parallels in their lives, many areas of rapport, even beyond their mutual interest and training in genetics. . . . And her courage on Friday night had impressed him greatly.
“Geez, Reinhardt, you could at least try not to drool openmouthed,” came Fred Slattery’s voice at his shoulder. “Everyone knows she’s the director’s, anyway.”
And in that moment Cam realized—they no longer needed Lacey to penetrate Swain’s operation. She could get out. She should get out. He should go and tell her to leave now. . . . No, he’ d meet with Rudy first.
Fifteen minutes later, Cam was on station near the wind power books at the back of the fourth-floor library when the lights went out. Rudy arrived shortly thereafter wearing a baseball cap and rimless glasses. He opened a door in the wall and they crowded into the small electrical closet behind it. With the door closed and latched, Rudy set a portable lamp on the floor and switched it on. “We have ten minutes,” he said as the lamp buzzed and flickered to life. “What do you have?”
As Cam related the morning’s events, he showed Rudy the pictures on his BlackBerry. He finished with a shake of his head. “I’m still struggling to get my mind around it. Especially how Swain could have constructed an enclave that extensive and no one know of it.”
“Well, that I can answer,” Rudy said. “After you brought up the possibility of there being additional levels beneath the zig’s official floors last week, I put out some feelers. Something came in last night: Seems old Mr. Kendall purchased this property back in the sixties during the nuclear scare and built a bomb shelter on it. Designed it to support thirty people, with means of processing air, water, sewage—even had some rooms to grow food hydroponically. He kept it secret because he didn’t want others trying to get in when disaster hit and because he’ d spent a lot of his company’s money on it.
“When he died, they closed it down—moved out the useful stuff and left the rest. All the info’s here—pics, blueprints, etc.” He dropped a flash drive onto Cam’s palm. “This is huge, Cam. After all this time, we finally have our in.”
Cam grinned. “I figured you’d be happy. Before you send your guys in, though, I want to go back and get those kids out. They’re meeting me in the hole tonight, so I’ll need a vehicle and supplies—food, water, clothes. You saw what they’re wear—”
“Cam—”
“Oh, and I want Lacey out of here, too, since we don’t need her anymore. This afternoon, if you can swing it.”
“She’s all set to attend the reception tonight. We can’t just pull her out.”
“Then pull her when it’s over.”
“And if Swain means to take her to the penthouse afterward?”
“All the more reason to get her out before he can act.”
Rudy frowned at him.
“Come on,” said Cam. “If this little episode hadn’t destroyed my car, I wouldn’t be asking. But it did. So I am. Why are you still frowning at me?”
“Because we can’t just blow our whole operation for a few innocents.”
“I promised them.”
“You’re not responsible for them. And we have other considerations. This mission was never about rescuing kidnappees, nor the illegality of Swain’s experiments. There’s something far greater at stake.”
All of Cam’s forward-racing thoughts halted. “The sarcs,” he murmured.
Rudy nodded. “You say you were inside. Did you sense anything? Have another flashback?”
Cam said nothing.
His friend went very still. “They spoke to you?”
Cam released a long, resigned sigh and nodded. “At least three.”
“They spoke to you?!” Rudy frowned, stepped half away, then turned to face him again. “You’ve got to go in.”
“You said I was eyes and ears only! You said you have a team.”
“I just want you to find them, Cam, not open them. We need recon before we can send the team. And we have a window here that’s going to close very soon.”
“Your team doesn’t have its own recon?”
“The team’s not all here yet. It’ll take a day or two to assemble.”
“A day or two? I thought you said last Sunday that your team was in place! We’ve suspected since Monday that Swain could move on Lacey anytime.”
Rudy looked perturbed. “First of all, as I said, rescuing McHenry was never part of the mission objective. And second, I didn’t expect an underground installation of this magnitude. I thought it would be a single lab, maybe multiple rooms, but this . . . from what you’ve learned today it obviously taps into the network of old mine shafts, so we’d have no idea of its configuration. You not only have a way in, you have some tour guides. Which you’ll surely need, since I doubt those old plans will reflect the reality.”
“I promised those ‘tour guides’ I’d get them out tonight,” Cam said.
“They’ll be out by morning. I’m only asking you to take advantage of the situation that’s presented itself. Just go down and check things out.”
Cam scowled at him. “You said eyes and ears only,” he repeated stubbornly.
“You know how this business is!” Rudy muttered. “Flexibility is the name of the game. You know what’s at stake, too. Are you really going to just walk away?”
Cam said nothing as the inevitability of the moment overtook him. Finally he sighed again. “I’ll do it on one condition: that you get Lacey out of here tonight. Before I go in.”
Rudy sighed, massaged his temples with thumb and fingers for a time, then dropped his hand with a grimace. “That’s gonna be problematic, Cam.”
“Then deal with it. It’s the only way I’ll do it.”
“All right. In the meantime get me a list of the things you’ll need. Tools, ammo, clothes, whatever. You should have a lot of it already. . . .”
Chapter Forty
Dressed in her borrowed finery, Lacey came to a stop at the edge of the reception patio in the Institute’s famed tenth-floor open-air garden. Somewhere an unseen string quartet pla
yed Mozart as monkeys and parrots shrieked in raucous accompaniment from the surrounding trees. On the patio before her, a throng of elegantly dressed people mingled around white linen–draped tables, a lighted white obelisk spearing dramatically into the dark heavens behind them. Stunning in its own right, the obelisk was nevertheless dwarfed by the formidable glass-and-granite edifice of Swain’s two-storied penthouse rising out of the garden’s jungle to the right.
Abandoned in Gen’s apartment half an hour ago when the assistant director left to attend to some last-minute details, Lacey had arrived unattended and self-conscious. And while looking at the other ladies’ gowns made her more thankful than ever for her lovely dress and the diamond necklace and earrings she’ d received this afternoon, she still couldn’t shake the sense of being a doll someone else had dressed for their amusement.
A sense which only added to the dread she’ d carried with her since it had awakened her at 5:30 that morning. Quivering in her belly like a hive of angry bees and flooding her mind with various dreadful endings to this evening’s festivities, it had eventually driven her out of bed and up to her darkened sixth-floor office. There she not only read her Bible for the first time in months but listened to the message Cam’s online pastor had given that very morning—on the faithfulness of God.
That couldn’t have been an accident, and while listening she’d been terribly excited. It was as if God himself assured her He knew exactly what was going on and would protect her. But later, at the salon, and then as she’ d dressed in Gen’s apartment, and especially now as she stood alone, trying to think what to do, He seemed as indifferent and far away as ever.
“Ms. McHenry?” A swarthy-faced servant with an East Indian accent bade her follow him through the crowd toward the obelisk. She glimpsed not one person she knew until they reached the dais set up before the obelisk, where she was delighted to see Cameron Reinhardt deep in conversation with Swain and several other men. Cameron alone stood facing her, and dressed in suit and tie as he was tonight, he looked far more the dashing spy than the absentminded professor, a thought that almost made her giggle.
As she approached he glanced up at her, then did a double take to stare in unabashed appreciation. Seeing his reaction, Swain turned and immediately blazed with an approving smile.
“Lacey, my dear,” he cried, stepping forward to take and kiss her hand, “you look even lovelier than I had imagined you would. The gown is perfect.”
She flushed, uncomfortable all over again, though Swain seemed not to notice. Eagerly he introduced her to the other men in their conversational circle: the deep-voiced billionaire, Ian Trout, who was so integral to K-J’s funding and direction; a U.S. Army general in civilian clothing; the CEO of a weapons manufacturing company; and a high-powered investment broker. To say Lacey was out of her element was an understatement. Thankfully, after only a few moments of conversation, Swain whisked her away to meet a new round of overachievers—except for her, it seemed there was not one regular person here.
Within ten minutes she was so completely intimidated and demoralized she could hardly speak. It didn’t help that people made no attempt to hide their opinion that her attendance had nothing to do with her professional achievements. Some of the guests, especially the older women, made her want to fold up and crawl away.
She and Swain returned to the head table as dinner was about to be served, where she was profoundly disappointed to find that Cameron not only wouldn’t be sharing their table but had, in fact, disappeared. Not until then did she realize how much she’d craved his company, a balm of sorts to the battering her self-confidence was taking. She feared it was going to be a very long evening.
Standing behind his chair as his guests settled into their places, Swain tapped his wineglass with a fork. As the rumble of conversation died away, he welcomed his guests with great affection, then drew everyone’s attention to the table centerpieces, each of which showcased one of K-J’s genetically engineered marvels—either a bioluminescent tree frog in a small octagonal terrarium or a glowing starburst protea blossom floating in a shallow glass water bowl. The head table was graced with the latter, but Swain cited both as “examples of the artistic and aesthetic potential of the amazing field of genetic engineering.”
Finally he called for the feasting to begin, and as the first-course salads were set before them, the general who sat beside her wondered aloud if the food had been genengineered, as well.
Genengineered or not, it was fabulous, and Swain turned out to be the consummate gentleman—attentive, complimentary, even funny. Despite her rocky start and all the dread she’ d brought with her, Lacey ended up enjoying herself. In fact, Swain was so courteous and proper, she began to think all her fears about his plans for her were baseless.
Until the meal ended and a servant appeared at his side to whisper something in his ear. Whatever the servant said turned him stiff and tense. He frowned darkly across the patio, then nodded to the servant and immediately turned to Lacey, all sign of his previous animosity completely masked by his charm. “There are some new arrivals I must greet,” he told her. “Please come and let me introduce you.”
He led her not toward the elevator but away, off the back of the dais to a gate in the greenery that led to the penthouse’s immediate grounds. There three men in Middle Eastern garb awaited him, watching the partygoers with obvious disapproval, Swain’s lighted swimming pool glowing in the inner yard behind them.
Despite his earlier displeasure, Swain greeted them with his usual warmth and enthusiasm. He drew her up beside him, introducing her with obvious pleasure. Intense and aloof, the men showed not the slightest interest in her. After a few moments of attempting to make polite conversation, and failing, Swain turned to her with an easy smile. “Would you excuse us for just a moment, my dear? I’m afraid these gentlemen have business that will not wait. Perhaps you’d like to explore the gardens in the interim. I can have one of my people show you around if you like—”
“Oh, that won’t be necessary,” she assured him. “I’ll be fine.”
He gave her a nod. “That’s my girl. This shouldn’t take long. I’ll no doubt be with you by the time you make it to the orchid house.”
With that, he and his surly guests passed through the gate and around the swimming pool, disappearing into the penthouse to do their business. Which left Lacey standing there, uncertain whether she’d been abandoned or freed. Would it be permissible to leave? Probably not. He’ d promised to rejoin her. And in exploring the gardens, at least she wouldn’t have to meet any more CEOs, Nobel laureates, or other luminaries to whom she had nothing to say. If she was really lucky, she might even run into Cameron.
She’d just exited the lovely enclosed orchid garden and was admiring the jaguars in their naturalistic enclosure when a server approached her with a tray of chocolate candies in fluted paper cups. “Would you care for a truffle, ma’am?” he asked.
He was very neat, very professional, with very short blond hair, blue eyes, and a snappy black waitstaff vest. He also seemed very familiar, though she couldn’t think where she’ d seen him before.
At her request he identified the varieties of confection on his tray. Then, as she chose a mocha truffle, he said casually, “Dr. Reinhardt is enjoying the view at the south end of the garden’s west wall if you’d care to join him there.”
Her head jerked up in surprise. “Now?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He left her and went to present his tray to a group of glittering dowagers not far away. Lacey glanced around. Swain was still nowhere to be found. Dare she risk being found in Cameron’s company? Absolutely.
Separated from the reception patio by the atrium, the garden’s west side lay virtually deserted. She strolled southward along the waist-high wall as far as she could go but didn’t find him. Disappointed, she stood under a tree and stared across the campus, wondering what to do. The bowl was still bright with lights and bustling with activities on this last night of the expo, but the r
est of the grounds lay blanketed in stillness, the hangars and storage buildings standing as lonely outposts, bathed in cones of light from their security lamps. It was humid and still warm. Over the mountains, clouds flickered with intermittent lightning, accompanied by the lagging rumble of thunder.
He came up beside her without a word and put a finger to his lips for silence the moment she looked at him. Then he slipped around behind her and she felt the kiss of his fingertips on her nape as he unfastened the clasp of her diamond necklace. He lifted it off her chest, laid it carefully on the flat stone atop the wall before her, then removed her hook earrings and laid them with the necklace. Finally, he covered all with a twelve-inch square of gray jeweler’s cloth and, taking her hand, led her away from the wall into the jungle behind them. He stopped in a shadowed bower, where a toolbox and watering station were concealed in the greenery and light from the penthouse’s decorative lamps filtered dimly through the trees. There he turned to face her, still holding her hand.
She thought he’ d ask about the chip that had been surreptitiously inserted under her shoulder blade at the salon that afternoon or how things had gone with Swain, but he just stood there, staring down at her.
“What?” she finally asked.
He shook his head. “You look amazing. It was all I could do to get my mouth closed that first time I saw you. And whatever I was going to say to General Lader flew right out of my mind.” He paused and his lips quirked. “Kinda like now.”
After an evening with Swain and his easy praises, his effusive warmth and supreme confidence . . . she found Cam’s awkward but honest manner not only refreshing but endearing. She stood there for some time, happy just to gaze up at him, feeling safer than she had all day.
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