Nexus: Ziva Payvan Book 2 (6 page)
Read Nexus: Ziva Payvan Book 2 Online
Authors: EJ Fisch
Zinni felt as though she had somehow been transported back to three years earlier and was re-living the countless debriefing sessions, disturbing images, and sleepless nights she had experienced then. She followed Skeet out of the holding room in a fog, attempting to process and sort out the load of information she was suddenly buried under. Everyone, including herself, had done their best to shut out any memories of the “incident” after Ziva had been found and the other agents were recovered, but now it was clear that it was somehow still far from over.
Skeet stopped a short distance from the door and let out a deep breath as he ran a hand through his rumpled hair, a nervous habit he had developed over the years. If there was any language besides native Haphezian that Zinni was perfectly fluent in, it was Skeet’s body language. Right now, he was doing the same thing she was: sorting out his overloaded mind. His recollection of what happened to Ziva had been as difficult for him to speak of as it had been for Zinni to listen to. She gave him a few moments to regain his composure.
“Please tell me that little love pat meant you have some sort of plan,” she finally said, arms crossed. She’d been patient for the duration of the interrogation, mostly because she didn’t know anything, but Skeet’s actions had greatly intrigued her.
Skeet ruffled his hair again and refrained from answering until a pair of agents had walked by and cleared the vicinity. “I think I do,” he replied.
“Good. I’d like to think you wouldn’t betray Ziva just to save yourself.”
Skeet’s eyes grew wide. “You know I would never do that!” he snapped. He looked around to see if the two of them were arousing suspicion, then took Zinni by the arm and led her into a nearby alcove.
“Telling Dasaro’s people what they wanted to hear was the only way I could see to
help
Ziva,” he continued, voice still hushed. “If we’d refused, we’d be in just as much trouble and she would be completely on her own. I’m not saying they won’t still have eyes on us, but this way the probability that we can help her is a lot higher. She’ll get her week-long grace period just like any other criminal, and nobody else seems to be on her side so it’s up to us to be her sponsors. If we work fast we might be able to put an end to this…or at least get some closure.”
Zinni understood perfectly but was still less than thrilled with the entire situation. “You can bet they’re going to tell her what you’ve done, if for no other reason than to mess with her mind. Nejdra will no doubt put the fact that you testified on record for all to see.”
“I did not ‘testify’,” Skeet retorted. “You heard the questions they were asking in there; they were clearly setting us up to say exactly what they wanted. Besides, I doubt Ziva will mind too much how we solve this problem as long as we get the job done. The end will justify the means.”
Zinni nodded and massaged her temples as she pondered the situation. “You ever wonder if she actually did it? I want to believe she’s innocent, but…the evidence…”
Surprisingly, Skeet didn’t chastise her for concocting such a negative idea. “I’ve thought about it,” he said after a brief silence. “She’s certainly capable of it, but it would be completely unlike her to have waited all this time. I feel like I would have known if she had something planned. And why would she have left that Shevin kid alive?” He scoffed. “I don’t know – there’s something very screwed up about all of this, regardless of whether she’s guilty.”
“Agreed,” Zinni said. “We can’t let them take her back to Haphor.”
“Even if she killed Tachi, I think I’d still shoot her myself just so she wouldn’t have to endure all of that again.”
Once again Zinni agreed, though she said nothing. The thought was unbearable, but after reading reports and seeing Ziva in the med center three years earlier, she hoped someone would be gracious enough to put her out of her misery if she were ever in her friend’s position.
“Well,” she said, “if they had her in custody before us, she could very well be on her way to Haphor already. Let’s get to work.”
Ziva’s surroundings shuddered and her head rolled forward, jarring her awake from a very poor excuse for sleep. Somewhere around her a man swore, and her world tilted downward. She blinked several times and twisted her head from side to side in a futile attempt at alleviating the crick in her neck. The view in front of her slowly came into focus, and she realized she was riding in the back of an HSP aircar.
The car bounced again, jostled by a powerful gust of wind which accompanied the clouds and rain that had carried over from the previous night. The agent piloting the little craft brought the car out of its dive just above the treetops, and they resumed their journey at a lower altitude where the wind was less violent.
Ziva peered out through the tinted window and recognized the Haphor-Noro traffic lane amid the foliage off to their right; the service road that ran parallel to it was almost directly under them. Traffic on the little bypass was minimal compared to the hustle and bustle of the main lane, no doubt the reason they were taking this route. It was impossible to know exactly how long she’d been sedated, and thus she had no idea how far into the trip they were. Drawing a deep breath, she redirected all her energy to focusing on what she
did
know.
She shared the car with a two-agent escort…odd considering what a high-priority prisoner she was. Her gaze dropped down to her restraints. Rather than shackles linked with a chain, her wrists were secured by clasps fixed to the seat on either side of her. A layer of blue energy reinforcement pulsed over the metal and made her skin tingle. The cuffs were fitted to her as tightly as possible, locked so firmly she could barely make out the seam where they were fastened. Her arms wouldn’t budge when she tugged on them, and the metal was beginning to rub her skin raw. Even if she could somehow release the clasps, the thin force field prevented them from opening fully, and any attempt at disabling the field from where she sat would trigger an alarm on the car’s control panel. Another force field separated her from the agents in the front, an extra security measure they’d implemented in case she somehow got loose. She wasn’t entirely sure what would happen if she touched it, and she had no intention of finding out.
A voice up front derailed her train of thought. “Transport to Checkpoint Fourteen,” the agent in the passenger seat called over the comm. “We are approaching your position.”
For a moment the only sound that could be heard was the thunder of the rain pelting the car’s roof and windshield. Then the comm crackled. “Copy that, Transport. Status report?”
The piloting agent eyed Ziva in the rear cam. “Everything’s under control up here,” he said, waving to the agents on the ground as they passed over. “She just woke up.”
“Roger that. Next check-in in fifteen minutes.”
Checkpoints
. So Emeri had them using a staggered security system rather than a convoy. They would check in with patrols placed strategically on the ground, and if they failed to make contact at the appointed time, agents would be dispatched into the forest to find them. It was a procedure the agency had implemented for special circumstances, usually when the prisoner transfer was in danger of being interrupted by a third party. Ziva doubted the public was happy about Tachi’s death, and it was guaranteed that someone somewhere would want her dead. A single, unmarked transport was much less likely to attract attention than a whole procession of HSP vehicles; the agency was essentially protecting her for the sake of being able to punish her themselves.
Her fogbound mind struggled to do the math as she tried to calculate her precise location. The trip from Noro to Haphor took roughly four hours. If the checkpoints were equally spaced like they were supposed to be, and the next one was fifteen minutes away…
four hours divided into fifteen-minute intervals
…
that’s
sixteen
. Her eyes grew wide. The Haphor Facility itself would represent Checkpoint Sixteen; only one more checkpoint remained before they entered the city.
Ziva stopped and closed her eyes, slipping into her state of deep concentration before the panic could set in. Letting her emotions take control like she had in the interrogation room certainly wouldn’t help matters, and dwelling on that experience would only drag her down further. If there was ever a time she needed to be thinking clearly, it was now.
Though the mountains still commanded much of the view outside, the first signs of civilization could be seen in the distance. Ziva normally found the capital to be a beautiful and peaceful place – at least compared to the rough spaceport city of Noro – but now the idea of going there sent a chill down her spine. She
couldn’t
go there.
Once they entered the city there was absolutely no turning back; any sort of escape attempt would have to happen right after they cleared the final forest checkpoint, and it was also guaranteed to result in injury. She took a moment to study the design of the car. The windshield was large, extending up over the edge of the roof and giving the pilot a clear view of the environment both around and above him. The seat where Ziva sat was built into what would probably be the cargo space if the vehicle were for public use. The back of the car was more enclosed; she had a small window on each side of her, but there was a solid roof over her head and no rear viewport.
You know these agents will probably die if you try something.
She shook her head and closed her eyes again.
Not my problem
.
Your fight isn’t with them. They’re only doing their jobs
.
That was true, after all, and the last thing she wanted to do after being falsely accused of murder was actually kill someone. But she was desperate, and a decision needed to be made. In the event of an…
accident
, she’d be more protected in the back of the car than the two men in the front. Going to the Haphor Facility was not an option, and thus escape was a requirement. Consequently, the injury or death of these agents was inevitable.
My life is currently more valuable than yours
, she thought, convincing herself there was still a chance they’d survive.
It’s nothing personal.
Now for an actual plan. “So what do you guys think about all of this?” she asked, leaning forward under the pretense of carrying on a conversation. She peered through the shimmering wall of translucent blue energy and examined the switches that controlled the force fields and clasps, careful not to stare for too long.
The pilot watched her in the rear cam for a moment and Ziva shifted her gaze up to meet his. “I’m not going to get involved with this, Payvan,” he muttered. “Just sit there and be quiet. You’ve done a good job of it so far.” Then, under his breath, “Damn sedative couldn’t have just lasted another half hour.”
The second agent turned his head and watched her in his peripherals. “To be honest, Lieutenant, I’m sorry things have to end like this. I know you’ve been a great asset to the agency.”
“Shut up, Spence!” the pilot ordered. “Don’t get mixed up in this.”
Both agents returned their attention to the front of the craft and Ziva continued her discreet study of the control panel. An idea hit her, and she stole another peek into the front seat. If the agent called Spence was armed, his holster was on his right side, blocked by the seat. The pilot, however, had his sidearm strapped to his near leg. It appeared to be a standard HSP-issue plasma pistol, and at the right angle…. She looked over the switches again.
That might work.
Ziva leaned back in her seat and drew in a deep breath, releasing it over a count of eight and flexing her stiff fingers a bit. The jungle trees below them were thinning to make way for the ground traffic lanes and structures that became more numerous as they approached the city. Ziva shut her eyes and remained perfectly silent as she listened for the first signs of an incoming transmission.
A lifetime passed before the comm system crackled to life. Ziva had just begun to feel panic encroaching when she heard the voice of one of the agents on the ground: “Checkpoint Fifteen to Transport. How goes the journey?”
The same brief exchange ensued, and Ziva watched as the aircar passed over the checkpoint. She swallowed against the metallic taste in the back of her mouth and closed her eyes once more, taking one last deep breath in preparation for the events that were about to come.
“All right,” said the voice on the comm. “You have fifteen minutes to reach the Facility before a patrol is sent out to look for you.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Spence replied. “I’m looking forward to getting this trip over with.”
“Checkpoint out.”
Eyes still closed, Ziva silently began counting down the seconds until they would be a suitable distance away from the ground patrol. The car rushed along, only meters above the tops of the massive trees. Any landing at this point would be rough, but it would have to do.
A rush of energy surged down her spine precisely a minute later and when her eyes opened, she was focused directly on the pilot’s gun. It suddenly flew from its holster, pulled by the invisible hand of her Nostia. Pain shot through the back of her head as she used her mind to hurl the weapon at the control panel, successfully striking the switches and disabling the force field. The car’s safety harnesses unlocked and retracted, and the clasps around her wrists sprang open. Ziva lunged forward, bringing her elbow around against the head of the unsuspecting pilot. She seized the controls and threw them forward, sending the car plunging into the trees.
Spence swore and hollered something about the force field. He quickly established a firm grip on her arm, attempting to wrestle her out of the cockpit. She fought him off with her other hand, her sore wrists protesting angrily as she slammed his face into the control panel.
The craft ricocheted off of an enormous tree branch, throwing her into the back seat. They were descending head first at one moment, but the next collision with a tree flipped the aircar onto its side and propelled it off in a new direction. Before Ziva knew it, they were upside down – her head snapped back as she hit the car’s ceiling. Indicator lights sparkled throughout the vehicle and emergency alarms wailed as branches tore at the exterior and ripped through the windshield. Dizzy and disoriented, Ziva braced her arms and legs against the wall just as the craft finally met the ground.
Upon impact, her body bounced against the ceiling with a dull
thump
. She lay there for several long seconds with her head pounding, listening to the gentle creaking in the car’s frame and the alarms that had all morphed into a single multi-toned screech. She blinked several times as her vision began to right itself and wiped away a trickle of blood oozing toward her eye. Her neck ached as she twisted her head to look out the window, but she found that it was so cracked and plastered with mud that her view of anything outside was completely obscured.
Coughing, Ziva worked her body around to face the front of the battered craft. She could feel more blood seeping into her hair thanks to a cut somewhere on her scalp, and a pounding ache rendered her left shoulder and elbow numb. In the grand scheme of things, she remained relatively unscathed, and after testing the mobility of her legs, she was reasonably sure she could walk or even run. By the looks of it, however, the other two passengers hadn’t been so lucky. She wormed her way between the two front seats to get a better look.
The pilot was crumpled against the ground, his full body weight bearing down on a neck that was quite obviously broken. Ziva checked for a pulse anyway, and, finding none, turned her attention to Spence. The other agent was in a similar position, though further on his side. He stared out through the open space where the windshield had been, eyes frantic, taking in raspy breaths through the bloody saliva that filled his mouth. His chest was stained a dark crimson where a long shard of glass had embedded itself in his flesh.
She eased herself back into the back seat, this time facing the opposite direction, and began to deliver powerful kicks to one of the windows. Pain pulsed through her ankle as her foot broke through, separating the entire pane of reinforced glass from the frame of the car. Cool, clean air rushed in and Ziva gladly accepted it, allowing herself the luxury of a couple deep breaths before wriggling out into the leaves and mud.
It was no longer raining, but a damp mist rose from the drenched earth and underbrush. She couldn’t see anyone around, but she could hear the occasional vehicle pass by on the service road a short distance away. The crash had carried them far enough that they were safely out of sight of anyone traveling by, but she doubted it would take long for someone to come looking for them. A good chunk of their fifteen minutes had already been spent, and who knew what sort of distress signal could have been automatically sent out during the crash.
Ziva worked her way to her feet and staggered around to the front of the aircar, forcing her sore ankle to bear her body weight. She knelt down and examined the windshield. It was almost entirely broken out, and she could see Spence inside; he appeared to be watching her, but his eyes were out of focus.
“Hang in there,” she said, wondering if he was even coherent enough to hear her. She got down on her stomach and crawled under the nose of the craft that jutted out over the windshield frame, clearing as much of the broken glass out of the way as possible. Her head and shoulders entered the vehicle, and she pulled her arms along until they were in front of her.