by Nina Croft
Apparently, Kane had told Jake that most of the original tribe were very peaceable. Occasionally, one would be born with a more aggressive attitude and these were appointed “guardians.” Their job was to keep watch over the time machine and ensure it remained a secret until the time of the mission. There had only been three guardians when Malcolm Rayleigh had discovered the tribe back in 1878. They had remained behind, unknown to Rayleigh. Kane had been a child of four at the time. He’d wanted to stay, so he’d run away from the group, and had been brought up by Jonas, the leader of the guardians. Jonas had died last year, and Kane had taken over.
“So this covert operations group was not taken from the descendants of the original tribe?” Mel asked.
“No,” Martin replied. “When I was first approached by a government official—a Colonel Harry Winters—I explained they were unsuitable. I allowed Harry to interview them, and he agreed with me. They also have a strong moral base and were totally intractable. I believe they would die before they went against something they believe was right. I suspect that played into the decision as well.”
“And you believe the government was morally wrong?”
Quinn had wondered about this as well. Martin was a good man. How had he reconciled himself to working with the colonel who was a devious bastard?
Martin shrugged. “Maybe not by their standards. I came to respect the colonel—he believed in what he was doing. He sold me on his ideas.”
“A world with no more lies,” Quinn murmured.
“Yes. It sounded plausible. A world where torture wasn’t needed. Where injustice would be eradicated. Where a man’s guilt or innocence could be proven by just a painless glimpse into his mind.”
“We were getting there,” Kaitlin said. “We were about to come out to the world. Only some people didn’t want that.”
“Kaitlin.” He said her name as a warning, and she scowled, but clamped her lips together. She got up and grabbed the half-full bottle of champagne, drinking straight from the bottle.
“We?” Melody glanced at Kaitlin, studying the girl. “You were part of the group the committee was investigating?”
“Give the agent a gold star,” Kaitlin muttered.
Mel’s gaze turned from Kaitlin to Quinn. “And I’m guessing you were, as well. I don’t suppose you’d show me your feet?”
Of course, the article had mentioned their toes. He toed off his right boot, peeled off his sock, and wiggled his toes. All four of them.
“But you’re not descended from the original tribe?”
This was stuff they’d only just recently learned themselves. Up until a few months ago, they’d had no clue where they had come from. They’d all been fostered and had never known their real parents.
“No,” Martin said. “Harry accepted that the tribe would not meet his needs. He wasn’t happy, but we came up with a compromise. This was back when gene splicing was just taking off. It was a long-term project, mixing the DNA from tribe members with ‘normal’ human DNA. The first attempts failed, but eventually we managed to produce a viable fetus with DNA from two tribe members plus a human.”
“Three parents?”
“Yes. Though most of the group were one tribe, one normal. Like Quinn.”
“Most?”
“Jake the first, and Kaitlin the last, were the only exceptions. They’re also the strongest. Anyway, the children were mostly fostered until they were sixteen, and then they were brought together.”
“You worked for the British government?”
The question was directed to him, and Quinn nodded. “At least, at first. We all thought we were working for that better world.”
“Instead, we were just helping a load of power-crazy rich guys get richer and more powerful.” Kaitlin sounded bitter. She had good reason. They were all bitter. By the time they had broken out, they’d all lost their faith in the system.
“What happened four years ago?” Mel asked.
“I became aware that the group was being used for work perhaps not in the best interests of the nation. I…” Martin hesitated, “…suspected that someone else had taken control. And they wanted access to the original group, which had never been part of the agreement. I grew increasingly concerned for their safety and eventually sent them away, telling nobody of their whereabouts. I didn’t know who I could trust—”
“You could have trusted us,” Quinn said. His tone was harsh, and Martin flinched. But it needed saying. How different things might have been if Martin had shared his concerns, even if it was just with Jake. If they’d been warned, maybe they would have gotten out sooner. Maybe their people wouldn’t have died. His sister, Kaitlin’s brother… So many dead.
“I would have done,” Martin replied. “But I didn’t want to speak over the phone—I was sure I was being monitored. Once the Tribe was away, I planned a trip, but I was arrested before I could leave. I’m sorry. You don’t know how sorry I am.”
“What happened next?” Mel asked.
“We parted company with our government controllers nearly a year ago,” Quinn said. “Once we became aware that some of our members had been killed.”
“At the time the oversight committee was investigating?”
“That’s right. Though Kaitlin went back to work with them.”
…
Melody forced herself to relax, to sit back in her chair and think this through. The implications were—mindboggling.
Telepaths.
She’d suspected it after reading about the “Tribe.” The similarities to the Tel-group in her own time were too great to be a coincidence. The group was probably the most powerful faction among the human population. And they were all tall, with black hair and blue eyes. She didn’t know about the toe thing, though. She’d worked with a few of them but never gotten to the point of taking their clothes off.
How were they tied to these people? She couldn’t get her head around it.
There had been many side roads in evolution after the Cataclysm of 2020. The Tel-group had been just one. Small isolated populations, under stress—ideal conditions for accelerated evolution. Some had become tolerant to elevated levels of radiation; one group had developed green skin and the ability to use the sun’s energy.
The Tel-group had developed the ability to read minds and they were rumored to have other powers, as well. Their services could be bought, but they only took on certain jobs. The selection process was rigorous—they certainly weren’t for sale to the highest bidder. Still, the Federation routinely implanted their human agents with a device which prevented them from being read so they couldn’t be compromised.
She glanced at Quinn, found him watching her, one eyebrow raised. His foot was still bare, and she couldn’t help looking at his long toes. He pulled on his sock and boot.
He was telepathic. But he wouldn’t be able to read her—had that made him suspicious?
“So, you’re telepathic? Does that mean you can read my mind?”
“It means I should be able to read your mind. But I can’t. Have you any idea why that would be?”
“None.”
She glanced at Kaitlin.
“I can’t read you, either.”
“Good. I think.”
“It would actually make this whole thing a lot easier if we could,” Quinn said. “Right now, we don’t know if we can trust you. It seems a strange coincidence that you come along just now, and you’re the first person we can’t read.”
“I honestly don’t know why. Maybe my brain is somehow different.”
“Maybe.”
He didn’t sound totally convinced, but she doubted he would ever hit on the actual truth. And there was nothing she could do about it.
She was still no closer to discovering where the alert had originated. But she was fairly certain it was tied into the Tribe in some way. But how?
Maybe she needed to visit the Mountains of the Moon. But she’d done some research and without more information, she would never fi
nd the right place. Besides, they’d all left over a hundred years ago. There would likely be no clues remaining. Her best bet was to locate the descendants of the group. Maybe they had information that could shed some light on their origins.
And there was still the problem of who else from her world was here, in this time period. She hadn’t sensed anything this visit. So far.
But worse, in the back of her mind was the knowledge of what was to come. Looking around at these people, it occurred to her that they likely wouldn’t survive. And she had an irrational urge to warn them. But that was totally and entirely against protocol. Besides how would she explain how she knew?
The Time Bureau’s whole existence was based on ensuring that time was not interfered with. She had to put the thought from her mind, keep her distance, emotionally and physically.
She shook her head. Time to get back to business. “Will you help me?”
Something passed between Quinn and Kaitlin, and a thought occurred to her. “Are you two talking to each other?”
“She’s bright, this one,” Kaitlin replied. She grinned. “Just trying to decide whether to trust you or to toss you out of the plane.”
They wouldn’t. Would they?
“And?” She was proud of how cool she sounded.
Quinn nodded. “I’m not sure I trust you. I think there’s something you’re holding back. But yes, we’ll help you. Ultimately, I believe we want the same thing.”
“What do we do now?” she asked.
“The plane will land in Tallahassee as planned. We’ll get off. Martin will continue on his journey.”
“I’ll get off there as well,” Kaitlin said. “I’ll stick around for a while or I might go visit Disney World.”
“You don’t want to go with Martin?”
“Nope.”
Quinn didn’t try and persuade the girl. It was clear that Kaitlin was someone who went her own way. Where was Martin going? Was it important? She had a feeling it was.
“Where’s Martin heading?” she asked with little hope of getting an answer.
“You don’t need to know that.” Quinn rolled his shoulders and stretched. He turned to Martin then waved toward the rear of the cabin. “Why don’t you try and snatch a couple of hours’ sleep.”
“I might, thank you.” Martin got up and nodded to them all, then disappeared through the door to what she presumed was a bedroom.
“I’m going to go lie down as well.” Kaitlin gripped hold of her half-full bottle of champagne. “Give you two a little privacy to talk or…” She shrugged. “Whatever.” She took herself off to the back row of seats and a minute later, her feet appeared on the back of the seat in front of her.
That left Mel effectively alone with Quinn. He kicked off his boots and stretched out on the sofa across from her. “None of us got much sleep last night,” he said. “We’ve got three hours until we land, so you might as well try and get some rest.” A moment later, he closed his eyes. She watched the slow rise and fall of his chest with each breath, then allowed her gaze to wander up over the strong column of his throat to his face. His lips were slightly parted, with dark stubble shadowing his jawline. He was beautiful.
Sighing, she forced herself to look away. She was sure she wouldn’t be able to sleep, but she leaned down and pulled off her boots anyway, curling onto her side. Closing her eyes, she could feel the champagne like a buzz in her head. And she drifted off.
She jolted awake suddenly, her eyes flashing open. Quinn was crouched beside her. “Sorry,” he said, “You were fast asleep. We’re due to land in about twenty minutes. I just ordered some coffee.”
She pushed herself upright and ran her fingers through her hair. “I didn’t think I would sleep.” She scrubbed a hand over her eyes. He hadn’t moved, and he was so close, she could see the black flecks in his midnight-blue eyes. His hand came out and he stroked one finger down over her nose.
“You have freckles.”
“I do?”
Stupid question. Of course she did. She’d thought about getting them removed. How could people take someone with freckles seriously? But she’d never gotten around to it.
His hand slipped around the back of her neck.
Move.
But she couldn’t seem to do it. She just sat there, as if held in some sort of beam while he lowered his head toward her. He paused only inches away. “I’ve been wanting to do this since you came back,” he said. “Just in case you decide to vanish again, and I don’t get the chance.”
Then his mouth was on hers and his lips were soft. His hand urged her closer to him. Kissing wasn’t something she’d done a lot of. Somewhere in the next two thousand years, it had gone out of fashion. She wasn’t a virgin. She’d had lovers, but they’d never kissed. And wow, but it was…
Her lips tingled, and heat pooled in her belly. He pulled back for a moment, but only to seat himself beside her and then she was dragged against him and his mouth was pressed to hers. He nipped her lips with his teeth. They parted, and his tongue pushed inside. She was sure it was unhygienic, and that’s why people stopped kissing, but it felt so good. His tongue slid along hers, as his hands slid down her back to cup her ass and pull her closer. Her hands came up to grasp his shoulders. It felt like she was falling, and she held on tight.
Then there was a loud crash and she was suddenly flying through the cabin. She slammed into the floor with Quinn on top of her, and all the air went out of her lungs with a whoosh.
Chapter Eleven
What the fuck?
A loud buzzing rang in his ears and he could hear someone swearing in the background. Quinn lay for a moment, trying to work out what had happened. He shook his head.
When he opened his eyes, he was looking down into Mel’s face. Her eyes were closed, and he felt a moment of panic. As he pushed himself up, her lashes flickered open. He rolled off her and got to his feet. The alarm was still ringing, and the plane was listing to the right. Oxygen masks had dropped from the ceiling, but he was breathing okay, so he guessed they weren’t needed yet.
He held out a hand and she slid her palm into his. As he pulled her to her feet, the plane leveled.
“What the fuck just happened?” Kaitlin appeared, rubbing her head.
“At a guess, something hit us.”
“How the hell can something hit us? We’re at thirty thousand goddamn feet. Are we going to crash?”
She sounded more curious than anything else. He glanced across at Mel. She appeared pale but composed.
“I’ll go talk to the pilot,” Quinn said. “Check on Martin and the flight attendant.”
But the door opened, and Martin appeared, slightly disheveled, running a hand over his face. “What happened?”
“No clue. Wait here.”
He reached out with his mind as he rapped on the door to the cockpit. There were two men inside. They needed two pilots to make the long flight across the Atlantic. Both minds were racing but not panicking.
They’d been hit.
The alarm went silent as he opened the door and stepped into the small space. The pilot peered over his shoulder. He was a man in his forties, maybe. His face was free of expression and he was keeping any panic he felt under control.
“We’ve been hit,” he said.
“By what?”
Quinn had already plucked the answer from his head. The man wasn’t happy.
“A missile, at a guess.”
“Could it have been a bird?” He knew he was reaching.
“No. We’re still too high. Besides, birds can’t do that sort of damage. One engine is out, and the tail is damaged. Plus, something is blocking our signals. I’m trying to send out a distress report, but it’s bouncing right back.”
“Are we going down?”
“We are.”
Fucking brilliant. “How long? And where?”
The pilot was tapping at a console, where a series of maps and coordinates flashed across a screen to his right. “Just give me a min
ute. We’re losing altitude fast. Too fast.” He tapped some more. “There and soon.”
“There what?”
“That’s where we’ll try and go down. It’s the Okefenokee National Park—swampland, pretty much deserted. We have to try and keep away from built-up areas.”
“I take it there’s not an airport anywhere close by.”
“No. The nearest one with a runway big enough is Jacksonville, and we’re not going to make that.”
“Can you get her down in the swamp?”
“We’ll have to,” he said, his tone grim. He shrugged. “Maybe. If we can find open water, we might make it.”
A fifty-fifty chance—Quinn plucked the number from his head and wished, not for the first time in his life, that he couldn’t read minds.
He swallowed as the air pressure adjusted. He could see nothing out of the front of the plane. They were flying through thick cloud now. “Do the best you can.”
As he made to leave, the pilot glanced up. “Do you know who did this and why?”
“No clue.”
“Well, go tell everyone to strap themselves in. It’s going to be rough.”
Quinn took a moment to calm himself, closing his eyes and breathing slow and deep. Then he headed out of the cockpit and back into the main cabin. “We’re going to make an emergency landing,” he said. “You all need to take a seat, and strap yourselves in.”
“Fifty-fifty?” Kaitlin asked in his head.
“Yeah. But we’ll make it.”
“Of course we will.”
Mel was standing in the center of the cabin, arms wrapped around herself, though she seemed calm. “What happened?”
He considered lying, telling her it was an accident, but there didn’t seem to be much point. “The pilot reckons we were hit by some sort of surface to air missile.”
“Heavy stuff,” Kaitlin said. “Someone must really want us dead. It sort of makes you feel important.” She dropped down on a seat and fastened the seat belt. Beside her, Martin was doing the same. And behind them the flight attendant, her face pale, sat down.