In the stairwell at the far end of the hall were two sets of steps, the main one leading back down to the second floor, and a narrower, steeper set, tucked around the side of the doorway, that led up to the attic. Slater raced up the latter and into the nook where the attic entrance was located. When he opened the door, it emitted a low creak. He slipped inside and left it where it was, to avoid causing more noise.
As he started across the attic, he heard the woman run into the stairwell below.
Ananke heard a groan ahead. Metal or wood, she wasn’t sure, as it had been barely audible. It had definitely come from beyond the doorway Slater disappeared through several seconds before.
She slowed when she reached the entryway, and peeked through in case he was waiting for her on the other side. No Slater, just a stairwell leading down.
She rushed inside and started down the steps, but stopped before she went far. She should have heard his footsteps either running down the second-floor corridor or on the stairs heading to the ground level. But there were none.
She was about to continue down when she heard a low whine. She looked back the way she’d come, and spotted the narrow, half hidden staircase leading up to a fourth level.
She smiled.
You’re tricky, Dalton Slater. But not that tricky.
Slater worked his way around the junk-strewn attic to a dormer window above his cousin’s suite. It had been a while since it was last opened, so it stuck a little before finally giving way with a squeak.
He slid it up and poked his head out.
Perfect.
Rally had taken the rooms that had been called the Majestic Suite back in Stanhope Lodge’s heyday. Not only did it have two bedrooms and a living room, it also had a spacious balcony that sat ten feet below the window.
He backed through the opening until he was hanging from the frame by his hands, and then dropped the remaining few feet to the wooden deck. The French doors to the suite were locked, but two hard shoves from his shoulder broke them loose.
He rushed inside and ran into the bedroom Rally used. He paused near the foot of the bed, not sure which side his cousin slept on. There was nothing on either nightstand to indicate if one was used more than the other.
Slater went to the left, since that was the side he slept on at home, but the nightstand drawer was empty.
He hurried back around the bed to the right side.
Ananke crept up the stairs to the fourth floor and pushed open the door. Beyond was an attic littered with boxes and bags and other forgotten items.
She spotted Slater climbing through a window farther down the room. The moment he disappeared, she hurried over and peeked out. A balcony was not far below. Though she didn’t see Slater, she did see a door leading back into the building was open.
She climbed through the window and dropped quietly to the balcony.
Slater was not in the main room, but she heard a drawer opening in the room to her right. She moved over to the doorway in time to see him move down the side of the bed. He opened the drawer of the nightstand, and started to pull something out.
All right! Slater grabbed his cousin’s Beretta. Now he could show the bitch who was boss.
He raised it to make sure it was loaded.
One moment it was there in his grasp, the next it was tumbling through the air, accompanied by a geyser of blood erupting from Slater’s palm.
“Now see what you made me do.”
Slater turned to find the woman standing in the doorway.
Slater cradled his injured hand in his arm. Ananke could tell he was in pain, but he didn’t yell. Twice his gaze darted from her to where the gun lay.
“Leave it,” Ananke said. “My first shot wasn’t luck.”
“What do you want?”
“At the moment, nothing except you walking in front of me. Now, come on. We’re keeping the others waiting.”
“I’m not going anywhere with you.”
Ananke walked over until she was just out of his reach. “You are an idiot, aren’t you? We either walk out of here together, or I shoot you in the head and drop you over the balcony. What’ll it be?”
Slater chose to walk.
They exited the building through the kitchen and approached the van, where Dylan was standing next to the open driver’s door. Rally still slumped in the passenger seat, but the driver’s seat was empty.
“Any problems?” she asked.
“None. The kid and Yates are tied up in the back of the van. Had to take out his ankles, though.”
“The kid’s?” she said, surprised.
“What? No. Yates. The kid was more than happy to let me tie him up and administer a little sleeping juice.” Dylan looked at Slater. “Evening, Mr. Slater.” He switched his gaze back to Ananke. “I see he’s still walking.”
“He was on the third floor. I wasn’t going to carry him down.”
“He’s not on the third floor now.”
“Good point.”
Ananke shot the mass murderer in the foot. He dropped to the ground, screaming.
Dylan scoffed. “You could have at least waited until we got him around the back of the van.”
Together they put Slater in with Yates and the unconscious driver, and applied their meager first-aid to the man’s foot and hand. They then bound him with zip ties and shut the back door.
Ananke moved around to the front passenger door and opened it. The half-conscious Rally started to fall out, but she pushed him back into his seat.
She slapped his cheeks. “Hey, pretty boy. Wake up.”
Rally moaned but remained unconscious.
She pinched his nose and put a hand over his mouth.
After a second or two, his eyes flew open. She let go. He sucked in air and then clenched his teeth as he became aware of his pain.
“Hi, Devon,” Ananke said.
“You,” he whispered, his face hardening.
“Yeah, me. I’m so glad you remembered. Look, I know I should have called before coming over tonight—sorry about that. And I brought a few friends with me, too, which was kind of a dick move, I know. Worse yet, we seemed to have ruined your party. I hope you can forgive us.” She snorted. “Just kidding. I don’t hope that at all. Taking you down has been our pleasure.”
He seemed to struggle with how to respond. She tapped him on the cheek.
“Save your energy. Someone will be by to collect you, but it might be a little while. And you don’t want to die before they do, do you?”
She shut the door and turned on her comm. “Liesel, can you read me?”
“Go for Liesel.”
“Where are you?”
“About a quarter mile from the lodge.”
“Ricky and Rosario?”
“With us. And Tasha and the others also.”
“Any injuries?”
“Not one.”
Now that’s what Ananke called a successful mission. “We’re all done. We’ll be waiting for you.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
While Liesel and her group made their way to the lodge, Ananke and Dylan searched it for keys to the cars in the parking area. They came up with three sets, which meant more than enough seats for everyone.
There were hugs and smiles among the team once everyone was back together. Ananke even allowed Ricky a quick embrace. For the most part, the former captives looked both relieved and stunned at the turn of events, while Tasha looked elated as she clutched Morgan.
“The FBI will show up here soon,” Ananke said to the freed prisoners. “They’re going to want to talk to all of you. If you’d rather not, let me know now and we’ll make alternate arrangements.”
The young Hispanic guy who’d been introduced as Eduardo raised his hand.
“Okay,” she said. “I’ll see that they don’t get your name and—”
“No,” he said. “I’ll talk to them. I want to talk to them. It’s just…there were others who were in the truck with me when I was brought here. A gi
rl named Sonya. I don’t know the others’ names. What happened to them?”
“You haven’t seen them?” Ananke said.
He shook his head.
“There were several people in the barn,” Ricky said. “Maybe she’s there.”
“That’s probably it,” Ananke said.
“Or they could have sold her.”
Everyone looked at Tasha.
“What do you mean?” Ananke said.
“They bring in more people than they need for their…games. The extras, they sell.”
Ananke cocked her head. “That’s what you learned, isn’t it? That’s why they took you.”
“Part of what I learned.”
“Dear God,” one of the former captives said.
“There’s information somewhere about this?” Ananke asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you know how to access it?”
Tasha grinned. “We don’t need to access it. I have a copy.”
A meeting was arranged. The location: a sedan in the parking lot beside the Cache Bar. The time: 2:45 a.m.
Present were Ananke, Rosario, Special Agent in Charge Lisa Franks, and Special Agent Stuart Taylor. It was agreed beforehand there would be no record of the event.
From the agents, Ananke and Rosario learned the incoming shipment of people had been intercepted, and the parties involved rounded up.
Ananke and Rosario gave the agents a rundown of everything they knew about Rally and his cousins, while providing a light-on-details account of what had happened that night in the woods near Stanhope Lodge.
“Incapacitated how?” Franks asked.
“Let’s just say you’ll want medical personnel going in with you. And the sooner, the better.”
“Any deaths?” Taylor asked.
A beat. “Yes. Three for sure.”
Taylor looked at his boss. “A triple homicide? We can’t just let them walk away.”
“You can, and you will,” Ananke said. “We all know that. But if it eases your mind, it would be fair to label anything that happened there tonight as self-defense.”
“Self-defense? Are you—”
“Taylor,” Franks chided. “You say there are witnesses?”
“Yes. They will be happy to tell you everything they know. I’ll text you their location later. There are also others who were taken that are still in Rally’s system and are in the process of being shipped out to buyers as we speak. You’ll need to move fast to retrieve them.”
“How are we supposed to find them?” Taylor asked.
Ananke pulled out the zip drive Tasha had hidden in the leaning dead tree west of the access road to the solar farm. “Everything you need is on here. Plus, enough evidence about everyone who’s ever been involved with Rally and his cousins to keep you busy for years.”
She started to hand it to Franks but pulled it back.
“Just so you know, this isn’t the only copy, so don’t sit on it for too long.” She and Rosario had made a quick stop at the hotel to pick up their bags before coming to the meeting. On the drive to the Cache Bar, Rosario had backed up the data to her laptop.
Taylor’s eyes narrowed. “Are you threatening us?”
“I am.” Ananke held his gaze for a moment. “If there’s nothing else, we have places to be, and you have people in need of a little medical help before you throw them in jail.”
She and Rosario climbed out.
Ananke and Rosario joined the others at Casa de Artisa.
“Hey, look at that,” Ricky said. “They didn’t arrest you.” He had not been in favor of the meeting.
“Any problems?” Liesel asked.
“No,” Ananke said. “But I think it’s better if we don’t stick around.” She walked over to where Tasha and Morgan were standing. “The disk was right where you said it would be. Thank you.”
“You gave it to them?”
“Yes.”
“They will use it, won’t they?”
“I guarantee it.”
Tasha stepped forward and pulled Ananke into a hug. “Thank you for coming for me.”
“It’s what we do.”
Once they parted, Ananke held her hand out to Morgan. “I’m sorry I misjudged you at first. We couldn’t have done this without your help.”
“You weren’t the only one who misjudged.” Morgan bypassed the hand and hugged Ananke, too.
“You should go home and get some sleep while you can,” Ananke said. “I’m sure the FBI will be contacting you in a few hours.”
There were good-byes and more hugs, and then the team was alone.
“Everyone packed?” Ananke asked.
The only one who didn’t nod was Dylan.
“Problem?” she asked.
“No problem, really. I was just kind of wondering…”
“Yes?”
“Well…any idea how long it will be before our next assignment? I mean, there’s no sense in heading home if they’re just going to call us right back.”
None of them had talked about continuing on, but they all looked at Ananke as if they wanted to know the answer.
So did she.
“I guess we should find out.”
She pulled out her phone and called the Administrator.
The Excoms will be back in 2018
And for you Quinn fans,
The Fractured
is due out in late spring!
For updates on new work, sign up for
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About the Author
Brett Battles is a Barry Award-winning author of over thirty novels, including the Jonathan Quinn series, the Logan Harper series, and the time-hopping Rewinder series. He’s also the coauthor, with Robert Gregory Browne, of the Alexandra Poe series.
Keep updated on new releases and other book news, and get exclusive content by subscribing to Brett’s newsletter—click here.
You can learn more at his website: brettbattles.com
And around the internet:
Facebook • Twitter: @brettbattles • Instagram: ikstterb
Also by Brett Battles
THE JONATHAN QUINN THRILLERS
Novels
BECOMING QUINN
THE CLEANER
THE DECEIVED
SHADOW OF BETRAYAL (U.S.)/THE UNWANTED (U.K.)
THE SILENCED
THE DESTROYED
THE COLLECTED
THE ENRAGED
THE DISCARDED
THE BURIED
THE UNLEASHED
THE AGGRIEVED
THE FRACTURED (Coming 2018)
Novellas
NIGHT WORK
Short Stories
“Just Another Job”—A Jonathan Quinn Story
“Off the Clock”—A Jonathan Quinn Story
“The Assignment”—An Orlando Story
“Lesson Plan”—A Jonathan Quinn Story
“Quick Study”—An Orlando Story
THE EXCOMS THRILLERS
THE EXCOMS
TOWN AT THE EDGE OF DARKNESS
THE REWINDER THRILLERS
REWINDER
DESTROYER
SURVIVOR
THE LOGAN HARPER THRILLERS
LITTLE GIRL GONE
EVERY PRECIOUS THING
THE PROJECT EDEN THRILLERS
SICK
EXIT NINE
PALE HORSE
ASHES
EDEN RISING
DREAM SKY
DOWN
THE ALEXANDRA POE THRILLERS
COWRITTEN WITH ROBERT GREGORY BROWNE
POE
TAKEDOWN
STANDALONES
Novels
THE PULL OF GRAVITY
NO RETURN
MINE
Novellas
MINE: THE ARRIVAL
Short Stories
“Perfect Gentleman”
For Younger Readers
THE TROUBLE FAMILY CHRONICLES
HERE COMES MR. TROUBLE
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