He could have stepped from the pages of a business journal or a menswear magazine. He appeared physically fit, suave and distinguished, more like an international executive than a cold-blooded criminal.
Somehow that made him all the more frightening.
“Here she is, sir.” The second man, the tall thin one, shoved her into a chair. He gripped her shoulder, making sure she stayed.
But she already realized she had nowhere to go.
“You’ve done well, Habib.” Benedict rested his elbows on the arms of his chair and steepled his fingers, reinforcing the appearance of a thoughtful executive.
Melina remembered what Anthony had said about The Magician, the figure in the tarot deck that Benedict identified with. He used secrecy and illusion. She disregarded the trappings and focused on Benedict’s face.
“He arrived at the perimeter half an hour ago, sir,” the first man said. “He’s alone. We’ve been following your instructions.”
“Excellent work, Gus. Are the surface patrols ready?”
“Every available man is on duty. We’ll let him get to the second-level corridor before we close in.”
Him? Melina thought. Were they talking about Anthony? That meant they hadn’t managed to capture him yet. She felt a spurt of hope, but it was short-lived. They knew he was out there. They were watching for him.
Oh, God. This was a nightmare.
For the first time since she had entered the room, Benedict looked directly at her.
Melina recoiled at the coldness in his gaze. No, it was worse than cold. Blank. That was it. His brown eyes had the flat, lifeless regard of a reptile.
“You’re proving very useful to me, Miss Becker. I’m pleased now that I let you live.”
Did he expect her to thank him? Melina wondered. “Why am I here?” she asked.
“At the moment, you are the bait.”
The pieces clicked together. The nightmare deepened. They had taken her to get Anthony. Oh, God. She should have been more careful. Not for her sake, for his. “How did your men find me?”
Benedict smiled, miming a phone by extending his little finger and his thumb. “Simple. Through your cell phone.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I’ve had your whereabouts monitored since you started working on my story. I employed the same technology that emergency services use to locate cell-phone callers. Whenever you phoned the Daily Journal, my associate there used the equipment that I provided for her and traced the signal to see where your call originated.”
More pieces clicked. She had phoned Neil on her cell twice since she had arrived in New Mexico. Both times Benedict’s men had shown up afterward. If Benedict had a Journal employee on his payroll, that also explained how he would have known that she was traveling to meet Fredo.
“Who was it?” she asked. “Whom did you pay off?”
“She’s just a junior copy editor with high career ambitions. But then, you’re ambitious yourself. It was a bold decision of yours to team up with my son.”
“Your son?”
“There’s no reason to play coy with me, Miss Becker. You’ve been with him since Santa Fe. You’re a professional busybody. Anthony would have told you about our…special relationship.”
“You’re not his father.”
Benedict’s smile disappeared. He gripped the edge of the table. “You’re wrong. I created him, so I am his father in the only way that’s important.”
“You murdered his mother.”
“It was necessary. She had betrayed me. And unlike you, she was no longer useful to me.”
Flat, cold and without conscience, Melina thought again. She pressed farther back into her chair.
“Everything Anthony is, he owes to me,” Benedict continued. “I made him what he has become. The anger that drives him is because of me. It’s his anger that makes him strong, the strongest of all my children.”
Melina knew there was truth in what he was saying. Anthony was driven by his urge for revenge. Yet there was so much more to him than anger, if only he would give himself the chance.
“His anger also makes him predictable,” Benedict said, rising to his feet. He brushed the sleeves of his suit and straightened the cuffs. “He will come here intending to rescue you and to kill me. He will be so blinded by his need for revenge that he won’t recognize the trap he’s walking into until it’s too late.”
“You won’t be able to trap him.”
“Ah. Are you referring to his talent?”
She set her jaw, refusing to answer.
“You would have seen it by now. All my children were born with psychic power. Unfortunately, they were lost to me at a critical stage of development, so I wasn’t able to guide their talents properly as they grew up.”
Guide their talents properly, she thought. Benedict must be referring to those plans he’d had to experiment with his children.
Benedict was still talking, his tone eerily casual. “As a result, their psychic powers have manifested in unexpected ways. It has made them challenging to reacquire, so I knew I had to exercise caution with Anthony. I wasn’t certain what direction his power had taken until I observed him in action recently. His particular talent is subtle, but its potential is enormous.”
She tried to tell herself that Benedict was bluffing, but his next words dispelled that hope.
“Potential,” Benedict repeated, laughing as he stressed the word. “My son has a most peculiar effect on anything electrical. It’s an impressive ability, isn’t it? Even now my security people are resetting the detection devices he’s been disabling on his way through my valley.
“But this mountain has furnished me with the makings of a perfect trap, Miss Becker.” He stamped his foot against the floor. “You see, electricity doesn’t conduct through solid rock.”
Was that true? she wondered. If it was, then why had Anthony been able to sense the stronghold’s electrical power source? Yet what did she really know about how his talent worked? Sensing power wasn’t the same thing as manipulating it. There had been nothing but air between Anthony and the helicopter that had attacked them, yet wrecking the helicopter’s fuel pump had seemed to drain Anthony to the point that he had been pale and sweating when he’d rolled from beneath the overhang that had sheltered them.
“My men have been cautioned to watch for his tricks. They’ll give him plenty of space,” Benedict said. “But once he’s inside my stronghold, he’s mine. And I have you to thank for it.”
“No. You’re wrong. He’s not coming. We’re just business partners. He doesn’t care about rescuing me.”
“You had better hope for your sake that he does, Miss Becker. Your real usefulness will only begin once he’s here.”
The knot in her stomach tightened. Her real usefulness? “What does that mean?”
Benedict walked down the length of the table to stand in front of her. He picked up a lock of her hair and rubbed it between his thumb and his fingers.
She tried not to flinch. She told herself she had no nerve endings in her hair. His touch would wash out. If it didn’t, she could cut her hair short.
He moistened his lips and rubbed harder, as if he was deriving some kind of stimulation from the motion.
She fought off a wave of nausea. If he kept that up, she was going to be sick.
“Come with me.” Benedict released her hair and walked to the elevator. He pressed his thumb over a panel beside the door. “I’ll show you my lab.”
Benedict wanted her to be afraid, Melina thought, clamping her jaw shut to keep her teeth from chattering. He was a showman, a self-centered sociopath who fancied himself a tarot-deck magician. He was deliberately taunting her to make himself feel more powerful. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear.
Think of it as a story, she reminded herself again. Regard the facts logically. Absorb as much information as possible. That way she might be able to help Anthony.
Despite her resolve, it took
all her strength to keep the whimper from escaping her lips as she studied the room Benedict called his lab.
It was mercilessly bright, with floors that were the lifeless white marble of a tomb. The flat panels of lights that were recessed into the ceiling left no shadows to soften the equipment that was arranged along the walls. There were banks of computers and benches of glassware. Several wheeled carts that held clear, rectangular boxes the size of small refrigerators were connected by cables and hoses to a row of machines. The purpose of most of the equipment was unrecognizable to her, except for the item at the far end of the room.
It was a table. It had stainless-steel legs and wheels like a hospital bed. It was topped by a thick pad covered with black plastic. Straps of the type of fabric used in seat belts hung from various points on the sides. There were cuffs with buckles on the ends of the straps. Obviously, they were meant to be used as restraints.
And at the foot of the table there was a gleaming set of stirrups just like the kind at her gynecologist’s office.
She swallowed hard and forced herself to look away.
Even without any scientific background, she could tell this wasn’t a drug lab.
But she and Anthony had already reasoned that the Titan Syndicate’s drug business had been a means to an end. A moneymaking scheme. The prelude to Benedict’s bigger agenda.
Now that she was seeing this lab, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what that agenda was.
A door at the side of the room opened. One of the guards they had passed on the way here entered and spoke quietly to Benedict.
Benedict snapped his fingers at Gus and Habib. “Immobilize her.”
Before Melina could resist, the men had bound her wrists behind her with duct tape and set her in a straight-backed wooden chair in the center of the floor.
Benedict came to stand beside her, his gaze flicking over her from head to toe. “Perfect,” he murmured. He rubbed his thumb against his fingers. “With your arms out of the way like that, you remind me of my favorite woman. But she’s much…older.”
She didn’t ask what he meant. She wasn’t sure she wanted to know this, either.
He turned to the guard who had entered. “Bring him here.”
Through the open door, Melina heard the sound of heavy footsteps and a sliding, scuffling noise, as if someone was being dragged.
No, oh please, let him be all right.
Two more guards entered the room. Anthony drooped between them, held upright by their grip on his arms. His black turtleneck and pants were streaked with dust. His head lolled forward, his hair hanging loose over his face.
Dear God. What had they done to him? Melina strained to rise from the chair. At her movement, Gus pulled a gun from his belt and laid the muzzle against her temple.
She froze.
Benedict swore at the guards. “I told you not to harm him. Is he dead?”
The guard on Anthony’s right spoke up. “No, sir. You warned us to watch out for his tricks. I got a shock from my radio when we frisked him, so we had to defend ourselves. He didn’t do it again.”
“Fine. Let him go.”
The guards released their hold.
Anthony’s legs buckled. He fell to the floor in front of them, his palms smacking hard against the white marble. He breathed hard for a moment, then pushed himself to his knees and shook the hair from his face.
Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth. A long red scrape darkened his cheek. The skin around his right eye was purple and swollen, but the rest of his face was so pale, he looked ashen. His gaze zeroed in on Melina. His throat worked as he looked at the gun that was pressed to her head. “Are you all right?” he asked.
She felt every one of his injuries as if they were her own. The words wouldn’t come. She nodded instead.
He studied her, as if he was looking for wounds, then wiped the blood from his mouth with his knuckle and shifted his gaze to Benedict. “I’m here. Let her go.”
Benedict laughed. “What? After all these years you have no greeting for your father? ‘I’m here. Let her go,’” he mimicked. “You’re in no position to make demands, Anthony.”
Anthony braced his hand against the floor and got his feet beneath him. Slowly, he straightened up until he was standing. He took a staggering step sideways before he regained his balance. “Let Melina go,” he said. “This is between you and me.”
“Wrong, son. She’s—”
“I’m not your son!”
Benedict pointed to Gus. “If he raises his voice at me again, shoot her.”
Anthony lurched forward.
One of the guards who had brought him kicked the side of his ankle, knocking his legs out from under him. Anthony went down hard.
“If he threatens me,” Benedict said, “shoot her. If he dares to lift a hand at me, shoot her. If the lights in this room so much as flicker, shoot her.” He paused and looked at Anthony. “Do you understand your position now? Son?” he added.
Anthony repeated the laborious process of getting back to his feet. When he looked at Benedict again, his gaze was so filled with hate, the air around him appeared to luminesce. “What do you want?”
“Why, you’ve already given it to me. You are what I want. My firstborn, my strongest child. You will help me achieve my destiny.”
Melina kept her gaze on Anthony, trying to will him to remain calm. She could see how much this was costing him both physically and emotionally. Sweat beaded on his forehead. He was swaying where he stood. But unlike Benedict’s other victims, she and Anthony were still alive, and as long as they were alive there was hope.
At least, that was what she had to keep telling herself.
She tipped her head to the side to ease the pressure of the gun barrel on her temple. “You’re not going to gain anything by keeping us here,” she said. She cleared her throat, hating the weak sound of her voice. “The police—”
“Don’t be stupid, Miss Becker,” Benedict said. “I pay well to have people in every level of law enforcement, and would know the instant someone tipped off the authorities. My son is here alone. He wants to kill me, not see me arrested.
“But I digress.” Benedict moved to the side of the room where the carts were lined up. He ran his hand down the corner of one of the clear plastic boxes and looked at Anthony over his shoulder. “Do you know why you and your siblings were created?”
Anthony’s jaw twitched. “I read your notes in my mother’s file. You wanted to possess our psychic powers.”
“Not simply possess. My ambition went beyond that. Through you, I was going to control the future.”
“What does that mean?” Melina asked. She wanted to draw attention away from Anthony. She worried how long he would be able to restrain himself. “No one can control the future.”
Benedict glanced at her. “One can control it if one can foresee it. You have as limited an imagination as my sister.”
“I heard about your sister. Agnes Payne is dead.”
Benedict gave a grunting laugh. “That’s because she never saw it coming. Agnes didn’t recognize the potential of the genetic-engineering work she was doing. She thought only of breeding a genius. She succeeded in breeding six, but I took her work to the next level. I combined the special genetic material she had engineered with material from my Gypsy wife and—”
“What special genetic material?” Melina asked.
His mouth pursed. He drummed his fingers on the side of the plastic box. “Don’t interrupt me again. You can be replaced.”
Gus rubbed the gun barrel against Melina’s ear. She gritted her teeth, which were beginning to chatter again.
Benedict returned his gaze to Anthony. “You have me to thank for the strength of your abilities, Anthony. You and your siblings have the DNA of a genius by the name of Henry Bloomfield. He was my sister’s boss. It was Bloomfield’s capabilities that amplified the psychic component from your mother’s genes. My plan was a success. All of you, even the infants, exhibit
ed remarkable power, but you were lost to me just as I was about to begin your training process. Otherwise, I would have had six children under my control who could look into the future.”
A bead of sweat snaked its way over Anthony’s cheekbone. “Your plan wouldn’t have worked. I can’t foresee the future. Neither can my sisters.”
“That’s because you weren’t trained. Only one of the younger triplets learned to look into the future, but her talent is too raw to be useful. Because of your mother’s interference, the gifts that I made sure you were born with were wasted. Squandered. None of you reached your full potential. Next time I won’t make the mistake of acquiring a wife. I won’t allow my children the distraction of a family.” He rapped his knuckles on the box. “Next time my children will grow up under my complete control.”
Melina took a fresh look at the row of carts with their boxes. Those carts. They were like the carts in a hospital nursery, only the boxes were much larger than bassinets.
The truth crashed over her. They weren’t bassinets, they were cages.
Cages big enough to hold a child.
Horror locked the breath in her throat. No. It couldn’t be. It was too terrible even to contemplate. Benedict had done some monstrous acts in his life, but surely no one could be that despicable.
“Everything is in place to begin the ultimate phase of my plan.” Benedict waved his arm to encompass the room. “The next generation of my children will be perfect. They won’t be weakened by sentiment. With my guidance, they will become my personal team of psychics, able to foresee trouble before it happens.” His voice rose. “My wealth will have no bounds. I will exist above the law. There will be no limit to what I can do.”
Melina wrenched her gaze from the cages and looked at Anthony. He was watching Benedict, his fury so intense, he was trembling.
“That is my destiny.” Benedict pointed at Anthony. “And you have brought it to me. All my work is present in your DNA. It is your DNA that will father the next generation. And you.” He swung his arm toward Melina. “You will serve as its mother.”
The stainless-steel hospital bed. The restraints. The stirrups. The empty cages. Melina gasped for air. She wanted to scream. It came out as a croak. “No.”
In Destiny’s Shadow Page 18