by Fiona Quinn
Sixteen
Striker disconnected with Miriam as a fist thumped on his door. Jumping to my feet, I grabbed the knob and swung it wide to find Gater on the other side. His stance and the tightness of his muscles told me Striker’s “code red” had thrown Gater into gladiator mode, hungry to slay whatever monster reared its head.
He was going to hate what came next.
From experience, I knew that Gater couldn’t stand the idea of being at a fight where he didn’t get to participate to the fullest. Especially when a woman was standing up against the bad guy, and he didn’t have a chance to do it himself. It wasn’t that Gater thought women didn’t have the capacity — he respected my skills as a fighter – but something about his upbringing on the back bayou of Louisiana told him that only a “candy-assed, no-account, scum-dweller” of a man would ever sit back and watch while a woman did the defending.
It cut Gater to the quick the one time he watched me go behind the Veil to save a woman held as a slave by one of our targets. Gater had said he’d never let that happen again. So I wasn’t sure he’d stay once he knew why Striker had called him.
I took Gater by the arm and pulled him into the living room where Striker seethed. “Someone got to Lynda again,” he told Gater.
“What the heck, Striker? I thought Axel blew that pile of shit to kingdom come.”
Striker shook his head.
I stood between the two men, slightly back so we formed a conversation triangle. The geometry of this communication was a whole lot more pointy than a circle would warrant. “Three men showed up at Lynda’s house a few minutes ago,” I explained. “Cammy called us. So I’m going behind the Veil to find Lynda.”
“Oh, no you ain’t.” Gater shook his finger at me. His eyes glowered. “The hell I’m gonna watch that happen to you again. Shit, you’re just now recovering from a plane crash, Lynx. You cain’t do this.” He spun on Striker. “You son of a bitch. You’d let her go behind the Veil?” His hands shot out, knocking Striker in the chest, sending him back a half a step.
My eyes stretched wide with shock.
“I can’t believe you, man. I thought you loved her.”
That was probably the lowest blow Gater had ever thrown. I could almost smell the testosterone as it coiled through the air like humidity in July.
Striker didn’t rise to the bait. “I told her not to do it, but she’s not listening to me. I hoped between you and Miriam someone could convince her this is crazy.”
“No one is convincing me of anything.” My voice was calm, though I shook inside. “I’ve already made up my mind. There’s more happening than what meets the eye. And I’m going to help her whether you like it or not. I promised Striker I’d wait for Miriam to get here. But then, I’m going, and nothing you can say will stop me.” I glanced at the wall clock and crossed my fingers for a little good traffic juju and a police officer who exalted in putting the pedal to the floor.
Striker canted his head; his legs were set wide, and his arms crossed tightly over his chest, making his biceps bulge. “What did you just say? Do you have intel that includes my sister?”
“Excuse me for a minute.” I went and picked up my phone, headed back to Striker’s room, locked the door, and sat on the bed. I shot Spyder a cypher-text which related – Lynda missing. Need to tell Striker why. Going behind Veil to find her. Advise. I paced while I waited for his response.
The intercom squawked, and I knew Miriam had arrived. Come on, Spyder. I continued to pace while I heard the “adults” discussing their “wayward child.” That’s how it felt, anyway. Riddle me this, I said to myself. How was it possible for time to speed forward and stand still at the same time? Why it sped forward when seconds might count in saving someone, and yet it stood still while waiting for a needed response. I couldn’t stall another second.
When I arrived in the living room, Gater was fussing with medical equipment he must have pulled from the guest room. When Omega had stormed Striker’s castle on the bay in an attempt to arrest me on trumped up charges, I had to relocate here to the Iniquus grounds, where I was safe from almost anything—up to and including a nuclear bomb aimed at the White House. In the early days after my plane crash, I recorded my monitored vitals results and e-mailed them daily to my doctor. The machine might actually be useful here, as well. I’d never tried that before.
“Striker, I’m sorry. I asked for permission to disclose, and it hasn’t come through. Until you’re read into the program, I can’t brief you on anything related to my case.”
I could see in Striker’s eyes that his mind whirled with possibilities, and all of them confused him.
“Let’s agree on a plan.” I dressed my words up in a professional voice that was antithetical to how I felt. It was sort of like being Dr. Doolittle’s push-me pull-you. I wanted to get in there, get this over with, and then flee the scene. I had no idea what was happening to Lynda, and the thought of willingly going into a torture session sucked the last particles of bravery from the very tips of my toes.
“I’m going to go behind the Veil.” I held up a hand as Gater and Miriam jumped in with their protests. “I will go long enough to get Lynda’s location. I will stay if it’s safe to stay. Once I have her location, if Lynda is being harmed, I will come right back.” I lifted my eyebrows and scanned the stormy faces in front of me. “You can use the monitoring equipment to watch my heart rate, blood pressure, and oxygen. If my body shows signs of too much distress, then Gater can do whatever trick he has that yanks me back into my body.”
Miriam turned a searching look on Gater.
Gater shrugged. “Last time she went out of her body, my mind grabbed hold of part of her and held on tight.”
Striker moved forward and handed me Lynda’s picture, then wrapped me up tightly in his arms. “I love you, baby. I hate that you’re doing this, but thank you.” He kissed my hair then let me go.
I lay on the floor with a pillow stuck behind my head. Looking at Lynda’s image, I didn’t even need to ask. I simply slipped behind the Veil and into her body.
The stench of anxiety filled my nostrils. Fear sweat. Testosterone sweat. Leather. Vibrations rumbled through my hips and thighs, and up my back. I saw no visuals. Everything was black except for the light show of phosphenes on my eyelids, twinkling like fireflies. “She’s blindfolded, still in the car. I sense no pain. Discomfort from the pressure of her weight against her hands tied behind her back.”
“Your heart rate and blood pressure are elevated,” Gater said. “I think hooking you up like this is going to be confusing. I cain’t for sure tell whether this is your system’s reaction or Lynda’s.”
“Lynda’s heart is racing. She’s hyperventilating and growing dizzy. Nausea. Hands and feet tingling—effects of adrenaline.”
“Lynx, I have a map to your right. I’m holding a pen out to you,” Miriam said. “Open your eyes and find the car.”
I tried to follow my mentor’s directives. But as I stared at the map, nothing came to me.
“Black SUV,” Striker said.
I tried to work with that, but shook my head. I wished someone in the car would speak. But they just rumbled along. “I think they switched vehicles. This one doesn’t feel like an SUV. It’s smoother, and I think she’s in a captain’s chair. when she sways it feels like she’s hitting into something like an arm rest. I’d guess minivan.”
As I lay there, gathering little in the way of information, I wondered if this was going to be anticlimactic for all the angst my friends had shown on my behalf, or if this was the calm before the storm. I prayed it was the former. The windshield wipers beat back and forth. Flashes of light were followed quickly by thunder, adding to the oppression in the car. The driver moved slowly down the road. I wondered if it was because of the speed limit or the weather. “Can you check the local weather down there?”
“Miami is under a severe storm warning. Winds with the potential to cause damage, heavy rains, potential for hail,” Miriam s
aid.
“Turning right. I think we’re coming off the highway. Stopping. Blinker ticking. Right again. Now a left.” And very soon they slowed to a crawl. I heard the mechanical thunk, thunk, thunk of a garage door automatically opening, and the bang when it hit the ground behind our parked vehicle.
The door opened and hands tightened over Lynda’s arms. She panicked and screamed at the top of her lungs. That got her a backhand that filled her mouth with blood.
“Shut the fuck up, bitch. Pull that again, and I’ll slam the kid.” Lynda’s eyes stretched wide behind her blindfold. The whole drive, she had been sending up prayers of thanksgiving that this time, the bad guys left Cammy behind. She knew that her daughter was safe, and that was all that had mattered to her. “Cammy? Cammy?” she yelled as she swayed and bucked against the hands that held her in place.
Another crashing blow, and she was on the ground. Cold cement. Lynda curled up in a ball and sobbed. Behind the Veil, I tried to keep some aspect of my awareness in the apartment with Striker so I could convey the information as I experienced it.
“Oh dear, get a towel. Lexi, sweetheart, you’re bleeding from the mouth. You can’t take blows to the head. Come back,” Miriam said. I could feel Striker beside her, sending out waves of volcanic heat.
“Jezzusfuckin’christ, get up.” A man kicked Lynda in the side. It hurt like hell, but I tried to hold my face as softly as possible, keeping this assault as much as I could from my team as they watched me for every nuance. I couldn’t let them pull me away before I had Lynda’s location.
They dragged Lynda inside and tied her to a chair. The room echoed—no fabric to absorb the sounds. The wind whooshed outside. I counted footsteps. I’d guess they were still the original three. I felt the bile that usually accompanies a walk behind the Veil slick up my throat. I thrust a hand over my mouth to hold it in.
“I put a bucket beside you. Open your eyes and drink some water,” Miriam whispered.
I did as she instructed, peeking beneath my eyelids.
I sensed movement in the corner behind Lynda. Memories flooded through me from when she was in the hunter’s shack, and the rustling from that direction had produced a brass knuckle-covered fist that beat her nearly to death. As that thought filtered through her consciousness, Lynda puked. I grabbed the bucket to catch my vomit. Lynda leaned as far forward as she could, given her restraints. She barfed onto her knees and the warm liquid ran down her legs and into her shoes, filling the room with the pungent odor of stomach bile.
I heard a man’s voice.
“I want to see her. You have to tap on the camera icon with the slash line through it. There, that’s it. Now move the computer around so I can see her from the front.”
“Striker, I believe someone is Skyping into the room. Or using some kind of teleconferencing,” I said.
“Lynda, I’m here to ask you some questions, and you are going to answer them for me quickly, completely, and honestly. Do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“There was a man at your house last night. Who was he?”
“My dad?”
“I don’t believe so. This man had blackberry colored skin.”
Lynda shook her head. “I don’t know anyone like that. Someone broke into my house? How do you know someone was in my house?”
“I will ask the questions. This man went right in your front door as if he belonged there. He turned on the television, and then went into your bedroom. He seemed very interested in a certain necklace. The necklace was made from an abalone shell and had turquoise beads. Do you know the necklace I am referring to?”
“Yes.”
“Answer me completely. Where did you get this necklace?”
“I won it as a prize at a party I went to with my fiancée, Greg. He’s dead. Greg is dead.” A great moan rose up her throat. More pictures flashed from her memory bank of watching him being tortured and killed.
“And why would anyone care about this necklace? Is it worth money?”
“I don’t know. You can have the necklace. You can have anything you want. Just take it and leave Cammy and me alone. Cammy? Cammy are you there, honey?” Lynda twitched her head from side to side, trying to sense her daughter’s presence and wellbeing.
“How do you now Lexi Sobado?”
Lynda tensed. “I don’t, really. I mean I met her one time at my daughter’s birthday party. I spoke with her. I don’t know her.”
“And yet she saved your life. Using psychic powers. Tell me about her psychic powers.”
Holy crap, this man knew about my sixth sense. How was that possible? The only people who knew what I could do are Miriam, my friend Dave, Spyder and my team – well, and Lynda, a little. So how could he know? My mind pushed the word “mole” forward and underlined it a few times for emphasis. Miriam and Dave certainly weren’t part of this scenario. They didn’t know I saved Lynda from behind the Veil. That left my team. My team!
Lynda’s mind went haywire. She had sworn on her life to me and to Striker that she would never tell. She balanced that with her fear for Cammy and said, “Lexi has a gift for finding lost pets. If you bring her your pet’s photo, she can sometimes tell you about where they are. My brother knew that. One time I went missing, and he took my photo to her. She was able to point to the map. That’s where his friends started looking for me, and I was in the general area she pointed to.”
“You told Cammy to be a good girl and make a wish to her fairy godmother. When you said fairy godmother, you meant Lexi, didn’t you? You wanted Cammy to contact Lexi so she could find you this time as well.”
“Cammy couldn’t call Lexi. I don’t know how to contact Lexi. I don’t have her phone number or address or anything.”
“It seems to me, Miss Rheas, that you are lying by omission. You know more than you’re saying. Sins of the mother are visited upon their daughters.”
“Where is my daughter? What have you done to her?” Lynda screamed, and I heard my voice replicating the sounds for my support team to hear.
Striker jumped on the phone with his father, checking on the whereabouts of Cammy. He told him to get in the car now, and drive to his friend’s house on the nearby army base.
Lynda sobbed, “I don’t know what more I can say. Lexi is uncomfortable talking about this. All I know is she has to have a recent photo in her hand. I asked my brother, Gavin, if she could see into the future. If Lexi could tell me how well I would heal from the night the men beat me; or if I would ever find love again, since they killed Greg. And he said no. Nothing that’s happened in the past. Nothing that will happen in the future. All she can do is help find your pet and on this one special occasion she helped find me.”
Oh. Good one, Lynda. Very well-played. I needed Lynda to keep my secret, if the bad guys knew I had dexterity in the ether – well, nothing good would come of it. As a matter of fact I could project a whole bunch of bad outcomes, the very least of which would be someone forcing me to use my skills for their own ends. I crossed my fingers and hoped Lynda would stay strong – for my sake as well as hers.
Lynda’s sobs became so violent that I couldn’t hear what the Skype guy was saying anymore. One of the men walked over and grabbed her shoulders and shook her. I used the contact to slide from Lynda into the bad guy. Normally, I’d do almost anything not to attach to evil, but there was no way I could get a location from Lynda tied and blindfolded in the middle of a room. I needed more information.
The sobbing didn’t stop, so he lifted his fist and punched her in the side of her head. I felt the concussion travel up his arm and buzz in his elbow. Lynda sat in stunned silence. The man moved back toward the computer and glanced down at his phone, then pressed the “I’m driving” auto-response.
“A call just came in to one of the men’s phones. It was from 555-741-2929,” I read to my team. “Have Research find out who owns that number, and who they just tried to contact. If they call into this guy’s phone to get the GPS coordinates, you’ll
have Lynda’s location.”
Striker relayed the number to our research department. The phone buzzed back moments later. The kidnapper picked it up, lifted his chin to the other men, and walked into the garage. “Yeah, what?” he hollered over the thrumming of the rain.
“Hey,” came a voice.”Whatcha up to?” This must be Iniquus; the call came too precisely timed to be random.
“Nothing. Who is this?”
“It’s me. I thought you were coming by with the money you owe me.”
I heard another smack come from inside the house and Lynda’s moans.
“I don’t owe you no money. Whatcha doing calling my phone saying I owe money?”
“Courtesy before I stop by and break your legs. Pay up by tomorrow.” The connection broke. Supremely confused, the guy moved back inside. Lynda had curved down into the smallest package she could make of herself. She was sobbing, out of control. I assumed the earlier smack was to get her to calm down, and it had the opposite effect.
The creep with the cell phone turned his head, and for a nanosecond, I hoped I’d get to see who was on the computer screen. But the display showed the Google Chrome dinosaur. “Must have lost Internet connection from the storm,” I said.
The creep said, “I’m gonna see a man about a horse. Give me a holler when the Puppet Master gets back online.”
I opened my eyes and focused on Lynda’s photo. The hell I was going to go into the bathroom with this guy. I slipped back into Lynda’s body. Her face burned, and her head clanged; with her energy sapped, she slumped against the restraints, hopeless. She couldn’t believe she made it through the drug gang’s attack just to be killed over a necklace.
I blinked my eyes open. “She’s okay right now. Since the Internet’s down. Skype guy can’t ask any more questions. Everyone’s taking a break. There are three men. Their task seems to be making Lynda available for this guy’s questioning.”