Cloud Rebel (R-D #3)(71)

Granville's aide ordered Matt and me into another meeting—one where Richard Farrell was also commanded to attend. Farrell knew Jennifer was missing. I feared not only his instability, but the President's as well.

That's why I asked that Farrell be checked twice for any weapons before he was allowed into the meeting room.

With a glare in my direction that could melt steel, Farrell strode into the meeting room, jerked a chair away from the table and sat before turning his angry gaze toward Matt.

Matt pointedly ignored Farrell, as did Opal, who sat beside Matt. My cell phone was outside with the Secret Service, or I'd have called Cori on the spot. Perhaps she could defuse this situation—I was fresh out of tact at the moment.

"Good morning," an aide announced as she walked into the room. I suppose it was then I noticed it was Laura Quimby—the real one and not Corinne in disguise. Two Secret Service stalked in on her heels, bringing us to our feet for the President's arrival.

Granville looked even more haggard than the last time I'd seen him. At that point, I wished for Leo Shaw's presence—perhaps someone would listen to him as a licensed physician and psychiatrist.

Whatever troubled Granville now, it didn't look good. A swift glance in Matt's direction showed me something I hadn't seen before—he looked pale. Beside him, Opal appeared ill.

They knew something already.

I merely waited to learn what it was before sinking farther into terror and depression than I ever thought possible.

"We have video," Laura announced, and I noticed then that she looked queasy. "The President wants to show you this before discussing our next course of action."

The following ten minutes proved to me that some things can always be worse than your most terrible imaginings.

I will never forget Phillips' grinning face in that video, while he ordered an obsessed and subjugated Ilya to behead Jennifer. I couldn't keep my eyes open to watch the horror as her blood spattered everywhere.

In the background, an unmistakable wolf howl sounded.

Farrell went crazy, trying to get his hands on the President. Two Secret Service agents fired at the same time, while the video continued to play in the background. Farrell was dead, bleeding out on the carpet in a meeting room. Jennifer was already dead, her blood pooling on a tile floor somewhere in the past, the President was crazy and, in my mind, responsible for both deaths. As for Ilya—his eyes had been blank as he dutifully carried out Phillips' commands.

*

Corinne

I think Auggie had to calm down before he called me. Still, he was upset when he spoke—as he should be.

"We're pretty sure it was Rafe and not the doppelganger," Auggie's voice shook.

"How?" Val took the phone away from my shaking hands.

"We saw a hand of the camera operator," Auggie said. "Matt did everything he could to identify him from what we had. Turns out, Granville's trusted Agent-in-Charge wasn't so trustworthy. That, or he was obsessed early on and was following Phillips' commands."

"I regret saving Granville's life," I said. The words sounded dead—foreign, even.

"Cori, you can't second-guess everything," Auggie began, his voice sounding small and ineffective from such a distance.

"Sure I can," I said. "Has any of this leaked to the media?" I realized I was trembling. I doubted we'd get Ilya back from this—and there was evidence he was guilty of murder, even if we could remove the obsession.

"Not yet—Phillips doesn't want that, I don't think, although this is as sure a way as I know not to be invited back to the White House," Auggie replied.

"Then why would he do it? Auggie, tell me," I stuttered.

"Do you remember the real Phillips' plans, dearest?" Val turned to me. "Perhaps this one has his sights set on larger things after all."

"The U.N. is calling for Russia to prove that all their stockpiled nuclear weapons are accounted for," Auggie said. "According to the most recent treaty."

"And since the U.N. was never notified that some of those weapons were handed over to insurgents," my lips felt numb as I said the words.

"Exactly. The remnants of the insurgency are already issuing death threats against Russia," Auggie confirmed. "For killing their country with nuclear weapons."

"They were doing a good enough job on their own," I whispered. "Are they complaining, now that somebody else did the job for them?" Yes, I was scrambling—mentally and verbally—to keep from Looking to glean the images from Auggie's brain. Images that showed Ilya—my Ilya—doing a terrible, terrible thing.

What would he be commanded to do next?

Who would he be told to betray?

Would Phillips understand enough to know I meant him harm if Ilya revealed the Larentii to him?

Once, on the Larentii homeworld, the Sirenali had attempted to bend Larentii to their will.

Would another Sirenali, without the benefit of knowing that history, attempt to do the same thing? Would Phillips' clone do blackmail, or offer things he didn't intend to give, in order to control a Larentii?

"Some things are worse than death," I said aloud.

"What?" Auggie strained to hear what I'd said, since I no longer held the cell phone.

"Colonel Hunter, we will be there in a moment," Val said and ended the call.