She remained faultlessly in character, leaving Krysta and him alone in Hydran’s office without a word. But as she passed him on her way out, Trey felt her slip something into the pocket of his jacket. Knowing Hydran’s love for voyeurism, he pulled Krysta into his arms and kissed her before she could protest. “She slipped something into my pocket,” he whispered. “Reach in and see what it is. I’ll moan, like you’re doing something else.”
She laughed, low and throaty. “If you want me to fondle you, all you have to do is ask.”
He wasn’t sure if she was teasing him, or if she was reinforcing the illusion he was suggesting they create, but her hand slipped into his pocket and started sliding around. Trey moaned all right and he didn’t have to manufacture the sound.
“It’s a slip of paper,” she whispered back.
“Pull it out and open my jacket.”
She laughed again. “You should have said that louder.” Carefully unfolding the paper between them, while he nuzzled her neck, she chuckled and nodded downward. “I can’t read Ontarian.”
It took Trey a moment to read Dro Tar’s hand writing upside down, but he finally managed to decipher the simple message. “It says: Something big is up, but no one is saying anything.”
“Your spy is right,” Corra Stacey said as she stepped into the office.
Releasing Krysta with a reassuring squeeze, he turned his attention to Hydran’s daughter. “My spy is right about what?”
“There is something big underway, or actually, there was... I’m afraid you just missed the action. My father left about an hour ago.”
Something in her expression, a certain wildness in her eyes, made Trey choose his words carefully. “It is very important that I speak with him, Dr. Stacey. When do you expect your father to return?”
She caught a half-hysterical giggle behind her hand and sat on the corner of the desk. “I don’t.”
Trey felt a tremor pass through Krysta and slipped his arm around her waist. “You don’t expect him today?”
“I don’t expect him ever. Quite simply, you’re too late. The general came for him. They wiped out the archives. All the frozen specimens are gone. He’s relocated -- without me.”
Her leg began to swing rhythmically, almost gently, but her light blue eyes revealed the devastation of his betrayal. He’d left her behind. She’d been discarded.
“You have no idea where he’s gone?” Trey asked.
“The Center is still full of people -- our people,” Krysta said quietly. “I can sense them.”
Corra swayed forward and back. “It’s over. Don’t you get it? He’s gone! Take your people and go home. The all mighty Dr. Hydran has lost interest in you.”
Krysta’s nails bit into Trey’s forearm and he glanced at her ashen face. The fury written there rocked him, stirring his protectiveness.
“If he took the frozen specimens, then he hasn’t lost interest in our people. Tell me where he went. Your father is in way over his head. He has no idea what he --”
“How long have you known how it would happen?” Her gaze focused on Krysta. “‘The serpent will split from the inside out.’ Those words gave Father nightmares every night since he heard them.”
“Because he sensed your doubt long before the prophecy?” Krysta ventured softly.
“Do you even know how it all started?” Corra’s gaze bore into Krysta’s hostile and intense. “The logs don’t go back before Operation Hydra existed. Haven’t you ever wondered why?”
Krysta glanced restlessly toward the door. She sensed no fear, no great upheaval from the wards. Either no one knew that Hydran had fled, or Corra was completely insane. Either way, they lost nothing by indulging her for a little while longer.
“How did it start?” Trey asked. “How did he learn of Krystabel’s abilities? Or was it one of her guardians who revealed themselves?”
“No, it was Krystabel. I was five, she was even younger. I know now that it was a rapidly mutating virus, but then I only knew that I was scared and I was sure I was dying.” Her feet slid to the floor and she wrapped her arms tightly around herself. “My mother fell ill first and then me, so I had to watch each stage of the illness manifest before it actually happened to me.
“Father was the most brilliant scientist in the world. How could I die of something so simple as a virus? Papa would save me; that’s what he did. He used science to save people, to cure them of diseases, and prevent birth defects.” She swallowed back a sob. “But I was dying.”
“How did you meet Krystabel?” Trey asked.
“Healers can’t heal themselves,” she murmured. “She’d fallen out of a tree and broken her arm in three places. Her guardians brought her to the same hospital where I was being treated. I remember only bits and pieces, but apparently she sensed my fear, my pain, and sneaked out of her room and came to me. She healed me of the virus and collapsed across my bed. My father found her there. He tried to force her to heal my mother, but she wasn’t strong enough. That’s when the war began.”
Tears swam in her eyes and her lips trembled, but Krysta didn’t understand the other woman’s emotions. “What war?”
“If she’d saved his one true love, he would have done anything for her.” Tears trailed in shining rivulets down Corra’s pale cheeks. “I heard him talking to Rawdon the day Rawdon asked me to marry him. Father wanted to know why he wanted me. Rawdon is brilliant and ambitious. He could have had any woman he wanted.”
Corra didn’t say anything for a long time. Krysta tried not to stare as the woman regained her composure, but her story made no sense. What war? Clearly her mind had snapped. Had some mysterious general taken Hydran to a new location or not?
“Father told Rawdon that Krystabel had saved the wrong person.” Corra’s voice was quiet and composed now. “My mother could have given him more children, but I could give him nothing. If Krystabel had saved my mother and let me die, he would have given her the world. But she saved a sickly, barren child, and allowed his one true love to die. He declared war on ‘the creatures’ that destroyed his life.”
“For God’s sake, Corra, a virus destroyed his life. My mother was only a child!” Krysta flared. She made herself pause, shaking with impotent anger. It did no good to kill the messenger. Corra was simply relaying a story. But what was her part in the story? “She saved your life, Corra. How can you justify --”
“I don’t justify anything my father did,” she cut in bitterly. “I didn’t even know about it until I met Rawdon. I knew Father worked with highly classified genetic research, but I had no idea there was a connection between his project and the little girl who saved my life.”
They just glared at each other for a moment.
“I know what you’re thinking. Why didn’t I turn him in? How could I allow it to continue, after I learned what was really going on?”
Krysta shook her head, understanding more than Corra realized. “Your husband was too deeply involved by then.”
“I did help you, Krysta. I did more than you’ll ever know. I sabotaged Father in ways you’ll never understand. We both did, and we’ll live the rest of our lives in hiding because of it.”
“Were you responsible for I-219?” Krysta asked gently. Corra’s reactions grew more unpredictable by the minute.
“It was a message in a bottle.” Corra licked her lips as she wrung her hands. “Anyone could have found it. We wanted them to. He’s so close now. He has everything he needs. Level Four would have launched years ago if it hadn’t been for Rawdon and me.”
“What is Level Four?” Krysta asked urgently. “We can’t access those entries in the log.”
“Father knows you’ve been to Meditek. That might be the reason for his sudden relocation. I’ve given you everything you need to bring him down.” She laughed, an eerie, hollow sound. “Now, all you have to do is find him.”
Chapter Nineteen
“What do we do now?” Krysta asked in a soft, bewildered voice.
�
�We win by default.” Trey tried to sound encouraging.
“I don’t want to win by default!” She headed for the door to Hydran’s office. “I want to rearrange his features.”
Trey followed Krysta out into the corridor. “Commander Barrel, is their security grid still operational?” he asked into the audiocom hooked around his ear.
“That’s affirmative. What’s your status? We lost your signal as soon as you stepped into that office. Al assured me that’s not unusual.”
“Yeah, well communications are the least of our worries. We’re currently short one villain.”
“What?”
Without explaining, Trey said, “Pass my signal to Al.”
“I’m here, Commander Aune,” the communications officer replied.
“Should I turn off?” Lyrik asked.
“No need.” Dro Tar awaited them at the end of the corridor, so Trey slowed his long stride. “Al, see if you can hack into the local Space Authority’s computers. See if any sort of airlift was authorized from the Center this morning. Start with military transports and broaden the scope to any aircraft.”
“What if they didn’t file a log?” Lyrik asked. “I didn’t.”
“Yeah, but your ship is undetectable to their scanners. We were only here two hours before the Space Authority was all over the Gale.”
“On it, boss,” Al assured him.
Dro Tar snapped to attention when they reached her. She glanced meaningfully at the surveillance panels, set high in the unadorned walls. “The wards are in lock down, Mr. Darrin. I’m sorry. You’ll have to come back when Dr. Hydran has lifted the stipulation.”
“And why is that?” He moved slowly toward her.
“I only know what I’m told.”
If they weren’t being watched, he would have applauded her performance. She stood passively, with her hands at her sides; inside she must be tearing her hair out. Dro Tar meek and mild?
Krysta lunged past him, seeing what he hadn’t -- the purpose for Dro Tar’s posture. Dro Tar hit the wall, Krysta’s forearm across her throat, the slender wandlike weapon suddenly in Krysta’s other hand.
“You need a written invitation?” Dro Tar hissed in Ontarian.
“You struggle, you die,” Krysta growled for the benefit of their audience.
He’d missed his cue. Damn the ghosts of the night moon!
“Bend my arm behind my back and shove my face into the scanner,” Dro Tar instructed in a soft urgent whisper, but Krysta’s headset picked it up. “And tell your hero to wake up. There will be three of them waiting on the other side of the door.”
Krysta turned to repeat the instructions, but Trey just nodded stiffly toward the door. Pulling Dro Tar away from the wall, Krysta adjusted their position. Reaching up under his jacket, he retrieved the pistol Lyrik had given him that morning. Made of the same iridescent alloy as the Tempest, Lyrik had said the weapon was also undetectable to most scanners.
Trey focused on the doorway, preparing for what awaited beyond. Dro Tar said three. Probably one to each side and one in front. Hydran’s staff wasn’t hired for their creativity.
The panel slid open. He fired to his left. The guard screamed, his body vibrating. Without missing a beat, Trey threw a vicious jab into the solar plexus of the man to his right, robbing him of breath, dropping him without a struggle. Down to one. The last guard was older, his uniform slightly different from the others. He faced Trey, holding his wand-shaped weapon in one trembling hand.
“Do you have to touch me with that thing to hurt me?” Trey taunted. “Not much of a weapon, is it?”
“What do you want?” the guard demanded.
Grinning, Trey pointed his pistol at the guard, firing mere inches above the man’s shoulder. The guard yelped and dropped to his knees, his weapon skittering out of reach.
“Not much of a guard, either.” Trey grabbed the back of his collar and pressed the pulse pistol to his temple. “Up. Slowly.”
“Why are you doing this? Dr. Hydran has very powerful friends. You don’t want to cross him.”
“Dr. Hydran isn’t holding a gun to your head. Where should we take them, Krysta?”
Krysta gave Dro Tar a little push, not sure how long they needed to maintain the charade. The first two guards were starting to recover from Trey’s attack. “Collect their equalizers,” she directed Dro Tar. “Let’s take them to one of the treatment chambers. We can use Jon here to unlock the doors. He’s got Red clearance. Don’t you, Jon?”
She’d endured Jon’s leering gaze since she’d developed breasts. Did Trey remember that Jon was one of the men who had held her in the treatment chamber the day they met? Probably not. A lot had happened that day. But she remembered. She remembered his hurtful hands biting into her arms and his lustful gaze enjoying the spectacle.
Jon automatically took a step toward her, but Trey’s fingers tightened in his hair.
“He’ll kill you this time, Krysta.” Jon’s voice was low and threatening. “Don’t think he won’t. I just hope he finally lets me --”
She cut off his words with violent backhanded slap, throwing her whole body into the blow. “He isn’t in a position to let you do anything! Hydran has no power over me.”
Jon swiped his bloodied nose with his sleeve and didn’t say a word.
“You’re lucky she hit you,” Trey said as they started down the corridor.
“And why is that?”
“Because if she hadn’t, I would’ve. And I hit a whole lot harder.”
The comment made Krysta smile and automatically reach out for Belle. She was used to sharing triumphs, however minor with her twin. Suppressed and unresponsive, Belle’s signal waited. Belle was alive, but that’s all Krysta was able to ascertain.
Determination stirred within Krysta, like smoldering embers ignited by the night wind. She knew Hydran was gone, but it wasn’t enough. They must get Belle out today and she would never sleep beneath this dome again.
Prompted by Trey’s pulse pistol in the middle of his back, Jon scanned open each door until they reached the treatment chambers situated between wards A and B. Trey urged the two lesser guards into the chamber and then dragged Jon into the observation booth. This was Hydran’s domain. They should be safe from surveillance.
“How many staff members are on duty?” Trey asked.
“There were six orderlies at check in,” Dro Tar volunteered. “There are generally four guards per ward and Hydran has three bodyguards, but at least two orderlies and four guards left with him, from what I’ve been able to gather.”
“From what you’ve gathered?” Jon challenged. “You’re a spy? What is this? What’s going on?”
As much as she wanted to torment Jon, things would be much easier if he cooperated. Hydran had no power over her. And she was about to prove it.
“Show him.” She looked at Trey and then Dro Tar. “Show him why Hydran ran.”
Dro Tar glanced at Trey. After he nodded, she vigorously rubbed her eyes, dislodging the contacts and revealing her swirling hazel eyes.
Gaping like a beached fish, Jon stared at Dro Tar’s eyes. “She’s... but Dr. Hydran said...”
“Yeah, Hydran said a lot of things.” Krysta stalked toward the guard. “I don’t have a genetic abnormality. None of the occupants do. We’re about to be rescued, and Hydran was so pleased by the realization that he abandoned the Center and everything in it. That includes you, Jon.”
“What do you want?” His gaze darted repeatedly to Trey.
“Deactivate the grid,” she said simply.
“Why?” The word burst from his mouth, propelled by disbelief.
“Because she told you to.” Trey reinforced Krysta’s demand with a nudge from the pulse pistol.
The swirling intensity of Trey’s amber gaze connected with hers for a moment before he turned his attention back to Jon. Krysta felt her heartbeat flutter. When had he taken off his contacts? Color drained from Jon’s face, making the smear of blood all the more
apparent. She wanted to laugh, but she contained her pleasure to a smile.
“Does Dr. Hydran know who you are?” Fear made Jon’s tone brittle.
“It doesn’t matter. He has no right to do this to anyone. You help us now and it will be taken into consideration when your role in this travesty is judged.”
She would have offered him immunity, Krysta realized. Trey was right. He hit harder.
“I can’t do it from here.”
Trey looked at her. “Can he?”
“Probably not.” Her gaze swung to Jon. “The control center between wards C and D?”
Jon nodded.
“Dro Tar, guard the guards,” Trey said. “As soon as the grid goes down, Gerr will start transporting in with reinforcements.”
“No problem, boss.” She took off her hat and tossed it across the room, scrubbing her hair with her fingers, not stopping until it stood out at every conceivable angle. With a contented sigh, she sank into a chair and switched on the intercom.
“Looks like we’re stuck with each other, boys, so you can either laugh at my jokes or listen to me sing. Which is it gonna be?”
The two guards stared at each other in bewilderment.
“Well, I’m not in the mood to sing.” She propped her boots on the control console and locked her hands behind her head. “A man is sitting in a bar beside this ten-inch piano player. A couple minutes later a woman walks in followed by a million ducks. The man says, ‘So, what’s with the ducks?’ The woman shoots him a look and says, ‘What? Can’t you guess? I asked that stupid Mystic for a million bucks. Did you really want a ten-inch pianist?’”
Dro Tar’s uproarious laughter followed them out into the corridor. That was certainly a means of torture Krysta had never thought of before. Jon’s steps lagged as they crossed the courtyard. Trey renewed his motivation with the pulse pistol.
“Who is in the control center?” she asked.
“Liam and Phillip.”
Ontarian Chronicles 2: Operation Hydra Page 17