Cloud Rebel (R-D #3)(63)

Thousands of deaths were given as an early estimate, and I imagined that the toll would increase dramatically with the rising of the sun. The city was in chaos, as hospitals were filled with those affected. Many dead were left lying in the streets as others ran to get away from the deadly, odorless killer.

Matt Michaels removed the phone I held in nerveless fingers as I watched the news on my computer screen with horror. "Come with me," he said. "We've been summoned to the White House."

"I was trying to reach Farrell—he's gone off the deep end," I babbled as Matt drove like a maniac through D.C. streets.

"I heard. The President hasn't been informed. I think it's idiocy that he still wants to go after the Phillips clone tonight."

"Is everybody nuts, now?" I asked. The visions of the unedited image feed I'd gotten from Paris continued to slice painfully through my brain.

"The President got word that the insurgency is claiming responsibility for this," Matt said.

"What? I figured they'd just fire those missiles they have and be done with it."

"Not until they have a way to fire them undetected," Matt snorted. "Which may not be impossible, if what I'm thinking has happened. I have Opal on it now; I'm just waiting for her to report her findings."

"What the hell are you talking about?" I snapped.

"The technology to deliver the sarin gas? Those silent drones? Right now, our technology is good, but not that good."

"So the insurgents got ahead of us."

"That's not what I'm saying."

"Fuck. I'm getting a headache." My cell phone rang while I rubbed my forehead to relieve the tension.

"What?" I said. No, that greeting wasn't civil, but then I wasn't on the same planet as civil at the moment.

"They've hit Berlin. Sarin again. Same thing as Paris."

"Who is this?"

"Colonel Hunter, this is Nathan. Bekzi has us hooked up to direct satellite feeds here at the villa," Nathan explained. "James is here, but he's taking notes and sending them to you in an e-mail. You should probably check it when you get the chance. We're worried they'll hit London and Rome, too, before the night's over."

"Holy f*ck," I muttered and dropped the phone, which lodged between the seat and the center console of Matt's car.

"I hear that," Matt said and pressed the accelerator. The car lurched forward as Matt wove in and out of traffic to get us to the White House.

*

Corinne

Low-flying drones, silent as the killer they carried, destroyed hundreds of thousands before dawn arrived in Europe. Paris, Berlin, London, Rome and Madrid were all hit, in an effort to cause as much death and chaos-induced fear as they could. Almost as an afterthought, Moscow was also attacked. At least ten thousand died there, most of them while they slept.

The insurgency claimed responsibility for all of it.

Val and I—we knew that wasn't the case, but those in charge of the insurgency preened like peacocks at the news—they were proud to be blamed for so many deaths. Images of them were shown quickly, hiding their faces as usual and waving signs proclaiming the U.S. was next.

I'd heard from Ilya that the President called off their mission the night before—Granville went straight to the bunker and stayed there until dawn. They were scheduled to go again at midnight, tonight, unless another chemical weapons attack was launched.

For now, every nation on Earth was desperately searching for an answer to sarin gas. People were locking themselves inside their houses and taping plastic on windows and doors.

Val and I—we were nearly at a dead-end in our search for Norian Keef and Lendill Schaff. We were now backtracking, looking for clues in out of the way places, just to see if they could have been spotted by one of our enemies there.

I suspected the Lyristolyi, but since Phillips' cronies had Sirenali, I couldn't point a finger with certainty, yet.

"I worry that we may have to bend time to a specific place, just to follow them discreetly," Val said. I looked at Katya and Sergei, who sat at a corner table at a coffee shop while Val and I ordered at the counter for them. They were worn out from going back and forth, searching for clues.

They knew about the attacks on Europe. Disheartening would be putting their reaction into mild terms. Both were terrified.

"I think we should take them back to Bekzi," I said as Val lifted two coffee cups to my one.

"I agree, but their wishes must be considered."

"Yeah. I know."

"Corinne, is there some way you can take Papa away from that madman?" Katya lifted her eyes to mine as Val set a cup of coffee in front of her.

"Honey, I'm not sure about that—not yet, anyway, and yes, I really would like to get him out of there, just to keep him safe. He has a choice in this, too, you know."

"Katya, he will be fine. He always is," Sergei wrapped his arms around her shoulders. I wanted to weep with her when she leaned her head on Sergei's chest and sobbed.

The frustration I felt at that moment was a crushing weight. The longer our search for Norian Keef lasted, the more worried I became that he was not only being held hostage by one faction or another, but that he could either be dead already or marked for death—at a more convenient time.