Alice began to wonder if anyone cared whether Douglas lived or died in this place, and then was more than a little bothered that she would be aggravated by that possibility.
She looked at Lionel with a shaky smile.
“I’ll be fine.”
“I’ll be right out here, if you need me.”
Taking a deep breath, Alice stepped inside.
It wasn’t that much different in size from the room she usually met her father in, except the giant mirror and table were gone and the walls were lemon yellow, not gray. The long hospital bed took up most of the room with monitors and tubes on one side that fed into IV’s in her father’s arm, which was cuffed to the bed. A small window looked out onto the ugly parking lot below. One folding chair stood against a wall. A small table sat near the hospital bed, a cup of water with a straw and a worn-looking paperback novel the only things on it.
Douglas was asleep, a light beard on his square chin, his fat lips parted, small snores escaping as he exhaled. For all his stockiness, he looked weak and vulnerable.
Alice pressed her lips tight against the tears that threatened to spill down her cheeks at the sight of him. He was a source, that’s all.
That’s all.
She cleared her throat, hands balled up at her sides to keep from touching him.
He must not have been deeply asleep, because his eyes flew open, a kind of panic shining in them before he saw her. He looked her over, a moment of anger flashing, so quick that Alice would swear she imagined it, before his usual smirk appeared.
“Someone worked you over good,” he said, wincing.
She slipped the sunglasses off. “You, too, it seems.”
“A warning.”
“So, it does have to do with Percy’s death...”
“He’s dead, is he? Well, that would explain it.”
“Why does his death, specifically, explain anything?”
“Because, if he’d been arrested, he’d be out by now, no matter what you had him on, and Phantasm wouldn’t have responded, at least not likely. The fact that he’s dead explains why there’s been retaliation.”
“What else has happened?” Alice asked, trying to appear as if she didn’t know anything.
Douglas laughed, not taking the bait.
“Why don’t you tell me? It’s not just my near-demise that has brought you here, is it?”
“No,” she said after a moment. “Does the Syndicate know that I’m the one you’ve been giving information to?”
Douglas looked away and Alice jumped up, feeling the room tilt. She grabbed the back of the chair, knuckles white from the effort not to fall.
“How did they know?”
“It’s not that big of a leap,” he said, his voice a snarl. “You’re my daughter—”
“Don’t ever call me that!”
“And every time I talk to you, the Jet City vigilantes strike. Did you really think Phantasm was that stupid? That he, at least, wouldn’t figure it out?”
“You put me in this position, to be at risk from these men.”
“You put yourself there by putting on a costume and thinking you were some kind of savior!”
“They never would’ve known if you hadn’t asked to talk to me and only me! You just can’t stop ruining my life, can you?”
“And here I thought I was giving you a chance to be a hero.”
Her fist clenched and if she’d been able to let go of the chair, Alice would’ve punched the bastard.
She groaned as nausea hit her, the room spinning. Alice plopped into the folding chair, leaning over and taking deep breaths to calm herself. She couldn’t show him any more weakness, she wouldn’t!
“Did you...how long have you known about me?”
“Since the first. I’m not stupid either, you know.”
“And did you tell them about me?”
“No. I...I’ve done a lot of things, Alice, but I wouldn’t do that.”
“So, you don’t know for sure that they know about me, who I am.”
“No, not for sure. But don’t let that make you any less afraid.” Douglas took a long, shaky breath. “Even if he doesn’t know yet, Phantasm will find out. You need to get out of Jet City, now.”
She looked up at him through the dark curls that had fallen into her face. The cockiness was gone, and in its place, concern and worry lined his scarred face. The sight of it spoke to something deep inside her, something she’d thought long dead: a need to be protected, to be cared for and loved by her father. It was tempting, so very tempting to give into it, to accept it from him now.
Alice shook her head.
“If he doesn’t know yet, then there’s still time to stop him.”
Douglas scoffed. “Haven’t you been listening? This doesn’t lead to a victory and a parade down fifth avenue! He’ll destroy you!”
She took a deep breath and straightened slowly, the dizziness only a mild annoyance now.
“Not if I destroy him first.”
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
It was a shock the first time Alice stepped foot in the huge underground gym that Mrs. Frost had built in her home. Even though she knew Mrs. Frost had to have trained during her time as Serpent, she somehow never thought the woman would keep such a place next to her wine cellar. The equipment was somewhat antiquated and the place smelled like it hadn’t been used all that much in the last two decades, but it was good enough for Alice’s baton lessons. New mats had been purchased, as well as a punching bag.
Alice had used it sparingly at first. But when Mrs. Frost kept insisting that she needed better training, both as Serpent and Aunt Diana’s heir, Alice began to train there almost every day.
Gerald had cleared her a few days ago for physical activity, so Alice had been using every moment she wasn’t in the book store to train. If things were about to get ugly, she wanted to be ready.
Alice threw up her crossed batons to stop Gerald’s downward attack. Sweat poured down her body and itched her scalp.
“So, Douglas believes the Syndicate knows about you?” Mrs. Frost asked from where she sat observing them.
“Yes,” Alice hissed as Gerald put pressure on his attack.
“But you do not believe he told them?”
She twisted to the side, just as Gerald’s baton broke through hers, letting his forward momentum propel him down. Alice swung her baton down on his back, a light tap only, of course.
“No, I don’t.”
Mrs. Frost paused, hands clenched on the head of her cane. “The manner of the attack on Victoria’s family matches those of others who have fallen afoul of the Syndicate. The question now is, why, exactly, did the Syndicate target them? What do you think?”
Alice sighed as Gerald attacked her in a flurry of baton thrusts and swipes.
“Come now, concentrate!” Mrs. Frost exclaimed.
“On what? You or him?”
“Both!”
Never had Alice wanted to swear at an old woman as much as she did in that moment.
“If...” she said, dipping into a roll to avoid the baton connecting with her head, “...we knew what—” she brought her batons up again and swiped Gerald’s legs, “—Tony was working on...maybe something against the Syndicate?”
“Or on behalf of Percy, or this...what was his name?”
Alice grunted as Gerald’s thrown baton hit her in the stomach.
“Phantasm.”
“Silly name. But you have hit on something that I have also considered. Gerald, that will do for today.”
Gerald nodded and wiped his face with a nearby towel.
“Are you alright?” he asked Alice.
“Yes, but I have to wonder. If you can fight like this, why aren’t you out there? Or were you, and I just don’t know about it?”
“I never was, not really. And I’m not out there now, because I’d rather be healing than hurting. This...well, I learned this because I had to.”
Alice wanted to ask why, but Gerald turned away
to get a drink of water and she knew that was the end of it.
Mrs. Frost began walking to the door. “Alice, come with me.”
The only thing Alice wanted to do was shower and eat something, but when Mrs. Frost commanded Alice had learned the hard way that you obeyed.
She followed Mrs. Frost up the stairs and into the private hallway that led to her rooms. You had to admire the old woman, she was sneaky. The private halls had several different entry points. One from the underground gym, one from the kitchens, using a seemingly in-operative dumb waiter, and one from what looked like an abandoned storm cellar out behind the house. Mrs. Frost had insisted that Alice know every inch of the halls, to the point where she could navigate them blindfolded.
Though a little annoyed at the exercises at first, Alice was starting to see the benefit. In her last few fights, her senses were better, and her focus sharper than before.
When they entered the private upstairs study, Alice was glad to see a light lunch, two towels, and her change of clothes. She guzzled the water and dried her face with one of the towels as Mrs. Frost walked to her desk. Beside it were three large, ordinary-looking, document boxes.
“I requested these a few days ago and expect you to find some very interesting information in them.” Mrs. Frost grinned.
“What are they?”
“See for yourself.”
Alice threw back the lid and pulled out the first file. The minute her eyes saw the first page, Alice gasped.
“Are they all...”
“Yes.”
She flipped the lid off the second box and pulled out another file. Though the work that the Veran Corporation had done since Tony Veran’s tragic accident was public knowledge, what he was doing for the government after the war wasn’t. In fact, no one had ever been able to find out anything, other than he was badly burned and his back injured at the government facility where he worked. Even the address of the facility hadn’t been public knowledge, nor were the names of the people who worked with him. But what Alice now stared at, nestled in each box, was all that information, and more, about the secret project.
With shaking hands, Alice lifted a few pages out of the file. She felt like she was discovering some hidden treasure.
“How did you get these?”
“It does not matter. What does matter is what Tony was working on, and possibly still had been, before his death.”
“It’s public knowledge that the Veran Corporation has government contracts, including what the contract is for. This,” she pulled out another file, “is top secret.”
Mrs. Frost sat down with a sigh that sounded more painful than tired.
“Buried in the quarterly reports for the Corporation is a small consideration for medical research and development. It is so small that, by all appearances, it could be charitable.”
“But you don’t think it is?”
“I am not sure. That is where you come in. I do not have the patience to sift through all this. But, I have a feeling you would be delighted.”
“Not that I’m complaining, but wouldn’t Rose be better suited for looking through scientific research?”
“If you need her expertise, she is, of course, at your disposal. But what this needs is someone who can see all the disparate pieces and fit them together.” Mrs. Frost smiled. “Have I thought wrong?”
Alice laughed. “No, you haven’t. This is...well...”
“This is not an opportunity to find out more about your favorite business woman.” Mrs. Frost’s voice was sharp. “I need you to be detached. To accept whatever may come up, to not be blinded by your admiration of the woman. Is that clear?”
“Do you think I’ll find out something bad about Victoria in here?”
Mrs. Frost paused. “I have learned to never ignore my intuition. And, my dear, I do not think Victoria is all she seems. There’s too much steel in her spine.”
“There’s an awful lot in yours, too.”
“Yes, and am I merely an old, eccentric woman?”
Damn, she has a point.
“I will try.”
“I suppose that will have to do. Now, the memorial for Victoria’s family starts in two hours. I assume your uncle is picking you up?”
Alice nodded.
“I will leave you to it then. And, by the by, the board finally received your quarterly reports.”
“I wonder why it took so long.”
“The courier says he lost them in his truck.”
Alice felt a tickle in the back of her mind. Something didn’t feel right about that, but then the boxes caught her eye and she pushed it away.
More important things to worry about right now.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, she smiled.
“I have a little time, might as well start now.”
Soon she was lost in the files. Most of the math and chemistry was beyond her understanding, so she focused instead on the notes and the names of the people. There were five lab assistants at the beginning of the experiments. And three months later, a sixth was added. At first, Alice didn’t recognize the name, but the more prevalent it became, the more she felt as if she should know it.
“V.G. Muller...Muller...I’ve read that somewhere...”
She began pacing up and down the room, when it finally hit her.
“Muller was Victoria’s maiden name. V.G...Gertta...is that her middle name? Could that be her? And why would she use that name?” She wrote it down with several question marks around it.
Though Victoria had been a partner in her husband’s scientific endeavors after the war, the common assumption was that she acted as a civilian consultant. But, if Alice was correct, Victoria had been more than that. She’d been Tony’s most trusted lab assistant.
But, why keep it hidden?
“Maybe married women weren’t allowed to have a job like this? I could believe that, even now,” she muttered, a spark of anger rising in her.
She had a hard time discerning what the two experiments were, at first. They weren’t referred to outright, each having code names. One was called Sea Breeze and the other Hercules.
“Hercules? That’s...oh my god!”
She scanned the files with that name and leaned against the wall, mind reeling.
“Physical enhancement, just like Percy’s men, and the ones at the warehouse. But why kill Tony if he’s the one who’s giving you the goods?”
Pressing her fingers to her eyes, Alice felt a headache beginning. The clock above her chimed and she bolted to her feet.
“No! No, no, no!”
She ran into the private bath and did her best to cleanse the dried sweat off her body.
Just as she was slipping into plain black heels, someone knocked on the door.
“Miss Seymour?” the butler said. “Your uncle is here.”
“Thanks! I’ll be right down.”
Racing down the stairs and through the front door, the bright sunlight momentarily blinded her. Slapping on the pair of wide sunglasses Lionel had loaned her, she slid into her uncle’s red ‘55 Ford Squire.
“Sorry, I was just—”
“I know what you were doing,” he said, charcoal eyes hooded by a deep frown.
“I guess you’re still mad.”
He huffed an obscenity and kept his eyes straight ahead.
“I can’t run away,” she said, pulling on wrist-length black gloves. “Aunt Diana wouldn’t have.”
“Don’t bring her into this!”
“You wouldn’t stop working on the story when Aunt Diana died, because it was important to stop the Syndicate. And I can’t run, because of the same reason. I can be a part of stopping this.”
“For the city, right? To protect people? Or because...”
“What?”
He shook his head, the wild curls he’d brushed down starting to pop up in the humidity.
They didn’t speak the rest of the ride.
Victoria’s mansion was on the the outskirts of the city, nes
tled in a gated community with other opulent dwellings. The drive along the winding, shady road would’ve been nice under other circumstances, but today Alice just wanted to be far away from her uncle’s disapproving silence. After passing four other mansions with ornate gates and security systems, they finally arrived at the Veran Mansion. The heavy, wrought iron gates were open, and the tires of her uncle’s car crunched on the gravel drive as they waited behind three other cars. Alice admired the simple, finely-manicured gardens extending along the gravel drive, the faintest scent of jasmine and lavender on the hot air.
At last it was their turn to get out of the car. Uncle Logan opened the door for her, and took her hand gently in his.
“I know you feel a responsibility,” he said. “And a part of me couldn’t be prouder of your courage, but I don’t think you really know what you’re getting into. Diana, and even Mrs. Frost, never had to contend with something like this could be.”
“I’m not doing it alone,” she squeezed his hand. “Lionel and Marco are with me. It might be different, but I know we can take care of it. We got Jamison and Percy, didn’t we?”
“And look what happened to you when you got Percy.”
Alice looked down, frustration starting to well up.
“I just want you to know when to walk away,” Uncle Logan said.
A sweating young man in a valet’s uniform asked for Uncle Logan’s keys.
Alice took a deep breath, accepting Uncle Logan’s arm as they got in line to wait with other black-clad guests to go inside.
“When it’s time,” Alice whispered before they stepped inside. “I’ll know. Trust me, please?”
Uncle Logan gave her a lopsided smile.
“I’ll try.”
Inside the tastefully decorated great room the air was surprisingly cool. Great piles of ice twinkled in the lights under trays of chilled food. Two long bars, with attendants busily mixing drinks, were on either side of the room. The soft sounds of Mozart and Debussy underscored the subdued conversation. If not for the sea of black dresses and suits, Alice wouldn’t have known this was a memorial for Victoria’s family.
At the far end of the room, a small podium had been set up with three portraits in front of it. One was of a handsome man with dark hair that receded from his high forehead, bright green eyes framed by dark glasses, and a gentle smile on his wide mouth. Tony Veran had been a war hero, a scientific genius and philanthropist, not to mention, the love of Victoria’s life until the Syndicate cut him down.
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