No Peace for the Damned (19 page)

“He is no prisoner, Heather,” Thirteen said sternly. “He has his own life, however self-destructive it may be.” The last he said
under his breath. He was getting a headache. And when I saw the man’s image in his thoughts, I understood why.

“The smelly old drunk guy at the Turtle?” I announced without thinking. “That’s
l’annuaire
?”

“Wait, you mean Bill?” Theo asked from behind me.

“Drunk Bill is
l’annuaire
?” Jon asked at the same moment.

Thirteen sighed so deeply his shoulders fell forward. “Yes, Bill at the Turtle is
l’annuaire
. He’s watched by Miller, and others, but refuses to allow us to help him deal with his ability. He prefers to live on the street where people walk past him and look the other way. They just let him be, and he prefers that life to anything we’ve offered.”

So that was Miller’s role in the Network—directory babysitting. Thirteen took another drink.
Good idea
. I finished off my whiskey.

“When Theo told us this morning that the only question asked of him was about
l’annuaire
, I had to move quickly to contain William. He was immediately moved to a secure location where he will remain until I assign him keepers and move him to a guarded safe house.”

“Do you need this house back?” I offered.
Oh God, please don’t make me give up my house already
.

“No. William will be moved out of state.” Thirteen shook his head to himself. “We always knew that if the one of our enemies discovered
l’annuaire
it would be devastating to our organization. It’s why so few in the Network know of his existence—we couldn’t risk someone being broken and leaking his identity.”

Shane sat forward. “Plausible deniability.”

Thirteen gave one slow nod. I sat forward.

“Then why the hell are you telling us now?” Shane controlled his volume, but just barely. Inside he cursed Thirteen left and right. “Kelches are still abducting Network members—still torturing
us for this information. So why even tell us about this guy? Now, if one of us is captured, we’ll have exactly what they want.”

Thirteen’s eyes were cold, his voice controlled. “I tell you because it is now
your
job to protect our most valuable secret. It is now
your
duty to make absolutely certain that our enemies do not acquire
l’annuaire
. The Kelches already know that he exists. We’re not going to waste precious time and resources on concealing a secret that has already been revealed.”

Marie sat forward, her glare so venomous Jon and Charles adjusted in their seats. “How did the Kelches even find out about
l’annuaire
?” she asked. “None of us knew that he existed. And it’s not like anyone here could just pick a word like that out of someone’s head. Oh, wait! Yes they could.”

What a bitch!

The glass in Marie’s hand shattered. “Did you see that?” she gasped. “See what she did?”

“Oh, please,” I said and sat back in my seat. “I didn’t even draw blood.”

“Magnolia!” Thirteen put his arm out as if he were going to hold me back.
I have enough on my plate without having to worry about your temper!

He was right. Great, now I felt bad.
Sorry
.

He turned back to Marie. “We don’t know how the word was introduced to the Kelches. And while other Network members are currently investigating that very subject,
this
team’s focus should be on our assignments going forward.

“The Kelches have always had limited interest in the Network. They view us as nothing more than an annoyance or a cleanup crew that sometimes hinders their well-laid plans. They have never seen our organization as a true threat.”

I looked at Thirteen. Had I told him that, or was he just that perceptive?

“So why the interest now?” Jon said, finishing Thirteen’s thought. “Why make the effort to track down a Network directory if they don’t see us as an important adversary?”

“Precisely. Why now? Logic would dictate that either we have done something to cause the brothers more irritation than they have led us to believe, or…”

“Or they really are getting ready to do something big…something that can’t afford to be hindered.” Shane concluded. He turned to me and glared. God, it was like every day the guy hated me more.

Thirteen looked grave. “Exactly.”

The double beep of the alarm sounded. Everyone looked around the room.

Who wasn’t here?

“There was an unidentified substance in the remains of the bodies of the Network agents,” Thirteen continued, unaffected. “Something that our Network staff recognized only after the initial reports were released. It was so minute in mass that the coroner dismissed the substance as drug residue from the weapons that were used to torture the victims. I had a Network agent analyze a sample of the substance to determine its origin.”

The monitor beeped again. The front door opened wide. Everyone in the room, myself included, turned in unison. My jaw dropped. A man, twice the size of the largest guard at the estate—maybe even bigger than Thirteen—appeared in the doorway. He was dark, hooded. Dressed in all black, he kept his shades on and let his shoulder-length dark hair hang forward.

I adjusted in my seat. Unfolded my legs for better maneuverability. Theo shifted behind me. Jon made sure his gun hand was free.

The man was all business. No emotion, no wasted energy on worry or excess. He silently named each individual as he looked around the room. When his eyes found me, his thoughts only stuttered a moment, barely a reaction. And he knew my name instantly. Thirteen must trust this man intrinsically. Not even Banks had been told about me before our personal introduction. So why hadn’t I met this guy before?

The man turned his head to Thirteen. From the waistband at his back, he pulled out a sealed packaging envelope. Thirteen crossed the room and took it anxiously. The dark stranger turned to me again. Behind the sunglasses, he met my gaze. My abilities came to him, one after another, as if he were reading them from a list. And he knew every detail—even the new things that I’d never done before now. I moved to the edge of my seat. His thoughts blanked out, gone. A wall had shot up in his mind, blocking me from him. He nodded to me once more and turned away, disappearing out the front door.

What the hell?

I was on my feet.
Who was that guy?
Thirteen shot me the briefest glance as he crossed back to his seat. Slowly, I sat back down. His daughter’s image flashed through his mind, his longing stronger than ever. Then he focused again on the package in his hands.

“Who was that?” Cordele asked breathlessly. A pink blush colored her cheeks. She fanned herself with a napkin. I wasn’t the only one intrigued by Mr. Big, Dark, and Brooding.

Thirteen tore open the envelope and quickly skimmed the contents.

“Jesse is an old friend,” he said finally. His tone made it clear that questions weren’t welcome.

Thirteen held up the envelope. “The substance in each of the discovered bodies was polonium 210, a highly toxic radioactive isotope that attacks its victim’s DNA. It is exceptionally rare. It is essentially a by-product of uranium. It kills the intended victim by radiation poisoning.”

“You mean like victims of a nuclear holocaust?” Cordele asked.

“Not exactly,” Thirteen said. “Polonium 210 is only hazardous when ingested. And once in the victim’s digestive system, it’s death by radiation from the cell level out.”

“If the Network members were killed by this radioactive isotope, how could the coroners not pick that up?” Charles asked.

“I don’t believe they were killed by the polonium 210. Only miniscule traces of the substance were found in their systems.”

“So what does that mean?” Jon wondered aloud.

“As a by-product of uranium, the substance must be generated rather than simply found. And to generate this particular isotope, a nuclear reaction must be created.”

Silence filled the room. My stomach sank.

“The Kelches have a nuclear reactor,” Theo said, quietly voicing what everyone else had concluded.

“We can’t be sure of that,” Thirteen said. “But if the Kelches
do
have a weapon of atomic destruction, and a plan to use it, it stands to reason that they would want their chief hindrance eliminated before putting their plans into action.”

No one spoke, but their thoughts were all the same: Holy. Shit.

I’ve asked a great deal of you, Magnolia
. I jumped. Then turned dark eyes to Thirteen as his focused thoughts became clear.

More than we agreed to, by far
, I snapped.

Yes…I would apologize, but you know in your heart that my intention has never been to deceive or use you
.

That’s the only reason you’re still alive, Thirteen
.

He lowered his head and smiled.
I have no doubt
.

So what is it now?
I thought.

I don’t see another way
.

I saw flashes of an unfinished idea flit through his mind. Terror stole my breath. I gripped the sides of my seat to keep from falling over. Heather turned toward me. Theo moved in closer.

You would ask this of me, knowing what could happen?

Thirteen’s gaze was frighteningly serious.
They will never hurt you again, Magnolia. I swear this on my life. They will never touch you again
.

Unwanted tears rose at the sincerity of those words. If only he could keep such a promise.

Thirteen’s face was tight with wear and intent, his silver hair a little frazzled from the day’s stress. His jaw set, his lips pressed. A face I had memorized over the last several months. The face of my freedom.

I closed my eyes. “OK. I’ll do it.”

Every time I thought of Uncle Max, the same scene came to my mind.

The estate’s library. Leaning against an antique desk with his sleeves rolled to the elbows, he fondled one of those pink-gray stress balls
.

“Are all the guards really necessary?” he asked
.

Father was crouched toward the back of the library using a bucket and towels to scrub my blood from his forearms. “It took eleven of them to get her shackled this time,” he groused. “Hell, the bitch ripped off Alec’s left arm when he first touched her. And he’s loyal even without the drugs!” He grumbled as he wet his towel. “Thank God he’s right-handed.”

Uncle Max tsked
.

I lay on the floor. I couldn’t move past the pain in my stomach and lower back. Uncle Max strolled past the four guards posted against the bookshelves, eyeing me as he walked. He played with the
stress ball, slipping it back and forth between his fingers, considering my wounds
.

“What new ability has she developed?” he asked
.

Father shrugged
.

“Well she must have developed something,” Uncle Max prodded, “or you would have waited until you were in one of the interrogation rooms. You’re never in such a hurry that you don’t wait to leave the main house. Look at the mess you’ve made in the study, for Christ’s sake.”

Father shook his head, scrubbing harder along the backs of his hands. Uncle Max’s gaze grew hot on my chest. Bone was exposed, that much I could feel, but it was the blood and muscle that had his attention
.

He licked his lips
.

I focused on the stress ball in his hands. Looked closer. It wasn’t a ball. It was flesh, turned inside out and rolled into a wad. I could smell it now—baby powder over brine. He rolled it in his palms and in between his fingers like some kind of slimy dough
.

Whose skin did he play with? I took a focused peek into his mind…and screamed in horror
.

…

It hadn’t taken long for Thirteen to fine-tune the plan—just a day or two—but it was enough for me to muster up a good amount of dread. We sat in an Econoline van at the rear of the capitol. I was about as spied-out as I could get—dark sunglasses, hair hidden under a Cubs hat, surveillance equipment everywhere.

Uncle Max and my father were both capable of the recent murders. But Uncle Max was the planner. Searching for a Network directory was exactly the kind of big-picture plot he would orchestrate.