A Darker Shade of Dead (2 page)

“Yes, but I would have had to leave my car and all my possessions behind. Or worse, let them be sorted and packed by strangers.” She made a face just thinking of such an invasion of her privacy.

“You let us pack up the rest of your stuff to put in storage. I don't see the difference.” He truly didn't. She could see it in his expression. Typical of a man. He wouldn't think twice of letting a stranger handle his jockey shorts. She noticed he didn't comment on her car, he merely looked at it quizzically.

“Trust me. There is a huge difference. I brought the things with me that I didn't want to leave in storage. My clothes and other personal stuff.”

He looked at the relatively empty backseat with one raised eyebrow. “You travel light.”

She had to chuckle at his hopeful tone. “It's all in the trunk.”

He wandered the few feet over to the back of the car where an MP was letting his dog sniff the contents of her open trunk. It was filled with boxes and a few garment bags that contained a portion of her wardrobe and personal items. The dog hopped down, having found nothing objectionable, and the MP stepped away. The car had been cleared for entry to the base.

“Interesting choice of vehicle.” Finally, Matt commented on the land yacht. It had taken longer than most, which was impressive. But in the end, everyone was curious about the giant old vehicle.

“It was my dad's,” she said simply. The short answer seemed to satisfy him. He only nodded briefly and put his sunglasses back on, hiding his gorgeous denim-colored eyes.

“If you'll follow me, I'll lead you to your lab. You'll be quartered in the same building. I'll show you the best place to park and help get your stuff inside.”

“That would be great. Thanks.” Sandra was impressed at his offer of assistance. He really was making her feel welcome. It was more than she'd expected.

Too bad it was under false pretenses. At least on her part. The scene with Rodriguez had kept replaying in her mind as she'd driven the last miles to base. She didn't know what to do. She certainly didn't want to work for the bad guys. Rodriguez was a worm. No, he was lower than a worm. He was scum. She wouldn't throw her lot in with him no matter what.

But how could she avoid having him spill the beans about what she'd done? She was in deep trouble and couldn't see a feasible way out. Not yet at least. She'd try to play along for now and hope something changed before Rodriguez decided to force her hand.

Commander Sykes hopped back into the jeep he'd driven to the gate and led the way through the maze of buildings. She would need a map to find her way around until she got her bearings. After a lengthy drive through several outlying areas of the large base, he finally pulled into a spacious, mostly uninhabited lot and parked his jeep near a side door to one of the buildings it bordered.

Sandra parked the Caddy beside him and got out, stretching the kinks out of her back. It had been a long ride. She wasn't used to road trips—or being run off the road, for that matter. Things in her life had definitely taken a turn for the strange and frightening. She was doing things and dealing with people she never would have before. She didn't like it at all but had no idea how to go back to the way things used to be.

She and that first scientific team had let the genie out of the bottle. Now she had to do everything possible to cram it back in and make certain it could never escape again.

Sandra opened her trunk, noting three muscular, uniformed men rounding the corner of the building. She thought nothing of them until they veered in her direction. Matt greeted them and turned to face her; the imposing group ranged behind him.

“These are a few of the men you'll be working with,” he informed her. “You probably remember Captain Beauvoir and Private Kauffman from the op on Long Island.”

“How could I forget?” She shook hands with Beauvoir and Kauffman as they stepped forward. “How are you, Captain?”

“Very well, thank you, ma'am.” He favored her with an intense smile. Xavier Beauvoir was one heck of a good-looking man. Shaggy blond-streaked brown hair, sparkling whiskey-colored eyes, and a physique that just wouldn't quit. He'd run the operation on Long Island. The man was sharp as a tack despite his lazy Cajun drawl. Still waters definitely ran deep with him.

Matt continued the introductions. “This is Simon Blackwell. He's a retired Navy SEAL, now working for us on a contractual basis. He's one of my men from Quantico.”

She understood what that meant. No doubt this Blackwell fellow had been involved in the initial infestation. If he was still involved, he was more than likely naturally immune to the contagion.

“Good to meet you.” She shook his hand as well, feeling guilty all over again about having released the first round of monsters. If not for her stupidity, this man would never have been exposed to the contagion. He'd probably lost friends to it, too. All because of her.

After the introductions, each of the guys picked a few boxes or bags out of her trunk and headed for the entrance to the building. She was surprised. She'd assumed that Matt had volunteered to help her carry her belongings. She should have realized he had volunteered his men to help her instead. Why would a navy commander waste precious time moving boxes and bags when he had a troop of men at his beck and call to do the work?

With the men doing the heavy lifting, it took only two trips back and forth to bring all of her belongings inside. Matt had gone in with her, showing her to a small dormitory-style room and giving her a key. He stayed inside, talking with her while the men schlepped her stuff up to her room.

“Your lab is fully equipped and waiting for you in the subbasement of this building. You can access it from the flight of stairs down the hall, but you'll need your base I.D. and this key.” He handed her another old-fashioned metal key on a small ring. “I'd like to take you over to get your base I.D. as soon as you're settled so you can have access to every area you need right away.”

She looked at her watch. She was totally beat, but she understood his reasoning. Chances were she couldn't really go anywhere without base identification.

“I can go now, if that's convenient.” She gave in to the inevitable even though she would rather have taken a few minutes to recuperate from her long drive.

Matt grinned. “Perfect.”

Simon delivered the last of her belongings, and Matt dismissed the men. They waved good-bye to her and went on their way. She took a minute to look in the small mirror mounted on the wall above a chest of drawers and patted her hair back into place. They'd take a photo, she was sure. It couldn't be helped. She looked decent, but she'd never been very photogenic.

She followed Matt out to the parking lot. They took his vehicle, leaving hers parked where it was for now. It had a temporary pass on the dash that had been issued by the gate guard. That would keep it safe while she attended to more pressing matters.

“How is Lieutenant Archer doing?” she asked as Matt drove.

“Driving the nurses crazy.” Matt's tone invited laughter. “He's at the hospital, in a secure wing, waiting for you as soon as you're ready to go over and check him out.”

She hadn't liked the idea of leaving her patient, but Sam was in good hands. She'd been told there was another medical doctor on the team—a woman who'd dealt with an immune soldier before. Sandra had consulted with Dr. Mariana Daniels by phone before even considering leaving Sam in her care. The woman, while not a career researcher, had impressed Sandra with her understanding of the contagion and the way it affected the human body. She also had firsthand experience with immunity to it and understood what to look for in Sam's recovery.

“Could you drop me at the hospital after we get the I.D.?”

Matt seemed pleased by her request. “Definitely.” He turned into another parking lot and found a space. “In fact, I'd like you to tell Sam to come see me as soon as he's fit for duty. I have new orders for him.”

“I'll be sure to pass that along. If everything checks out, I'm going to release him today. Dr. Daniels sent me his test results electronically, and everything looks good.”

“That's great news, doctor.” He held the door for her as she entered the building. “We can use every man on this team that we can get.”

The I.D. process was relatively painless. There was the dreaded photo, of course. And then a short wait for security to produce the card that contained a coded microchip. The chip would grant her access to specific areas of the base. With it, she would be able to come and go as she pleased in the areas she had been cleared to enter.

Matt drove her to the base hospital and stopped the car, but didn't park it. “I have to get back to work,” he explained. “Call this number”—he gave her a slip of paper with a number scrawled on it—“when you're ready to leave. One of the guys will come over and drive you back to your quarters.”

“Thanks for taking me around, Commander.” She hopped down from the jeep.

“It was my pleasure, doctor.” He looked like he wanted to say more but seemed to think better of the impulse. She shut the door and he tipped his fingers to her in a casual salute as he drove off.

Sandra turned toward the door and realized he'd placed her at the perfect entrance to the base hospital. The first thing she saw when she crossed the threshold was the personnel office. She'd have to check in with them before she could start roaming the halls and seeing her patient.

A few minutes later, with a shiny new sticker on her new I.D. card, she went to find Sam.

 

Across the base, another new member of the team was placing a difficult phone call.

“Hi, Dad. It's me, Sarah.”

Sarah Petit, former Suffolk County police officer and newly hired military consultant, tried to break the news of her new job to her father. She hadn't been looking forward to this phone call. Her father was a retired NYPD detective who'd never understood why his little girl would want to be a cop.

“Sarah, honey, what's this I hear about you quitting the force?”

Crap. He'd already heard. “I was offered a really excellent opportunity with the government, Dad. I took it and I'm already on my way to start my first assignment.”

The grim silence on the other end of the line didn't bode well. Finally, her father spoke.

“Does this have something to do with the
matter of national security
you stumbled into?” He emphasized the words letting her know he'd heard all about the cover story the military had fed to the local authorities about her involvement.

“How did you hear about that?” She realized as soon as the words were out of her mouth what a stupid question that was. Big John Petit was still connected, no matter how long he'd been retired from the force.

“Did you know your Chief O'Hara was an old acquaintance of mine?”

“Dad! Have you been spying on me the whole time I've been a county cop?” She thought she knew the answer to that one already, too.

“It wasn't spying, Sarah. O'Hara and I talked from time to time. It's only natural your name came up. He was really pleased with your work, sweetheart. I was so proud. But he called me last week saying you'd been in the hospital and now were working for the feds.”

“Why didn't you ask me directly? I would've told you what I could.”

“The phone works both ways, Sarah. Why didn't you even tell me you'd been in the hospital? You know I would've been right there with you if I'd known my only daughter had been hurt on the job. Attacked by two thugs in an abandoned building, and I had to hear it a week later from your chief!”

Okay, so she'd screwed up on that score. She should've called her dad, but she'd been afraid of just such a reaction. He'd have called her brothers, and they would have enveloped her in a layer of virtual bubble wrap for her own protection. Meaning they would have closed ranks around her, and all the work she'd done with Xavier—her new fiancé—would never have happened. They'd have made it impossible.

Speaking of Xavier, her family didn't know about him yet, either. Oh, boy.

She took a deep breath.

“Okay, Dad. I'm sorry. Things happened really fast after the incident, and I wasn't really hurt anyway.”

“O'Hara told me you'd been hospitalized for nearly a week and he'd been ordered to silence by a bunch of Green Berets who stormed in and took over the morning after you were admitted. Exactly what the hell happened, Sarah?”

Oh, she knew that tone. Her dad wasn't only mad. He was hurt as well. She'd really screwed up.

“My head connected with a concrete floor, Dad. I was out of it for the first few days. And Chief O'Hara was complying with orders from a higher authority to keep it under wraps. I'm sorry you had to hear about this after the fact, but it really was, and still is, a matter of national security.”

“Jeez, Sarah. What did you get involved in?”

“You wouldn't believe me, even if I could tell you.” She had to chuckle at the bizarre truth of her statement. “Would it help you to know that Johnny is going to be working on the same team? I just found out this morning.” Her brother was a CIA operative and former Marine. Maybe the news they'd be working together would help ease her father's fears.

“Johnny! Sarah, that's no comfort at all. Johnny's line of work isn't exactly safe. Now I'll have to worry about both of you. Where are you anyway? I went by your house after O'Hara called me, and it was locked up tight.”

“On my way to my first assignment.” She hedged, buying time. She'd have to spill the beans. That was what this belated phone call was all about. So much had happened in such a short time. She wasn't sure where to begin.

“Which is where?”

“North Carolina.”

Her father breathed a gusty sigh she could hear over the phone. “Thank God for that. If Johnny's involved, you could've been headed for Timbuktu.”