Cloud Rebel (R-D #3)(33)

"I think there's a reason we don't have it," I muttered dryly.

"Probably true. I'll let you know if Corinne and Val return."

"Thanks." After ending the call, I dropped my face into both hands and muttered f*ck a third time.

*

Twenty-five Miles Northeast of Kuujjuaq

Near Rivière-Koksoak

Norde-du-Quebec Region

Canada

"Repeat after me—I am Reginald Phillips, former President of the United States."

"Who are you? You keep telling me who I am, but you never say who you are, Doctor," the patient complained.

"Ah, already you display your intelligence," the doctor beamed. "I am Merle Askins, formerly of the CIA, and now in charge of your convalescence. You have undergone surgery to restore your face—you were injured severely in an attack in Washington, D.C."

"Is this how you've always looked?" the patient asked.

"I was also injured. You must excuse my appearance," Askins replied. "I had to undergo a similar recovery, but alas, there was no surgery to restore my features."

"Why do you have a Russian accent?"

"It is nothing, merely a by-product of my injuries. My voice was also affected."

"I don't believe you."

"Ah, my dear Mr. President, why shouldn't you? Who wouldn't want to be the former President of a great nation? Why would I tell you differently if it were not true?"

"For one thing, I believe I'd have a better view out my window," the patient grumbled.

"Ah—but there are those who may still wish you harm. We must protect you any way we can, you know."

"From what?"

"From those currently posing as the government of the United States. You must save the country, Mr. President. I and my colleagues are counting on it."

"Who is that one over there—the one chained to his bed?"

"He is of no concern—he assists us when necessary, but that is all. You will direct his actions soon—when you have regained your health."

"What sort of assistance?"

"Mr. President, he is capable—when ordered, of course—of amazing things. Some might call him a wizard, in fact. Do not worry; he will obey your orders. We keep him well-fed and as happy as we can, except for the chains, of course. Those we dare not unlock, lest he find a way to escape."

"I fail to understand what keeping him will do for us."

"But you will, Mr. President. I assure you of that."

*

Notes—Colonel Hunter

I hoped Matt Michaels was calling to let me know Corinne had come back to the villa. That wasn't the reason for his call.

"I just got word from my team in Dublin," he said. "We have images of a man who looks enough like Zoran to be his twin brother."

"Where?" I sat straighter in my seat, as if that would better prepare me for the bad news coming.

"They lost him," Matt grumbled. "Followed him into a pub and then poof, he was gone."

"You think it's just a coincidence?"

"No."

Most people would have said perhaps, or that there might be a chance, however small. Matt blew right past those possibilities, landing a verbal punch to my already sour stomach.

"Fuck. What are they doing?" I snapped.

"No idea, but it's a cinch the ASD *s who were sent here to track drug survivors aren't worried about the clones running the Russian Program now."

"No, they have their own brand of shit to spread," I responded. "If I could get my hands on the ones responsible for sending them here in the first place," I slapped a hand on my desk.

"Finch and his team are searching the site in Canada, but so far, there aren't any clues or trails to follow," Matt informed me. "I was planning to ask Corinne to help, but after the incident at the beach house, we may not have assistance from that quarter."

"I hope you're wrong," I said. "Without her, we're faced with two sets of enemies we can't handle."

"Understood. Look, I'll call if I hear anything new." The line went dead.

"James," I called out. "Come here." He arrived quickly. "Here," I handed my cell phone to him. "She'll know it's you calling. If she'll answer anybody's call, she'll answer yours."

*

Cloud Chief, Oklahoma

"There's nothing here except abandoned buildings," Brade complained.

"They were here once; our King demanded we search here if nothing was found in Star Cove," Ralvus hissed. A truce between Light and Dark Elemaiya had never occurred before, and he greatly disliked the fact that he and his brothers were the forerunners to what could become a regular alliance.

Everything hinged on the stolen crowns—and their return to the rightful owners. The one who'd taken them—the one calling himself Ir'Indicti? Nothing but an upstart, in Ralvus' opinion. He'd surely had help from some quarter, else he'd never have withstood the power of the Bright Queen and the Dark King.

"There's nothing here—see, the ring is still dull," Brade held up his hand. There, resting on his smallest finger, was a ring his Queen had lent him. In some way, the ring was connected to her crown and would shine when it was near. They'd discovered that it reacted to the echo of power, too, when they'd searched Star Cove. Stupid humans, to deny them the right to search their homes. Brade snorted at the memory.