Generation 18: The Spook Squad 2 (24 page)

“A chance encounter with a reject from another project gave us the clue, though I reckon Em might have had her suspicions anyway. We formed a pact with the reject. We helped him, and he helped us.”

“Then why cut out the wombs and ovaries in the women, or the penis and testes in the men?”

For a moment, Rose didn’t answer. She paced the floor behind him in long, aggravated strides. “Do you know what it is like to be a twin? To share your twin’s every thought, every desire and every anguish?”

His smile was grim. He should, but he didn’t. Perhaps he would regret it one day, but for now, he was happy to continue blocking Stephan.

“I spent half my life physically locked away from my sister,” Rose continued softly. “It didn’t matter, because even as a child, all I had to do was reach out and she was there, in my mind, ready to comfort or talk.”

So, even as babes, the two had known about each other. “What kept you apart as you got older? Hopeworth?”

Rose came back within sight. Her face darkened. “The bastards sucked her dry, and then they spat out the husk. They didn’t care what happened to her once they’d finished with her. I was the one who had to pick up the pieces. I was the one who had to see and feel her agony as the cancers
their
treatments and explorations had left her with ate away her body.” She hesitated and clenched her fists. “I was the one who had to watch her die and feel her relief as death sucked her soul away.”

And the experience had obviously left her more than a little off-center. “Why didn’t you bury her, Rose? Why not offer her the dignity in death that she couldn’t get in life?”

“Because once the soul has gone, the body is only a lifeless shell. It doesn’t matter what happens to it.”

Rose and Emma where born shifters, and yet they obviously had none of the beliefs that were ingrained into most shifter families. Maybe it was because they’d been adopted at such a young age and raised by humans. But even humans buried their dead. Gabriel shifted slightly, trying to ease the ache in his side where the glass had cut. His fingers brushed against something sharp. More glass. If he could grab it, he might just be able to cut the ropes and escape. All he had to do was keep her talking and direct her attention elsewhere.

“It is a belief among my people that if the body is not properly interred, the soul cannot go on and be reborn.”

Rose raised an eyebrow. “And sticking them six feet under is supposed to aid this rebirth?”

He smiled grimly. “Sticking them six feet under is nothing but a waste of good planting soil.”

“Well, at least we agree on something.” She turned away and continued her pacing. “Let’s go back to your earlier question. Why do I cut up these innocents, as you call them, so badly?”

He raised an eyebrow. He’d asked that question a good five minutes ago. Had she just decided to answer, or was she simply trying to keep him talking?

“You told me Emma wanted them dead,” he said. “But
you
wanted them to suffer. To suffer as much as your sister had suffered.”

She stopped and regarded him in surprise. “Very good, Assistant Director. And yes, I wanted them to know what Emma had suffered to give them life. I wanted them to die suffering, just like her. But that is not the reason for doing what I did.”

She turned away and resumed her pacing. He caught the shard of glass between his fingers and began to saw at the rope.

“You must understand something about Hopeworth—it never lets people go. Not completely. Everything Emma did, everything she said, Hopeworth heard. Even though she was useless to them, they couldn’t let her go completely. It was the same with the adoptees, though not for the same reasons. By removing their eggs and sperm, I denied Hopeworth access to Emma’s line, as well as finally ending any connection Emma—and those who’d come from her genes—had with that place.”

“You can’t be sure of any of that.” Blood was slick on his wrists—he seemed to be cutting himself more than the damn rope.

“Yes, I can.” Her sudden smile was bitter. “Emma was microchipped, you know. Hopeworth wanted to be certain of her location at all times. The adoptees didn’t need it, however. They were bugged psychically.”

Several strands of rope gave away, giving him a little more movement. Blood rushed to his fingertips, tingling painfully. He ignored it and kept on cutting.

“How can you bug someone psychically without them knowing?”

“The same way a thief can pick your pocket without you knowing. It just takes knowledge and timing.”

If this were true, then Hopeworth might know a damn sight more about the Federation than anyone in the Federation wanted. Miranda had been privy to more than a few secrets.

“So Hopeworth has stealth-trained telepaths?” Which was harder to do than most people realized. The human population seemed to think telepaths could just read thoughts anywhere, anytime. In reality, it was nowhere near that simple. If it were, telepaths would be on a fast track to insanity. Besides, even the most psychically dead human could usually tell when he was being read—it was like walking into your house and realizing you’d been burgled. It was something you could just sense.

“My, you’re not just a pretty face, are you?” Her voice held a sarcastic edge. “Of course Hopeworth has stealth-trained telepaths. They’ve been breeding talents and God knows what else for close to fifty years.”

He met her gaze. In the green depths of her eyes, intelligence mixed with madness. A deadly combination. “How do you know all this?”

“My reject friend told me. He’d been doing a little investigating himself, trying to figure out where, and what, he’d come from. He’s stolen an amazing amount of information from the military with them being none the wiser.”

If they believed that, they were fools. He had a suspicion very little escaped Hopeworth’s attention. “Your reject friend wouldn’t happen to be that misshapen giant I felled, would it?”

“And he’s more than a little pissed off over that, you know. I had to send him home and give him time to cool down. Of course, I also had to promise that he could kill you after I’d finished with you.”

He snorted softly. “I’m sure you intend to kill me anyway.”

“Oh yes. But at least I would have been quick about it. Orrin savors the suffering and the blood. It feeds some need in his soul.”

Which was as good a reason as any to be well and truly out of here by then. Another strand of the thick rope snapped loose. Time. He just needed more time.

“Sounds to me as if you should be attacking Hopeworth more than the innocent by-products of their experiments.”

She gave him a cold smile. “We intend to, once I fulfill Emma’s dying wish.”

The woman was definitely mad if she thought she could go up against the might of Hopeworth and win. “And how does Dr. Francis play into all of this?”

“She’s been a useful ally when it comes to getting access to people and drugs. She’s also a very useful decoy. She led you into my trap pretty successfully, don’t you think?”

Yes, she did, and more the fool him for not following instinct and staying at the house. “What did
she
get out of the situation?”

“Test subjects for her Jadrone replacement. Of course, I did have to kill them afterward, but I don’t believe that worried her.”

“So what do you intend to do with me now?”

“You will help us more than you can know.” Rose regarded him steadily for a moment. “Shall I show you how?”

Amusement mingled with the madness, and his gut clenched. Whatever it was, it wasn’t good.

Her body began to shift, to mold itself into a new form until what stood before him was his own image. Rose wasn’t just a shifter. She was what they’d long thought impossible—a cross-gender hybrid.

“So what do you think, Assistant Director?”

Her voice was his. So that was why she hadn’t minded answering his questions. She wanted to hear how he talked, the inflections in his voice, the way he used words.

“I think you’re mad.” Mad enough to get away with it. He sawed desperately on the last few strands of rope. He had to stop her here,
now,
or the adoptees would die. The agents watching them wouldn’t question his sudden appearance or his need to check each adoptee personally. They were all too used to his eccentric ways.

She smiled. “I don’t intend to hold the disguise long. Just long enough to get to the rest of the adoptees and kill them.”

“You’ll never find them.”

“Your computer doesn’t have their location? I very much doubt it.”

It did. And as good as her disguise was, she’d probably get past the voice and eye scans. If he got out of this alive, he’d have to talk to Finley about finding another way to secure vital information.

She glanced at her watch, which, like her now too-short clothes, hadn’t changed. “Time runs away from me, unfortunately. As much as I enjoyed our little chat, I now have to go. Be good, Assistant Director. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

She turned and walked to the door. The last of the rope strands fell from his wrist and he jerked upright as Rose opened the door. He threw the rope to one side and lunged for the door.

It slammed shut in his face and he punched the metal in frustration. Her laughter ran around him, fading as she walked away.

Sam climbed out of her car and studied the house opposite. The redbrick, single-story house with a metal picket fence and well-tended garden looked no different from its immediate neighbors.

Only it was. Evil resided inside.

She rubbed her arms, then reached back into the car to collect her coat. The wristcom buzzed against her side. She slipped on the coat and answered the call.

“We’re in position, Agent Ryan.”

“Give me five minutes, Briggs, then move in around the back.” She glanced down the road, studying the gray Ford parked several houses down. She pointed toward the side of the house and saw an answering nod from inside the car. Taking a deep breath, she walked across the road and opened the front gate.

The front curtains moved. Evil had been watching.

She climbed the front steps and pressed the doorbell. When there was no response after several minutes, she banged her fist against the door. “SIU. We know you’re in there, Mr. Whittiker. Please come out.”

Briggs and Edmonds climbed over the front fence and edged down the side of the house. She fisted the door again. “I have a warrant for your arrest, Mr. Whittiker. Please, come out, or I’ll be forced to break in.”

Again, no response. She drew her weapon, took aim at the lock and fired. The door smashed back against the wall. The head of the armory hadn’t been kidding when he’d said the gun would stop an elephant. The damn thing hadn’t even been set to full.

She edged into the shadows lurking in the hall. There was a door to her immediate left and another farther along the hall to the right.

Evil waited near the right door.

“Stop playing games, Orrin, and come out.” She ducked into the left-hand doorway.

Footsteps moved away. He was trying to circle around behind her. She turned and studied the room. Heavy drapes shrouded the window, keeping the room locked in darkness. And yet she could see as clearly as if it were day. A vid-screen dominated the far wall. In the center of the room were several old chairs, separated by a coffee table. To the left of these was another doorway.

It was to that door that evil headed.

She walked across the room and stood in the obscurity of the far corner. After several minutes, she heard a whisper of breath. He was close, so close.

She waited. The air stirred again. Orrin appeared, mouse quiet as he ducked through the doorway and padded forward. For a moment, she could only stare. His damn fists were bigger than her entire head. He was beyond huge
.

She widened her stance and aimed her gun. “SIU, Orrin. Put your hands on your head and do not move. I’ll shoot if you do.”

He hesitated. Fear and anger sizzled through the darkness, slamming into her. She reeled back into the wall, trying to keep her balance through the sudden dizziness, unsure what was happening but aware that the giant was somehow responsible.

Orrin dove for the window. Though tears blurred her vision, she pulled the trigger. Energy sizzled through the darkness and struck the giant’s thigh. Orrin yelped, but somehow managed to climb to his feet and keep on running. She tapped her wristcom.

“Orrin’s on the street, running west.”

The dizziness cleared as she ran out of the house. She leapt the front fence and pounded down the street after Orrin. But she was taking three steps to his one and losing ground fast.

“Orrin, stop, or I’ll shoot.”

He put his head down, arms pumping as he tried to run faster. She fired a warning shot over his head. It did no good.

She aimed at his legs and fired. The shot took him in the thigh again, and this time it brought him down. The ground shook as he hit. She stopped several feet away. He lurched toward her, trying to grab her feet. She danced away, the weapon primed and ready to fire again.

Edmonds and Briggs joined her. Even then, it took all three of them to handcuff Orrin and get him into the back of the van.

She slammed the door shut and wiped the sweat from her forehead. “Take him back to headquarters and get his leg seen to, Briggs. I’ll meet you there.”

The older woman nodded. Sam watched the van drive away, then called Gabriel. Still no answer. Uneasiness stirred anew. Something was very wrong. She scratched her head, turned and walked back to her car.

For now, there was nothing she could do. If Stephan didn’t know where Gabriel was, what hope did she have of finding him?

She drove back to headquarters. After dumping her handbag in her office, she made her way down to the holding cells. Briggs and Edmonds were waiting in the corridor.

“How is he?”

Briggs shrugged. “He’s loud, ugly as sin and the rudest bastard I’ve ever met.”

Sam smiled. “I meant his wound.”

“To be perfectly honest, I hope it festers and causes his leg to drop off.” Briggs turned her face to the side. A bruise darkened her skin, stretching from just below the eye down to her chin. “I’m lucky to escape with just this. He knocked Thornhill through the front doors. Cut him up pretty badly.”