Immune (The Rho Agenda #2)(121)

Only one way to find out.

Eduardo slid the band he held over his temples in the manner he had seen Jennifer do, counting slowly backward from ten as he did.

Nothing.

Disappointed, he returned it to the zipper pocket before turning to examine the remaining band. It appeared identical to the first in every respect. So much for that theory. Eduardo started to place it back in the zip-up pocket alongside the first, then paused.

No use breaking old habits. In his book, thoroughness was next to godliness.

Spreading the band slightly with his hands, Eduardo slipped it into place on his head. For a moment, it seemed that the small beads at both ends adjusted themselves for comfort. Indeed, a low-frequency vibration began producing a relaxing massage.

Once again he felt disappointment. So this was just a relaxation gadget, probably something she got in a Sharper Image store.

A lifetime of close familiarity with pain did little to prepare him for the explosion in his head. It felt like a million holes had been drilled into his skull, each with a tiny micro-Taser inserted, simultaneously firing their fifty-thousand-volt pulses directly into his brain. He tried to pull the headband off but found he could no longer control his body.

Thoughts flashed through Eduardo’s mind. Was this it? Had he finally succumbed to an elaborate trap?

Shift.

The closet was gone. He floated in a transparent bubble in the vast darkness of empty space. A ringed planet darted by, its many moons careening away as his ship banked so hard that it seemed the gravitational strain would destroy it.

Then he saw it, flitting across his field of vision, far ahead. It expanded in a magnified view, surrounded by circles and crosshairs as his ship tried to get a lock on the target.

The long cigar-shaped craft he chased suddenly emitted a swirling vortex that rippled through the space between them, a narrow tube that bent and twisted his view of the stars on its far side.

His ship torqued hard right and dropped, the space-time ripple passing within a hundred meters of him. In response, a beam of solid red pulsed outward from his own ship, missing the cigar ship but pulverizing a small asteroid as he passed through a field thick with the spinning rocks.

Ahead, a blue planet with a single moon loomed large, and the other ship raced toward it. Almost simultaneously, both ships’ weapons fired again.

His red beam played across the cigar ship’s surface, bubbling and warping its hull as the Enemy’s vortex beam punched through his own ship. All maneuvering control lost, his ship plunged onward, and the surface of the blue planet rose up to meet him.

The imagery stopped. The closet returned.

Eduardo found himself leaning back against one of the shoe shelves, his legs still crossed, his arms hanging limply at his side.

His mind struggled to reorient itself. What the hell had just happened? An answer came to him. At least he thought it was an answer, although he couldn’t identify the symbols that floated in his brain.

Of course. The headset.

Eduardo reached up and removed the headband from its perch atop his head. Immediately the unfamiliar imagery stopped. But a strangeness lingered. All those years of torture and suffering at his mother’s hands had given him a special awareness of each and every nerve ending in his body. It was one of the things that made him strong and fast. He was aware of things long before others sensed them. Now, that awareness had been ramped to an altogether new level. It was as if he had been blind but could now see, deaf but could now hear. He squeezed his hand into a fist, and that too felt different.

Staring down at the seemingly insignificant metal circlet in his hand, Eduardo understood. He’d been right the first time. It was an artifact, although its origin and powers were far stranger than he had imagined.

Rising to his feet, Eduardo retrieved the other alien artifact from the suitcase zipper pocket and returned the now empty suitcase to its place on the shelf.

Then, with the artifacts clutched firmly in his left hand, Eduardo Montenegro made his way out of the building by the same route he had entered.

Yes, today his mother would have been proud of her son.





128


Gone!

Shock hammered the realization into Jennifer’s head like a wrecking ball smashing the brick of an aging tenement. She played back the memory of placing the suitcase on the top shelf, comparing it against the position from which she had just retrieved it. Not the same. As if she needed confirmation that the precious alien halos had been stolen.

Weak with dread, she stumbled out of the closet, her eyes stabbing toward the desk where she’d left her laptop. There it sat, untouched.

It didn’t make sense. Why would a thief leave the laptop and take the apparently worthless headbands? The answer came to mind before she finished the question.

Eduardo. He must have been spying on her as she awoke, must have seen her make the connection to the Second Ship.

God, she was stupid! Jennifer felt like grabbing her short hair in both hands and ripping out chunks of hair and scalp. But self-flagellation wasn’t going to solve her problem. She had to act and act quickly.

That sick son of a bitch had taken them, and she was going to get them back. Eduardo might be a monster, but he had no idea who he was dealing with.

Jennifer burst out the doorway with such force that she almost knocked down a maid.

“Perdón, se?ora.” Jennifer’s voice carried a deep sense of urgency. “Donde está Don Espe?osa?”