Unhidden (The Gatekeeper Chronicles Book 1)

by Dina Given

  “Yeah, maybe we should just stand here and wait.” We tried that for about a minute yet were soon drawn deeper into the room by the myriad objects, looking at everything while touching nothing.

  “Do you see anything you like?” I turned at that silken voice to find the man I recognized from the cover of Fortune magazine.

  He was a handsome, older man with salt and pepper hair at his temples and ice blue eyes. He still had the smooth skin of youth and could have passed for any age between forty and fifty-five years old. He carried himself with the supreme confidence of a man who worked hard and had earned his way to the top. He smiled, and his eyes crinkled charmingly at the corners.

  I consciously forced myself not to get star stuck. “It’s hard to choose a favorite. Everything in this room is stunning.”

  “Well, if there is something in particular that catches your fancy, consider it yours.”

  Startled and suspicious, yet intrigued all the same, I asked, “Why would you do that?”

  He waved around the room, as if that offered sufficient explanation. When I didn’t react, he smiled patiently and said, “I have plenty of priceless objects, and I like showing off my wealth by giving away extravagant gifts.” I couldn’t tell whether he was joking.

  I shook my head. “Thank you, but I can’t accept anything. May I ask why you have brought us here?”

  “Right to business? I can respect that. Why don’t we talk in my office? Mr. Ryker, you may come along if you’d like.”

  We followed him down a long hallway, passing bedrooms, bathrooms, a music room with a grand piano, and even a game room with a billiard table. The museum-like quality extended throughout the house with Persian rugs, crystal chandeliers, ornate furniture, and more artwork, until we entered his office. Typical of the rest of the apartment, Nathan had a massive carved desk with legs in the shape of lion claws. However, behind that antique monstrosity was a full wall mounted with rare weapons.

  The objects on display were placed in historical order, with the oldest weapons starting on the left most wall and the more modern weapons ending farthest to the right. Nathan seemed to have at least one of almost every type of weapon created: daggers, swords, maces, axes, pole arms, war hammers, muskets, flintlock pistols, revolvers, carbines, repeaters, semi-automatics, and full-automatics.

  The collection was behind a wall of security glass, but it was brightly illuminated, providing most of the light in the room. This was something Jason and I could appreciate much more than art. We both ogled the display like children on Christmas morning.

  “As you can see, I appreciate not only beauty but power, which brings us to why I asked you here. I would like to attain your services to retrieve something that was stolen from me. But only someone with special qualifications will be capable of pulling off a feat such as this one. As such, I need to know whether you are the right person for the job.” He paused dramatically, as if expecting me to know what he was talking about. I didn’t. “Let me see it.”

  “See what?” I asked, confused.

  “The amulet,” he explained, gesturing toward my chest.

  How the hell did he know about the amulet? A wave of panic washed through me as I scrambled my brain, trying to figure out who knew about the amulet and could have shared that information with Nathan Anshar. It left me cold, reinforcing what Fox Mulder always said, Trust no one. However, I was in a difficult spot. I couldn’t pretend I didn’t know what he was talking about when the shape of the amulet was obvious through my tight T-shirt. We could make a run for it, although I didn’t know a faster way out than the elevator, and Mr. Smith and his bulky driver were likely waiting for us at the bottom.

  “So the rumors are true; you do have it. I can tell by the look on your face that you are trying to figure out how to keep it from me.”

  “How did you know? Who told you?”

  “I am a very well-connected man, at more levels than you can imagine, and believe me when I say I am not the only one who knows you have it. You’re right to be cautious, Miss Hayes. There are worse things than death, and many who would use those kinds of means to possess that amulet.”

  “Do you know what it is? Why it is so valuable? What does it do?”

  Jason placed his hand on my arm to stop me. The questions had just tumbled unbidden out of my mouth. I hadn’t meant to ask them, to show my lack of understanding, but I was so desperate for answers I couldn’t stop myself.

  Nathan didn’t look at me like I was prey, as I would have expected from someone who had just learned they held the advantage. Instead, he said, “As valuable as the amulet is alone, it is exponentially more powerful when coupled with another very special object. The amulet is almost like a brain without a body. It has no way to put voice to thoughts or actions to intentions. You will never know what it is truly capable of until you learn to communicate with it. To do that, you must find its body.”

  “Is that what you want to hire me to find?”

  “Yes. The object I am searching for is an ancient weapon. It was once one of the most prized items in my collection.” He stood, turning to face the wall of relics behind him. I noticed then an empty spot on the wall directly behind his chair. He placed a gentle hand to the glass, as if remembering the feel of the weapon in his hands. “It was stolen from me about ten years ago, and I wish to have it back.”

  “How will retrieving this item help me if I only have to give it back to you? Do you seriously think I’ll turn over the amulet to you, as well?” My hackles went up, anticipating a confrontation. There was no way in hell I was going to turn over everything to him, especially not knowing what these objects were capable of.

  He turned back to me and smiled. “Of course not, Miss Hayes. Once you retrieve it, please consider it a gift from me to you, even more so than any of the pieces you were admiring earlier. This item was almost made for you.”

  Was he serious? He was simply going to let me have it? There had to be another angle I was missing.

  I narrowed my eyes on him. “Why would you just let me have something so valuable and supposedly powerful?”

  “Because I need a skilled fighter to wield it on my behalf. What I ask for in return is your service … to me.”

  There was always a catch. “Sorry, but I already have a job. I work for myself because I don’t make for a particularly obedient employee.”

  “I can vouch for that,” Jason interjected dryly.

  “I’ve been told I make an excellent boss. The benefits are second to none. I will double your pay; you’ll have an opportunity to visit exotic new places and meet interesting characters; and best of all, I will teach you, train you. You will need someone to guide you in the use of your powers, to introduce you to the world you have forgotten. If you do this, I will tell you everything you wish to know, including who you are.”

  Shit, that was a tempting offer … but at what cost? Was this knowledge worth the price of my freedom? Given more time, would I be able to learn this information anyway? I had been piecing things together bit by bit. Sure, it was slow and tedious, but I might be able to figure it out eventually without Nathan. However, would I be able to survive that long? I was being hunted by deadly creatures, and it was more than likely they would find me and end me before I could learn enough to defend myself.

  I looked to Jason for help.

  “Don’t do it,” he said firmly. “You can’t trust him. You don’t know what he’ll make you do, and I can guarantee the price will be too high. We’ll find another way.”

  I turned back to Nathan, still uncertain. “How are you involved in all of this?”

  Nathan sat back down slowly, interlocking his fingers and placing his hands on the desk in front of him, looking deadly serious. “Emma, I know your mother.”

  I took a sharp intake of breath and sprang to my feet, Jason quickly following, taking my hand supportively. Of all the things I might have expected him to say, mentioning my mother hadn’t even been a thought.

&n
bsp; “You knew my mother?” I practically shouted.

  “No, Miss Hayes. I know your mother.”

  The synapses in my brain stopped firing for a few seconds, and all I could feel was a blooming sensation in my chest that I didn’t recognize. When the thoughts came flooding back, I realized the unknown feeling was joy, hope. Nonetheless, as quickly as it had come, I obliterated the emotion with harsh reality.

  I had assumed my biological parents were dead; otherwise, why would I have ended up here? If my mother was alive, wouldn’t she have been there to protect me, to keep me with her? How had I ended up here, and did she care? The endless questions were enough to drive me mad.

  When I was finally able to produce a sound, it sounded something like “uhgrgh,” and then Nathan’s cell phone rang. He pulled it from his pocket and put it to his ear, listening to the caller on the other end. His eyes flew up to meet mine, suddenly looking very concerned. All he said into the phone was, “Stall them,” and then hung up.

  “What is it?” Jason asked.

  “There are federal agents downstairs, backed with a contingent of Black Ops soldiers, looking for Emma. You two have to get out of here, and you must retrieve the weapon, or all is lost. What do you say, Emma? Do we have a deal?”

  There’s nothing like mortal danger and an imminent deadline to refocus my priorities. I came back to my senses, my mind frantically running through my options.

  Jason squeezed my hand urgently. “Emma, don’t let him pressure you into a decision. For all we know, there’s no one downstairs, and this is just a tactic he’s using to force your hand.”

  Nathan’s phone beeped, and he looked at the incoming text message. “Unfortunately, Mr. Ryker, this is not a ploy. They are in the elevator and will be here in less than two minutes. What’s it going to be, Miss Hayes? Do you want answers?”

  I no longer had a choice. As soon as he had revealed that he knew my mother, I had made my decision. “Yes, I’ll work for you, but only after you tell me everything I want to know.”

  “Agreed, but first you must recover the weapon and bring it back to me. I will teach you how to use it.” He quickly grabbed a Post-It note from his desk and wrote something on it, handing it to me. “This is where you will find it. Now, come with me.” He darted to a door at the far end of the room I hadn’t noticed before. It was camouflaged with the same wood paneling that ran along the length of the wall. Pulling it open revealed a metal and cement stairwell. “This will take you down to the parking garage. I have someone who can help waiting for you with a car.”

  Ding. The elevator signaled its arrival on Nathan’s floor. Jason and I flew down the staircase as Nathan sealed the door behind us.

  “Why the hell is the government after you?” Jason panted as we raced down the steps. We were both in great shape, but even going down the stairs, fifty-six flights at breakneck speed was still plenty to get us winded.

  “I have … no … idea,” I said between breaths. “But, if it’s really Black Ops … we’re … screwed.” Black Operations could be carried out by any qualified branch of the military; as a result, I didn’t know who exactly we would be dealing with. However, these were highly covert operations involving activities that required plausible deniability because of their questionable ethics and legality. If someone classified this mission as a Black Ops, it meant someone was trying to cream our corn, as Jason would say.

  When we reached the thirtieth floor, I heard dim pounding and clanging sounds echoing from the stairwell above us. “They’re on us,” Jason said, stating the obvious. We increased the pace, leaping four and five steps at a time, and cut corners by vaulting over the railings onto the next set of steps below us. We reached the garage level in minutes, throwing ourselves into the steel door, slamming it open. We slowed, looking around frantically for the car Nathan had said would be waiting for us.

  “There’s a subway two blocks from here,” I urged when the car didn’t immediately show.

  “No way. They’ll have all of the exits watched. They’ll be on us as soon as we step foot outside.”

  Jason was right, but those soldiers would be bursting through that door in moments. The stomping sounds of feet on steps grew louder with every heartbeat. “Jason, we can’t stay here. We have to hide if we can’t run.”

  “Motherfucker framed us!” Jason shouted, punching the nearest car.

  If that was true, Nathan Anshar was going on my personal hit list, if I didn’t get hit first. “Jason, we need to move now!” I glanced over my shoulder at the door. It was beginning to rattle from the vibrations of men barreling down the last of the steps.

  Grabbing Jason’s arm, we began to run when a gray BMW M6 came to a screeching halt in front of us. The black tinted driver’s side window slid down, revealing the bright red hair and flame tattoo of Lilly Alfreda.

  “Get in,” she shouted.

  It didn’t take any more encouragement than that before we were in the backseat, slamming the car door just as the Black Ops soldiers burst into the garage and opened fire on us with MP5 sub-machine guns. I instinctively ducked, moving away from the windows, but the 9-millimeter rounds ricocheted off the bulletproof glass. Lilly stepped on the gas, throwing me against the seat as she pealed out of the garage.

  “You okay back there?” It wasn’t Lilly’s voice that came from the front seat; it was Alex’s. I sat up and met his eyes as he peered over the passenger seat at me. He read my thoughts while I looked between him and Lilly. “I’ll explain later.”

  “Yes, you will. In the meantime, I’d feel better with a weapon in my hands.”

  “Lift the seat cushion,” Lilly directed.

  Jason and I knelt on the floor and pried up the seat, finding a store of handguns, rifles, and grenades.

  “I think I’m in love with you,” Jason said to Lilly as he reached into the cache to caress a Kalashnikov rifle.

  She giggled girlishly, which seemed incongruous coming from a woman driving a speeding vehicle through the streets of New York City at two a.m. while being pursued by government operatives.

  Jason claimed the Kalashnikov, while I opted for an M16 rifle with grenade launcher, slinging a grenade belt across my chest. I also shoved two Colt 1911 handguns into my waistband and filled my pockets with extra ammunition. Our attempted escape was not going to be subtle.

  Lilly was doing an impressive job of swerving around yellow cabs and cutting through intersections without killing any pedestrians. Peering out the rear window, I counted three black Ford SUVs tight on our tail. Even with the faster car, we would never escape them in these tight streets. At this hour, plenty of cars and people were still out and about. It would be a miracle if there wasn’t any collateral damage.

  “We can’t open fire on them here. We either have to lose them or get out of the city.”

  “How about both?” Lilly suggested.

  When she turned sharply onto 1st Avenue, heading downtown, one of the SUVs took advantage of the wider, less trafficked avenue to pull alongside us. The driver jerked the wheel sharply and rammed into the BMW. I fell into Jason as we both tumbled across the seat upon impact. Lilly kept us from careening off the road, and Jason and I took advantage of the opportunity to fasten our seatbelts.

  Another of the SUVs plowed into our rear, snapping us all forward. Pain shot through my neck, and a dull ache began at the base of my skull. Lilly pulled the wheel to left, throwing us into a controlled three hundred sixty-degree spin. Before coming to a complete stop, she straightened the car and stepped on the gas. The SUV was now in front of us as we approached a section of roadway under construction, lined with concrete barriers and orange cones. Lilly sped up and clipped the SUV in the rear left bumper, causing him to swerve wildly into the concrete barriers. The entire front end of the car crumpled, and then it flipped onto its roof.

  Lilly hung a sharp left onto the Williamsburg Bridge, swerving the car back and forth, trying to prevent either of the remaining SUVs from coming up alongside us. W
ith us out in the open on the mostly deserted bridge, I unbuckled my seatbelt and rolled down the window. Then I leaned out precariously, trying to brace myself by wedging my foot under the driver seat, and opened fire with the rifle. When the bullets bounced off it harmlessly, I adjusted my aim and went for the tires.

  Before any of my shots could hit home, a soldier dressed in black camouflage with black face paint stood up through the SUV’s sunroof and shouldered his machine gun. I felt a hand tightening on my jeans, and Jason tugged me back into the safety of the car right as bullets came raining down on us. The rear window shattered under the barrage. It didn’t break, but it was impossible to see through given all the spider vein cracks running through it.

  Jason leveraged himself with his back against the front seat and used his long, powerful legs to kick out the rear window, regaining our visibility to the two cars still following us. This time, we did have to duck when gunfire erupted in our direction.

  I screamed to Alex and Lilly, afraid a bullet would strike one of them through the seats. Alex was on it, erecting a shimmering shield where the rear window had been. Bullets hit it harmlessly, creating ripples in the shield like a rock tossed into a pond. That bought me the few precious moments I needed to load the grenade launcher.

  “Alex, on my signal,” I shouted to him over my shoulder. Taking careful aim out the back window, with bullets still flying at us, I yelled, “Now!” Alex dropped the shield. I depressed the trigger at the same moment, and the grenade streaked through the night air.

  I had aimed for the closest SUV, but the driver attempted to avoid the grenade by swerving to the right. It hit the undercarriage of the car and exploded, sending the vehicle into the air and tumbling over the edge of the bridge. We were almost to the end of it, keeping the SUV from plummeting thousands of feet into the East River. Instead, it fell only a few stories and hit the sloping ground a couple feet from the water, becoming engulfed in flames.

  We made it off the bridge, and Lilly took several sharp turns, bringing us to an area that was darkened perceptibly compared to the bright lights of the bridge and busy Manhattan streets behind us. The hunkering shapes of cargo ships and cranes loomed ahead, which helped me identify this place as the Brooklyn Navy Yard. She sped through the yard, weaving around shipping containers, forklifts, and other machinery.