The Takeover (4 page)

We flattened ourselves against the wall as I peered through the two women’s eyes and experienced their emotions. With unblocking mortals, it was more a matter of letting them past my shields than breaking into their minds. Their thoughts screamed out at me, as did their conversation. One looked much like Hartley in her white doctor’s coat while the other wore a hairnet. They were talking about food.

“Just two milliliters in Fenton and Shadrach’s food at dinner tonight,” the doctor was saying.

The cook stopped in front of a door leading to the kitchen, her big hand closing around a bottle the doctor handed her. “What is it?” Suspicion filled her mind. She didn’t like this doctor or working here, but she needed the money to support herself and her disabled husband.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with. Just a test we need to conduct without their knowing.” The doctor’s mind told me that the neurotoxin would cause death within twenty-four hours in a regular mortal. An agonizing death as the toxins attacked nerves and caused paralysis, slowly shutting down all the organs in the body. There was no known antidote.

The cook was silently considering not placing the liquid in the food, but she knew she’d end up doing it because she had no choice. The doctors with their tests would know if she didn’t. “All right. But if it tastes nasty, they’ll know.”

“Don’t worry. We’ve made sure it’s undetectable.”

Poison wouldn’t kill Unbounded, but the idea that the doctor would use it made me furious. And vindictive.

The cook opened the door to the kitchen and went inside, while the doctor continued down the hall in our direction. I moved past Ritter and met her as she came around the bend. Her eyes widened, taking in me and my companions with a single sweep. Panic filled her face, and she started to turn.

I debated sending a burst to the doctor’s unprotected mind, but Ritter would disapprove of wasting energy I might need later. Besides, it wasn’t nearly as satisfying. I balled my fist and punched hard. The doctor dropped to the ground, her chest heaving with fear.

“Who are you?” she asked. “What are you going to do? Please don’t hurt me!” Dimitri put a dart in her neck, and she lost consciousness.

Ritter lifted a brow, a question flickering in his eyes.

I shrugged. “I didn’t like her thoughts.”

“Find someplace to stash her,” Ritter told me. “We’ll get the shaft open. Shadrach, you and your friends keep watch.”

While Ritter boosted Dimitri up to work on the shaft located at the top of the wall near where the women had been talking, I dragged the unconscious doctor to a door down the hall. It was locked, but with a regular keyed doorknob instead of one with a card reader. I slipped off my shoes. Touching spots on both heels, thin metal rods slid out. Time to test my breaking and entering skills.

Fortunately, it was a regular lock—one of the kind we’d practiced on almost daily in the past three months of downtime we’d had since the president’s announcement—and in seconds, the lock clicked opened to reveal a simple broom closet. I dragged the doctor inside and dumped her unceremoniously. Kneeling briefly, I pushed my mind into her unconscious thoughts, represented by a lake of cool water and bubbles full of memories. I severed one of the bubbles, taking the memory of our faces, but not the hit. I wanted her to remember that. Satisfied, I stole her key card and left, shutting the door behind me. She wouldn’t begin to wake for at least an hour. If they didn’t find her before then.

The men had the shaft open, and Shadrach was already inside, helping Eden up as Dimitri boosted her. Fenton was next and then it was time for Dimitri. Ritter offered Dimitri the gun, but he shook his head, tapping his case. “I have one of those plastic printed ones in here. I’ll put it together when I get in the vent. Don’t worry. We’ll be fine. Just make sure you and Erin get back here fast.”

“Don’t wait for us,” I said.

Dimitri’s eyes went to me. “Be safe.”

“If Shadrach hesitates, throw him off the roof,” I added.

Dimitri laughed. “For you, I will. With pleasure.”

Ritter boosted Dimitri into the waiting arms of Shadrach and the others. Next, he lifted me up to secure the vent cover in place.

We hurried back down the corridor, passing the commons room where the detainees ate their meals and spent time together. Then came a set of locked double doors. I pulled out the key card I’d taken from the doctor.

Ritter’s grin sent heat to my belly, but I shook my head. “There’s company on the other side. Four.”

“Unbounded?”

“No. Their life forces are bright. Not blocking. There’s a fifth somewhere beyond them who might be.”

“Probably the last Emporium agent.”

“Yeah. It’s strange though. Sometimes he’s bright and sometimes dim.”

“Shadrach said his mind was damaged.” Ritter’s warm hands closed over mine. “Show me.” His mental shield had weakened, leaving a clear opening.

Ritter’s mind was almost as familiar to me as my own. Not like a comfortable pair of pants, but more like a pool of hot, turbulent water that beckoned to me with a promise of adventure and delight, water that completely enveloped and consumed me. It was easy to lose myself in him. Once, that had scared me as much as his obsession with revenge, but now I trusted him more than anyone—with my life and with my heart.

I showed him the life forces from the outside: two bright glows close to the other side of the door and two farther along the hallway. Then I took us inside one of the minds, the one most familiar to me—Dr. Hartley. She was talking to a Jeffrey Callas, who was obviously her superior. She wasn’t attracted to his flaccid red face, or his thinning hair, but she respected the power Dr. Callas wielded and the list of initials behind his name.

Two guards waited down the hall, their gazes averted. Beyond them, the other life force, the one blinking bright and dim, beckoned to my curiosity from behind a doorway.

“When our visitors are finished interviewing Mr. Azima,” Hartley said, “I’ll let them know you have approved their request.”

Callas made a deprecating sound in his throat. “They won’t get anything from the man. He doesn’t know anything or he would have told us by now.”

“I don’t know,” Hartley said. “He still seems to avoid certain questions. Makes me think he’s hiding something.”

“You mean besides the fact that he acts as some kind of empath with the others.”

Hartley wanted to correct him, to say that Shadrach Azima didn’t so much as feel the others’ pain as he did enhance their ability to heal faster, but Callas was sure to receive a promotion after they made history with their work here, and she had her eye on his job. She wouldn’t jeopardize that—or her planned trip to the city of romance.

Hartley’s eyes strayed down the hallway, past the guards to the room at the end where the Czech slept. “What about Bedřich?” she asked. “It’s his turn, right?”

“For the amputation?” Dr. Callas shook his head. “It’ll have to be one of the others instead. Bedřich’s not well; you know that. I don’t want headquarters to get any idea of pulling him from us. He’s the only one we’ve been able to learn anything from about Unbounded.”

“You believe him?” Hartley herself considered Bedřich a raving lunatic, but she wouldn’t let him know that. Most of what they had learned from the Czech had been during fits at night in his room. While in the grip of these outbursts, he destroyed everything inside his apartment and bashed holes in the walls, which was one of the reasons he was off in this wing by himself. The fits always included fearful rantings about an old woman named Delia.

“To a point,” Callas said. “But they’re all hiding something from us. Do the amputation on Eden—half a finger.”

“But it’s Mr. Azima’s turn if we are skipping Bedřich.”

“After interviewing Mr. Azima, they’ll feel a connection to him, and it’ll be better to do it on a stranger. Make sure you inject her with plenty of the new glutein concentrate, so they can witness their miracle in a couple hours. Don’t want to be here all night.”

Hartley joined his laugh without real mirth. She was glad not to do the procedure on Mr. Azima because she secretly liked the man. He was always polite, apologized when he upset her—even when he had a right to be upset—and she was sure he’d had something to do with ending her endometriosis pain. Though he’d touched her only on the arm since she’d been working with him, the pain had vanished completely. As for Eden, she didn’t like the woman at all but wouldn’t take pleasure in hurting her. Hartley had heard Eden crying over a daughter she’d lost, and Hartley pitied her.

Still, this amputation meant overtime and one step closer to Paris.

“I’ll get the OR ready.”

“Make sure Eden is already there and sedated before you allow them in. We don’t want any of Eden’s scenes. Oh, and double the guard.”

Hartley had already planned to do that. Eden could easily take out two guards, even partially sedated. So could Fenton, according to Moroccan officials, though he’d been calm enough here. Still, Hartley and her colleagues were always careful, and any time they moved either Fenton or Eden, they made sure they had a full complement of armed guards. Mostly, that had worked, except for the couple times Eden had sent guards to the infirmary with broken bones.

I found it interesting that the three Emporium agents were addressed by their first names, while Shadrach was called by his last, and usually with Mr. attached. Shadrach’s elegance seemed to hold strong even among his jailers.

“I’ll make sure everything goes smoothly,” Hartley said. “I assume that means you approve the overtime?”

Callus frowned but nodded his assent. “Looks like we have no choice. I’ll have to request additional funding. They can’t expect us to accommodate these visitors without some recompense.”

“I agree.” Hartley noticed that Callas seemed to be waiting for her to leave, and again her eyes went past him down the hall. She wondered why Dr. Callas was here with the guards when he normally only supervised the experiments from his office. But she’d gone there and been redirected to this wing. Maybe his presence here explained the odd data that kept popping up in tests on the Czech prisoner.
No, they’re patients,
she reminded herself.

But Hartley knew the truth.

Ritter and I were just as curious as to Callas’s purpose, so I decided to peek into his mind, but it turned out he wasn’t thinking anything about the Czech or about Eden’s pending amputation. He was musing about his wife, Lilian, and about celebrating their twentieth anniversary. He wanted it to be amazing for her. He knew she would make it so for him—she’d wear that sheer pink nighty and drive him crazy with wanting before she finally let him take it off. Hearing his male colleagues talk, he knew he was a lucky man. His wife might not be as beautiful as his secretary, who had the best legs he’d ever glimpsed on a woman, but Lilian was a far sight better than Hartley, and he and Lilian were matched in the bedroom, which eliminated a world of possible frustration. He planned to work hard to make her comfortable and give her everything she could ever want. Whatever it took.

Callas nodded pointedly at Hartley. “Better get going then.” He turned his back as she reached for the door.

The door where we waited on the other side.

WE HAD ONLY SECONDS TO
react. Our minds already melded, Ritter and I instantly reached the only possible conclusion. Hartley couldn’t be allowed to find that Eden wasn’t there, but at the same time, we had to make sure she didn’t alert Dr. Callas and his guards to our presence before the door completely closed.

We ran, retreating down the hall, with me channeling Ritter’s combat ability, so I could be fast enough. Before Hartley got the door open, we reached another door, where I swiped the key card before we hurled ourselves inside.

Slightly too late. I could see in Hartley’s mind that she’d spotted Ritter’s backside and leg. “Who’s there?” she called. “Seth? Is that you?” Dr. Seth Boulder, she meant, one of the doctors here and her main competition for future promotions.

Her heels clicked toward us in the hallway. Ritter, still linked to me, nodded when he was sure the door behind her had closed and the glow of Callas’s life force was farther away. We stepped out to greet her.

“Oh, there you are,” I said.

Hartley blinked in surprise, but anger replaced the surprise almost immediately. “How did you get—what are you doing here? This is a restricted area.”

“Yeah, well . . .” Ritter moved fast, his arm a blur, jabbing the pen dart from his pocket into her neck. He caught her as she fell.

Seconds later, I was wearing her white jacket as we went through the double doors into the wing holding the Czech prisoner. Dr. Callas was no longer in the hallway and neither were the guards, which I’d expected would be waiting outside the captive’s door.

He’s doing something to the Czech,
I told Ritter through our link. His agreement was more a feeling than words.

We sprinted over the tiled floor, Ritter reaching for the gun he’d taken from the guard. Three mortals weren’t much of a challenge for him, but the Emporium agent was an unknown. We couldn’t predict how he’d react, especially without Shadrach here to make nice for us.