by H. L. Burke
“Oh, yeah, he’s dead anyway.” Cody spun around to face the computer screens again. “Maybe a year ago? Another stroke or something like that. Anyway, it’s his tech, but he never finished it. My guess? You’re dealing with junior, not senior.”
Prism recoiled. “Professor Brink had a son?”
“Son, clone.” Cody shrugged. “I’ve heard it both ways.”
“Clone?” Fade arched an eyebrow.
“That’s what the rumor was. Don’t get me wrong. Supervillains can have game.” He eyed Prism’s baby bump then gave Fade a meaningful glance. “I mean, I guess I don’t have to tell you that.”
Prism’s face heated, and Fade shifted uncomfortably.
“Brink was more the maniacal evil genius type, though,” Cody continued. “For him, cracking human cloning was probably way easier than navigating a first date, you know?”
“I get the idea.” Prism scowled. “But why have I never heard of this guy?”
Cody clicked a few keys and brought up a folder. “Probably because he’s never officially been on DOSA’s radar. He was only a teen when DOSA brought in his father in the 90s. Father and son were in contact, but the kid was always off in fancy boarding schools, not complicit in any illegal activity. His dad was mixed up in enough freaky stuff that I started a file on the son, too, though.” He brought up an image, taken from a distance, of a man of about thirty with curly brown hair, glasses, and a beard. “This is a dated photo, but he’s been low profile since his dad’s stroke. DOSA tried to lure him in to finish his father’s work—I think they suspected that Senior was sharing notes with Junior even back then—but with no criminal record, they didn’t have much of a hold on him.”
“So who is Junior working with, then?” Prism pushed. “Could he really have arranged all this on his own?”
“Let me see the notes Forte took.”
Prism pulled a print out of Tanvi’s research from her pocket and passed it to Thorax. He scanned it, lips moving as he read, then his eyes widened.
“Oh, hell no! I don’t want anything to do with this mess.” He shoved the paper back at her.
Prism’s face fell, but Fade gave a sly smile.
“You realize you just made it obvious that you know something,” Fade pointed out.
“Maybe I do, but you’re not pulling me into this.” Cody’s eyes narrowed. “Is this some sort of DOSA trap? Get me to investigate one of your own so that you can catch me in the act and bring me in on trumped up charges?”
A chill crept through Prism. One of our own?
“I swear, I’m simply trying to find out what happened to my brother,” she said. “Look, if this is coming from inside DOSA, I had no knowledge of that. We’re off the record here. You know this area is secure. It’s your safehouse, after all.”
His eyes lit up. “Can I search you for wires?”
“No, you can’t.” Fade drew himself up to his full height. “What you can do is tell us everything you know or else I’ll make sure to blast your current location across every social media platform in existence, even if I have to make accounts to do that. We clear?”
“You’re such a killjoy.” Cody crossed his arms over his chest. “It won’t be the first time me and my bugs have bugged out due to you DOSA types.” A goofy smile captured his face, and he snickered. “Bug out.”
“We get it, and it’s about as funny as you are charming,” Fade said.
Prism stepped closer. “Look, Cody, you said you helped us with Cosmic partially because it was going against DOSA. From what you just said, isn’t this more of the same?”
His mouth contorted. “Yeah, but Cosmic was a lone rogue. This—” He let out a long breath. “Honestly, if this takes him down, I’ll be glad for it, but the more likely outcome is he puts the hammer down on both of you and comes after me next.”
“It’s just between us. We simply need to know where to look next.” Prism clasped her hands in front of her. “Please. This is personal for me. Someone is using my brother to commit crimes. I’m not sure if there’s anything left of Aiden, but even if it’s just his soulless body being puppeted for sinister purposes, I need to stop it.”
Cody swallowed. “Off the record, that company Forte traced the domain registries to, Amun-Ra Incorporated? It’s a front I’ve seen used before. Never for anything illegal, of course. No, even with his shell companies, he’s too careful for that. It’s always for gray area deals that might cost him political face—I’ve never been able to tie it to him concretely, but the business done always benefits the Adjudicator. Always.”
Prism’s heart leaped into her throat. Hearing that it was DOSA connected was bad enough, but someone on that level? As much as she hated the Adjudicator, she’d at least trusted that he was on the right side of the law, that he wouldn’t do anything illegal. If the Adjudicator was corrupt, could she trust Glint, who he’d handpicked for the committee? Shepherd who had worked with him for so long? Even Talon?
Talon said they’d let me know if they found anything. If he’s working this case from the other side, is he getting close to finding out the Adjudicator is behind it?
Prism slipped out her phone and texted Talon: Any news regarding the attack? Regarding Aiden?
The reply popped up almost immediately: No. Video footage all inconclusive. No leads. Sorry.
Her stomach clenched, and she shoved her phone into her pocket again. “I need to get to DC.”
Chapter Eleven
“You sure you want to go in guns blazing?” Fade murmured as they rode the elevator up through DOSA’s DC headquarters.
“No, I’m going to approach the subject delicately, pretending like I don’t know anything, to see if they’ll come clean, even a little bit.” Prism’s fists tightened. “But if they feed me lies, I’m going to make sure it blows up in their faces.”
“Even Talon?” He slipped his hand into hers.
Prism closed her eyes. Talon had been a friend of her father’s and often an advocate for Prism herself. He’d been at her graduation party, her father’s funeral, and many family dinners when she was growing up. The idea that he, of all people, could be deceiving her twisted the knife that had lodged in her soul when she’d seen Aiden on the villain team.
The elevator doors slipped open. Prism squared her shoulders and stepped into the reception area beyond.
Behind a desk, a woman with silver hair, tied back in a tight bun, looked up, eyes wide.
“Prism, Fade, you aren’t on the appointment list for today.” Christy, Talon’s long-time administrative assistant, served as the gatekeeper to Talon and the rest of the committee.
“We don’t have an appointment, but we found out something about the attack on the DOSA banquet, and we need to speak with him—and the other committee members if at all possible,” Prism said.
Christy’s face pinched. “I’m afraid it won’t be, at least not anytime soon. The committee is scheduled for meetings all morning and most of the afternoon. If you are able to wait, I can get him a message when they break for lunch and see if he can fit you in sometime around—” She opened up a file on her computer, squinted at it for a long moment, then said, “Maybe three?”
“This is urgent. I tried to get a hold of him on his private line, but he’s not picking up.”
Or he’s ignoring me.
Christy looked towards the inner offices and boardrooms. “Unless it’s a matter of life and death, I’m really not comfortable interrupting their meeting—”
Fade let go of Prism’s arm and wandered towards the large windows overlooking the bustling city.
Christy eyed him. “But as I said, I can talk with him about a meeting later this afternoon.”
A rock formed in Prism’s gut.
“Hey, Luce, check this out. I think I can see a labradoodle down there,” Fade called from the window.
Confusion flooded Prism’s mind, and Christy’s brow furrowed.
“Excuse me,” Prism murmured. She sidled up to Fade. �
��What are you doing?”
“How much do you want to get into that boardroom, and are you willing to make a scene to do so?” he asked in a low voice.
Her breath caught in her chest, but she gave a curt nod. “I’m way past caring about scenes.”
“Good, make some excuse to get away from Christy then follow me.”
Prism turned away from her husband. “We would like to try and make that three o’clock appointment, but before we set that up, I need to use the restroom. If you’ll excuse me for a minute?”
They left the reception area for a side hall leading towards the nearest restroom.
Fade snorted. “Thanks for choosing an excuse that makes me look like a weirdo who follows his wife to the bathroom.”
“You’re just that devoted to me.” She winked. “We really need to talk about your co-dependence.”
“Yeah, that’s me, unable to function without the light of your presence.” They walked a little down the hall, Fade tracing the wall with one hand and taking even steps. “Okay, so from my previous visits to this building, I’m pretty sure the big boardroom where they have most of their important meetings is right through here.” He placed his palm against the wall. “Last chance to tell me this is a bad idea. You’ve never really been on DOSA’s naughty list before. Sure you want to start now?”
Prism’s mouth formed a firm line. “Being DOSA’s star pupil isn’t getting me anywhere this time. Let’s do this.”
“I always knew you had a little villain in you.” He chuckled. Wrapping his arm around her waist, he surged his power into her. Her whole body tingled with his distinctive energy as they stepped forward, through the wall. For a moment the wall muffled her senses, then they broke free into a well lit space with a long, shiny table and a dozen black leather chairs. In the four seats at the far end of the table sat the four committee members.
Talon, who was at the head of the table, facing them directly, dropped his coffee. Shepherd gave an exclamation of surprise and stood halfway out of her chair, while Glint dodged the splash of coffee with speed Fleet would’ve had to admire.
The Adjudicator went rigid, glaring daggers at the intruders.
Prism squirmed, feeling for a moment like a kid caught out after curfew, but she kept her expression stony.
Glint dabbed at a few stray drops of coffee on his uniform front, cursing under his breath, before seeming to notice the others were all staring at the opposite end of the room. He looked up, started, and smiled. “Prism, Fade, how did you two get in here?”
“Illegally,” the Adjudicator growled.
“Easy, Frank,” Talon soothed. “Last I checked interrupting a meeting isn’t a crime—though I’ll admit, it’s irregular.”
Prism freed herself from Fade and strode forward.
“I’m sorry for the intrusion, but we found something out about the banquet attack that can’t wait,” she said.
The Adjudicator’s lips curled in anger. “What are you even doing investigating that? It’s not your assignment.”
“I told you, Prism, if we found anything, I’d be sure to tell you,” Talon said.
“And did you find out anything?” Fade asked, stepping to her side. “Prism told me that you said the security feeds were all unusable. Are you going to release them?”
“That shouldn’t be necessary,” Shepherd stated.
“So you saw no sign of Aiden Powell anywhere on those tapes?” Fade persisted.
Glint’s gaze dropped to the table, and Talon glanced at Shepherd out of the corner of his eye.
“No. For the most part there were no clear shots of the attackers,” Shepherd said.
The hair on the back of Prism’s neck prickled. “Really?”
“You aren’t in any place to question the integrity of this committee, Powell.” The Adjudicator shot out of his chair. “Not after you disobeyed our direct orders in continuing to investigate then barged in here, uninvited, like a criminal.”
Anger boiled in her stomach, and she took a step forward. “I know about Amun-Ra Incorporated and Professor Brink’s son.”
The Adjudicator blanched, then his expression hardened. “Am I supposed to know what that means?”
“It means that we traced the supposed foundation that took charge of Aiden’s body to a shell company you’ve been known to use in the past, so whatever happened to him, wherever he ended up, and however he ended up there, you had something to do with it!” Prism gritted her teeth, keeping her eyes fiery and praying that he didn’t call her bluff and force her to admit that all she had was an unstable hacker’s assertion that the company was tied to the Adjudicator and his allies.
The Adjudicator’s face reddened. “How dare you—”
“Frank, drop the bull.” Shepherd rested her face in one hand. “She knows, and I don’t know about the rest of us, but I personally don’t feel like lying to protect you this time.”
The Adjudicator spun to face her. “Shepherd!”
“Look, it’s Prism.” Glint placed a hand on the Adjudicator’s shoulder. “We can bring her in on this, and it won’t go beyond these walls, right?” He eyed Prism meaningfully.
Prism swallowed. That wasn’t a promise she wanted to make, but if it meant they’d let her in on whatever had happened with Aiden— “I’ve been brought in on confidential matters before, primarily in the Cosmic case. I helped the committee cover for the embarrassment her betrayal caused, never gave anything to the press beyond the official statements. Please, this is my brother. You can’t expect me to stay on the sidelines while the possibility exists that he’s out there and needs my help.”
Pain crossed Talon’s face. “Lucia, why don’t you sit down?”
Prism shifted from foot to foot but accepted when Fade pulled out a chair for her then himself sat on the table beside her.
“Well, Frank, this is your mess,” Talon said. “Why don’t you explain it?”
The Adjudicator bristled like a cornered porcupine. “Everything I did was with the approval of the committee. If there is any culpability—”
“We get it, but this isn’t the time to be political. It’s time to come clean, otherwise things will get far worse before they get better,” Talon prompted.
In response, the Adjudicator’s mouth clamped shut with an audible click.
Glint gave Prism an apologetic smile. “I’m sorry, Prism. Honestly, I was only read into the situation after the banquet attack.”
“I believe you.” Prism then focused on Talon. “And you?”
The older man sighed. “I knew the general details of the project that the Adjudicator’s team was working on, but not the specifics and not that he’d brought Aiden in as a subject until it was too late to object without doing more harm. With certain things, once started, pushing through is easier than trying to put it back in the bottle, if you’ll pardon the mixed metaphor.”
Her chest tightened, and she instinctively reached for Fade’s hand. “And by ‘project’ you mean Professor Brink’s resurrection experiments?”
“Reanimation or delayed resuscitation, more scientifically. The idea was that if the manner of death left intact brain tissue, if acted upon within a certain time period, life could be restored to a body long after they were beyond the help of traditional medicine.” Shepherd settled into her chair again, dabbing at the remains of Talon’s coffee spill with a handkerchief.
“I’d think you’d be grateful to have your brother involved, but maybe you didn’t want him back,” the Adjudicator snapped.
“First and last warning.” Fade jabbed a finger in the Adjudicator’s direction. “You’ve already caused my wife enough pain with this fiasco. I need very little excuse to make good my threat from the banquet, understand?”
“You’re a little outnumbered here, Curran.” The Adjudicator stuck his chin at Fade.
“Look around you. Do you think anyone in this room would lift a finger to stop me at this point? I’m not the only one ticked off with you right now.”
The Adjudicator’s focus flicked from Talon’s disappointed visage to Shepherd’s steely expression before settling on Fade once more, his glare sullen.
Prism’s shoulders slumped. After Aiden’s death, if she’d been aware of a program that could’ve revived him, perhaps she would’ve jumped at it, begged for him to be included even... but the choice should’ve been hers. “Did the experiments work?”
“Yes and no.” Talon rubbed his forehead. “The last report we received from Brink, before he went rogue—”
Prism’s hold on Fade’s hand tightened. Went rogue?
“—was that the subjects were revived but lacked higher brain function. Essentially braindead. Professor Brink made several attempts to restore their neural pathways, but as of roughly a year ago, he had failed to do so. That’s when things blew up in our faces.” Talon cast a look at the Adjudicator. “Are you sure you don’t want to take over the telling at this point, Frank? I can’t imagine my spin on events will be your cup of tea.”
The Adjudicator grunted and plopped down in his chair. “When it became clear to me that Brink wasn’t making any significant progress, I ordered him to pull the plug, both on the experiments and the subjects.”
The subjects. One of those subjects is my little brother.
“He ...” The Adjudicator grimaced. “He didn’t take it well.”
Shepherd rolled her eyes. “Understatement of the year.”
“He disappeared, shortly after. Along with all his subjects and a good deal of his equipment,” the Adjudicator said quickly.
“By disappeared, I’m assuming you mean literally?” Fade put in. “Like he did a magic trick or used some sort of previously unknown portal creating superpowers to poof himself out of there? Not that you were stupid enough to allow an evil genius working with the body of at least one celebrated DOSA hero to work unsupervised to the point that he was able to pack up his lab and the braindead bodies of multiple test subjects without you noticing?”
The Adjudicator’s fists clenched. “Watch it.”