“What was that all about? What game are you playing?”
“How are you feeling? Having headaches? Getting a nagging cough that medicines are doing nothing to help?”
There was silence on the other end for several seconds. When Imperi spoke again, Andor could hear the fear in his voice. “What have you done?”
“I dusted the card with one of my formulas to ensure your quick cooperation. As soon as you give me the fifty thousand US you owe me for my last shipment, the antidote will be delivered to you.”
“You’re insane! I can’t—”
“You can and you will, if you want to live more than a few days.”
More silence. “It’ll take time for me to—”
“No. You’re going to transfer the funds right now. I want to see the money in my account before we hang up. No negotiations.” He recited the name of the bank and his new account number, certain that Imperi was busily scribbling down the information.
“How do I know you’ll hold up your end of the bargain and won’t be trying this again?”
“You have my word. I’m a scientist, not a criminal.”
“You’re a deranged idiot,” he heard Imperi mutter as he waited, watching his online bank account for the deposit to be completed. As soon as it was, he transferred the money to a second Grand Cayman account, so Imperi couldn’t recover it or trace him. “Always a pleasure doing business with you, Dario. And by the way, you won’t need an antidote. You have a slightly altered strain of the common cold and your symptoms should go away on their own in a few more days.” Imperi was cursing as he hung up the phone.
The fifty grand would sustain him while he awaited the big payoff from his prisoner’s associates. Andor glanced at his watch. Time to feed the captive. He hated having to deal with her himself— the stench down there was unbearable, and he’d always had staff to deal with the wretched human animals he’d held captive for his virus trials in the lab.
Chapter Three
assady Monroe scrutinized the bare room yet again as she paced the few steps the length of heavy chain allowed, though she’d already memorized every detail of the space. She was weak and dehydrated, and her right wrist was raw and sore from the thick shackle that bound her to the chain. Andor Rózsa had kidnapped her and kept her alive for reasons she couldn’t understand, and every time she asked him questions he ignored her. He never talked to her at all, for that matter. She vaguely remembered him hovering over her very early in this nightmare, asking her questions, but she’d been so heavily drugged she couldn’t recall anything specific.
Since then, he came only briefly once a day, his heavy descending steps announcing dinnertime. He would open the door and signal her to sit, and only then place a cup of water and a bowl of soggy oatmeal on the floor far enough away that she’d have to fully extend her body to reach them. His ascending steps always precipitated another loss of the hope she clung to, hope that he’d free her or tell her why she was here.
She’d ascertained only that she was in a basement. The walls were bare concrete blocks, devoid of windows. Constant humidity hung in the air, the place reeked of mold, and the pendulous bulb in the center of the room gave a depressing sepia color to an already wretched environment. She didn’t know how she got here, where here was, and at this point had even started to lose track of how long she’d been captive. Besides drugging her for however long, he’d taken her watch and cell phone, so time had blurred.
Most distressing of all was her knowledge of what Rózsa was capable of. He’d had no qualms about killing millions with his virus or experimenting on how many untold unfortunates in his lab. Was he keeping her for some kind of new experiment? And if so, what further hell might she have to endure?
Her EOO training had drilled in her to never give up, but what did that mean under these circumstances? She would never go down without a fight, but she had no one, nothing to fight against. Her only option to end this madness seemed to be to stop eating and drinking and let nature take its course, but choosing that way out went against her nature.
Her only source for solace was Jack and the memory of their brief time together. The dimple on Jack’s cheek when she smiled, and, God, how Cassady loved to make her smile, sustained her now. As long as she concentrated on Jack’s image, recalling every freckle and scar, her mind should remain intact.
She licked her chapped lips and sat back down on the dirty blanket, a rag that clearly once belonged to a dog. Just as well, she thought, since her own odor had become unbearable. She hadn’t been allowed to wash since her arrival to nowhere, and her clothes never seemed to dry from the extreme humidity. Aside from the blanket, the only item in the room was the bucket he’d supplied for her bodily needs.
As she leaned against the cold brick wall, her stomach rumbled and she placed her hand on it. As with any part of her body that hurt, she would pretend her own touch was Jack’s hand. She shut her eyes and dozed until the sound of boots awakened her. By now, she knew exactly how many steps before he entered the room. Seven. She counted down and sat up as the familiar noise of a heavy bar and the clanging sound of his keys echoed through the small space.
Rózsa entered and Cassady, as usual, remained very still. She didn’t want to startle or anger him and lose any opportunity to make him talk. He avoided eye contact at all times, but always stood at the door to inspect the room and her bucket.
The stench in the basement was so overpowering Rózsa wrinkled his nose in disgust and kept his mouth slightly open to avoid breathing through his nose. He stared at the bucket for several seconds before apparently deciding he could no longer avoid the loathsome task of emptying it. He set down the oatmeal and water by the door, picked up the bucket while watching her warily, and left briefly to complete his task. He repeated this pattern every few days. Once he’d come back with the bucket, he would give her the food and water, then depart again.
She needed to make him see her as a human being, so today, after he’d emptied the waste and as he approached with her food, she spoke to him in a soft, pleading voice. “Please, Andor. Look at me. Please.” Instead, he paused where he was and raised his head to stare at the ceiling above her. “Please tell me why I’m here,” she said calmly.
He didn’t answer, but she was heartened when he didn’t move or immediately place her bowl and cup on the ground. It was the first break in the routine—the one time he’d prolonged his visit beyond mere seconds. Maybe he was ready to talk, or at least nod. Maybe he’d started to trust she wouldn’t get up or attack him.
“Do you want something from me?” She spoke softly. “Just tell me why I’m here and if I can help you.”
He didn’t acknowledge her, but at least he didn’t leave. He stared at the ceiling like a statue. Maybe she needed to try a new line of questioning. Something to at least get her out of this room and give her some idea where she was. For the first time she felt like she’d found the key to that heavy metal door.
“Can I please wash myself?” She tried not to sound demanding. “I promise I won’t try anything. You can trust me. I’ve never tried to hurt you. Just a few minutes to wash up.” Although he remained motionless, his gaze shifted to the right—a good sign he was considering her proposition. “I’ll be very fast,” she assured him.
Without a word, Rózsa left, still carrying her oatmeal and water. She stared at the closed door as she heard him lock but not bolt the door. What was he up to? He ascended the stairs, then returned. When he came back, he had only another bucket in his hand, full of water and with a sponge floating on the surface.
The meager hope the break in routine had given her evaporated as he set the bucket down, leaving her more disappointed than she’d been since she arrived. “What about food?”
He turned and departed without acknowledging her in any way. The sound of the lock and bolt had never resonated louder.
* * *
Southwestern Colorado
Earlier that day
Jack pulled
on the jeans and navy-blue T-shirt the nurse had delivered and left the infirmary with trepidation. Unhurriedly, she made her way to the administration building. Although she couldn’t wait to get her hands on whatever intel the EOO had and be on her way with Coolidge, she wasn’t in the mood for reunions and explanations. She had no doubt her presence would shock or appall the other ops, and she abhorred having to confront their disdain or discomfort. Stepping back into a world she had largely managed to forget disquieted her, to say the least.
Though she’d returned to the remote campus for Cassady’s memorial service two weeks earlier, she’d avoided any interaction with other ops. While they were upstairs eulogizing her lover, she’d remained isolated outside on the swing set. She needed to grieve in drunken solitude, and the swing set was where she felt closest to Cassady. When they were both living at the school—Jack about to graduate and Cassady still barely into her teens—she’d often watched her blond angel swinging back and forth, laughing and carefree, still blissfully unaware of what she would be called to do when she became an operative.
Now, as she walked the grounds, she couldn’t help but reflect on her own formative years at the RockyMountain campus, which operated under the guise of a private boarding school. Since 1952, the complex of dorms, classrooms, and training facilities contained within the razor-wire-tipped fence had housed and trained an elite fighting force virtually unknown to the world at large. Hand-selected from orphanages worldwide and raised within the compound, the best of the ops became ETFs—agents of the Elite Tactical Force, assigned to missions outside the reach of normal law enforcement.
To her knowledge, she’d been the only agent who’d gotten out before her sanctioned retirement. Except for Cassady’s memorial service, she hadn’t been back since faking her death ten years earlier. Not only would most of the ops waiting inside view her as a traitor, at least one had justifiable reasons to want her dead because of her intervening work as a mercenary.
She was buzzed in as soon as she reached the entrance to the neo-Gothic administration building. Normally, one needed a hand and retina ID to get in, but Pierce was apparently keeping an eye out for her arrival. Great, big brother is already watching.
Jack took the stairs to the second-floor conference room. Four ops—two young men and two women—lingered in the hallway outside. Pierce and the other two EOO administrators were nowhere in sight.
One of the ops, a tall brunette, turned as she approached. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before,” the woman said. Jack remembered her. Mishael Taylor—Agent Allegro—was an adrenaline junkie who specialized in breaking and entering. Always a troublemaker with a big mouth, but mostly harmless.
“I’m Jack Norris.”
“Should I know you?” Allegro asked.
Great. Now all of them were looking at her. “No, you shouldn’t,” she replied. “But you probably do.”
Allegro smirked. “Riddles before my fourth cup of coffee make me—”
“Don’t play with her, Norris,” one of the men interjected. “She’ll get hyper and make us all regret getting out of bed this morning.” The rest laughed.
“You seem familiar,” the other woman said, an agent with short, dark hair and olive skin. She didn’t ring any of Jack’s bells, and neither did the men, but that was probably because of the age difference. They were all thirty at most, at least ten years younger than she was. “I’m Gianna.”
“I doubt you would remember me,” Jack replied. “I haven’t been around for years.”
“But I’d remember,” Allegro said, peering at her suspiciously. She turned toward the doorway to the conference room a few steps away. “Yo! Luka, come out here a sec.”
Luka Madison, aka Domino, emerged stirring a cup of coffee. “What now, lunatic?” she asked, rolling her eyes at Allegro.
“She seem familiar?” Allegro nodded her head in Jack’s direction.
In that split second before Domino noticed her, their last interactions three years earlier flashed through Jack’s mind. Jack had been working for Terrence Burrows then, a corrupt politician who wanted to bring down the EOO. Under his direction, she’d not only tried to kill Domino, she’d also kidnapped the op’s partner— journalist Hayley Ward. Only Domino’s quick reflexes and resourcefulness had saved them both.
“What the—” Domino froze and her eyes widened in stunned recognition. The coffee cup recently in her hand shattered on the floor. She clenched her fists and started toward Jack, fury blazing in her blue-gray eyes. “What the hell are you doing here?”
Jack wasn’t surprised Domino recognized her. Her hair was much shorter now than when they’d last met, but the distinctive scar, an inch and a half long, that ran from beneath her left cheekbone to the corner of her mouth, gave her away. “I didn’t know it was you,” Jack quietly replied. “I had no idea you were in the room with Burrows, or that Ward was with you.”
“Who the hell are you?” Domino got right in her face, challenging her to make the first move. Jack had a good three inches height advantage over her, and Domino didn’t look to be in top physical condition. She had dark circles under her eyes and was thinner than she remembered. But Jack remained silent and unmoving. She knew she deserved whatever was coming.
Her lack of reaction only infuriated Domino more. “How dare you walk in here and—”
Allegro came up behind the op and put a hand on her shoulder. “Luka, what’s going on here?”
“This bitch used to work for Burrows,” Domino said, her voice so loud the agents gathered in the conference room were beginning to spill out into the hallway to find out what the commotion was about. “She tried to kill me and kidnapped Hayley.”
“What? How?” Allegro stuttered. She glared at Jack, her own rising anger evident in the sudden twitch of her jaw muscles. “Is this true?”
“Yes, it’s true,” Domino shouted, still toe-to-toe with Jack. “Operation Eclipse. Tell her.”
“It’s true.” Jack quietly said.
All the ops surrounded them, watching the unfolding drama with interest.
“Why?” Allegro asked between gritted teeth, clearly trying to contain herself.
“I was doing my job.”
“Working for Burrows?” Allegro asked. “Everyone knew he was corrupt as hell. He was trying to bring us all down.”
“I didn’t know Domino was involved,” Jack replied in the same calm tone. “I just needed the money and—”
“You bitch. You almost killed Hayley because of money? Who the fuck do you think you are?” Domino lunged at Jack and would have landed a solid punch across her jaw but for the quick intervention of one of the other ops.
“Why’d you stop her, Landis?” Allegro sounded disappointed. “It was just about to get good.”
“Long time no see, Jack.” Landis Coolidge’s stone-gray eyes revealed nothing about how she felt seeing her former best friend again after so many years.
For a moment, time stood still as Jack recalled their history. Even though as kids they would try to best each other, they’d always stood up for one another. Agent Chase hadn’t changed much in the intervening years. Her blond hair was shorter and she’d gained a few tiny lines around her eyes, but she was still a fit and trim ETF who looked much younger than her forty years.
Domino looked at Chase. “You know her?” she asked, surprise evident in her eyes.
“I thought I did,” Chase said, her eyes still on Jack.
“You were at Cassady’s memorial service,” Gianna remarked. “You sat outside by the swings. I saw you crying.”
“That was me.”
The hallway filled with deafening whispers as all the ops moved closer to get a better look at the stranger. Jack had never felt more like a circus freak.
“Who the hell gave you the right to mourn one of us?” Domino asked.
Just then, Montgomery Pierce, David Arthur, and the third member of the EOO governing trio, Director of Academics Joanne Grant, emerged from Pierce’s offic
e farther down the hall. “Enough introductions,” Pierce said, taking in the crowd gathered around Jack. “We can take our places now.”
Domino glared at Jack. “This isn’t over.”
“I know. So go ahead. Finish what you started.”
“I feel sorry for you.” Domino turned to walk away.
“Do it for Ward.” Jack provoked her because she wanted Domino to react.
Domino spun around, her body rigid with contained fury. “Don’t you ever mention her name again.”
“That’s enough.” Chase clamped a hand on Jack’s arm and started to pull her away.
“Let her,” Jack whispered.
The next thing she knew, her head was spinning and she was on the floor grasping her chin. The punch had been fast and solid.
Domino walked away, rubbing her hand.
“Did it hurt?” Chase asked.
“Yeah.”
Chase flashed her trademark lopsided smile. “Good.”
“I had it coming.” Jack got to her feet and they headed into the conference room.
Chapter Four
1 p.m.
Montgomery Pierce was about to risk his reputation by including a runaway op in this briefing, and he regretted how difficult the gathering would be for Jaclyn as well. But if they were to have any chance at finding Lynx, Jaclyn would have to face the consequences of her actions.
The room was restless and loud with whispered speculation about Jaclyn and her identity. Monty walked to the windows and let down the blinds, a habit whenever they discussed anything important. “Take a seat, everyone. We’re ready to start.”
As he took his customary chair at the head of the long table, flanked by Grant and Arthur, the room quieted and the ops took seats as well.
Still rubbing her chin, Jaclyn stood by the door.
“Please, shut the door and join us,” he told her. He nodded at the empty chair by Landis Coolidge. “Why don’t you sit next to Chase?” Everyone in the room turned to look at him. “Jaclyn is here to help us with our next mission.”
Demons are Forever Page 3