“I need to know where the device components are so I can have them brought to the meeting,” she said when she stopped in front of his desk with her pen poised, ready to write.
With a smile, he disregarded what he’d been working on to give her his full attention. “Perfect timing,” he said, bending in his chair to open a drawer from which he pulled two envelopes. The first he held up for her to take. “Reserve a rental van to be picked up at the date and time in here, use the alias and payment information that’s in there.”
The more information that she had, the more likely it was that she would be able to prevent disaster. By giving her such limited data, it became clear that without being explicit, Grant didn’t want her to have too many of those details. Having kept the secret of his plan for so long, it was probably second nature by now for him to be cagey, but Zara was disappointed to lose the chance she’d thought she had.
Trying not to show her disappointment, her pen fell to her side, but she kept the smile on her face. “How long will we need it for?”
“No more than twenty-four hours,” he said. Without closing the drawer he’d retrieved the envelopes from, he righted his chair at his desk before revealing a detail she had been trying to avoid. “Sunday is when it’s happening.”
“Sunday,” she said, sliding the envelope into the back pouch of her notebook. It wouldn’t have mattered if he said it was happening that night or next month, Zara wasn’t sure she was ready for the pressure of subverting the plot single-handedly.
Grant nodded. “Yes, all the information you’ll need is in that envelope. I’ll deal with informing Sutcliffe.”
Somewhere along the way, Zara had learned how to cast off shock with haste. Dealing with new information, processing it, and moving on were vital components to not missing important facts and to staying alive. “What is the other envelope?” she asked, eyeing the beige paper he was smoothing onto the desk surface.
He pushed it across the width of the desk with a single finger, and then smiled up at her as he locked his digits together. “That’s your loyalty bonus.”
“My what?” she asked, raising her eyes from the rectangle to his.
“Your loyalty bonus.” His features seemed to dance in delight. “Go on, open it.”
Putting her notebook and pen on the desk, she picked up the envelope that she dreaded opening. But his joy left her no option. He failed to contain his anticipation and that left her with a dragging anxiety, which she had to subdue.
So while focusing on the tucked in flap, she reassured herself that the envelope contained nothing sinister. Slipping the heavy triangular section of paper out of the vee holding it in place, she put a thumb inside to slide out the thin sheet inside.
She knew straight away that it was a check, the shape of the paper and its smooth printed surface were giveaway characteristics. Hesitating before she turned it over, Zara reminded herself to temper her reaction to whatever it read.
“A hundred thousand dollars?” she asked, not doing a great job of tempering anything.
“I know it’s not much in light of what this deal will pay us,” he said, returning to the open drawer to retrieve something else. “Catch.”
On instinct, her hand leapt up to catch what he’d tossed as per his request. Uncurling her fingers, she saw the flash of a Mercedes sign and closed them again in a snap. Her horrified eyes shot to his, but he was grinning in triumph.
“It’s in your new spot downstairs. Do you want to take it out for a spin? We could go somewhere for lunch.”
Glancing from the hefty check to the car key, she exhaled and sank into the chair just behind her. “This is hush money,” she murmured and the weight of sorrow brought tears to her eyes.
“No!” he declared. “Think of it as payment for services rendered. I would never have gotten through this final stretch of the deal without you.”
That didn’t make her feel any better. She felt like such a failure. Her best wasn’t good enough. She couldn’t dissuade him. She’d tried. And although she wasn’t sure if terrorists signed contracts, Grant had already accepted an offer and wouldn’t go back on his word now. Maybe if he had the strength of someone like Brodie on his side, he would have the confidence to stand up to a tyrant like Sutcliffe. Not too long ago, she’d have considered herself able to call on the Kindred for support. Not anymore.
The truth had finally sunk in. She was alone, not part of any team or a greater cause. Alone. Raising her focus, she found herself bolstered by the confidence and enthusiasm in Grant’s eyes. She wasn’t alone and never had been. Grant was a constant in her life. He’d been with her at the beginning, middle, and end of this escapade and his loyalty to her had never wavered.
Returning his smile, she folded the check and picked up her notebook to slide it in the back pouch. “Where do you want to eat?” she asked.
It was like her life had reset itself, being back here at CI going through the motions, her life was returning to its pre-Brodie routine. All of that would change if this deal went through.
Leaping from his seat, Grant strode to the hat stand by the door where his jacket was hung up. “I know this great little place where it’s private. I’ll guide you. It’s not on GPS. It’s not open to the general public”—he swung his jacket around his head to drive his arms into the sleeves—“we’re going to do amazing things together, Zar, amazing things.”
Considering that this could be the beginning of her new career in enabling terrorists didn’t make her feel any better about being part of this process. Dubious, she joined her boss beside the door and fought to maintain a grin. She should be grateful that he was spoiling her, but each dollar was soaked in blood.
Not long ago she’d thought herself capable of making a difference, but now she questioned every decision she’d made. Grant’s methods were different from Brodie’s but his intention was the same, to work to achieve safety for the vast population of this planet. Setting her mind on understanding Grant’s position and his ultimate goal, she wasn’t ready to give up.
Grant paused before opening the door to glance back at her. “I hope your boyfriend won’t be upset about the amount of time we spend together. After the success of this deal, I can only imagine that our time in each other’s company will increase. How is your relationship progressing?”
Relationship, that word was a joke. It implied fidelity and honesty. She’d had neither with Brodie. “It’s not,” she said. “We broke up.”
“Oh,” he said, loosening his fingers from the door handle and bringing himself around to face her.
“Yeah,” she said, hoping he wouldn’t ask for details.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” he said, in such a way that he sounded anything but. “What went wrong?”
Wasn’t that the question of the century? No doubt it was one she’d never get the full answer to. “Different values, I guess,” she said. “He lied to me about a couple of important things.”
“It’s never wise to begin a relationship in a lie,” he said, gathering her hands into his as he became more serious. “Did he hurt you?”
“Physically, no,” she said, her gaze slid sideways. “But I thought we had something with the… potential to go all the way… I’d have done anything he asked me to.”
Loving a guy like Brodie meant handing your life to him. She imagined that if he chose to love a woman he would make it his mission to safeguard the gift of her love and that no feat would be unachievable if his lover was in need.
But she wasn’t that woman. Zara tried to give him a second chance, she tried to make amends. But Brodie didn’t want that chance, wasn’t interested in salvaging what they had. As it turned out, what they had was an illusion and no one could grasp and hold an apparition. The sickness in her heart still made breathing feel like a chore when she thought of him.
Grant’s thumbs stroked over her skin. “If you want him taken care of…”
Letting her eyes creep up to his, she tried to figure out what her boss was
implying. If Brodie had said that to her she’d have known exactly what he meant. Grant’s meaning was a bit more ambiguous. She could send Grant to Brodie to “take care of” him and hope that the brothers would reach an accord, which might prevent the transaction with Sutcliffe from taking place.
But she knew each of the men well enough to doubt that eventuality. Even if they spoke rather than tearing strips of flesh from each other, neither would surrender their position. Especially not in favor of something as tentative as good sense.
“Thank you, but I think it’s best left as it is.”
“Ok,” he said, warming his expression with optimism. “Lunch will cheer you up, let’s go.”
Opening the door, Grant offered his arm. She took it and allowed him to escort her to her new vehicle. The rewards of the dark side were flashier, though Brodie claimed to be the one who resided in darkness.
Zara’s thoughts returned to her former lover with such frequency that she began to chastise herself for thinking of him. She was holding on to a dream of what she wanted him to be: hers. If she kept doing that, she would never let him go or find happiness.
Never thinking about him again was a tall order, but it was the only option available to her. She would never see Brodie again. She had no reason to. Her life, her future, depended on forgetting about her association with Raven.
Thinking of him by his alias rather than his birth name separated the enigma from the man. Brodie was the man she loved and Raven was the man who would never let him reciprocate her devotion.
TWENTY-FOUR
Sunday. All Grant had told her was that he would pick her up after three. It ended up being almost five by the time she got the call. When he did arrive, he was in the van she had hired for him. She got in, received a muted hello and then the journey was silent until she couldn’t take it anymore.
He hadn’t told her where they were going, but they were heading south in the direction of McCormack Manor, not that she assumed that was their destination. The sun would be setting in an hour or two and she didn’t relish the idea of being alone in the dark under threat of attack.
“Is Sutcliffe coming alone?” she asked, speaking loud enough that her words could be heard over the pounding of her heartbeat.
“He’s bringing two men,” he said and added some reassurance before she could voice dismay. “They will only be there to load the device securely in the back of their vehicle for transport.”
She and Grant were alone, without back-up, and she was disturbed by the idea of how they would hold up against two trained thugs. Grant was a novice in these sort of dangerous, clandestine affairs, and she feared that he hadn’t considered everything that could go wrong.
Despite the termination of their intimate relationship, she wanted to know that Raven was perched on a roof nearby with his crosshairs pinned to anyone who might do her harm. But there was no hope of that. No one knew they were here or that this meeting was happening.
Grant drove into an abandoned docking area past a broken fence and over a rusted chain that was strewn across the concrete road. The irony was, if it wasn’t for all of the condemned warehouses and the towering cranes, they would probably be able to see the McCormack peninsula from here. Her former sanctuary was just a couple of miles away.
Heading toward a mildew covered, grey corrugated building, she read the word “Atlas” in flaking faded paint on the half sign left hanging above the massive entrance. Driving inside, she saw nothing but bare concrete, rusted pipes and stairways, and stripped down machinery, long since forgotten. The roofless structure hadn’t endured well in the sea air. The windows had rusted and there was broken glass scattered between the weeds growing through the cracks in the structure.
The setting was apt, yet unexpected because enough money was being exchanged today that this could have been done at the Ritz. The point of the location was secrecy. A deal could be done here, property exchanged, and there would be no evidence that the incident had ever happened.
But the isolation that reassured Sutcliffe and Grant only concerned her. Grant maneuvered the vehicle so that it was inside, parallel to the entrance, facing a sidewall, and then he cut the engine. They were here. It was time. She tried to be discreet about wiping the sweat from her palms onto her knee-length skirt, but her nerves were making her shake.
She didn’t notice anyone else. But their position meant they’d have their backs to the space when they climbed out of the vehicle. Being vulnerable and unaware like that increased her agitation.
Grant got out first, showing no fear, but she wished she had the Kindred in her ear or a camera on her necklace for them to keep an eye on proceedings. Before she had a chance to leave the van, another engine rumbled and in Grant’s side mirror was the reflection of an identical van pulling up beside theirs. Jumping out before the newcomers had a chance to alight their vehicle, Zara hurried to catch up with Grant who was opening the back of their van.
In the hold was a single metallic case and a brown box, less than a meter cubed. “That’s the device?” she asked him.
“Eight of them plus a control grid,” he said, stopping the doors at right angles to where they had been.
“Eight,” she said, having not considered the potential of selling multiple devices. “How did you have eight assembled so quickly?”
Grant grinned and slapped his hands together, invigorated by their progress. “Are you kidding? Sutcliffe wanted twenty of them originally. This is the last of the stock brought down from Quebec before the accident. Two of them are prototype units, but we won’t tell him that,” he said, leaning in to talk from the corner of his mouth like this was all one big joke. “Speed was more important to him than quantity. Bids were per unit. He requested the lesser number because he knew we could deliver fast.”
So that was why his bid had been accepted. Grant made it seem like the deal wasn’t about money. In truth, he’d just wanted the deal done and the cash in his account. Sutcliffe’s flexibility provided him the opportunity for that. The other bidders would have ordered more units, thus requiring Grant to create another Winter Chill plant.
“Why didn’t you sell a lesser number to all three bidders?”
“Exclusivity makes a deal more lucrative” he said and gave her shoulder a squeeze. “You know that.”
How he could be treating this like any other business deal still eluded her. Her ears were beginning to ring as her consciousness slid out of reality. This couldn’t be happening. She shouldn’t be standing here at Grant’s side. She should have blown the lid off the deal. But without evidence to show authorities, they would never have taken her seriously. And Brodie had taught her about the consequences of threatening to reveal a plot. If Grant hadn’t killed her then Sutcliffe or one of the others would have.
“The viruses are in the case,” Grant said and handed her their vehicle keys.
“Viruses,” she murmured.
“Yeah, they should be refrigerated, so we should probably haul ass.”
His jubilation had to be nervous energy. She couldn’t believe that he was actually excited about what was going to take place here. The other engine stopped and Grant headed away from her in the direction of the second vehicle to greet Sutcliffe.
Alone, she stared into the almost empty van. This was a nondescript vehicle, which was much larger than they needed. The only reason she could decipher for using such a mode of transport was to divert future investigators. If Game Time was unleashed, the authorities would eventually trace the device back to here. Using an unmarked van with misleading dimensions might delay them in finding out the truth.
In that split second, Zara imagined the news stories, how they would start with an unusual outbreak of some disease and then the panic that would ensue. No one would know the truth until it was too late and Zara dreaded the potential of what lay ahead.
And eight devices! Eight. One could lead to so much needless death, and Grant was handing over eight. They could be positioned to poiso
n cities, to wipe out civilizations of people who didn’t subscribe to the bearer’s ideologies.
“Your fair woman, Miss. Bandini!”
Sutcliffe’s voice made her spin around. Grant and his buyer were moving into the void of the warehouse a dozen feet from where she was at the back of the van. They were drinking something and it took her a minute to realize it was champagne. Horrified that they could be celebrating, her mouth fell open, but when two stocky figures appeared around the shielding van door, she stumbled back and forgot about the alcohol.
Sutcliffe chuckled and came over to hand her a flute, then took her arm to lead her over to Grant’s position. “You have nothing to fear. They are my men,” Sutcliffe said and raised his glass. “To good friends and deals done.”
Grant and Sutcliffe’s glasses met and then touched hers before they sipped, but she wasn’t in the mood to rejoice, so she didn’t drink.
Sutcliffe sipped from his flute a second time. “I am sure you will get to know my men very well. This deal will be the first of many. I can feel it. We’re going to do great work together cleansing our polluted world.”
He wasn’t talking about chemical pollution. He meant people and the word ‘cleanse’ made her nauseous. Sutcliffe’s goons spent time examining the van door and the packages without touching anything and she wondered what they were expecting to find.
“What are they doing?” she asked, observing their scrutiny.
“A formality,” Sutcliffe said, shaking an aloft hand in a flippant gesture. “They’re confirming everything is in order and that nothing has been rigged.”
Rigged for what? Neither she nor Grant were explosive experts and if the packages went up in smoke then she and Grant would go right along with them. Glancing at a sheathed knife on the hip of one lackey, she gasped and the condensation on her champagne flute made the chalice slip out of her fingers.
The delicate glass shattered on the dirty concrete. But before she could apologize or even look up from the mess, one of Sutcliffe’s men staggered, bounced off the truck door, and collapsed onto the floor. The second man fell less than a second later and she was still gawping at their prone forms when Sutcliffe and Grant leapt away and ran to the shadows beneath a crumbling stairway.
Raven (Kindred #1) Page 32