Dangerously Yours

by Lark Brennan

  “A-fucking-mazing,” he breathed and clattered down the rest of the stairs.

  “What? Talk to me.”

  “It’s a bomb shelter on steroids.” He quickly passed through the rooms to be sure he was alone, while assuming the place was under surveillance by hidden cameras. “Two bedrooms, two bathrooms, a living room, kitchen, and mission control. Furniture is still here but looks like the tech stuff was ripped off the walls and packed up in a hurry.” A lot of tech equipment from the number of dangling wires.

  “So the laser did originate there?” Lex asked.

  He opened the door to what appeared to be a storage closet and found it empty except for some wires, a couple two-by-two boards, and an assortment of screws scattered on the floor. “Our data says it did but I don’t think we’ll find much to prove it.”

  Surveying what was left of the tech center of the operation, he wondered how many people had worked there. In spite of the multiple workstations, there were only three chairs—sleek high-tech chairs on wheels.

  “So what do you think of our little home away from home?” a disembodied voice asked.

  Startled, Bodie whirled around. A workstation sat on a counter in a dark corner of the room. As he watched, the monitor came to life and a man’s face and shoulders appeared—an albino who looked vaguely familiar.

  “Left in a hurry, didn’t you?” Bodie asked.

  “Who are you talking to?” Lex asked.

  “Some guy on a monitor. I’ll explain later.”

  “Too bad she has to wait in her seaplane,” the man said. “Although I’m glad we can have this little talk just between us, Jack.”

  Goosebumps rose on his skin at the use of his real name with such familiarity. “Do I know you?”

  On the screen the ghostly thin lips narrowed to a sharp line. “You’re still an arrogant bastard, aren’t you?”

  Still? Creepy, angry, and not a fan. Bodie tried to remember where he’d seen the guy before. If he was the one who had built the delphic laser, most likely their paths had crossed at Princeton. Yeah. He vaguely remembered a pale nerdy guy who used to sit on the edge of late night, beer-induced arguments between the young turks of the science and math departments. “You were at Princeton, weren’t you?”

  “The great Jack Wilson,” the man sneered. “So much potential pissed away while I’ve made discoveries that will change the world.”

  “The delphic laser.” He noticed a red light blinking on a tiny camera attached to the monitor. He rolled up one of the chairs and parked it in front of the screen. “I abandoned that line of research for a reason.”

  “Hit a wall, did you? Or wait, did that wall hit you?” the guy chuckled. “I enjoyed the photos, by the way. Looked like you took a shitload of lead. Even the pros pegged you for dead.”

  Who the hell was this guy? Bodie tried to remember his name. A strange one, something starting with an O? Orville? Oakley? Oxley. Shit, that was it. He was sure he’d never known his last name but it wouldn’t be hard to track down an Oxley at Princeton.

  “So how did you get recruited to the Dark Side, Oxley?” he asked.

  The white face pinked noticeably. “So you do remember me.” He smiled. “A top secret government agency approached me and offered labs, equipment, personnel—anything I wanted to develop the Disruptor, or the delphic laser as you called it.”

  “And they gave you this hip bachelor pad in the middle of the Caribbean. This place must be quite the hit with the local babes.”

  “Fuck you, Wilson,” Oxley snarled.

  Bodie fought a smile. Nevertheless, there was a more serious issue to deal with. Behind Oxley he made out what looked like the inside of a luxury villa. “I like your new digs. Looks like you’ve come up in the world.”

  “Everything I want at my disposal,” Oxley said. “House on the beach, gourmet food, servants, first class lab. You should try it sometime.”

  “All on the American taxpayer’s dime?” Bodie asked.

  “Yo, we’ve got company,” Lex hissed. “Local gendarmes. Stay put.”

  Before he could reply, her call clicked off.

  Oxley chuckled. “You heard the lady, Jack. Wouldn’t want you arrested just when we’re getting reacquainted.”

  Bodie knew Lex was more than capable of taking care of herself, but leaving her to deal with the authorities alone felt wrong. On the other hand, being wanted for questioning by the BVI authorities didn’t exactly make him an asset.

  “Don’t worry, it’s just the Anguillan version of the Coast Guard,” Oxley said.

  “You’ve got cameras.”

  “Everywhere.” Oxley leaned into the webcam and the image fish-eyed, distorting his face grotesquely. “I’ll let you know if she takes off and leaves you.”

  “Let’s talk about the Argos. Is it coming back?”

  A flinch ticked the guy’s cheek near his left eye. “I guess you’ll find out.”

  The asshole didn’t know, he’d bet on it. That meant his control of the laser was limited to disappearing things. “So you’re still in the testing stage.”

  “Oh, we’re functional.” A quick shifting of the eyes. “But I don’t want to ruin the surprise. Just between us, if you play your cards right, you’ll have a front row seat.”

  Another attack, but where? He needed more info. “Come on. At least a hint.”

  Oxley shook his head. Behind him, a man stepped into the room through a glass door. The intense outside light threw him into a silhouette that filled the doorway and obscured his features in darkness.

  “Who’s your friend?” Bodie asked.

  Oxley whirled around. “Shit.”

  As the figure approached the camera it dwarfed Oxley. “Leave us now,” a voice deep ordered.

  When Oxley glanced quickly back at the monitor, the webcam caught the fear in his eyes. His lips pressed together tightly, then with a quick nod he vacated his seat and scurried out of sight.

  The man moved into the light. His angular features sharpened and there was a strange sheen to his skin that couldn’t be from any reflected light. His long black hair was pulled tightly back from a gaunt face and secured behind his head.

  Bodie recognized him instantly. They’d only met once, on a crowded train from Princeton into New York, but that hour was etched in Bodie’s memory like it was yesterday. The man had been nearly as tall as Bodie and a commiserative shrug in the tight space had prompted a conversation. He’d introduced himself as Narciso Valmor, a Brazilian businessman. “Well, well. Look who it is.”

  The man smiled coldly. “I’d looked forward to seeing you again, Joaquim. The news of your death grieved me.”

  “I’ll bet.” If Oxley was working for the government, then this guy probably had a hand in ordering his murder. “So who are you? And don’t waste my time lying.”

  “My name is Tolian. Perhaps you’ve heard of me.”

  “Sorry. Doesn’t ring a bell. Should it?”

  “In your association with the Durand—Mark Durand in particular—my name might have come up. You made a grave mistake declining my invitation to dinner that evening and meeting with him instead. He was using you from the beginning and I was your only avenue of escape.”

  “Really.” Even through the monitor, the dark intensity of Tolian’s stare made him uncomfortable. “Is that why you had me assassinated?”

  Tolian scowled. “Not me, incompetent camponeses. The last thing I wanted was for you to be killed, leaving me with no one but that sniveling albino to continue your work.”

  “He didn’t continue my work, he perverted my theory and created a dangerous weapon. I would never have done that.”

  “You would have done whatever I told you and believed it to be your own idea—just as you did for Mark Durand. Durand had you build his sensor. I would have gotten my Disruptor.”

  “The sensor was my idea,” Bodie snapped. “Not Mark’s.”

  “For a brilliant man, you’re very stupid, Joaquim. Don’t you know that Du
rand is a master telepath? From the first time you met, he knew everything you were thinking. He manipulated your thoughts and perceptions to his own ends without you ever knowing. And when the tolos shot you, he used his psychic power to bring you back to life as a revenant so you could continue to serve him.”

  “Bullshit.” And yet too much of what Tolian said he already knew to be true. But did that mean that even his thoughts weren’t his own, and hadn’t been since their first meeting? Tolian was screwing with his head.

  “Think back,” Tolian continued. “He has answers before you know you have questions and you’ve never wondered why because he didn’t want you to.”

  Bodie bristled. “Twenty-four hours after I arrived in Road Town someone boarded my boat looking for my equipment. Was it your people?”

  “How can you be sure Durand wasn’t behind the Talos sinking? Maybe he sent some poor unsuspecting fool onboard knowing the boat would blow up and you’d be at his mercy again. He’s killed men for his own gain before.”

  As much as Bodie didn’t like Mark Durand, the guy would have no reason to blow up a boat he’d outfitted himself. Lex had told him the intruder was a Dissembler—the enemy of the Durand. Why would she lie to him? On the other hand, she must know her brother had been reading his mind for years. While she was being so damned honest and helpful, she’d left out that critical bit of intel.

  “Okay, for the sake of argument, let’s say Durand did set me up,” Bodie said. “Who are you and what do you want?”

  Tolian’s slow smile turned Bodie’s stomach. “I’m the Hi'aiti'ihi' Sentier, Adrien Durand’s counterpart for the Brazilian Source. I’m sure you know where that is. It is after all your motherland.”

  “I’m American. Never even been to Brazil.”

  “Hi'aiti'ihi' energy is in your blood. Your mother returned to Brazil many years ago. A formidable priestess and still a beautiful woman, if a little high strung.”

  “My mother is dead.” Bodie didn’t know if this was true literally, but the murderous witch had been dead to him for over twenty-five years and that made it true. He sensed this Sentier’s manipulation and turned the subject away from himself. “So what does a Sentier do?”

  “I command the Guardiões who fight the Durand aggressors in their mission to control the world’s resources. The Durand empire has infiltrated every government, industry, and culture on earth, taking what they want and brainwashing the camponeses—or as they call them, ordinaires—into believing their activities are altruistic. We fight for freedom and self-determination.”

  Bodie was getting a few too many ominous vibes from this guy to buy the “freedom and self-determination” line. The back of his neck prickled. “So you’re the good guys?”

  Tolian’s chuckle held no humor. “There are no good guys, Joaquim, only the choice of which bad guys’ interests most closely align with yours. I can give you complete freedom and unlimited resources to pursue whatever research and inventions you wish. You can come and go as you please, live as you want, where you want.”

  “And what do you get in return?”

  Tolian shrugged. “We can work that out.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I’ll pay you well to perfect the laser and I’m sure we can negotiate a satisfactory deal for the sensor you invented for Durand Tech. After that—it’s up to you. You’ll be a very rich man.”

  “What guarantee do I have that once you have the laser and the sensor, you won’t kill me?”

  “I don’t waste resources. You have a technical genius that won’t stop inventing and your ability to sense psychic energy will make you one of the most valuable of my Conselheiros. We both benefit.”

  Bodie knew the benefit would be stacked in Tolian’s favor. Lex had told him the Dissemblers used mind control. It was safe to assume Tolian was as powerful as he claimed Mark was and would use that power to his own ends. If Bodie’s new shield really did protect him from psychic intrusion, both Tolian and Mark were in for a surprise. Was he ready to trust Lex’s assurances or was she just another cog in the Durand machine?

  “I need some time to think about your offer,” Bodie said. “How do I contact you?”

  “Give me your cell number and I’ll send you instructions.”

  Bodie shook his head. No way was he giving this guy his ComDev code. “No. I’ll contact you.”

  Tolian’s mouth thinned but he recited a string of numbers. “Don’t think too long. I’ve promised Oxley another target at midnight, a big one this time, and I wouldn’t want you to miss having a front row seat.”

  “What kind of target?”

  “I’ve been torn between the Ariel and the Aurora. Have a preference?”

  “Neither.”

  “Of course, you’re right. One call from Ms. Durand and the boats would be evacuated and the demonstration wasted. No, we should go for the grand gesture—a cruise ship would be much better.”

  Thousands of people. “You can’t be serious.”

  Tolian’s expression turned stony. “I can be whatever I choose. Decide, Joaquim. I’ll expect to hear from you in one hour.”

  Bodie’s pulse jumped. He needed more information. “Where are you? How do I get there?”

  Tolian shook his head. “I’ll send a boat for you. Or better yet, Miss Durand can deliver you and you can deliver her.”

  “Where?”

  “One hour.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Mark watched as the doctor tucked Luke Benally’s bandaged arm under the crisp white sheet. The rear of the Gulfstream mid-flight wasn’t the best place to tend to a critically injured man, but Luke was still alive, on his way to the trauma center in Houston.

  “How is he?”

  Mark turned to Tanner Hays, the Protector on the other bed. “He’ll make it.”

  Luke would live, but his arms, hands, and legs had been brutally crushed by the drug lord who had held the two Protectors in his dungeons for the past three weeks.

  “Thanks for carrying him out,” Tanner said. “I couldn’t have done it.”

  Mark patted his shoulder gently. “Yes, you could have.” It wasn’t true and they both knew it; Tanner had been beaten so badly his back oozed from the lashes and he could barely walk. His face had fared no better judging from an eye swollen closed, a broken nose, and a nasty cut down his cheek between his eye and his jaw which had festered with infection.

  Tanner’s fingers closed around his wrist. “You risked your life to get us out of that hellhole. The Mexicans would have killed us, but the Dissemblers just kept up the torture knowing when to let up before we died.”

  Mark closed his hand over Tanner’s. “It’s over. Get some sleep. We’ll be in Houston soon.”

  Mark went back to the front of the plane and eased into a cream leather seat. A hot shower had cleaned off the grime and the bandage on his shoulder took care of an inconvenient knife wound he’d acquired along the way. He threw back a shot of tequila to ease the pain but it failed to burn the guilt from his gut. It didn’t matter that Luke and Tanner had volunteered to infiltrate the cartel, he’d sent them in there and they’d never be whole again.

  He wished he could sleep. Instead he turned on his laptop and pulled up his messages. They were prioritized and the one at the top was from Adrien. Call me immediately. It was eight hours old. He knew Adrien disapproved of his second-in-command taking on the riskiest missions. His cousin also misunderstood Mark’s need to constantly push himself. If there was some other way to keep the darkness under control, he wouldn’t need the adrenaline rush. There wasn’t. Besides, they both knew Mark’s deadly gift was the reason he survived against impossible odds.

  He quickly scanned down the list. Four messages from Lex, two from Bodie, all variations on Call me ASAP. Not a good sign. A five-hour-old S.O.S. from a key Protector stationed in Somalia caught his attention, a life and death crisis that would have to be handled with paramilitary intervention. The violence in Africa had escalated, fueled by
a new wave of Dissembler recruits. Adrien would have gotten a heads up on that Mayday and handled it already, which brought him back to the top message on the list.

  His ComDev buzzed and he answered it. “Hey, I was about to call you.”

  “How’d the mission go?” Adrien asked.

  “Everyone got out alive.”

  “Good.”

  Although they had few secrets, Mark rarely burdened the Sentier with details. The big-picture Protector strategy was clear and they’d discussed the growing drug violence in Mexico as well as the likelihood Dissemblers were involved. Both accepted Mark’s willingness to cross the line when necessary, even if Adrien preferred the moral high ground.

  “And you left the head honcho and two Dissemblers dead by stroke, huh?” Adrien said.

  “The Dissemblers will make sure the local police never hear about the deaths but Tolian will recognize my handiwork.”

  Adrien didn’t comment. Although the Durand Sentiers and the Brazilian Sentiers had been enemies for centuries, the hatred between Mark and Tolian was personal.

  “Bodie thinks he’s figured out the disturbance in the Caribbean,” Adrien said.

  As he related his conversation with Lex and Bodie, Mark pulled up a map of the islands showing the current location of Lex’s ComDev and the tracer in Bodie. “Any idea why my sister’s floating off a rock in the middle of nowhere?”

  “None,” Adrien said. “Last we talked, Bodie was setting up his sensor to constantly monitor the Caribbean. He must have picked up laser activity.”

  “I’ll call her.” He studied the screen of his laptop. Lex wasn’t moving and neither was Bodie. “I’ll get back to you after I talk to Lex.”

  “Do that.”

  Mark tapped the screen of his ComDev and listened to the ring tone.

  “I’m kind of busy here,” Lex hissed.

  “Doing what?”

  A choking sound preceded her reply. “Mark?”

  “Yeah. Where are you and what’s going on?”

  Her voice came through in a rough whisper. “Off Sombrero Island trying to get rid of the Anguillan Navy so Bodie can come out of hiding. Just a sec. Hey, guys, really, I’m fine. He’ll be back any time now with the guano and we’ll be off. No need to wait. I’ll radio if there’s any problem.”