The Reckoning (Unbounded Series #4) (16 page)

“Where do you want to go?” I asked him.

He thought a moment. “My hotel?”

“Might be watched.”

“Airport.”

“Much better. I’ll get you to a taxi.”

“We’re really going to take him somewhere and let him go?” Jeane said from the backseat. “He can identify us.”

She had a point, which meant I would have to do something about that, regardless of what that snake did in my head. It was either that or lug him around until we got the plutonium, and I already had one millstone around my neck in the form of Jeane.

“It’s easier to kill him.” Jeane spoke carelessly into the darkness, her face only partially lit by street lamps and the headlights of passing cars. “If we did that sort of thing, I mean.”

Walker gazed at her in horror. “You’re really going to kill me, aren’t you?”

I pulled the car over to the curb. “You have something to write on?”

“Yeah.” Terror filled the word.

“Get it.”

From his pocket, he drew out a small cell phone.

“Write this. Strout is dead. You barely got away. They gave you something to erase your memory. Go back to the States. Forget the story.”

His hands were shaking, but the glance he gave me held relief. Or was it something else? A stab of conscience made me ask, “These guys don’t know your name, do they? Or how to track you? Because they
will
want you dead.”

“No. No. I was careful. The meeting place was the only way they had of finding me.” Walker frowned. “You’re saying they killed Habid, aren’t you? Man, he was trying to do what was right.”

“You just worry about yourself. Now let me see what you wrote.” I took the phone and read the note. “That’s good, now add your name.” After he did, I said, “Nighty night,” and hit him hard in the head. Not hard enough to cause permanent damage, hopefully, but enough that he’d have a headache when he awoke. A little pain might go a long way toward convincing him that he should obey his note.

I checked the box with the snake. No blue glow and no sign of it breaking out of its double container. Okay. I reached out gently, slipping into the lake of Walker’s unconsciousness. I found the memory bubbles of our conversations and grabbed them. Then I searched for the scene in the alley. Better to leave as much of that as possible, but it would depend if he could identify me. There I was springing into the scene, my features unidentifiable in the dim light. He was too busy saving himself to worry about me. Until I came back to talk with him. I reached inside that bubble, extricating half of it and leaving the rest. It floated merrily away. There would be big enough gaps in his memory that he’d know something happened, but that would only back up the note he’d written, and he wouldn’t be able to report me to any remaining Hunter contacts. He wouldn’t even remember Jeane because I’d taken that memory as well. He’d witness Strout’s death but would have no idea who killed the man. Maybe he’d give up both his curiosity and his ambition.

Once again there were two blue lights coming from the snake box in my head, but they were much fainter with Jeane nearby. They vanished even as I dropped my connection with the reporter.

We found a taxi driver and overpaid him to drop Walker at the airport. He should wake by then. I hoped. I let Jeane do the talking, and she made up a story in Spanish about her drunken American boyfriend who got in a fight protecting her. I didn’t know the language, but images came to me from the taxi driver’s surface thoughts. The man couldn’t take his eyes off Jeane, and I suspected he’d do her the favor even if we hadn’t paid him far too much money.

He gave her a card. “You need anything while you’re here, I’m your man.”

Jeane smiled, gazing at him beneath half-lidded eyes. “Oh, thank you.”

Afterward, we parked outside our hotel, where we checked on our prisoner. She was coming to, so I made sure she was tied tightly, with strips of her own clothing. If I’d been more prepared for our little dance, I’d have brought rope. I gagged her before locking her back in the trunk. I’d leave her for someone else to deal with.

We headed toward the back entrance of the hotel, Jeane appearing as if she’d just returned from a lovely stroll and me staggering and blood-streaked, as though I’d barely survived a mugging with an entire city of gangbangers.

“Look,” I said to her, “back there in the alley. Thanks.” I didn’t add that I’d expected her to run more than I’d expected any kind of help.

She blinked slowly. “Well, it wasn’t really for you, though we can pretend it was if you want. I know you’re needed to find the plutonium, and the sooner we get that, the sooner we can get out of this hole.”

I was confused for a moment until I realized she was still hung up on our lowly accommodations at the hotel, however temporary. I tried not to roll my eyes. Whatever her reasons, she had saved my life, and it was hard to dislike her as much as before.

Stella met us at the back door, taking in my disheveled appearance with a calm eye. Exhaustion washed over me, and I allowed her to help me inside. It was that or pass out. I’d probably held up until then because there hadn’t been any other choice.

Inside the room I collapsed on the bed.

Minutes later, as Stella began doctoring my wounds, Mari flashed into appearance, bringing with her a rush of smoke fumes. “Sorry. I came as soon as I got your message.”

“What happened?” I asked, knowing it had to be something serious for her and Keene to ignore Stella’s phone calls.

Her eyes were bright with exhilaration. “We were searching this condo a few miles west of here that was supposed to house the factory’s non-local employees. The whole place was a wreck, and it looks like it’s been at least two or three days since anyone was there, judging by the food they left on the table and on the stove. We went through the papers spread on the floor and what’s still in drawers—all junk. There were no computers. We were just leaving when Emporium agents showed up to torch the place. We had to hide inside until they left, and then we barely escaped the fire. It took us a bit to recover from the smoke, but we’re both fine. Keene’s on his way back now.” She paused, watching Stella begin sewing up my arm. “Looks like you weren’t so lucky. Sorry.”

“We managed.” I tried not to wince as the needle pushed through my skin. Stella had deadened it with anesthetic laced with curequick, but it still hurt because I hadn’t let her wait until it was completely numb. I wanted her to hurry and finish before Ritter returned. Besides, she’d probably have to give me another dose of anesthetic to make it completely numb because our bodies got rid of the drug even faster than they healed.

“Help me get the bullet out of my leg, would you?” I added to Mari. “While Stella finishes my arm. It’s numb enough, and you’re good with knives.”

Mari made a face. “This is different. I can’t poke a knife in
you.
If Stella can’t do it when she’s finished with your arm, we’d better wait for Keene.”

“Give me your knife.” No way was I waiting for Keene, or for Stella. I’d rather do it myself. Of course, left-handed it might be a challenge, but maybe Mari would get over her squeamishness.

“Oh, I’ll do it.” Jeane came from where she sat gingerly on the edge of the other bed. She flicked a glance at Mari. “You really are new, aren’t you?”

Mari didn’t reply but made a mocking face at Jeane as she focused on my leg. Stifling a grin, I watched Jeane dig the bullet from my thigh with unhesitating precision. By the time she’d found the piece of metal, Stella had finished with my arm and began preparing to stitch my thigh. I would have preferred no stitches or needles, but they would help my body heal that much faster, and I didn’t have a day to laze around while I recovered normally.

Jeane stripped down to her bra and pants after getting some of my blood on her shirt, which she tossed into the garbage. “I’m going to take a shower, if anyone needs me.” The bathroom door clicked shut behind her.

It was only then I thought to ask Mari. “Did you find anything related to someone named Habid Salemi?”

Mari perched on the bed Jeane had vacated earlier, tucking her legs up under her. “His name wasn’t on the list Stella gave us, but only a few names were, and those seemed to be local people—food vendors, janitors, building maintenance.”

“Did you say Habid Salemi?” Stella’s hands had stilled over my leg with at least one more stitch to go. The neural headset she wore blinked madly, and the computer on the table suddenly flared to life, information streaming across it too fast for the eye to read.

I met her gaze. “You’ve heard of him?”

Slowly, as if it pained her, she nodded. “Habid Salemi is an alias used by Habib Azima, Shadrach’s son.”

Shadrach Azima, the contact we were waiting for. I stared at her. “Could this Salemi be the same person?”

“It’s a common enough name, but I think it must be. It would explain how Shadrach knew about the plutonium being here in the first place.”

“I don’t suppose Shadrach told you his son was here.”

She shook her head. “And I can’t believe it’s a coincidence.”

That couldn’t be good. If Shadrach was keeping secrets, I wondered what else he was hiding.

“The hit team I ran into as much as told Walker that they had Habid in custody. They didn’t sound too happy about Habid communicating with an American journalist.” I looked at Mari. “You didn’t find anything useful at the condo? Any sign where they might have gone?”

Mari frowned. “Besides the mess, it looked like they had all left suddenly. Or were taken.” Her tone implied that the latter was her conclusion. “That would fit in with what you heard.”

“I think—” Whatever Stella was going to say was lost as the hotel room door slammed open. Ritter stood there in the entryway, breathing heavily, his skin glistening with sweat, a wild shimmer in his eyes. His assault rifle was in his hands. He looked ready to single-handedly do battle with a dozen Emporium soldiers.

We all tensed. I waited anxiously for my brother to appear behind him, but Jace was nowhere to be seen.

“What happened?” Stella asked.

“Why don’t you tell me?” Ritter’s eyes fell to my leg. “I felt—” He broke off, as if momentarily disoriented. “You were hurt. I felt it.”

Stella tilted her head at him. “That’s impossible. Even if she used her ability to reach for your mind, you were too far out, even for her.”

“I
felt
it,” he repeated. His black eyes met mine, and the connection between us strengthened through no effort of my own. I believed him because something strange—and wonderful—was going on between us.

Laying aside his rifle, he strode over to the bed, doused his hands with astringent from our medical supplies, and took the needle from Stella’s hand. His touch was surprisingly gentle, though his eyes hadn’t quite lost their wildness. He pulled through not one but three more stitches, neater and smaller than Stella’s, knotting the last one off deftly.

I eased my good leg off the bed, feeling remarkably better now that there were no more needles in my immediate future and the curequick was pumping through my veins.

Or was it because Ritter was here?

We sat side by side on the bed, not quite touching, but it felt as if we were.

Jeane chose that moment to emerge from the bathroom, wrapped only in a towel. She gazed at Ritter from beneath her lowered lashes. “Oh, so that’s what all the noise was about.” Her voice was calm and breathy, but the quickness of her exit from the shower told me she’d been worried.

“It’s good you’re back,” Stella said to Ritter, ignoring Jeane. “Because Shadrach will be arriving soon, and we’ve just realized that one of his mortal sons is here—possibly in trouble. Shadrach might have an agenda he neglected to tell us about, and that means getting the plutonium might not be his first priority.”

“Well,” Ritter drawled, “we’ll have to change that now, won’t we?”

I’D SWALLOWED A HEFTY
dose of oral painkiller and taken my own quick turn in the shower before Shadrach Azima arrived. He was alone, but Mari had shifted to the roof of the hotel with a set of night vision binoculars so she could warn us if anyone else approached or looked suspicious. Keene, who had finally arrived while I was in the shower, was standing watch down the hall.

Shadrach was a distinguished, elegant man with straight dark hair, deep brown eyes, a sensuous mouth, and glowing dark skin. Although he wore gray slacks and a white button-down shirt with several buttons opened, I could easily imagine him in bright ceremonial robes of some sort, surrounded by a harem of adoring women. At four hundred years old, he was the mortal equivalent of thirty-eight and had aged well. He seemed young and full of vitality.

Stella, stripped down to a white tank top and tight-fitting black pants because of the heat of the room, motioned Shadrach to enter. She exchanged the usual Renegade greeting of bumping fists, stepping away when he made a move to kiss her cheek. Though many men were attracted to Stella, she favored only a choice few with physical affection, and Shadrach’s casual attempt told me that Stella had known him rather well during her time with the group in Italy.

Shadrach frowned, obviously not pleased at the rebuff. “Has something happened?” He looked around at our faces, noting our solemn demeanor. His eyes snagged on a deadly-looking Ritter who stood near the door, his assault rifle once again slung over his chest. I was near the window wearing my black bodysuit, with all my weapons and gear intact. We weren’t taking any chances with him.