Cloud Dust: RD-1 (15 page)

"I was. Still intend to be."

Can you hear me?
I sent in his direction.

"I hear you fine," he said. "I didn't think it
was possible," he breathed.

"Good," I said. "If I send a message and tell
you to get the hell away from wherever you are, will you listen?"

"I will after today."

"Awesome. We don't need anybody else dying at the hands
of those fuckers."

"Corinne, I admit that I would love to study you now,
although I doubt you'd cooperate."

"True. I wouldn't. You might regret it, too."

"Why would I regret it?"

"Because I would beat you into a greasy stain on the
carpet," Rafe released the shield about himself and sat next to me with a
grin.

"Holy fucking shit," Richard Farrell muttered.

* * *

"When did you discover you could make yourself
invisible?" Richard Farrell walked with us around the perimeter of the
villa grounds.

"When Corinne told me it was possible," Rafe
replied. "I had no idea."

He hadn't—I'd told him before he left for Dublin. I didn't
want him hurt if I could help it. The shield might not hide him from thermal
cameras, but that remained to be seen.

"You think I'm safer here at the moment?" Richard
asked.

"For now. I'm not sure you can avoid captivity," I
said. "At the moment, they're not sure where we are. You leave, they'll
pick up your trail somewhere unless you're very careful."

I watched him as he processed the information. If he hadn't
tested the drug on himself, first, years ago, he'd probably be dead. He was one-hundred-six
years old and looked seventy-five years younger than that. His face and hair bore
the wind-burned look of someone who'd been working in Antarctica until a few
days before, but he still appeared too young to have numerous degrees behind
his name.

Seeing him had given me information on the drug itself, and it
was frightening. I shoved it aside—if I thought too much about it, I'd have the
mother of all panic attacks. Even he didn't know everything about it, and that
in itself was frightening enough.

"I hope you know that I wanted to halt the Program after
the first volunteers died. That was taken out of my hands."

"You don't have much love for the previous occupant of
the White House, do you?" I asked.

"None. I begged him to stop, but he already had the
product and ordered the study to continue, with or without me. The only reason
I stayed with it was to protect the ones I could—the ones who survived. When
President Sanders was elected, I didn't feel quite as obligated—she wanted to
protect the survivors as well. That's why I went on my Antarctic expedition—to
clear my mind."

"Any luck with that?" Rafe asked.

"Not much."

"You thought that since the animal trials were
successful, and your first human recipient—you—was a success, you felt it was
safe to give to others," I said.

"Yes. That turned out to be the biggest mistake of my
life. You have no idea how much I regret that. It was simple enough—we found by
trial and error, almost, that an older animal would become young again. When I
tested the drug on myself, I discovered it had other benefits."

"What benefits?"

"I can heal many illnesses. Sadly, I cannot heal anyone
who is destined to die after taking the drug. I tried that. It didn't
work."

"Has Colonel Hunter given you information on those sent
to eliminate us?" Rafe asked. "Several of them appear to be
clones—exact replicas, down to their fingerprints."

"That is frightening," Richard murmured. "Do we
still have the bodies? Might I have a look?"

"I believe you should ask," I said.

* * *

Notes—Colonel Hunter

"I'd be more than happy to let you examine them. The
President ordered that the bodies be held without further examination until she
found someone she trusted," I said. Richard Farrell sat in my office, asking
questions after having a conversation with Corinne.

I shouldn't have been surprised.

"We have one other we captured alive, but he refuses to
talk," I said. "We can't identify him, either, but so far we haven't
found any replicas of him."

"I'd like to take a look," Dr. Farrell said.
"At all of them."

"You're hired," I said. "How soon can you
start?"

"Immediately, although I'll need equipment and supplies
to run tests."

"If you can solve this riddle for us, I think you can
have anything you want."

* * *

Corinne

It's amazing what can be accomplished in a short time with
sufficient motivation. Dr. Farrell had a makeshift lab built in the villa's
garages in less than a week. During that time, I knew Nick was closing in on
Becker and Gene.

I hoped he'd call for help if he needed it. Auggie hadn't
asked me for a report in the last six hours, although I could tell he was
getting fidgety. After a brief training session, Maye had been sent to work at
the Smithsonian.

She was equipped with tiny cameras and a wire, which several
people at the villa monitored. She was posing as a staff photographer, who
would be looking for ideal candidates among visitors to include in a brochure.
She'd be backed up by several agents, too, who'd come running if she spotted
the quarry. I had the idea that Mary Evans would show up, I just didn't know
how or when at the moment.

"Bodies just arrived," Ilya said, pulling a curtain
back and peeking through the blinds on one of our windows.

"Great. I really don't want to see them, but if it's necessary,"
I shrugged and kept typing. Yes, I was back to writing the book, but I'd hit
the backspace key more than I'd typed words in the past three days.

More than anything, I wanted answers to the puzzles we'd been
handed to solve, but without the proper people, I couldn't get to them.

Dr. Farrell agreed to keep Ilya's invisibility trick
secret—for now. If the enemy learned of it, they'd know to look for ways around
it.

"Ilya?" I stopped typing.

"Cabbage?"

"I think Auggie's about to be hit with divorce
papers."

"Not good."

"Very not good. I understand how his wife might be tired
of being alone all the time, but this isn't the best time for him to have that
pain in his life."

"Should we tell him?"

"Honey, that's a terrible idea."

"What about Dr. Shaw?"

"I don't know," I leaned my head back and moaned.

"I know this troubles you, but it is not your difficulty
to sort."

"But if Auggie is distracted, we have a problem."

"Possibly," he agreed. "What about Nick?"

"I think tonight's the night."

"I will be quite interested to see if he survives
this."

"That makes two of us."

"How long before we can couple again?" His fingers
dropped to my temples and rubbed them gently.

"I don't know. Maybe you should e-mail Leo. I don't have
a headache at the moment."

"I don't wish to be the reason you get one."

"Who do you think is sending assassins after you?" I
asked. He pulled his hand away.

"Baikov. If he suspects I still live, he will do his best
to kill me."

"That means that some of those dead guys could have been
sent by him?"

"Yes, although it would be difficult to say how he
received the information that I live."

"What if Cutter managed to get a message to him—through
Mary Evans and her boss?"

"Such information would command a very high price. I
suspect that the Ambassador's death is tied to the same information. He paid
guards and cleared the way for my escape from prison."

"He was a friend?"

"Yes. Unlike others I have been forced to associate with,
he was trustworthy."

"I'm sorry your friend is dead."

"Many others have died searching for the truth of this,
and even with your formidable talents, we have not found an answer," Ilya
said. "We have the secondary players, but the primary? We have no clues.
We do not know what he wants, other than to create fear and panic."

"What will Cutter's backers do with the information
locked in Becker's blood?" I asked. "If Nick gets to him tonight,
will it be too late? I worry that they have a large enough sample to do
whatever they want and no longer need him or Gene."

"Gene should have realized that he was worthless to them,
except to convince Becker to defect from the Program. He is no longer
useful." Ilya's hands were back and lifting my top. His fingers went to my
breasts, where they tweaked my nipples through the thin fabric of my bra.

"Wow, espionage and foreplay at the same time," I
said.

"Shhh," he whispered and pinched my nipples
carefully while kissing my neck. "You will let me know if your head hurts.
Immediately."

"Are you the boss again?"

"Very much so."

* * *

Notes—Colonel Hunter

I'd been worried that it could happen for a while, but now the
evidence was presented in a private e-mail from her hired attorney. Laci wanted
a divorce, citing incompatibility.

I realized that a spouse should expect their partner to be a
partner. A part of me felt relief—we'd been growing apart for a while. Another
part felt anger—I always provided for her. She never wanted children, so we
didn't have any.

I needed a lawyer.

I didn't mind letting her have the house or most of the other
things, but it needed to be as civil as we could make it.

Divorces are always messy
.

A friend told me that, once.

I didn't have time for this
.

I'm sure Corinne could have told me how many complications
swirled about us, and I'd never told Laci how close we'd come to getting killed
in London and Edinburgh. She only knew that she'd been forced out of the house
and sent to her mother's in Pittsburgh.

Maybe she didn't care that my life was in danger. I wanted to
pick up the phone and ask her if she still loved me.

I couldn't do that.

"Fuck," I muttered and started a new file on my
computer, simply labeled
Divorce
.

* * *

Nick

The house was on fire. Gene and Becker were dead inside it.
Cutter and two guards managed to shoot their way out and escape in a bulletproof
SUV. I had a graze on my shoulder to show for it.

The problem? Cutter knew I was alive. Probably guessed that
reports of my death, along with the others, was just a sham—an attempt to fool
him and his cronies. I watched as the roof caved in with a crash and another, lower-level
window blew out, raining glass on the lawn.

I smiled grimly. The property was located far from any town,
didn't have a fire hydrant close and would burn to the ground before anyone
could arrive to help. Gene and Becker would be blackened, useless corpses when
they were pulled from the debris.

"Ready?" Davis gave me a nod when I spoke. We loaded
into his Range Rover and took off in the opposite direction. I figured we'd
need Corinne's help to get Cutter, and I didn't want to place my friends in more
danger than they already were by trying to track him myself.

I'd call Jeff first, to see whether I'd be welcomed back to
the villa or if a cell waited for me, instead.

* * *

Corinne

I knew the minute he showed up in the downstairs kitchen for
dinner, instead of going to the one over the garages.

Auggie's wife had asked for a divorce.

"Here," I set a plate of spaghetti in front of him
and went to get another plate for myself. Rafe gave me a slight nod and placed
a generous slice of garlic cheese bread on Auggie's plate.

We ate in silence for the most part. I didn't tell Auggie that
the house where Becker, Gene and Cutter had been staying in a remote area of
Utah was burning, or that Cutter managed to escape but Gene and Becker never
made it out. That could wait until later.

Actually, I expected Nick to give Jeff a call, which would be
transferred to Auggie afterward. Nick would tell Auggie that most of the job
was finished and then ask if he could come home.

I figured Auggie would say yes, with the promise of a stern
talking-to when Nick got back. Nick probably expected that much at the very
least.

Ilya
, I thought at him,
Cutter just became more of a
liability
.

Chapter 14
 

Notes—Colonel Hunter

"Nick, are you sure they're dead?" I asked.

"Yes, Colonel Hunter. I made sure of it. The guards there
protected Cutter and got him out of the house, but I think I winged him before
they drove off."

"Then I'll have the FBI take charge of the bodies—they'll
be brought here," I said. "How long will it take for you to get
back?"

"Not long, if you arrange for transport."

"Where are you now?"

"Outside Provo."

"Then I'll make arrangements. I hope you don't mind
driving instead of flying. Will you be at this number when I call you back?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. I'll call you back in fifteen." After ending
the call, I shouted for James.

"Sir?" He appeared in my doorway.

"Get Corinne and Rafe in here."

"Right away."

* * *

Corinne

I felt sorry for James—Auggie was working late, therefore
James was also working late. Rafe and I walked in after James called us, and
took seats in Auggie's office.

"I got a call from Nick," Auggie said immediately.
"Becker and Gene are dead and probably pretty toasty by now. Nick burned
the house down around them, but Cutter got away. Any idea where he might be,
Cori?"

"On his way to Canada in a small plane, if he isn't
already over the border," I shrugged.

"Tell me why we ought to keep him alive." Auggie's words
surprised me.

"The only reason for him to still be breathing is that he
may know how to contact the one who's orchestrating all of these things,"
I said.

"I want him dead," August huffed. "I don't care
where he dies, I want him dead."

"Will the President implicate him in the Sacramento
bombing?" Rafe asked.

"I don't know." Auggie dropped his face in his
hands. "She should, but we still don't know who's funding his activities.
We've hit a wall on the money—it's likely coming from offshore accounts."

"Not good," Rafe said.

"There are other complications, too," August sighed
and dropped his hands to blink at us. "The President is scheduling a trip
to Sacramento for a memorial service. She intends to speak at the service, then
meet privately with the Governor afterward. I'm going, too, and I want both of
you with us when we go."

* * *

Notes—Colonel Hunter

"Shaw, I'm naming you my second-in-command," I said.
I'd asked him to meet me for a drink in what we'd come to think of as Corinne's
kitchen. She had some fine Scotch there, so I poured for both of us. "If
anything happens to me, then you're in charge of the Program until the
President says otherwise."

"If anyone else asked, I'd refuse," Shaw said,
lifting his glass in a toast. "Cheers."

"Why?" I asked after downing my first shot and
pouring another.

"Because I haven't trusted anyone before you who's been
in charge of the Program."

"Even Safer?"

"Come on, Safer never intended to be in charge. He liked
where he was. Did you talk to him about this?"

"I did. He said he'd be happy to step aside now, as he
has full confidence in you."

"That's good to know." Shaw emptied his glass and
held it out for more. "Corinne has good taste in Scotch."

"And the money to buy the good stuff," I agreed.
"She asked James to order a case of this right after we moved in here.
Probably realized we'd need it."

"How much would a case of twenty-five-year Macallan cost,
anyway?"

"Corinne doesn't seem to care about that."

"Right now, I'm glad. This is really good."

"I sent a list to you already, of things I'd like for you
to do in certain circumstances if you find yourself in charge," I said.
"Let me know if you have a problem with any of them."

"I will."

* * *

Corinne

"I hate packing," I said. "I hate dresses
more." Our suitcases were spread across the bed, both in various stages of
packing.

"You look good in them, cabbage."

"Right. I hope we won't need this thing," I shook my
head after stuffing the dress bag into my suitcase. Heels followed, as did a
new wig, a contacts case and a makeup kit. I'd have to wear the wig and
contacts while appearing in public with Madam President, but I hoped there were
no events requiring a dress.

Sacramento would be warm enough in late spring so I wouldn't
need a heavier jacket. Ilya had to pack his dark suit and tie.

"Too bad we can't stay a few nights in San Francisco—I
love it there," Ilya said.

"Why, you little spy, you," I turned and tickled his
ribs.

"What's not to love about clam chowder in a sourdough
bread bowl?" he grinned.

"I wish we could go, too. By ourselves. Just to do
touristy things and eat and sleep late in a nice hotel."

"Someday, we will do those things."

"Honey, I hope you're right."

* * *

Six o'clock comes early, when you have to get up at five and
get ready to drive to the White House, after which you have to take a
helicopter to an airbase and fly from there to California.

"Corinne, you look tired," Auggie said when we
walked toward Air Force One.

"Early mornings," I mumbled. "No
Starbucks."

"There will be coffee on the plane." The President
walked past us, flanked by Secret Service agents. "Breakfast, too."

Most people might have apologized to Madam President. Or
thanked her.

I wasn't in the mood.

On any given day, who's to say who is more important than
those who surround them? We both had jobs to do. Some people are just more
cheerful than others early in the morning. I'm not in the cheerful camp.

"Cabbage," Rafe cautioned.

"Yeah."

When the President was far enough ahead, Auggie snickered.

"Auggie," I warned.

"Yeah."

* * *

"Where did that come from?" August read what I typed
over my shoulder while we flew over Chicago.

I worked on my book while Rafe sat beside me and Auggie held a
cup of coffee in his hands and read what I typed.

"This is my fancy tablet," I said. "James
ordered it for me. It's not as heavy or as big as a laptop, and the cover is a
keyboard. It fits in my purse," I added.

"James has an ulterior motive," Auggie said.
"He wants the ending on that book."

"I'm working on it," I said. "It keeps me from
worrying about other stuff."

"Anything I should be concerned about?" Auggie
asked.

"I sure hope not," I said.

* * *

The first thing on our agenda when we arrived in Sacramento
was to go to the bombed capitol building with the Governor. It was time to pull
on my wig so I could appear in public with Madam President.

Rafe and I had gone blond for this event, and not by choice. I
figured James' fantasies probably played a role in the choice of hair color,
but I didn't say that.

News crews packed a nearby parking lot as we drove into the
designated area at the ruined capitol building. We had half an hour scheduled
there before we loaded into the vehicle again and drove to the memorial
service.

"Cori, are we being watched?" Auggie said beside me
as we walked a few discreet steps behind the President and the Governor.

"By millions," I gave the obvious answer. "If
you mean are we being watched by somebody who wants us dead, well, I think
that's a given. I just don't feel them close," I added.

"Good. Let me know if that changes."

"Will do."

I'd already checked the Secret Service agents and the guards
with the Governor. So far, so good. They were doing their jobs and weren't bent
on destruction.

The capitol building was a mess; Ted Ryan and his cohorts had
orchestrated the bombing so the dome would fall, leaving a gaping hole in the
building. The whole structure was considered unstable, and I wondered if they'd
be able to save much of it.

The Sacramento Police and Fire Chiefs joined the President and
the Governor as we approached the front steps—those were still intact, leading
the way to a gaping ruin.

* * *

"I don't care what she looks like, that's her,"
Cutter pointed at the woman following the President.

"The witch?"

"Yes. That's her."

"As far as I'm concerned, there are two witches there.
You know where a woman's place is, and it isn't the White House."

"I can't get close to her; she'll recognize me,"
Cutter sighed. "I'd love to take her out, though. There's no way she and
the others should have survived in London."

"The death of the Secretary of State should have sealed
the deal," Cutter's companion agreed. "You should be on your way to
the presidency. Instead, you managed to lose the source and you're on every
watch list the FBI, CIA and NSA have."

"The house was burning and Becker was dead. What did you
expect me to do?" Cutter whined.

"Take the fucking body with you."

"Hey, there's no need for that," Cutter held up his
hands as he stared at the gun his companion pulled from a jacket pocket.

"You're of no use to us."

Cutter didn't have time to protest before he was shot three
times in the heart. "Don't worry, we'll take care of the witches. That's our
job," his companion stepped over Cutter's body and headed for the door.

* * *

Corinne

Madam President discussed the rebuilding of the capitol while
Cutter died in a motel room in Canada.

Auggie, Cutter just died
, I said. That was a blow. He
had information I needed, and now it was impossible to get it.

"Who?" Auggie was beside me quickly while Rafe
carefully watched everybody around us.

"I don't know," I whispered. "All I know is
that he was shot. Probably because he was a liability and didn't haul Becker's
body with him when he ran out of the house in Utah."

"Can you tell me where to send the authorities to collect
him?"

"Verbena Motel on the outskirts of Chilliwack, British
Columbia," I said. Auggie stepped away and pulled out his cell. The
President cut her eyes in our direction for a moment before going back to the
Governor's conversation.

* * *

"Auggie, he hadn't been there longer than five
minutes," I attempted to defend myself during the drive to the memorial
service. He wanted to know why I hadn't told him immediately where Cutter was.
The truth was complicated. I needed connections, and dead people generally don't
reveal needed information.

Everything Cutter owned in the U.S. had already been searched,
with no results. What he had that I wanted was in his head. I needed names and
images, and I didn't have those. I didn't expect Colonel August Hunter to
understand that.

Cutter's death left me with Mary Evans and General Baikov. I
no longer had a link to those in the U.S. who were involved. No matter who they
were, though, they had money. Enough to kill a Vice President in an attempt to
take over the White House.

The President sat across from Auggie, Rafe and me, a solid
frown on her face. As pissed as Auggie was, she may have been more so. I had to
work to fight down a panic attack.

"We will discuss this later," Madam President said
as the vehicle swung into the parking garage of a hotel. Police and guards
swarmed the building as we climbed from the car and walked toward waiting
elevators.

Rafe hadn't said a word the whole time, so I waited for his
ass-chewing, too.

* * *

The service lasted three hours. I was grateful nobody shot at
us during that time. Nobody spoke as we loaded into the vehicle to drive to the
Governor's Mansion for the private meeting. I had a feeling Auggie and I were
destined for a private meeting, too.

I wasn't wrong.

"What the fucking hell, Corinne," August exploded
the moment the door shut behind us.

"Sometimes I do know stuff," I said, attempting to
control my trembling. "But I have my reasons, Auggie."

"You will not call me Auggie during this meeting. You
lost that privilege the minute I learned you withheld information." His
anger beat against my bruised emotions, making me want to cower away from him,
and I certainly didn't want to point out that I'd withheld information from the
beginning. He was pissed about many things and I was receiving the brunt of his
fury. Anything else I said would only make it worse.

"You knew where Cutter was in Utah, didn't you?" he
snapped. "We wondered how Nick was able to track him so easily. You gave
him money and sent him straight to the location. If you'd told me, we could
have brought all of them in—Becker included, and yet you take matters into your
own hands."

I had no excuses he would listen to, and I'd already said I
had my reasons. I remained silent and worked to keep my breathing even.
Don't
panic, don't panic, don't panic
, I repeated to myself.

"I'll have a talk with the President and we'll discuss
your punishment on the flight home." August stormed out of the room,
leaving me breathing raggedly and slumping in my chair.

* * *

Rafe didn't sit with me during the flight to D.C. I figured he
was pissed, too—I could tell him where General Baikov was, no problem. What I
needed was Baikov's information, and a dead Russian General did me no good
whatsoever. Rafe intended to kill him the moment he found him, and that would
cause another source of information to evaporate.

I worried that all my resources would end up dead and my leads
would die with them. Fear and exhaustion plagued me during what felt like the
longest plane ride of my life.

* * *

Confined to quarters, my computer was taken away and Rafe
moved himself out of my suite. The worst of those punishments was Rafe's
defection—he hadn't even given me a chance to explain. No, I wouldn't have told
him everything, but he hadn't told me everything, either.