“I think he did, yes. I think Sam had a violent headache after being separated from his anchor and when he asked for medication, he was given something that triggered a seizure. I don’t think the seizures are caused by the enhancing process, or if they are, it’s a rare side effect. And I don’t believe the brain bleeds are caused by severe seizures. I believe the men you lost to those complications were at some time taken to the hospital and, under the pretense of relieving swelling, I think the men underwent surgery and electrodes were planted in specific parts of the brain. Eventually the men were subjected to magnetic fields of extremely high frequency. The heat generated tissue damage and caused hemorrhage.”
“How could they get away with something like that?” Ryland demanded.
“They performed the autopsies, didn’t they? They determined the cause of death. What better way to sabotage a project than to pick off members of the unit one by one and make it look as if they were dying from complications or side effects?”
Tucker swore aloud, turned away from her to stomp across the room in frustration and anger. He was a big man, very muscular, and he gave off the impression of immense power and raw strength. “What the hell do they have to gain?” he asked. “I don’t understand, what do they have to gain?”
Ryland sighed and raked his hand through his hair. “Money, Tucker. A fortune. What we can do is worth a fortune to any foreign government. Even terrorist organizations would be willing to pay for the information. We can whisper and have guards look the other way. We can disrupt security systems. The possibilities are endless. They convinced us to be afraid of strengthening and using what we have in order to slow us down.”
“Let’s be careful here. I’m not saying I’m right,” Lily cautioned. “Peter Whitney was my father and I loved him very much. I would prefer to think he conducted an experiment in good faith and that he went forward with it until he became aware of the deliberate sabotage. I could be completely wrong.”
“So what do we do for Jeff?” Ian McGillicuddy asked.
“First we have to wake him up and then he has to be taken to a surgeon. I know someone who will help us.” Lily looked at Ryland. “I believe Hollister is a dreamwalker. I think he took medication of some kind….”
Ian shook his head. “Ryland said it wasn’t safe. He wouldn’t go against orders.”
“But this pill was probably given to him much earlier, when he was in the hospital, so he believed it to be safe. He didn’t consider it disregarding an order—he didn’t touch the one given to him that night.”
“How do you think we can wake him without harming him?” Nicolas asked. His voice was very low, but it carried through the room and silenced the whispered conversations between the men. “I tried to wake him the old way but he was resistant.”
Lily was all too aware of the sudden silence in the room. All of the men stared at her expectantly. She let out her breath slowly. “I think we have to go into his dream and bring him out. And I think we can expect trouble.”
Ryland moved closer to the bed to study Jeff Hollister’s pale face. “What do you mean, trouble?”
Lily was watching Nicolas. His expression never changed. He remained still, but his black eyes were fixed intently on her face.
“Lily”—Ryland was insistent—“what are you thinking?”
“She’s thinking Jeff Hollister is a trap.” Nicolas answered in his quiet, even voice. “And I think she’s right. I feel it. When I try to connect with him, I feel his spirit warning me away.”
Ian looked from Lily to Nicolas and then to Ryland. “I’m not certain what you’re talking about. How could Jeff be used as a trap?”
Lily patted Jeff’s shoulder as he lay sleeping so peacefully. “If I’m correct, he took a pain pill he received from an earlier hospital stay. I think it knocked him out long enough for someone to go into his cage and create a magnetic field of such high frequency the electrodes reacted. My belief is that it was an attempt on his life. The electrical pulses were too strong and caused a brain bleed. Hollister hung on, probably through sheer guts, while you made your escape. He seized, knew he was in trouble, and put himself out, using his ability as a dreamwalker.”
“So he’s somewhere else.”
“It was probably the only thing he could do to save himself. If I’m correct someone else has the same ability to dreamwalk and they’re using him as a lure for the rest of you. Don’t ask me how. I’m guessing. If we manage to wake him, we’ll have to assess any damage done. I want to call Dr. Adams—he’s a renowned brain surgeon and he would be willing to help us.”
Ryland shook his head. “We’re fugitives, Lily. By law he has to turn us in.”
“Yes, well,” Lily hedged. “Hollister needs medical care immediately. I’ll guarantee Dr. Adams’s cooperation. In the meantime, we have to bring Jeff out of his dream.”
“Lily, stop saying ‘we.’ You can’t come with us,” Ryland said firmly. “And before you protest, listen to me. If you’re right and Jeff is being used to trap us in some way, then we need you here as an anchor with Kaden. More importantly, if someone else is lying in wait for us, you can’t be identified. This house is our only haven. My men need to learn those exercises you keep talking about. We have nowhere else to go.”
Lily had to admit he was right, but it didn’t make it easy for her. She had a bad feeling, a portent of danger that wouldn’t go away. And Nicolas felt it too.
“We’ll need everyone to tap into the wave of energy just in case,” Ryland added.
The men agreed without hesitation. Once again Lily was moved by the camaraderie the men had for one another, their willingness to put their lives and mental well-being on the line.
Nicolas sat tailor fashion right there in the middle of the floor, closing his eyes and centering himself. Ryland positioned himself on the bed beside Jeff Hollister. Lily watched as they sought inside themselves, a meditative practice essential to anyone who had to deal with psychic spillage. She knew the instant both men went under, by their slow, steady breathing.
RYLAND looked around curiously. He was on a sand dune, looking toward the ocean. Of course Jeff would choose a familiar place. The dunes stretched endlessly, and the waves pounded the shore, rushing toward him and breaking over the rocks, sweeping into the tide pools.
He began walking down the beach, knowing Jeff had to be close. Nicolas appeared briefly to his left, sprinting over the dunes away from him, shading his eyes and looking out to sea.
“He’s out there”—Nicolas waved toward the ocean—“riding the waves. And he doesn’t want to come back.”
“Well, that’s too damned bad. He has a family to think about,” Ryland said. I don’t like the feel of this.
Neither do I. I’m getting into position.
The water swelled, the wave growing larger and larger and beginning the rush toward shore. Ryland spotted Jeff on his surfboard gliding toward them as the wave began to curl, forming a long pipe. For a moment he was caught by the sheer mastery of Jeff’s athleticism, the way he seemed a part of nature itself, anticipating the wave so that he shot through the pipe and came out just as the wave collapsed.
Ryland pulled his fascinated gaze away from Jeff and began scanning the water for possible threats. He was on full alert, his probing gaze taking in the sky, the sea, and the sand dunes. He knew Nicolas would be doing the same. He didn’t have to check—Nicolas was first and always on alert. He spent months alone behind enemy lines, months tracking a single target. Men like Nicolas were never ambushed, they did the ambushing. Ryland was glad to have the man guarding his back.
Nicolas put his fingers in his mouth and whistled, a peculiar high-low sound that carried on the wind. Ryland spun around and ran to his right, toward the shore and Jeff.
Jeff Hollister immediately glided for shore, hitting shallow water on the run, automatically scooping the board beneath his arm as he ran toward them. “What are you doing here?”
“Bringing you home.” Ryland in
dicated the relative cover of the nearest cliffs, away from the open dunes. He dropped two paces behind Hollister, covering his back.
“Cowlings is here somewhere, I’ve spotted him twice watching me.” Hollister flung the board out of the way, sprinting barefoot down the beach. “You shouldn’t have come, Captain, I can’t go back. I don’t want to live my life brain dead.”
“Save your breath,” Ryland snapped. “And run like hell.”
The whistle cut through the air a second time, a single note this time. Ryland leapt on Jeff, tackling him, throwing his body onto the sand. Ryland landed on top, shielding him as bullets thudded into the sand just ahead of them. He had no idea of the effect of dream death on the physical body—but he feared the results. They both rolled toward the pounding waves and came to their feet on the run. Neither looked back, they sprinted, zigzagging to make themselves more difficult targets.
“Now!” Ryland gave the order just as the whistle cut through the air again. Both men were immediately in the sand, scooting forward, scrambling on their bellies toward cover. Bullets tore chunks out of the boulders just over their heads.
They dove behind the rocks and sank down, forcing their lungs to slow. “You’re not brain dead, you idiot,” Ryland said, affectionately slugging Jeff. “You’re caught in a dream.” He looked around. “Where’s the girl?”
Hollister laughed. “She was here until I spotted that frog Cowlings. I knew something was up when he didn’t make his move on me. I realized he was here to kill me. When he waited, I figured he thought you’d show up.”
“He didn’t count on Nicolas.” Ryland grinned, pulled a gun from inside his shirt, and handed it to Jeff. “If you had a brain in the first place, you would have realized you couldn’t be brain dead or you wouldn’t have been able to figure all that out.”
Jeff bellied down and wriggled through a shallow depression between two rocks to take a cautious look. “Look who walked into a trap.” He fired off three rounds quickly and used the time to secure a better position behind a larger, flatter boulder that afforded him more of a view.
Ryland was watching him carefully. They were in a dream, but Jeff was no longer remembering he was dreaming and he was dragging one leg.
“It isn’t an ambush if you know they’re waiting. No one escapes Nicolas when he’s hunting. We just have to picnic here for a short while and let him do what he does. Cowlings didn’t know Nicolas could dreamwalk.” Even as he was speaking, Ryland was crawling away from Jeff Hollister to put distance between them. The trap had been set for Ryland. Had Ryland not come to bring Hollister back, Cowlings would eventually have made his move against Hollister.
Bring Jeff out, Kaden. Pull Jeff out. Ryland gave the order through the telepathic link with his second-in-command. Jeff had created the dream so his leaving would add the burden of sustaining the dream to Ryland.
Hollister let out a small cry of protest, but the combined force of all the men was stronger than his will. Jeff felt the soft mattress beneath his back and waited for the mind-numbing pain. He opened his eyes cautiously. Lily Whitney bent over him, speaking softly, asking him a dozen questions, all the while occupying his mind to prevent him from thinking about the possibilities of brain damage.
Can you take him out, Nicolas? Ryland felt a sudden surge of energy in the air around them. Watch yourself, he’s trying to project.
I need to get closer.
He’s on the move. He’s running. The wind rose suddenly, ferociously, creating an instant sandstorm. Ryland swore and scuttled across the ground, changing positions quickly, the sand stinging his skin. He kept his eyes closed, but allowed his senses to flare out across the landscape, searching for waves of energy indicating “hot” activity.
He heard the whine of a bullet but it thunked into the rocks where he had been. At once there was the sound of running steps in the sand. Ryland lifted his head to peer cautiously over the short boulder he was using as cover. Sand stung his eyes but he caught a glimpse of Cowlings running toward what looked like a door. Just before he reached it, Nicolas rose up from the dunes, a knife in his fist.
Ryland felt the instant surge of pure energy, and Cowlings simply disappeared. Kaden! Bring us out now. Now! Nicolas, wake up! He hesitated just long enough to make certain Nicolas obeyed him before following. Behind him the world turned to hell, fire raining from the skies and blowing across the sand, a boiling cauldron of orange and red flames.
NICOLAS and Ryland looked at each other across the safety of the room. “Did you feel that?” Ryland asked the others.
“What was it?” Kaden asked.
“It wasn’t Cowlings. He couldn’t produce that much energy. His telepathic powers are nowhere near that strong,” Ryland said.
There was a short silence. Nicolas stood up, stretched, and went to Jeff Hollister’s side. As he passed Kaden, he clapped a hand on Kaden’s shoulder in a salute of thanks. “What do you think it was?” Nicolas asked Ryland.
“I think someone used Cowlings as a conduit. We’re dealing with energy. There are all kinds of energy.” Ryland looked at Lily. “Who would know how to manipulate wattage or voltage massing in the air?”
Lily sighed. “Someone at Donovans.”
TWELVE
ARE you certain you want to go back here, Lily?” John Brimslow asked. He didn’t shut off the motor, hoping Lily would tell him to turn around and drive her home.
“I have so much work, John,” she said. “I can’t fall too far behind. And don’t worry about picking me up because I left my car here and I can drive home.”
John sighed. “I’m not one to tell you what to do, Lily, but I don’t like this. It doesn’t feel right to me. I know you’ve spoken several times with the investigators regarding your father’s disappearance….”
“He’s dead, John.” She said it quietly.
“What did they tell you?”
“I know he’s dead. I ‘felt’ him die. He was murdered. Thrown off a boat into the ocean. He’d been bleeding heavily so he was nearly gone, but he was still alive when he went into the cold sea.” She rubbed her hand over her face. “Someone from here”—she waved toward the sprawling complex of buildings—“had something to do with his death.”
John’s face flushed dark with anger. “That does it, Lily, you can’t go back into that place. We have to talk to the police.”
“And what are we going to tell them, John? That my father conducted experiments on human beings and opened up a psychic floodgate he couldn’t close? That I connected with him as he was dying and he told me before they threw him overboard that someone at Donovans was responsible? Do you think they’ll believe me—or lock me up? I’d be the hysterical daughter or, worse, the daughter who inherited a fortune when her father disappeared.”
“You already had the fortune,” John pointed out, but he was shaking his head sadly, knowing she was right. “What do you mean conducting experiments on human beings? What are you talking about with psychic floodgates?”
Lily let out her breath slowly to regain her normal calm. “I’m sorry, John, I shouldn’t have said that. You know Dad did research for the military and he often became involved in projects with a high security clearance. I should never have even mentioned that. Please forget it and never say a single word to anyone about it.” It was a measure of her fear and distress that she had made such a blunder. There was a certain innocence, a frailty about John that made her always want to protect him.
“Does Arly know about all this?”
Lily leaned against the seat and looked at the older man, studying his features. Since the disappearance of her father, he seemed older, thinner. “John, you aren’t staying up nights, are you?” she asked suspiciously.
His gaze wavered, fell away from hers. “I’ve been sleeping in the old chair at the bottom of the stairs leading to your wing. I have a gun,” he confided.
“John!” She was startled. She couldn’t imagine John shooting anybody. He might fence with them, an e
legant swordfight. She could see him slapping somebody with a white glove and challenging them to a duel, but she couldn’t picture him pulling a trigger and taking a life. “What in the world are you thinking?” She was touched by his devotion. “Arly has that house so secure, spiders are afraid to spin a web. You can’t be doing that anymore.”
“An intruder got in once, Lily, and I’m not going to lose you. Someone has to look out for you now, and I’ve been doing it nearly thirty years.”
“I love you. John Brimslow, and I’m eternally grateful you’re in my life,” she told him. “There’s absolutely no need to guard me. Truly, Arly went through the house again with all new gadgets. He has a rather large ego and it really upset him that someone made it past all of his little toys.” She grinned wickedly. “I had a lovely time pointing it out to him too.”
“Not nearly as good a time as Rosa had. She chewed him out in two languages and I believe the word ‘incompetent’ came up more than once.” John managed an answering smile at the memory.
“I almost feel sorry for him, but any man thinner than me deserves to be taken down a peg or two. Wish me luck, John, and stop worrying. I’ll be perfectly fine.” Hoping it was true, she kissed his cheek, got out of the car, and walked toward the entrance.
Ryland had been furious with her when he’d learned she was coming to Donovans, arguing and threatening to break back into the facility to keep an eye on her. The man had an extraordinary temper, one that smoldered and burst to the surface like a volcano erupting. He could be intimidating if she was silly enough to let him.
Fortunately it was imperative to get Jeff Hollister to Dr. Adams. They all knew it. Hollister’s right side was weak, one leg in particular unresponsive. There was some numbness in his face and tremors occasionally in his right hand. She couldn’t detect any significant memory problems or speech problems, but she wanted a specialist guiding his therapy. And she wanted to know if the electrodes should be removed or if it was safer to leave them. Jeff needed brain scans and help beyond what she could give him.
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