by Ivy Barrett
Before she could reply, the companel interrupted their conversation. “You have an urgent message. Shall I put it through?”
“Is she talking to you or me?” Miranda asked.
He walked to the console and checked. “It’s for me. Computer, activate the message.”
“Where the hell have you been?” Ritter asked.
Drake hadn’t expected a live message. Finger combing his hair off his forehead, he stepped closer to the camera and blocked his partner’s view of Miranda. “We were reviewing the images. What’s going on?”
“Aysha is missing. She went in for her weekly massage and no one has seen her since.”
Drake grimaced as Miranda’s warning echoed through his mind. “Is this just FYI or is there something you want us to do?”
A bit of the fire went out of his gaze, but his posture remained tense. “If Miranda senses anything, let me know.”
“Of course.”
“Sector security just responded to Miranda’s crime scene. News of her death will be released within the hour. Are you making any progress with the images?”
“Maybe.” If each psychic exchange would be followed by a sexual encounter, this might be the most complicated assignment of his life. He wanted nothing more than to fuck Miranda, but the rational part of his nature couldn’t ignore the risks. Aysha’s disappearance was further proof. These were very dangerous men. “We’re pretty sure the last victim was Wirtanen.”
“Really? Why would Rizaria bother with a laborer?”
“That’s what I intend to find out.”
Ritter narrowed his eyes. “Do you have a contact on Wirtanen?”
“No. But I know someone who does.” That seemed to be his answer to everything today.
“Gotcha. Keep me informed.”
The comscreen went blank and Drake turned around. Miranda stood a step away, arms folded under her breasts. Her face had gone from ivory to pale, and she pressed her lips into a grim line.
“I told you she was in danger.”
“I’m not sure what more we could have done. She was under continual surveillance.”
“It was obviously not enough!” Tears swam behind her long lashes and her bottom lip trembled. “I should have been more insistent. I should have…” He reached for her as the first tear trailed down her cheek. She jerked away and shot him an impatient glare. “Why didn’t you listen to me?”
“I listened.” He hated the defensiveness welling within him. He didn’t feel the need to justify his actions to most people. Why was her opinion of him any different? “If you’re dead, there’s no reason for Kwinton to go after Aysha. This doesn’t make sense.”
“You’re acting on the assumption that Kwinton sent Aysha to kill me. It’s possible he knew nothing about it.”
“Then who? Did Nicay have a reason to attack you?”
She paused, her expression tense and thoughtful. “Not that I know of.”
“For all we know, Aysha’s disappearance could be completely unrelated to you.”
“I think we both know that’s not likely.”
He tried to soothe her with a smile. “I didn’t say it was likely, I just offered another possibility.”
“Neither of us will get far on wishful thinking.”
“I can’t argue with that.” He exhaled and steered her toward the dining room. “Ice cream isn’t much of a meal. Why don’t I order sandwiches or something?”
“A glass of wine would be wonderful, but I’m not hungry.”
He entered their order through the sideboard computer then joined her at the dining room table. “How long have you been treating Nicay and Aysha? Who approached you first?”
“Aysha contacted me about eight months ago.” She opened her mouth as if to say more, then heaved a sigh and lapsed into silence.
“Ever the vigilant doctor? I thought we were beyond all that.”
“It just feels wrong.” She shook her head with a sad little smile. “I suppose you’re right. I’ll either help you find her or find out that breaking her confidence didn’t matter in the least. Aysha suspected Nicay was cheating on her. That’s what brought her to me.”
“Was he?”
“Yes. But he admitted to the affair, and I thought they had worked through their differences. Then she showed up at my office this morning, or was that yesterday morning by now?” She turned her head and looked across the room. The cityscape beyond the picture window still featured lights against a darkened sky. “What time is it?”
“The time is two fourteen a.m.,” the computer answered for him.
“Nicay had to have suspected Aysha would bring the ring to you,” Drake mused.
“That’s a reasonable assumption.”
“And to your knowledge he had no reason to hurt you.”
“I already said that.” She fidgeted then sighed. “What are you getting at?”
“Is it possible the pain was unintentional?”
She folded her hands on the tabletop and stared beyond him for a moment. “You’re suggesting Nicay wanted to incriminate Kwinton without endangering himself.”
“I’m not sure that’s possible. No one crosses Kwinton and lives to tell that tale.” The speculation in her eyes turned to fear and Drake cursed his tactlessness. “You’re safe, Miranda. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
“I’m sure the men tailing Aysha had the same dedication.” She rolled her shoulders and her expression cleared. “There was one anomaly in the memory echo that we haven’t explored.”
“What’s that?”
“As I scanned the ring, the images were presented from Nicay’s perspective, yet I could sense Aysha’s emotions.”
“What’s the significance of that? I’m not sure how your ability works.”
Slumping slightly in her chair, she explained, “The Perrlain call what I do temporal guidance. I can access events in the past, present and future by linking directly to a person’s mind or scanning an object with which they have had prolonged contact.”
“Then you can see the future.”
“It’s not as significant as you make it sound. The future is in continual flux. Events change and evolve as the present becomes the past. Most people think of the present as the entire span of their life, but it doesn’t work that way. In less than an instant, a future event is experienced and becomes part of the past. The present is infinitesimal.”
He took a moment to absorb her explanation. “What exactly does your ability allow you to do?”
“Of the three temporal conditions, the past is the most stable. I can access a person’s memories, see what they saw and feel what they felt. My empathic sensitivity works in the present and the future also, just not as well as in the past.”
He was still trying to wrap his mind around her ability. Never mind what she did with the information she accessed. “So what was different when you scanned the ring?”
“I was observing Nicay’s memories, so I shouldn’t have been able to sense Aysha’s emotions.”
“Unless Nichay is empathic.”
“Exactly. He never revealed any mystic abilities during our sessions, but that doesn’t mean he has none.”
“You think it was an intentional omission?”
“I don’t know what to think. It’s just odd.”
Past, present and future… “Can you use the ring to find Nicay? Follow his energy signature to wherever he is now?”
She heaved another sigh and pushed her fingers through her hair. “I honestly thought it was a psy-bomb, so I didn’t try to scan deeper.”
“How do we decrease the risk so you can try again?” He hated to push, but identifying victims wouldn’t change their fate. Nicay was the best lead they had right now.
“I’m not sure. Let me think about it.”
* * * * *
A server droid arrived with their food a short time later. Drake munched on a sandwich while Miranda strolled around the suite, wineglass held loosely in one hand.
/>
“Does Ritter still have the ring?” she asked after a long period of silence. “If Kwinton snatched Aysha—and he is our most likely suspect—then he probably knows Aysha came to see me.”
“He gave it to me and planted a replica at the crime scene.”
“Speaking of crime scenes,” she paused for a sip of wine. “Who was elected to play the part of my dead body?”
“The ring ignited a fire, and you were burned beyond recognition. DNA records will be used for your identification.”
The image of a charred body flashed through her mind, and Miranda shuddered. “So even if Kwinton knows what’s on the ring, he’ll presume I was killed before I could pass it on.”
“Which should buy us enough time to locate Nicay.”
Even Drake didn’t sound convinced. “What about the Wirtanen connection? You told Ritter you knew someone who might be able to help.”
“No,” he smiled, “I told him I knew someone who knew someone who might be able to help.”
“Jericho again?”
“Unfortunately.” He wiped his mouth on a linen napkin then set it beside his plate. “I’m running up quite a tab with my big brother.”
“Why did he part ways with your family? Are your parents still alive?”
“It’s a long story, and my mother is still alive.”
“I told you about my past.”
“You didn’t ask about my past. You asked about Jericho’s and that’s not my story to tell.”
“All right.” She refilled her glass before going on, “Tell me your story.”
“Right now? We have far more important things to—”
“I need to know that my trust is justified. I offered you a glimpse into my past. Now it’s your turn to surrender.”
“I’ve heard that somewhere before.” A wry smile quirked one corner of his mouth. “I was an excellent student, graduated top of my class. I was recruited by the Coalition’s Covert Corps halfway through my senior year and reported for duty two weeks after graduation. I served in the CCC for six years then accepted an honorable discharge.”
“You exchanged the military for law enforcement? That’s not much of a change.”
He pushed back from the table far enough to cross his legs. “I started out as a consultant, but they eventually offered me a long-term contract that fit my needs.”
“How long have you worked as an enforcer?”
“Eight years.”
“Well, that covers your resume. Now tell me something about you. Do you have a hobby? Significant other?”
“There hasn’t been a significant other for quite awhile. And I tend to have projects rather than hobbies.”
“I’m not sure what that means.”
“We’re wasting time.” He pushed his empty plate aside and stood. “Are you willing to try the ring again or not?”
“Now you’ve piqued my interest. Tell me something personal and I’ll take another look at the ring.”
“Finding Nicay is in your best interest. This isn’t a game.”
“Life is the ultimate game.”
He stared at her for a long moment, his thoughts well-guarded. “I’m going to get the Wirtanen ball rolling then we’ll talk about the ring.”
Miranda didn’t argue. It likely was in her best interest to find Nicay. They could spend the rest of their lives trying to figure out his motivation and still not understand what he had been trying to accomplish.
Drake sent a message to Jericho, and he responded before Drake could step back from the companel.
“What can I do for you?” Jericho sat behind a glass-topped desk, looking debonair and commanding.
“Do you have a contact on Wirtanen? Someone who knows what’s going on and who you can trust implicitly?”
He folded his hands on the desktop and leaned toward the transmitter. “Why do you ask?”
“There are some pretty strong indications that my case leads to Wirtanen.”
Jericho scratched his chin as he entered several commands into his desktop. “She’s the cautious type. There’s no way she’ll talk to you unless I’m in on the conversation.”
“So introduce us and then log off.”
“I need to have some idea of what I’m vouching for.”
“You’re vouching for me.”
Challenge arched Jericho’s brow. “When has that ever been enough of an incentive?”
“The longer it takes us to unravel this mess, the longer Miranda will be in danger.”
“The longer Miranda is in danger, the longer she’ll need me.”
Drake stepped aside with an impatient gesture. “I can’t talk to him when he gets like this.”
Miranda smiled and approached the companel. “I’m sure antagonizing Drake is amusing, but we really do need your help.”
“Anything for you, doll. Give me a few minutes to track her down.”
A solid blue screen indicated the companel had gone into standby mode. “He’s not much older than you, is he? I bet you two have been sparring for longer than you can remember.”
“He’s been rattling my cage for longer than I can remember.”
“Do you feel trapped by your life? Why did you put yourself in a cage?”
“Don’t you dare psychoanalyze me. I’m not in love with my mother, and I was content and well-adjusted as a child.”
She laughed. “So what happened to you?”
“Very funny.”
Jericho’s image came back onscreen. “I’m going to switch you over to an encrypted channel. The screen will go blank for a bit.” When the image came back into focus, the screen was split down the middle. Jericho occupied one side and a red-haired woman was pictured on the other. “Blaze, that’s my brother and his partner in crime.”
“She looks a lot like Miranda Kayten,” Blaze said with a narrowed and suspicious gaze.
“I get that a lot,” Miranda replied.
“Do you know a man named Kwinton Rizaria?” Drake came right to the point.
“Why do you want to know?”
“We have a recording of him frying the brain of a blond man in his mid-thirties. Right before Rizaria grabs him, the blond curses him in Wirtanen.”
“Just because someone speaks our language doesn’t mean they’re from the outpost.”
“Blaze,” Jericho drew her attention, “tell him what you know.”
“If this happened two weeks ago, you’re probably talking about CJ Kaffee. He was overseeing the production of God knows what, but he’s been missing since Rizaria’s thugs came in their private cruiser and collected him.”
“Do you have his personnel file?” Drake asked.
“Yeah, hold on.” She looked down, but the shot was too tight to allow Miranda to see what she was doing. An employee badge appeared at the bottom of their screen. “Is that him?”
Drake looked at her for confirmation before responding. “Yes, that’s him.”
“You have no idea what he was producing?” Miranda asked.
“A chemical compound of some sort,” Blaze said. “My best guess is pharmaceutical.”
“Any legitimate medication must be produced on Halley Prime,” Drake objected. “It’s the only way to ensure standards and authenticity.”
“I never said it was legitimate. Drug companies move production to Wirtanen for one of two reasons. The high cost of overhead on Halley Prime or to avoid accountability.”
“Where is the laboratory located?” Drake’s eyes took on a dangerous gleam. “I might arrange a surprise inspection.”
“An inspector goes near that place and I’m dead. You have no idea what I’ve risked just talking to you.”
“They’re not going to do anything that might cast suspicion on you.” Jericho looked pointedly at Drake as he added, “I’ll make sure of it.”
“This was a mistake.” Blaze ended the transmission without another word.
“If anything happens to Blaze because she talked to you—”
�
��Save your threats,” Drake grumbled. “I always protect my informants.”
“We appreciate your getting her to talk to us.” Miranda tried to smooth over the tension. “This gives us more pieces to the puzzle.”
Drake watched his brother closely as he asked, “How do you know her anyway? If I’m not mistaken, that was Beatrice ‘Blaze’ Conroy, head of security on Wirtanen?”
“She heads one of three security teams.”
“That didn’t answer that question,” Drake persisted.
“I might have provided various incentives for her employees to ensure they sped up production of certain technologies.” He ended the statement with an utterly unrepentant grin.
“Technologies like that simulator for instance.”
“I’ll leave the details to your imagination.”
* * * * *
Miranda curled up on the sofa while Drake researched possible locations for the laboratory. Blaze’s fear was justified and they all knew it. People like Rizaria had no tolerance for snitches. Nothing they did could lead back to the information she had given them.
After sleeping for a couple of hours, Miranda grew restless. “Is there another access station? I can dig through records as well as anyone.” Drake looked up and rubbed the back of his neck. His eyes were blurry and bloodshot. “I have a better idea. You go lie down. A sleep-deprived protector is no good to anyone.”
“I’d argue, but I was running on fumes before this thing got started.” He went into the bedroom, and she took his place at the workstation in the living room.
She paged through the files he’d highlighted and continued from where he’d left off. The first three hours passed rapidly then boredom set in and her mind started to wander.
I tend to have projects rather than hobbies. What had he meant by that?
A quick search on his name was all it took to answer the question. Despite his gruff exterior, Drake was a regular philanthropist. The O’Bannon Foundation offered assistance to almost anyone in need. Their programs were varied and award-winning. She was reading a glowing testimonial from one of his numerous employees when the man himself strolled back into the living room.
“What are you reading?”
She didn’t bother closing the file. “I’ve heard of several of your programs, but I’ve never heard of the O’Bannon Foundation. Is that intentional?”