Fatal Strike (McClouds & Friends #10)(19)

“You think she’s alive, then?” he blurted. “And locked in a dungeon for real? And the only person she can talk to is me? Just because I put her name into my goddamn password?”

Nina gazed at him steadily. “You put a Lara Kirk shaped hole in your mental shield, Miles. Who better than she could find her way in?”

“This isn’t helping,” Kev warned. “You’re setting him off. He’ll go off on a quest when we should be calling the paramedics.”

“It could just be a hallucination,” Davy said.

“You didn’t feel what I felt,” Nina said.

“Thank God for that, if feeling it comes with a nosebleed,” Tam commented, with distaste. “I hate getting blood on my clothes.”

Miles covered his face with his hands against the overload. Too much. That machine inside him, gears grinding. Doors opening, air rushing in. New possibilities, electrifying him.

“If she’s alive, I’ll find her,” he said.

“Oh, f*ck, no,” Sean muttered. “Here we go again.”

He’d already tuned them out. He brushed the dust from his suit. He’d whanged his elbow and knee somewhere, going down. Add those high and low notes to the cocktail of undifferentiated pain.

But as messed up as he was, it was such a relief to give into it. Like he’d been craving something that he knew was bad for him, and now he was like, f*ck it. Binge city. “Later, guys,” he said. “I’m gone.”

“Don’t do this!” Kev sounded angry. “You’re not up to it!”

“What else am I good for?” he asked, looking around at them. “Seriously? The shape I’m in? What the f*ck else do I have to do?”

Nobody had an answer for that. But he hadn’t expected one.

Tam pulled a ring off her finger. “Take this. I was too busy with Irina this morning to tart myself up properly, or I’d give you more.”

Miles held the delicate thing gingerly. The jewelry Tam designed tended to hide lethal secrets. “Is it poisoned?”

She gave him her most mysterious smile. “I don’t wear pieces treated with poison while I’m with my children. It’s got explosives, though.”

Miles studied Tam’s striking design. Twists of white and yellow gold tangled around faceted jet. “What’s the trick?”

“Twist it counterclockwise. It’s a tack, and inside is a wad of explosives. The button on the ring band is a detonator. Punch the spike into a car tire. It won’t blow the tire until you detonate it with the ring band. Stay close. It gets unpredictable at over five hundred meters.”

“Ah,” Miles said, doubtfully.

“I’m sure you’ll figure out uses I’ve never even thought of.”

Miles had no illusions about his own potential sneakiness as compared to Tam’s, but it was a nice thought. He tried to put the ring on his pinkie, but it wouldn’t go past his big knuckle. He slipped it into his jacket. “Thanks.”

Edie stepped forward and held out the dessert menu that she had used for her drawing. “Take this,” she offered.

Miles almost dreaded looking at it. “What is it?”

“Haven’t got a clue. You tell me.”

It was a mountain peak, two prongs like lopsided horns, and a downward sloping crest between them, like the bridge of a big nose; a metaphor that came easily to him. Superimposed was a crosshatched pattern, like chain link. The tops of three tall conifers framed the scene.

He looked up at Edie. Shook his head mutely.

She sighed. “Whatever. It was worth a try.”

“Thanks anyway.” Miles shoved the picture into his suit jacket, along with the ring. “I’m gone.”

“I’m coming, too,” Sean said.

“And me,” Kev added.

“Me, too,” Aaro chimed in.

No way,” Miles said. “A mass exodus of all the important guests at Bruno and Lily’s wedding? Stay. Do your duty. I’ll call you later.”

“No, you won’t,” Aaro said.

The pain in Aaro’s voice made Miles pause, but only for a moment. He could not deal with his friend’s hurt feelings right now.

He simply did not have the equipment.





5


Greaves gazed at his staff over the rim of the cup, letting them all sweat. He was a benevolent man, who wanted only the best for the people in his charge. But he did not suffer fools gladly.

He placed the empty cup in its saucer. Someone whisked it away. He turned to Anabel, and Jason Hu. “We’ll begin with you two. What progress have you made on the formula?”

“Not a great deal,” Anabel admitted reluctantly.

“Have you taken Lara up to twice a day, as I directed? Upping the doses by three percent daily?”

“Her blood pressure dropped when we jumped from seventy micrograms to seventy-three,” Hu said. “I dialed it back. I’ve been increasing it in increments of .5 percent. Her sleep cycles are disordered, so we’ve been dosing her at night, and sometimes in the early morning, since that seems most conducive to—”

“Next time, do exactly as I direct you,” Greaves said. “To the letter. Do not second-guess me again.”

Hu gulped, his eyes darting down to the table. “Yes, sir.”