Even though she’d been a sort of unofficial civilian consultant the last time they dealt with the Skaladeskas, she was unsure of protocol with other law enforcement agencies—did the Feds get involved if a terrorist was here, or was it the local police she should call? She knew Gabe and Bergstrom would want to get their hands on Varden anyway, but who should take him into custody?
And how fast could Gabe even get here?
Boris galloped down the stairs in front of her and led the way to the office, but when Marina walked in, she saw an empty, bloodstained sofa.
“No!” she exclaimed, spinning in a circle, hoping in vain to spy Varden hiding in a corner.
She ran out of the room and searched the house, to no avail. He was gone. And not only was he somehow, impossibly gone, but he’d taken a loaf of bread and a jar of peanut butter with him—as evidenced by the dirty knife in the sink, a few crumbs on the counter, and the disappearance of both items. The only bit of real food she’d had in the house.
“Damn,” she muttered, unable to believe he’d had the ability to even stand, let alone walk out of the house so soon.
She went back to her office just to see if she’d been hallucinating. Unfortunately, she hadn’t been. But this time she noticed blood streaks and splotches by the window, on the window frame, and in a clear trail to the sofa. He’d come in that way, and, she thought grimly, likely gone out that way as well.
As she stared at the empty couch in dismay, Marina noticed a scrap of paper wedged between the bloodstained cushions of the sofa. Because there was a red stain on it, she picked it up. It was a receipt from a drugstore in Naperville, Illinois. That was near Chicago. And it was from yesterday.
A little shiver rushed over the back of her shoulders. So Rue Varden had been in Chicago yesterday—four hours from here by car, five by train, one by commercial plane.
And now he was gone.
Damn.
Marina retrieved her cell phone and found Gabe’s return text: Need to talk to you anyway. On way to MI. ETA 20:30. Soon enough?
She checked the time. That would be anytime now. A little tingle of anticipation fluttered in her belly. It had been months since she’d seen Gabe, and she’d missed him. Hopefully he’d be able to stay for a day or two. Or at least overnight.
Marina automatically glanced at the front door as if expecting to see him walk through, then went over and locked it. The last thing she needed was a lecture from him about leaving her doors open. Not that it mattered; obviously, Varden had found a way in through the window while she was gone.
He’d have probably died if she hadn’t returned today, Marina realized with a start. She’d have come home and found a corpse on her sofa instead of a patient. Now all she had was the knowledge that she’d aided and abetted a terrorist (maybe she shouldn’t mention the incident to Gabe after all) and a ruined couch.
Realizing how hungry she was, and forcing away the exhaustion that hadn’t been alleviated by her brief nap, Marina called for pizza and paced the kitchen, waiting.
After five minutes of that, she gave in to the curiosity that had been niggling at her since she walked into Matt Granger’s cave. She took her cell phone back into the office in case Gabe tried to contact her again. Varden’s blood had dried into dark brown splotches on her dark brown sofa, and was hardly noticeable except on the rug, and a smear by the windowsill. She cleaned it up as well as possible, but even so, she could still smell the underlying scent of it in the room. She opened the window.
Boris collapsed on the floor with a soft groan, obviously off duty and disgruntled that his sleep had been disturbed. He’d alert as soon as Gabe pulled in the driveway, so Marina knew she had a few minutes to look at the photos before he arrived. But when she sat down to turn on her laptop so she could upload the images from Matt’s cave, she realized her computer was already on…just sleeping.
A prickle lifted the hair on the back of her neck. She’d been gone for a week. She hadn’t left her laptop powered on. When she nudged the computer awake, it showed her Skype account…up and running. Marina used the online videoconferencing program regularly in order to speak with her academic colleagues, who often lived in different time zones and even on different continents.
But she hadn’t left the program open. She knew that for certain.
And she knew she didn’t have a contact named Dr. Herb Grace…but now one was showing in her account. And another one she didn’t recognize. Gaias_Son.
The prickle turned to a chill and Marina turned to look around the room, almost expecting to see Rue Varden standing there. For surely it had been he who’d used her Skype program to connect with Gaia’s Son…
She was still alone. Boris perked up, looking at her with interest when she rose from the desk, stepping away from the laptop to look down at it, but putting space between her and the machine nevertheless. As if it was poisonous.
Gaia’s Son. Son of Gaia, of the earth.
She knew who he had to be.
Her palms became damp as her mind reeled. Varden had been talking to Lev. Her grandfather. Or…
Marina glanced up at the package she’d tried to ignore. It was shoved away on the top of her bookshelf and hardly visible from below.
Varden wouldn’t have left the program running unless he wanted her to know about it—either that he’d been there or that he’d contacted Lev via video chat. He was too smart to make such a mistake.
Which meant he wanted her to know. Or Lev wanted her to know.
He wanted her to know how to contact him.
The prickling turned chilly when she heard the distinct sound from her computer, announcing the arrival of one of her Skype contacts. She held her breath and looked.
Gaia’s Son was online…
And now he was calling her.
Her stomach pitched at the tinny sound of the ring emitting from the laptop’s speakers. Answer? Decline?
That was the other thing Varden had done, Marina realized. He’d changed her settings…so when she went online, Gaia’s Son knew it and was notified.
And now he was calling her.
She slammed the laptop closed, heart pounding, and scrubbed her palms on her shorts.
Not now.
Never.
All at once, Boris leapt to his feet, startling Marina. She spun from the desk, looking around once more. Her companion gave a short bark of warning, then rushed out of the office to wait in the foyer. It had to be Gabe.
She relaxed, a flash of anticipation rushing her along in Boris’s path. The doorbell rang just as she passed through the living room, and she had a moment of gratitude that her dog was so sensitive to the comings and goings of the neighborhood. True, sometimes he was a little too sensitive—when the squirrels were mating and scampering through the trees or when a rabbit bounded across the front yard—but most of the time, she had no complaints. She motioned for him to down-stay and Boris slumped down obediently, but kept his head and ears up and alert.
A brief glance at the mirror over her table in the foyer told Marina that her dark hair had nearly dried in its choppy, wash-and-wear style, and that she still had a faint sleep mark on her cheek.
She opened the door and there was Gabe MacNeil…along with Colin Bergstrom and Special Agent Helen Darrow.
“Oh,” she said, and stepped back to allow them entrance. Damn. “Come in.” An uncomfortable tension tightened her stomach and she drew in a deep breath. Clearly, this was not going to be good news. Good grief. Could they have already traced the Skype connection from her house to Lev and the Skalas?
Gabe’s dark eyes swept over her and their gazes met briefly. She saw a flash of warmth there followed by a nod of apology. “Marina,” he said, stepping past her. “I hope you got my text.”
“Yes, of course. I just didn’t expect the entire cavalry,” she murmured, and then extended her hand to greet Colin Bergstrom.
She hadn’t seen the man in a few years, but he looked the same. His hair was still wispy and
his glasses were still too heavy, leaving imprints on the bridge of his nose. Despite the August heat, he wore a suit coat and tie that was almost successful in hiding the small paunch he carried low in his abdomen. She put his age at close to seventy, though he looked spry enough to be in his sixties.
“Dr. Alexander, it’s good to see you again,” Bergstrom said. She’d always liked the man, for he was intelligent and empathetic as well as determined. And even when he was threatening to revoke one’s passport, he did it with such skill that one almost didn’t care. Almost. “I’m sorry to arrive so unexpectedly.”
She held back a wry smile. This was nothing compared to the surprise in her office from earlier today. Her stomach gave a nervous flip when she thought of Varden and his quick escape. “It’s the nature of the beast,” she said. “Meaning your job. I just got home myself a couple hours ago, hence the duffel bag on the floor. Hi, Helen. Good to see you again as well.” She extended her hand and received a firm handshake in return. “The living room is this way; have a seat.”
Special Agent Helen Darrow was from the FBI office in Chicago and had been instrumental in stopping the Skaladeska terrorist attack in Detroit. Marina had only met her once, in the debrief after she and Gabe escaped from Siberia, but she’d talked to her on the phone several times. The other woman was close to her in age, but other than their shared gender, they were quite different in appearance.
Helen was dressed in the type of sleek, professional suit Marina hadn’t owned since her days of job interviews. She wore heels that were at least three inches tall, and her shoes were a croco-skin design that made even Marina look twice. The SA’s hair was just past shoulder length, honey-blond, and pulled back in an understated silver barrette. She kept her practical nails French manicured and neat, and she was actually wearing lipstick—even at nine o’clock on a Wednesday night after traveling from…
Chicago.
Marina faltered and a shiver rushed over her bare arms. Surely it wasn’t a coincidence Rue Varden had shown up today, lately come from Chicago…and here was Helen Darrow. Who had also lately come from Chicago.
“Marina.” Gabe caught her eye, and she paused in the foyer as the others went on. The moment his boss and colleague were out of sight, he moved toward her, kicking the duffel bag out of the way. The next thing she knew, he had her backed up against the front door and his mouth descended for a quick, thorough kiss with lots of soft lip and sweeping tongue.
He stepped back too soon and looked down, smiling a little as her hand settled on his chest. “It’s been too damn long,” he said, a touch of West Virginia in a voice that had become thick. “Sorry about the tag-alongs.”
Marina had gone all soft and warm as soon as he touched her, and now she looked up at him, her pulse thudding along at a nice pace. She felt his heart pounding beneath her palm as well. “I’m sure you’ll find an expedient way to get rid of them before the night’s over.”
“That’s the plan. Uh…” He paused and looked down at her. “I think you look great, but did you want to grab a robe? I’m not sure Colin can handle this much of you.”
She followed his gaze and realized she was leaving little to the imagination in the bra-less tank and loose boxer shorts she’d yanked on after waking abruptly. Someone as put-together as Helen Darrow might have blushed with embarrassment, answering the door in such a state—or then again, maybe not. But after years of primitive camping in foreign countries and doing archaeological digs in rustic places, not to mention the lack of accommodations on SAR missions, Marina had long stopped being modest about her appearance.
Nevertheless, she said, “I’ll be right back.”
While Marina went upstairs to change, Gabe joined the others in the living room. Helen glanced up as he walked in, her elegant brows rising knowingly as she crossed her long, very fine legs. Settled in an armchair, she’d removed her jacket and appeared relaxed in a sleeveless cobalt silk blouse and with her shoes kicked off.
“So you’re certain she hasn’t been in touch with the Skaladeskas,” Helen said. “It seems to me that someone like Marina Alexander would be hard pressed to stay away from them if they’re the guardians of an ancient library.”
Gabe followed her gaze as it scanned the room. He’d only been here a few times, but the place was familiar to him. The vintage Hitchcock movie posters shared wall space with framed, matted, and shadow-boxed items that ranged from old parchments to simple wood carvings to scraps of woven fabric that looked hundreds of years old. Marina still had a bowl of crystals on the low coffee table in front of two weathered leather sofas. The stones looked like small chunks of glacier: clear, pale blue, iced pink, and one dark, blood-red one.
“As much as she’d love to get her hands on the contents of that library,” he told Helen, “she wouldn’t risk it.”
“Wouldn’t risk what?”
They turned as one to look at their hostess. To Gabe’s mixture of relief and disappointment, she’d changed into yoga pants and a tight workout top that showed toned, tanned arms. Her thick, razor-cut hair was flipped every which way around her jaw line and neck, and her brown eyes scanned them all with wary interest. A Russian heritage was evident in the exotic set of her eyes, high cheekbones, and the olive cast to her skin.
“Your life,” Gabe said. “Going after the Skalas’ library.”
Her eyes flashed to his and he saw annoyance and surprise. Before she could say anything, he spoke. “Marina, we’ve got some things to tell you—”
Boris leapt to his feet and began to bark, rushing to the front door. “Pizza,” Marina told them, and walked out to attend to the delivery.
It smelled heavenly, and Gabe couldn’t help but eye the large box as she placed it on the table. “You ordered the whole thing for yourself?” he asked hopefully.
“I was hungry,” she said with a smile that, though strained, encompassed all of them. “But help yourself. This is classic Ann Arbor—Cottage Inn Pizza. I’ll grab more plates, and then you can tell me what the hell is going on in Chicago.”
“It’s not just Chicago,” Colin said as Gabe reached for a piece of pizza. “We were just in Taymyria and found the ruins of the Skaladeska compound there. Much of it was burned out.”
“The place has been deserted for at least a couple years. My guess is they left pretty quickly after we got away,” Gabe interjected. The pizza, with its thick, sesame-seeded crust, looked damn good. “Flew the coop before we could bring anyone in.”
Marina’s face had gone still and stark, and she dropped her pizza onto a plate. “Who the hell burned it out? Did we? Did you?” She turned to Helen, her voice sharp and strident, her eyes flashing. “I knew this was going to happen. Do you have any idea what we’ve lost?”
“We couldn’t even find the place until now. It wasn’t the CIA or the Feds—or even the Kremlin who did the burning,” Gabe told Marina before Helen could fire the snappy retort he knew was coming. “It was the Skalas themselves. But don’t worry. They took the library.”
“What do you mean, they took the library? It would be impossible to package up and move all of those artifacts that quickly.” Her expression was still tense and angry, but she’d sat down and picked up the pizza again. “They’d need special cases, and—”
“They drove it away, Marina. It was like a mobile library—the whole damn room was like a—a railroad car, or a semi-trailer. There’s nothing there but a gap in the mountain. As far as I can tell, the library is safe.”
Her brown eyes were chill when she looked at him. “I hope you’re right. There were texts from Atlantis in that collection.”
Atlantis? Seriously?
“Dr. Alexander,” Helen interrupted. She had her own cool gaze focused on Marina. “Have you been in touch with the Skaladeskas? Have they contacted you or have you contacted them?”
“Why would I be in touch with the bastards who tried to kill hundreds of innocent people in Detroit?” Marina’s voice was even, and she met Helen’s eyes calmly
. “You know what Gabe and I went through to get away—and to help you stop them.”
“They’ve fallen off the radar, so to speak,” said Colin in his easy, placating way. He generally played good cop to Gabe’s bad cop. “We’re looking for anything that might help us find them.”
“Why now? Why all of a sudden? What’s happened?” Marina looked around at all of them. “Of course something’s happened, or you all wouldn’t be here, trying to connect me to a group of ecoterrorists. Again.” She was pissed.
“We’re just looking for information,” Helen said.
“The last time the CIA came looking for information,” Marina replied evenly, “I was kidnapped, ended up in Siberia, and nearly got killed. More than once.”
“You’re our only connection to the Skalas,” Gabe said, remembering how she’d dived into a deep, rough lake to save Viktor Aleksandrov despite her deathly fear of water. Weak and bleeding from the gunshot plus the torture he’d endured, Gabe had no choice but to wait on the boat while trying to stay in touch with Helen Darrow by satellite phone, back in Detroit. Those had been long, dark moments.
I will always go back. For anyone, Marina had told him.
Gabe pulled his thoughts back to the present. “And it appears that after more than five years of silence, the Skalas have decided to re-emerge. Cora Allegan—do you know who that is?”
“The senator’s daughter. From Missouri,” Marina answered, her eyes going sharper. “And the CEO of Vision Screen Industries. Weren’t they just in the news for EPA violations? They owe millions in fines.”
Helen nodded. “Yes. Did you also hear that she disappeared?”
“I’ve been out of the news loop; was on an SAR mission up north. All I know is there was a blackout. Is it related?”
“The blackout originated in St. Louis, and so far the word is there’s no cause to suspect it was deliberate,” Helen told her. “But in regards to Cora Allegan, we have an eyewitness who saw three people escort her unwillingly off her front porch. They left behind—deliberately or accidentally, we don’t know—a piece of paper with the Skaladeska mark on it.”
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