Caressed By Ice (32 page)

In the darkest
core of the PsyNet, the pure black walls of the Council chambers streamed with data, endless silver columns too fast for the eye to see but legible to the psychic mind.

“We've lost control of PineWood,” Nikita said. “Parrish—the alpha—is dead, and someone's not only deprogrammed the rest of the pack, he or she has armed the hyenas' minds against further interference. Trained personnel may be able to break those blocks, but it will take considerable effort. It's not worth our time.”

“Sascha?” Shoshanna asked.

“No.” Nikita was certain of that. “She doesn't have the necessary skill set.”

“Neither does Faith NightStar,” Marshall pointed out.

“Which leaves us with an unknown.” Kaleb, who'd been uncharacteristically quiet to that point. “If I'm not mistaken, programming and deprogramming skills are taught exclusively to certain branches of our armed forces.”

“Correct.” Ming's icy blaze. “It has to be one of the elite soldiers.”

“Someone outside the Net?” Nikita knew full well that, contrary to what the masses believed, there were some Psy who were not hooked into the PsyNet. Not renegades like her daughter, but those who had never uplinked at all…because they had another option. The existence of the “Forgotten” was one of the Council's many dirty secrets.

“Not necessarily,” Kaleb said. “I think it's becoming obvious we have a serious internal threat.”

“The Ghost.” Marshall's star went a cold, cold white.

“He has to be operating with an associate or associates,” Nikita added. “One Psy can't be so skilled in both psychic and physical warfare. The lab explosions were very precise, involving a high degree of technical knowledge—wholly dissimilar to the expertise required to siphon data from secure PsyNet databases.”

“Then there are the assassinations.” Tatiana spoke up. “We've lost several top scientists.”

“I'm checking my databases for possible renegades.” Ming was silent for a minute. “Over the past ten years, we've lost one Arrow and seven soldiers with the requisite skills—in circumstances that made recovery of their bodies impossible.”

“Who was the Arrow?” Tatiana again.

“Judd Lauren.”

Nikita recalled the case. “I think we can safely cross him off the list. The entire Lauren family has been dead for over a year.”

“Is that certain?” Marshall asked. “We never found bodies.”

Nikita knew the wolves. “The SnowDancers don't leave bodies to find. I can't see them giving sanctuary to any Psy and particularly not a Psy of Judd Lauren's abilities. He would have been a clear threat—their rule is to kill first and ask questions of the corpses.”

“Talking of the wolves,” Shoshanna said, “Brenna Kincaid is still listed on the Tech Association database as an active Level 1, which means she's alive.”

“Give it more time—they'll be killing each other soon enough.” Tatiana's cool tone. “Ming, what about the other seven soldiers you lost?”

“I'll trace them,” Ming said. “But I agree with Councilor Krychek—certain other recent events would seem to suggest an internal problem.”

“What's happening with the chat room situation?” Tatiana asked.

Marshall highlighted a file from the scrolling streams of data. “Henry is in charge of that particular issue.”

But it was Shoshanna who answered. “We've taken care of it. Those who were openly discussing incendiary matters have been counseled to cease and desist.”

Nikita wondered if “counseled” was a euphemism for the mildest form of rehabilitation, which left most of the higher brain functions intact while deleting large sections of memory. She had to admit it was a good choice. They couldn't afford an unseemly number of disappearances after the recent rash of murders caused by anchors who'd escaped their handlers. “That leaves the ones operating below the radar.”

“I have the NetMind searching,” Kaleb said, referring to the unique sentience that lived in and made order out of the chaos of the PsyNet.

“That brings up another issue,” Marshall said. “The NetMind has been getting very erratic of late. It's only recently reported back on possible signs of a serial killer who may have been operating undetected for years.”

They had all noticed it. The NetMind's recordings were more fragmented than before, and there were gaps filled with dark spaces, a low buzz of background noise—almost an echo—that none of their best minds could filter out.

“This is a theory unbacked by any research,” Kaleb said into the silence, “but I believe the NetMind may be passing through a period of adolescence. If so, that adolescence is likely to last decades, if not centuries. We have no concrete idea of its age or the speed at which it matures.”

Shoshanna spoke on the heels of his pronouncement. “Given that the research of over a century has not yet managed to uncover the NetMind's inner workings, I would say it's safe to assume this issue will have no easy answer.”

“I agree.” Marshall. “We have to initiate other options to find the identity of the second tier of discontents. Ming, do you have people we can use?”

“My forces are currently heavily involved in relocating the Implant Lab. Because of the sabotage risk, we're moving it to a hidden location in the cornfields of Nebraska.”

“As I recall, wasn't Aleine resistant to the idea of a move?” Nikita had met the head researcher. The woman had a will comparable to any Councilor's.

“That issue has been resolved.”

Nikita wondered what leverage Ming had used—it had to have been very persuasive. “But if that's the case, why not move her to a location out of the United States?” Some of the eastern European sites were far better suited to clandestine research.

“Zie Zen,” Ming said. “He's the biological father of Ashaya Aleine's only child. They have a joint parenting agreement and he wishes his coparent to remain in the country, as she's training the boy in certain unusual aspects of his abilities.”

Nikita was well aware of who Zie Zen was, having run across the powerful businessman more than once as they vied for the same contracts. “We can't afford to obstruct business—not after the Faith NightStar fiasco.” She directed her words at the Scotts, the two who had caused the whole mess.

But it was Tatiana who spoke. “How secure is the new location?”

“Extremely,” Ming responded. “No one in the lab knows where they're being moved and once they arrive, they'll be under a communications blackout, except for monitored calls with their family or business groups once a week. Their PsyNet access will be policed at all times—setting up the tracers is what's taking up so many of my forces. As for Council staff, only the bare minimum know the new location. The short list is one hundred. If we have a leak, we'll know where to start looking.”

“Did you check for changeling threats?” Kaleb's question was one Nikita had been considering asking. “The secrecy could be for nothing if they locate us.”

“There is no strong pack or family unit in the vicinity.”

“And,” Tatiana added, “changelings don't much care what we do so long as it doesn't affect them. I believe we must concentrate on the threat from within.”

Ming's star flared. “Agreed. There is no risk of an outside strike on the new lab.”

“Let's hope your confidence is justified.” Shoshanna.

Nikita wanted to say something about what she and Kaleb suspected, if only to put an end to the other Councilor's arrogance. But the time wasn't yet right—they were still gathering evidence. However, they could certainly start the process.

She waited until the Council session had ended before asking Ming for a private meet. Kaleb had left her to fire the first volley. That implied no relationship of trust—she didn't trust anyone and neither did he. But he might make a useful ally. If he proved an enemy…well, deaths could be made to look like accidents.

 

Ming followed her
into the Duncan family vault. “Nikita, what can I do for you?”

“Ming, I didn't want to bring this up in open session in case there was a good reason you wanted it kept secret from a certain other faction”—sow the seeds slowly—“but why didn't you tell us about the live trial of the Implant Protocol?”

“Your intelligence is faulty. There have been no live trials.”

“I have confidence in my source,” Nikita said. “Apparently there are ten participants. One fatality to date.” She showed him the data file and watched as he downloaded it into his mind.

When Ming next spoke, the ice of his mind could have cut diamonds. “Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I intend to find out who authorized this and order an immediate reversal. The process isn't refined enough for such testing.”

She believed his rebuttal. As the Councilor in charge of their armed forces, Ming had no tolerance for deviations from the chain of command. “That was my evaluation as well.” She left it at that. Let Ming make his own conclusions, determine his own enemies. Arrows, even former Arrows, were very good at killing. It was their reason for being.

Midnight
the day of his entry into SnowDancer's hierarchy, Judd stood in the back of Perez's church, behind the curtains that usually hid the choir prior to their entrance. Tonight there was no choir, no light, just him and a man who might well be another Arrow.

The Ghost spoke from the depths of the shadows he seemed to court. “I wasn't sure you would respond to my message.”

Judd leaned against the wall. “Why not?”

“I was wrong in my earlier assessment—you've changed, been influenced by the world outside the PsyNet.”

“My stand on Protocol I will never change.” It was an abomination, a desecration that could not be permitted.

“No conflicting loyalties?”

“Not yet.” But if it came to that, he had already made his choice. Her name was Brenna and she was his heartbeat. “I would suggest you agree to let me disclose some of what we know to those who now share my life. They're your allies.” And he would not lie—or keep needed information—from those who trusted him.

“My allies? Not yours?” The Ghost's voice was measured, cold, Psy.

“They're my people now.” He might be a fallen Arrow, but he was also a SnowDancer lieutenant.

“So, do your people care about the Psy?” The Ghost didn't ask who those people were, keeping to their unspoken code. You could not betray what you did not know.

“They care about the stability of this world. The Psy have the capacity to destroy it if they carry on in their current path.” Like it or not, the Psy were the most powerful race on the planet. In the past, they had been conscious of the effects of their decisions on the other races. No longer. “No one needs to know where my information comes from.”

“We're a team, Judd. I'll bow to your judgment.”

“What did you want to discuss?”

“The Implant Lab is in the process of being relocated. Details.” He threw across a data crystal. “The data is sensitive. From what I've been able to confirm, it appears that only a small percentage of the Council superstructure knows its exact location.”

Which meant that if they acted on it, the Ghost's anonymity could be compromised. “Were you able to confirm the damage done by our last hit?”

“Yes. There's no question—they've been set back, almost to square one.”

“So we can hold off acting against the new lab. Leaks happen.”

The Ghost paused. “There are rumors of a live trial in progress. If true, it means there are surviving copies of the experimental implants.”

Judd's mind rejected the idea of unique individuals being turned into automatons. “I was under the impression the implants weren't that advanced.”

“All of my intelligence says the same. My measured guess is that somebody acted precipitously and the implants will take care of themselves—I wouldn't be surprised if they've already begun to fail.”

“Keep me updated. If necessary, I can make the destruction of the new lab look like an unfortunate accident.” It would require more planning and the cooperation of the pack, but it could be done.

A nod from the Ghost. “Do you ever wish to return to who you were?”

An unusual question, but the answer was easy. “No.”

 

Brenna
was in bed when he came to her quarters. Moving on silent feet, he paused to check that the security device on her door was functioning at an optimal level. He wouldn't rest easy until the killer had been caught—he'd already discarded twenty of Riley's original sixty suspects using pure logic, but his instincts told him he was close to running out of time.

Brenna opened her eyes when he entered her room. “You're back.” She smiled sleepily at him from her nest in the blankets.

He sat on the edge. “I need to tell you something.”

“I'm here.” She scooted closer, but didn't touch.

He knew the distance had to tear at her changeling need for contact and the maleness in him raged against that—he was supposed to give her what she needed, not cause her pain. “I want to tell you where I go,” he said, giving her another kind of intimacy, “and what I do when I disappear from the den.” He began at the beginning—the fateful meeting on the PsyNet, a meeting he was sure had been engineered by the Ghost. But the other Psy had only found him because Judd had wished to be found.

“He'd been watching me, seen my subtle insubordination. I met Father Xavier Perez a year later.” In a bar where he'd gone for data and Perez had gone to get blind drunk. But those were the priest's secrets. They had nothing to do with their work.

“Kindred souls.” She was even closer, as if she couldn't stay away.

Neither could he, despite the fact that he could sense the cascade of fine blood vessels bursting and being repaired instantaneously inside his skull. His Tk-Cell abilities were keeping up with the damage. Just. “We, all three of us, want to protect the Psy from the biggest threat since Silence.” Though Xavier Perez's motive remained a mystery, the man's loyalty was unquestionable. “Protocol I will lead to the destruction of the young—their minds will be cut into, their individual identities destroyed.”

Brenna's hand curled around his, separated only by the blanket. He felt her warmth. It wasn't enough. He was starving for her, a clawing, almost animal hunger inside him.

“Judd—I smell blood.” She jerked upright and reached to switch on a lamp.

He stopped her with his other hand. “It's just a nosebleed.”

A small silence, then she pulled away from him.
“No.”
A pained whisper. “It'll kill you if we don't stop being together.”

He wiped away the blood with the sleeve of his turtleneck, able to tell it was dark and rich. “There is another option, as you once said. I have to disable the Protocol.” And somehow keep from turning into an inadvertent murderer.