"What do you think you're accomplishing here?"
"I'm stopping you."
Laughter echoed in the room and Jasi shivered.
"You think you can stop this? You fool! You have no idea how far this goes."
"What do you mean?"
"We've been doing this for nearly a year."
"Let me get this straight," Jasi said, praying that her data-com was getting every word. "You've been messing with Sampson and Winkler for a year?"
"And others. We didn't just manipulate a few homegrown politicians. It started with a few test subjects, but now there are people in every department of government, in the courts, in every official capacity. People in power."
"It shouldn't be too difficult to find a few wayward Canadian government officials."
Deirdre laughed again. "Don't you get it, Agent McLellan? This crosses borders. Canada, the United States, Britain even. The funny thing is you'll never know who is affected."
"And these people have all been brainwashed."
"Transitioned. That's what we prefer to call it. With Project Chrysalis, the subjects' brains were exposed to months of high frequency sound waves. This allowed us to implant the next phase."
"Which was?"
"The sound waves activated dormant areas of their brains and made the test subjects susceptible to suggestion."
"You make them sound like nothing more than lab rats."
The woman's mouth curved into a deadly smile. "It was a highly successful experiment in neural conditioning, Agent McLellan."
Jasi fought the sudden urge to pound Deirdre to a pulp.
"So these suggestions altered their normal impulses or desires and made them do what you told them."
"That's correct," Deirdre said with a nod.
"And the CDs?"
Deirdre flinched. "My boyfr―investor came up with that idea. He created a disk that helps reinforce the subjects' openness to suggestion, makes them relax. We're talking about using the power of suggestion with high tech frequencies that humans can't hear but that alter their brain waves and activate parts of the brain that are normally dormant. It's quite a fascinating process."
"And the phone calls?"
"Instructions that induced a hypnotic trance, allowing certain suggestions to activate."
"Then why kill Winkler and Sampson?"
"They were our failures."
"So your entire team here at Paragon was in on this?"
"No, they knew nothing about we really did. They ran the tests and studies, then activated the frequencies when I told them. They thought it was all part of our research."
But one person, Deirdre had admitted, knew everything.
"What's your boyfriend's name?"
Deirdre clenched her lips tight. She wasn't telling.
"Come on, Deirdre. Cooperate and things might go easier for you. We need to know who else is in on this."
"And if I don't? What then, Agent McLellan? Are you going to use that gun on me?"
"Not if I don't have to." She raised the gun. "It's over."
"Not quite, Agent McLellan. There's one thing stopping you from taking me in."
"What?"
Deirdre opened her hand. "This."
Jasi swallowed. Oh shit.
The detonator in Deirdre's hand made her heart stop.
"What are you doing, Deirdre?"
"What do you think I'm doing, Agent McLellan?"
"Look," Jasi said, holding up her hands and stepping back. "We can all leave here in one piece. It doesn't have to end this way, Deirdre."
"Of course it does," the woman shrieked. "I'm ruined. Everything I've worked for this past year is destroyed."
"But what about your family?"
"I have no family!"
"Marilyn―"
"She'll be happier when I'm gone."
"But you're in love. What about him?"
"I'm in love, yes. But he doesn't love me. He used me and I let him. He raped my mind and twisted my ideas. He called it a partnership of the soul, what we had. He said we were helping mankind."
"Who said?"
But Deirdre wasn't listening. "He said my research would exist for generations to come. That one day we'll not only be communicating with extraterrestrials, we'll be able to modify human behavior right through their television sets." Her eyes flared insanely. "Think of how this would affect war."
"What do you mean?"
"We'd have the power to extinguish a war with a single transmission to terrorist leaders. Saddam, Bin Laden, all of Al-Qaeda. Terrorists watch TV too. We could've stopped 9-11 from ever happening again. He said whoever had this technology would hold all the power."
"Who said this?"
"He thinks he's a God, but he's not even close."
"Who?"
Deirdre stared at the ground and Jasi was tempted to take her down, but something made her hesitate.
"Jasi!" a voice hissed to her left.
She turned her head a few inches.
Natassia squatted beside the door, her gun readied. Beside her was the security guard from the gate.
She jerked her head subtly, signaling her partner to circle around behind Deirdre.
"Let's end this, Deirdre," she said, trying to smile.
The woman held out the hand with the detonator. "I wasn't planning on taking anyone else with me, but feel free to join me." Her thumb hovered over the red button. "Or you can leave now."
"Deirdre, think of your sister."
"You have less than 5 minutes." Deirdre pushed the button. "I've activated the bomb."
Shit! Jasi had to make a decision.
"Natassia! Get out now!"
Natassia and the guard flew toward the doorway.
With sad eyes, Deirdre watched them. "You'd better run too, Agent McLellan. There's only one place I'm going."
"Please, Deirdre. Let's walk out of here. Both of us."
Deirdre gave her a cold smile. "There's enough C-4 in the basement to turn Paragon into dust." The woman glanced at her watch, then darted for the doorway to the back stairs. "You have four minutes left," she hollered.
Jasi didn't have a choice. She'd never be able to get the woman out of the building or disarm the bomb in time. So she did the only thing she could do. She ran.
Fleeing down the hallway, she prayed that Natassia and the guard had made it out. She was almost to the front door when an explosion rippled through the building, its force so powerful that it blew the door behind her off its hinges and sent it airborne into the waiting area.
"Shit!"
She hit the floor as the door smashed into a wall. Scrambling to her feet, she raced out of the building just as a second explosion rumbled. Shattered glass rained down on her and she ran toward the parking lot where Natassia, Ben and the guard waited inside the idling SUV.
Jasi dove into the back seat of the SUV. "Drive!"
The guard shifted the vehicle into gear and sped off down the road. Behind them, a thunderous explosion shook Paragon Research Corporation. Two smaller blasts caused the building to implode. Walls buckled and folded inward, collapsing on decades of research and destroying the final pieces of evidence in a case that had proven to be far more insidious than anyone had ever guessed. The silence of the night was broken by the crackling of a deadly fire.
Jasi glanced at Ben. It seemed like he was barely breathing. Even worse, blood blossomed through the gauze.
"Ben! Wake up!"
"Is he okay?" Natassia asked from the passenger seat.
"I don't know."
Ben moaned. "Stop making all that noise you two. I'm all right."
"Pull over," Jasi told the guard.
They stared out the windows of the SUV, surveying the research facility. Or what was left of it. Fire licked at the mound that was once walls, floors, offices, computers, hi-tech equipment, and enough paper to wallpaper the House of Commons. Above the smoldering ruins, smoke billowed thick plumes of gray, and caught by the wind it suddenly wafted
into the SUV.
Jasi breathed in a mouthful of acrid air. "Oh God," she said, wheezing. "I can't―"
"Shit!" Natassia grabbed Jasi's backpack from the floor and withdrew the Oxy-Mask. "Quick! Put it on!"
Jasi reached for the mask, but before she could get it over her head, her mind connected with Deirdre Dailey's. The woman was trapped beneath the rubble. And she was dying.
Jasi was transported through Deirdre's eyes, the eyes of a killer.
"They think they're so smart," she snapped. "Stupid, stupid people."
"Calm down, love," a man whispered.
"I am calm!"
Someone pulled the Oxy-Mask over Jasi's face and a blast of oxygen whisked away the vision, but not before she saw the face of the man who had manipulated Deirdre Dailey.
"Then the maniac comes back and finishes him off on the beach," he'd said the day before.
She should have figured it out then. She'd never told him where Sampson had been killed. The actual crime scene location hadn't even been released to the media. A rumor had been planted that had explained police presence on the beach―someone had left an unattended bonfire. Other than the teens who found Sampson's remains, only the murderer would have known about the corpse on the beach.
"Aw, shit."
But there was no denying it.
Zane Underhill was a killer.
A beeping sound brought Jasi out of the fog. With a nod of thanks to Natassia, she glanced at the 'com display. It was Matthew.
"What's your status?" he asked her.
"There was an explosion at Paragon."
"Jesus. Is everyone all right?"
She glanced at Ben. His face was pale.
"Jasi?"
"Ben's been shot, Matthew. In the arm. An ambulance is on its way."
"Is he the only casualty?"
"No. Deirdre Dailey was inside the building when it exploded."
"So case closed?"
She glanced at Natassia and Ben, then moved a few feet away. "Not quite. I'm pretty sure Deirdre had a partner."
"Why do you say that?"
"She had the technology to transmit the subliminal messages, but someone else had to program them, plus trigger the victims to turn on their televisions. That's what the phone calls from the payphones were all about."
"Do you have any idea who else is involved?"
Jasi's heart sank at the question. "I do. Someone with training in hypnotherapy. Someone who rigged it to look like they were a victim too."
There was a pause on the other end.
"You're thinking Zane Underhill is involved," he said in a quiet voice.
Jasi blinked back a tear. "Yes. Zane is highly trained in hypnotherapy."
"Did you read his file?"
She sucked in a breath. "No. I pushed it aside when he was found in the park. I didn't think…"
"It's not your fault, Jasmine. Zane played you. He played all of us. Read his file."
"I will."
"And Jasi?"
She swallowed hard. "Yes, sir?"
"Don't go after him alone. Wait for backup."
Flashing lights approached.
"I have to go. The ambulance is here."
"Jasi, wait!"
"I'll call you when we get to the hospital."
She disconnected the call.
"Jasi?" Natassia waved her over. "He needs to get to the hospital right away."
"It's a flesh wound," Ben grumbled. "It doesn't even hurt."
A paramedic rushed to his side. "Is this the only injury?"
"Yes, I―shit!" He groaned. "Okay, that hurts."
"Stop being a big baby," Jasi said, stifling her fear.
The paramedic was joined by another and they carefully loaded Ben onto a gurney and maneuvered it inside the ambulance. Natassia climbed in, then glanced over her shoulder at Jasi.
"You coming?"
"I'll meet you at the hospital in a bit. I have something to do first."
"Wait! Why aren't you coming with us?"
"I have something to take care of first."
Natassia's gaze widened. "What?"
"I know who the mastermind is behind all this. And I have to stop him before he kills again."
"You shouldn't go without backup," Natassia warned. "I'll come with you."
"No. I need you to stay with Ben. Make sure they take good care of him. I can bring this one in myself."
Natassia gave her an anxious look. "How do you know?"
"He has no idea that I know."
"We have to get moving," the paramedic interrupted.
She headed toward the SUV.
"Jasi, get in the ambulance!" Ben hollered.
"Sorry," she yelled over her shoulder. "I have some unfinished business to attend to. I'll see you later."
She watched as the doors closed and the ambulance sped off, sirens wailing and flashing. One thing was certain, if Ben knew who she planned to visit, he'd never let her go without him.
Please let Ben be okay.
As she approached Zane's hotel room, she breathed a sigh of relief. Mickey was sitting in the chair, guarding the door. That meant Zane was inside.
"Hey, Mickey," she called.
The CFBI agent didn't answer.
She quickened her pace. "Agent Greene?"
The man remained slumped in the chair.
"Shit!" she said, feeling for a pulse.
Greene was a lucky man. Unconscious, but lucky.
She called for an ambulance, then checked Zane's room. There was no sign of him. Even his clothes were gone.
She called hotel security. On her way down to the parking garage, she called Matthew.
"The agent assigned to watch Zane has been drugged." She caught her breath. "And Zane's gone."
"You have no idea where he is?" Matthew asked.
He's on the run, she was tempted to say.
She sighed. "He knows about the Paragon connection."
"How?"
"I told him." She bit her bottom lip. "I didn't know Deirdre would lead us back to him. He must have taken off the second I left."
"So he's involved." Matthew paused. "He probably knows we're on to him."
"Matthew, this is my fault. I gave him information that he never should have had. I'll find him."
"Jasi, wait until I send you some backup."
"He could be gone by then."
"Jasi, don't!"
"I'll call you as soon as I have him." She hung up.
This was her mess. She'd fix it.
Jasi pulled the SUV into traffic, nearly sideswiping a delivery truck that decided to change lanes at the last second. The driver, who was busy yapping on his cell phone, blasted the horn and raised a hand in anger. She palmed her badge against the window and he lowered his hand and slowed the truck.
She activated her data-com. "Call Zane."
Zane picked up on the fourth ring.
"I'm heading back to Vancouver in the morning," she told him.
"The case is closed?"
"Yeah, Deirdre Dailey was behind it all." She gritted her teeth at the lie.
Pause. "Really? So you've got her in custody?"
"No. She's dead. She blew herself up. At Paragon."
"That's awful," he said.
"I know. I'll tell you all about it when I see you."
Zane chuckled. "One last romp, my love?"
"I'll be at the hotel in half an hour."
Silence.
"Zane?"
"I'm not at the hotel, Jasmine."
"Oh. You and Mickey are sightseeing?"
"You could say that. I needed some fresh air."
She thought of the unconscious Agent Greene. "I'm sure you did. It must have felt like prison being cooped up like that."
And soon that'll be your life, twenty-four-seven.
"Where are you, Zane?"
The address he gave her was the Britannia Yacht Club.
"Slip 89, pier 6, number 12," he said. "Look for Freedom Surfer. But
give me an hour. I have to clean up."
"That's okay. You don't have to clean for me, Zane. I'll be there in about twenty minutes."
"Uh, okay then. See you."
After she hung up, she considered calling Ben and Natassia. Ben would probably insist on joining her, even with a bullet wound. At the very least he'd send Natassia. That would mean another gun in the picture.
Regardless of what Zane had done, she didn't want him dead. No, she'd bring him in quietly. Once she confronted him, he'd realize he didn't have a choice.
He's not the man you used to know.
That he wasn't. Zane Underhill had moved up in the world. He'd gone from respected hypnotherapist and brilliant psychologist to a serial killer with a boat.
My own personal Dexter, she thought with a shudder.
Except Zane isn't going after criminals.
31
On the way to the Britannia Yacht Club, Jasi suspected she was running out of time. Zane would be on the run the minute he heard about Deirdre Dailey's death.
If only I'd read his file.
If she'd done that as soon as Matthew had sent it, they might not be in this mess. Now there was no time for reading.
To her left, dozens of lights glinted on the river. It made her think of Pop and his love of boats and the ocean. He'd been a commercial fisherman for a couple of years, after high school. He used to tell her 'tall fish' tales and stories of fierce squalls, especially his survival during three frightening tsunamis. He'd build up the tsunami stories with such intensity that she'd hold her breath. Then he finished with, "And the water rose three inches. We were saved!"
She had loved his stories. They had made her feel safe.
After her mother was murdered, Pop had grown more protective, to the point of smothering her. He wouldn't allow her to ride her bike on the sidewalk. Gone were the days when she could run down to the mailbox at the end of the street and get the mail. She wasn't even allowed in her own backyard by herself until she turned fourteen.
Pop had been relentless in his vigilance. When she was a teenager, he always wanted to know where she was, who she was with and what she was doing. He questioned every choice she made and set stringent house rules. No friends over, no booze, no smoking, no boys, no parties.
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