by Imogene Nix
“So of course they couldn’t find you,” came a third voice, more menacing, and one Duvall knew very well from his previous dealings. He cast a look at Chowd. How in hell did Crick Sur Banden get here undetected, and how would they deal with this now? It would take quick thinking on their parts to get out of this one.
Horror filled him at his own stupidity. It squeezed his chest and constricted his breathing. Mellissa waited in the car by herself. Unprotected. Barsha! He hadn’t expected Crick Sur Banden to take the chance of appearing himself. He damned himself, but they couldn’t leave now. His face tightened.
He listened to the information Feinstein shared. “There is no way they could have found me. I haven’t even brought the girl here,” he said, his tone exultant.
Duvall inhaled and looked at Chowd, who watched him with cold, angry eyes.
* * * *
It seemed like forever had passed, though Mellissa knew it hadn’t been long since she’d closed her eyes. Minutes, surely? The dusk had closed in, shrouding her in darkness. Her stomach continued the impressions of knots. The air had cooled, and she shivered, pushing a stray strand of hair off her face. She heard a click behind her and turned her head, catching a glimpse of something bright. Before she could get a good look though, it felt like her head exploded, then nothing.
Chapter 15
Duvall thought fast as the sound of a cold chuckle filled the air. Crick Sur Banden. “We’ve been found. They must be made to pay well for this mistake.”
Duvall and Chowd pushed their way through the door, straightening with their lasers ready, but too late. Andurs Feinstein slumped to the floor, the dying whine of a laser sounding in the air. The stench of burned flesh filled the air, and the dribble of blood oozing from the center of Feinstein’s forehead told the rest of the story, a surprised look on his face even as death settled.
The lanky man standing in the corner saw them at the same time as they caught sight of him. He ran for the door, ready to plunge through, when an image of Crick Sur Banden began to laugh.
“Duvall, such a pleasure to see you again. But once more, you are too late. You see my associate? His helpers have a friend of yours.” The holograph of the Ru’Edan rebel smiled evilly. “What a shame I can’t be there to see the fun in person.” The image faded away as the message sank home.
He knew in an instant that they’d taken Mellissa. His heart stuttered in his chest. “Don’t you hurt her!” But the holographic Crick was gone. Duvall damned himself a million times for leaving her unprotected. It hit like a punch to the chest squeezing out any oxygen.
If they touched so much as one hair on her head, he would crush them. That was unforgivable. His rage spewed over his face. The man backed up through the door, trying to get out. Chowd beat him to the man, leaping upon him, flattening him and holding him down. Duvall reached for the man, and Chowd rose, moving back.
Duvall grabbed a handful of shirt, knowing his eyes glittered with the dark rage that filled him. “Where. Is. She?” he said, his voice forceful.
The man looked at him, mute, terror pouring off him in waves.
“I. Said. Where. Is. She? And by Eshra, you better not have harmed her.” His voice sounded menacing enough, but he exerted pressure on the man’s throat, reinforcing the rage that ballooned within his chest. The man under him wheezed for breath. He pulled the man forward and with a single downward jerk made a connection of head to floor with a crack. The man jerked, looked dazed, and tried to speak. A gurgle erupted from his throat.
Chowd placed a hand on his shoulders, but nothing sliced through the rage. “Duvall? Duvall?” The cloud of rage filled his mind, and he pushed the hand away. “Duvall? Captain? You’re going to kill him, then we won’t find her or the information. We need to find out where they have her.”
Chowd. The name seeped into his mind. The hand returned to his shoulder. It urgently cut through the fog settling over him. He raised his head, nostrils flaring, and clawed back some control. His fury with himself swamped him, stripping away the layers of civilization. He should have sent her back or at least sent for another security officer to protect her. His fury boiled over. The men would pay for using her.
It. Was. Unacceptable.
He took a breath, calming his rage. Pulled another into his aching lungs. He settled back, but didn’t release the man in his grasp. “Where would they have taken her?” he demanded, his anger banked while he needed the assistance to find her.
“T-to…to the transmission and examination point,” the man whimpered, and the smell of urine filled the air; in his terror, his body had reacted.
Duvall pulled him closer. “Where would I find that?”
“At…at the flat…”
Duvall pulled the shirt closer, tighter, cutting off his air again. “We’ve already been there.”
“D-downstairs. Another one.”
“Take. Us.” The words pushed past gritted teeth. The man shook and quavered. He nodded furiously, and Duvall thrust him away, across the doorway into the room. The man clawed at his shirt. He was obviously some sort of courier for Crick Sur Banden, but an expendable one, he knew. Just like Andurs Feinstein.
Chowd took over, grabbing the courier and marching him through the doorway and into the night. For Duvall though, at the back of his mind, the memories of how they’d found Elara seared his brain, making him swallow with fear. If they found out how much Mellissa meant to him… By Eshra… Her danger would be more acute than before. Fear knotted his stomach. Closing his eyes, his stomach roiled as greasy waves attacked his gut. He breathed deep, fighting to control himself. He’d do anything to have her safe in his arms again.
He headed to the vehicle.
* * * *
Mellissa opened her eyes to find herself in the dark, rolling around to some sort of sway, pitching like a yacht, but the vibration below her and the whine filling the air told her it was a vehicle of some sort. A van?
Trussed like a turkey, she thought in disgust, struggling against the ropes that wound around her body. She took a mental evaluation. Her head hurt, as if it had been split with an axe. Both arms screamed with pain, but she attributed it to the way she was tied rather than any other injury. Her feet were loose though, so they obviously expected her to walk somewhere. That’s fine, when the opportunity came, she’d run.
Her chest tightened. She couldn’t account for why, but each breath cut like a knife. She struggled to remember, tamping down on the fear. She had been waiting in the car. God! Where was Duvall? Chowd? She sucked in a breath.
“Awake now, are you?” a voice echoed from the front of the vehicle.
She tried to lift her head but failed, lying on her stomach as the vehicle pitched again. The pain came again, stealing her breath. Nausea swept through her, and she felt like throwing up.
“Not long now and you can join our merry band of friends,” he said, the last word menacing.
She knew though just what he meant. She had seen Elara’s scarring, knew exactly how it had happened. A shiver of fear worked through her, and again she concentrated on her breathing, ignoring the nausea that warned her that if she weren’t careful, the contents of her stomach would be expelled.
One final pitch of the vehicle, married with a bump, then it stopped, jolting her, sending another crushing wave of pain radiating through her body. She feared she had cracked a couple of ribs and hoped that was all. The engine stopped.
She could hear doors opening, and she braced herself for any opportunity to escape. The doors at the back of the van slid open, and she felt herself grasped by the ankle and pulled toward the rear. Her bare feet hit the ground, jarring her side. Her legs collapsed beneath her, the ground rushing up and scraping her face.
The man nearby chuckled. “Didn’t expect that, did you? I do hope you’re looking forward to your experience.”
He hauled her up, and she waited until he was off-balance to give an almighty heave against him. Taken by surprise, he jerked, letting go briefly
.
Once released, she pushed off and sprinted as fast as she could in the direction she was sure the van had come. The time in the vehicle, the blow to the head, and the aching side put her at a disadvantage. She had gone barely a few feet when he threw himself against her, knocking her back to the ground, thudding to the pavement and screaming as she fell to the ground.
Once more the evil chuckle sounded. “So much spirit. Yes, you’ll be fun.”
He grabbed her up and jerked her toward the building. The building that had held the flat they had visited earlier. As the edges of her sight grayed, he pushed her inside into the dark.
* * * *
The car swooped around a corner at full speed. Duvall was beside himself with fear, but knew he needed to remain in control. He wanted to tell the man to drive faster, to arrive sooner, but they needed to get there in one piece and not attract any more attention. If stopped, it would take more time. He didn’t think she’d have a lot.
He fired questions at their captive. “Who are you working for?” His face hurt with the pressure of holding his anger in.
“Man, I just get my orders, usually from a guy. Every now and again I have to front up to the place you found us. I’m just a courier. I don’t make decisions. I just do what I’m told.” He tried to shrink into the driver’s seat as the stink of his accident filled the confines of the vehicle.
“Who do you answer to?”
“Man, oh man…you don’t understand,” the driver whined. “He’ll kill me. Slowly. Not like Feinstein…”
“I don’t much care how you die. I need an answer! Now!” Duvall bellowed. Chowd looked at him but wisely kept his silence. He kept his grip on the laser though.
“Oh God, oh God, oh God…Senator Elleston hired me. But then he disappeared a few days ago and I was told by the guy whose pic was talking…” He jerked his head around abruptly, showing terrified eyes. “The one who disappeared. You know? He took over then.”
A name, finally. Chowd looked at Duvall and nodded. It was worse than they thought. Now to get Mellissa out and they could find out where Elleston came into the plan. His hand tensed. Time was precious, and Mellissa’s danger increased.
They had attempted to hail the Elector while they drove, but the trace had stopped working, Grayson told him. They would have to find her the old-fashioned way. Duvall held onto his temper, but the thread frayed more with each passing moment.
They pulled up at the building they’d visited previously. Duvall’s face crumbled in despair. They’d found nothing except the empty flat, the disabled transmitter, and the elaborate phone system before. Where could she be?
Frustration screamed through him, until he noticed the old white van. He remembered seeing the van parked near the warehouse earlier, and he didn’t recall seeing it when they left.
Chowd reached forward to tag the man who claimed to be a courier. They would need him, and if he talked, the damage he could wreak would be too dangerous. He watched Chowd depress the button, and the man disappeared.
They clambered out of the vehicle, Duvall turning his attention back to the van. The smashed tail light, the rust in the body, confirmed their suspicions that they’d located the same vehicle. It looked old and down at heel, slumping on the pavement. Most people would just pass it by without another look. He was sure it had transported Mellissa here. Duvall took a step forward as a gut-wrenching scream rent the air.
Duvall started toward the building at a run. He was heading up the stairs when the sound came again. His heart pounding, he reversed back down the stairs and looked for a door. There at the end of the building, a door sat behind a tatty old sign. Chowd raced after him as he reached for the door. He tried the handle.
“It’s stuck. Help me.” No time he thought, backing up, and shoulder-charged. It didn’t quite give, but he had certainly damaged it. He backed up again, and this time Chowd joined him; they ran at the door together, and with a surge, it gave, splintering the handle and locks.
Duvall pushed it aside and launched into the interior. Sobbing filled the air. He headed in that direction, laser drawn, ready to rip and shred anyone who got in his way. At the end of the hall, another closed door waited. Chowd beat him through.
Two men appeared, lasers in hands, and as they whined, he ducked, noting the splintering noise above his head. He didn’t slow down. Mellissa was here somewhere, and he had to find her.
He raised a hand and fired. Missed the bastards. Ducked again and dove into the corner away from the fire. Another scream. His heart thudded wildly in his chest. Sweating, he fired again and noticed Chowd had made his way into the middle of the room.
Duvall’s rage was a living thing, nearly ripping through his skin, muscles bunched and tightened. He launched himself at one of the men. Duvall aimed and fired, hitting the man in the middle of his chest. Watching as he went down, Duvall moved forward, throwing the tag onto the wounded man’s clothing. He saw Chowd working quickly to secure the other man, his face streaming blood. Tagging him, Chowd pressed the button, and both disappeared.
At the end of the room he could see a window, and looking through his heart nearly stopped. Mellissa lay on an Ru’Edan exam table, fastened at wrist and ankle, her eyes closed as if dead. One of their scientists bent over her with a sonic scalpel in his hand, ready to begin his investigation of this new human specimen. The gray of his skin was evident under the white coat, and Duvall knew what he was.
Without thought, he wrenched the door to the left and hurled himself at the scientist. The Ru’Edanian heard him and turned, slowly, hand still clutching the scalpel. Duvall launched himself at him, landing on top with an oomph.
His eyes filtered with a red haze, and he hit the creature, one fist, then the other. The brutal blows seemed to explode from within him. He wanted to tear him apart for touching Mellissa. He kept going, even though the creature beneath his hands now lay compliant.
Hands pulled at him. Chowd grabbed him roughly, and Duvall struggled against the hold, wanting to throw him off. The only thing that entered his consciousness in the end was Chowd’s voice. “She’s alive, but hurt. She needs you. Now.”
Chowd once more the voice of reason, Duvall rose unsteadily and looked up at the table to see her eyes still closed. He drew in an unsteady breath.
“She’s alive?” He reached out an unsteady hand and took an ungainly step toward her. Touched her skin to satisfy himself she lived still. She breathed, the movement of her naked body jerky, her skin clammy to the touch. The cuts and bruises marring her skin horrified him.
The slices he could see oozed blood onto the table, collecting into the corners. He looked around then finally saw the sonic scalpel on the floor. He stopped, pulling off his shirt and covering her, then he reached for the scalpel and picked it up.
With unsteady hands, he used it to cut through the bindings, then he gathered her into his arms. He was dizzy, but he gripped her tight to his chest and wrapped his shirt around her body.
He looked at Chowd. “Find any other survivors and set them free.” He swallowed, knowing it wasn’t normal to leave anyone behind alive. “Arrange transport for that,” he said, his voice thick with emotion as he motioned grimly to the scientist. Then touching his commbadge, he merely said, “Two to transmit.” He watched as the world faded away.
* * * *
Duvall returned to Chowd later. His rage continued to burn, but it was tempered with the knowledge that Mellissa would make a full recovery. He hadn’t wanted to leave her, but Elara had shooed him out of her way to let her work. He had transmitted back to the bookstore, where he knew Chowd waited.
He waited in Mellissa’s office, having briefly transmitted to the ship long enough to bring the last of their prisoners aboard, then made his way back one final time to clean up any technology markers left behind. By agreement, they used the bookstore as the place to conclude their work on Earth before returning to the Elector and leaving forever.
Chowd sat in Mellissa’s chair,
a number of books in his hands, obviously intrigued with them.
“How is she?”
“She’ll make a full recovery thanks to the quick efforts of Elara.” Duvall ran angry strokes of his hand through his hair. “Barsha! I still feel like killing something when I think about it.”
“We need them. So you can’t,” his security officer reminded him.
“Easy for you to say…” Before he could say any more, he took one look at Chowd’s face and stopped, regretting his words. “Chowd…”
Chowd held up a hand. “You don’t need to apologize, Duvall. I understand.”
With a sigh, Duvall rubbed a tired hand over his face. “What information did you get from the prisoner?”
“Not a lot. Only that Crick Sur Banden had tried to worm his way into the assembly. Elleston is the only one he managed to replicate. Mellissa was his target, had been all along, because of the connections she makes between our present and our past.”
“And the set up with Feinstein?”
“It was exactly that. The apartment was in Feinstein’s name, but he didn’t actually exist. He was a human, but disaffected with society. Crick had promised them all the same thing—a place in the new order when he finally took control of the Ru’Edan Empire.”
“And the prisoners?” Duvall asked.
“Captain, at the end of the day, it’s your decision.” Chowd peered at him and Duvall stood and paced the length of the office.
“I believe it’s in our best interests to transport them with us. The Admiralty will want to interrogate them further. We can fill in some of the gaps on the way back through the slipstream. Then the Admiralty can decide what to do with them.”
“Yes, Captain.” Chowd bent his head. “After you transmitted, I had a quick look around the building. I believe the location was the one we were looking for. There were no other survivors.” He looked steadily at Duvall, then continued. “The location was likely chosen for the unsavory name it has. I headed back here immediately after transferring the prisoner. I believe, though, that this site has been compromised since we left as well.”