No Fortunate Son (Pike Logan, #7)(79)

He nodded his head, saying, “Shush, Celia. We can help.”

We sprinted through the door, and Jennifer was waiting. Right outside. I couldn’t believe it, thanking the gods yet again that I’d run into her and her bottomless pit of historical knowledge four years ago. We piled in, and she said, “Where’s Braden?”

I said, “He’s dead. No time to discuss.”

I pulled out my Taskforce phone and called Kurt, praying he would answer. He did.

“Sir, I don’t have time to explain, but we took down Braden, and he’s tied into the hostages. I need a geolocation of a phone signal right now.”

His answer had rocked my world. “Pike, I don’t have time for this right now. The hostages may very well be dead. Along with Knuckles.”

He’d given me the abbreviated version of what had happened, speaking in short, clipped sentences. The story left me speechless. How could we have been sucked in to such a trap? Where were the intel indicators?

Jennifer saw my face and said, “What? What’s he saying?”

I waved her off and returned to the mission. “Sir, I just caught the guy from the tape in Cambridge. I don’t know what the hell is going on with that hit, but your niece is alive. Braden was giving orders to kill her, but he couldn’t get a signal because we were deep underground. I need this phone lock.”

“Underground? What the hell are you talking about? And how do you know she’s alive?”

“Sir, I don’t, but I’m close. You guys are on the wrong thread. Help me. Please.”

I heard a bunch of background noise, then he came back. “Pike, they’ve just made a demand. I have to go. Call George Wolffe. Tell him Prairie Fire. He’ll open the world.”

I heard the command and felt some comfort. Prairie Fire was the code word for a catastrophic event, when Taskforce lives were on the line. He was giving me the keys to the kingdom for his niece, and I had no doubt he would back it up.

I said, “Thanks, sir. Gotta go.”

He spoke again, hope seeping through the connection, penetrating the disaster he was dealing with. He said, “Wait. The reports here are bad. Very bad. At least seven bodies all burned beyond recognition. Why do you think she’s alive?”

“Because she’s from your genes. Trust me, she’s alive, and I’m bringing her home. Like I promised.”



* * *

Kylie heard the door open to the cellar, then the stomping of feet, the adrenaline spurt from past events failing to appear. She remained prone, no longer having the energy to care, the virus that was ravaging her body siphoning off any energy to respond.

The bearded one removed her hood and forced her upright, saying, “What’s wrong with you?”

Listlessly, she said, “Nothing. Asshole.”

He set her food in place, and with an urgency he’d never shown before, he said, “You sick? You need to see a doctor?”

She heard Nick shout from the other side of the room, “Yes, you dumbass. Yes, she’s sick. You want the leverage, you need to help her.”

She saw him stalk to Nick, hood still on, and cuff him in the head. Nick hit the ground, and the man leaned over, saying, “You a doctor, *?”

Nick sat up, staring in the wrong direction in his hood. He spit out, “Fuck you. She’s your golden egg and you know it. And so am I. You can beat me some more if you want, but she’s going down fast. Fix it. Now.”

Colin ripped his hood off, kicking him to the floor. In the back, Travis began whimpering, curling up in a ball. Colin said, “I could kill you right now, you f*ck. I have him and her. I have the power.”

Nick glared at him and said, “No, you don’t. You bring the food. You’re a f*cking lackey. You have nothing but the power of your boot, you miserable shit.”

The words caused Kylie to sit up at last, afraid of the response. She saw Colin’s face and knew Nick was dead.

Instead, Colin kicked the wall, cursing in aggravation. She realized Nick was right. For the first time, she clearly saw he knew more about their predicament than anyone else. Colin satisfied himself with a boot to the gut, then stormed up the steps, slamming the room into darkness.

She waited a minute, then said, “Nick, please don’t do that again.”

He chuckled and said, “Yeah, that probably wasn’t smart. I let my anger get the better of me. I thought I was dead.”

From the fetal position, Travis said, “Yes, yes, please don’t do that again.”

Nick leaned over in the dirt and clawed his way forward a few feet. He put his face next to Travis’s hood and said, “I can see you. You know why? Because he left without putting my hood back on. Because I’m not a *.”

Kylie said, “Shh. He’s talking just outside.”

They grew quiet and heard Colin’s voice.

—“I need to speak to Ratko.”

—“Because he’ll want to hear what I have to say, that’s why. Quickly, I don’t have a lot of time.”

They sat in their underground tomb hearing nothing. Waiting. Eventually, Colin’s voice floated out again.

—“Ratko? Yes. I’m Colin. I work with Seamus and don’t like how this is going. I have nothing to do with what’s happened.”

Silence, only the shuffling of Colin’s feet on the deck of their prison. Then, a more subdued voice.