Nexus: Ziva Payvan Book 2 (17 page)

“One week, Reilly!” Loric’s voice carried through the night as the cars roared away.

-39-

HSP Headquarters

Noro, Haphez

It seemed that time had stopped entirely when Ziva’s communicator began going off. Aroska stood there listening to it chirp in his pocket, unwilling to make eye contact with Dasaro. He had spent the afternoon familiarizing himself with the case just as the captain had instructed, and now it appeared that Ziva had chosen to contact him at the exact moment he’d decided to check in with his new superior. It was more than ironic.

Aroska continued relaying his thoughts regarding the information stored on the data pad, his mouth running on autopilot as his mind worked feverishly to come up with an excuse for carrying a second comm.
Idiot,
he thought. He was working himself up over nothing. For all Dasaro knew, this was his one and only communicator, the one that was supposedly being bugged, and he would look foolish for not responding to the transmission. Still, he recalled Ziva’s words instructing him to ignore the message were he in a bad situation. He decided this predicament met such criteria.

By the time he stopped talking, the early stages of a smirk were visible on Dasaro’s face. “Are you going to answer that, Lieutenant?” he asked.

Trapped, Aroska shrugged sheepishly and slipped the device out of his pocket. “Yes, sorry,” he said. “Excuse me.” He glanced at the screen then held it to the ear on the far side of his head. “I thought I told you not to call me at work.”

Ziva hesitated a moment before responding. “Is this a bad time?”

“It could be worse.” Then, playing on his initial greeting, he added, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I was going back today.”

“I have an errand for you if you’re free.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“I need some things from my house,” she said. “Go there and tell Marshay and Ryon that ‘the bird has flown.’ They’ll know what to do.”

Aroska made a show of studying his watch for a moment before glancing apologetically at Dasaro. “Got it – I’ll see if I can swing it.”

“One more thing. There’s a row of decorative tiles on my bedroom wall – the third one from the right is a pressure switch. It opens another panel in the wall that houses a hidden compartment. I need you and
only
you to bring me the contents of that compartment. Don’t let anyone catch you with it; you’ll know what it is.”

“I’ll be there. Don’t wait up for me.” He ended the call abruptly and slid the communicator into his pocket. “Sorry about that,” he said. “Sister-in-law is making dinner plans. Anyway, I was thinking I would head out to Payvan’s house and do some digging. I know there’s already been a patrol out there, but considering my past experience with her, Rubin and Kittner might take more kindly to my presence. Besides, they won’t have any idea I’m there on your behalf.”

“Very good,” Dasaro said. “Thank you again for you help, Lieutenant. My hope is that with your assistance we can end this in a matter of hours, not days.”

“No problem, sir. I’ll do my best.”

Aroska turned and rushed out, the feeling of finally accomplishing something fueling him with newfound energy. He located his car in the parking bay and twenty minutes later found himself pulling into the front drive of Ziva’s house on the Tranyi River. He had almost forgotten what an elegant structure it was, but he hardly had time to admire it as he leaped out of the vehicle and bolted toward the front door.

The door opened just as he reached it and he let his momentum carry him through without a second thought. Marshay Rubin, Ziva’s kind-hearted, motherly housekeeper, stepped back quickly with her hand still on the door controls. Ryon Kittner, an old friend of the Payvan family and an uncle figure to Ziva, stood up from where he’d been sitting on the sofa, startled.

“Marshay, Ryon,” Aroska greeted them, making a beeline across the living room toward Ziva’s bedroom door.

“Lieutenant Tarbic!” Marshay cried. He couldn’t tell if she was unhappy with his presence or merely shocked.

Ryon managed to cut him off just as he reached the hallway, extending a solid hand to stop his advance. “Slow down, son. What brings you out here?”

Aroska stopped, realizing he was moving too quickly even for his own good. He took a deep breath and stepped back, calming himself under the wary gaze of both the housekeeper and the former military officer. “Sorry,” he muttered. “I’m here for some of Ziva’s things.”

Marshay lifted an eyebrow. “And just what do you mean by that? HSP has already been through here tearing this place apart, confiscating anything they think could possibly be related to this damn investigation. What more do you want?”

“This is different,” Aroska said. He lowered his voice and took a step closer to the two of them. “Is the area secure?”

“The agency has the comms bugged, but I swept the house and it’s clean,” Ryon replied. He tilted his head, studying Aroska with a thoughtful expression. “Isn’t that something you should know already?”

“No. I’m on Ziva’s side here.”

“You’ll have to do better than that,” Marshay snapped. “The entire agency is supposed to be on Ziva’s side and yet they didn’t even try to defend her!” She glanced away, blinking back angry tears, muttering curses under her breath.

“Marshay, the bird has flown.”

For the second time in an hour, time itself seemed to stop. For a moment Aroska wasn’t sure if he had actually spoken or if he’d simply imagined it, because neither Marshay nor Ryon moved or had any other visible reaction to his words. Finally the housekeeper reestablished eye contact, her face possessing the same unspoken gratitude that it had as she’d read Ziva’s pardon document two months earlier.

“I’m here under the pretense that I’m interrogating the two of you,” he explained. “It’s a bit of a long story, but HSP currently believes I’m working against Ziva along with the rest of them.”

Without a word Marshay and Ryon were both on the move, silently rushing in and out of rooms until Aroska lost track of where exactly they were. Again feeling rather out of the loop, he resumed his journey to the bedroom. What he found through the open door saddened him – what he remembered as the most fanatically organized room he’d ever seen had been turned upside down by a typical HSP raid. Cords and equipment were scattered on the floor where Ziva’s personal computer and comm console had been plucked away like plants. Tools and broken objects littered the floor, destroyed beyond repair.

The tiles Ziva had described were glossy and translucent, alternating between a rich black color and beautiful dark green. They had been set at about shoulder-height, creating a barrier between the white upper wall and the lower half that was colored a pale gray. He saw that they had only been placed along the far wall, suppressing his fear that they went all the way around the room and he wouldn’t be able to figure out which one Ziva had specified. He had scoured his memory on the way over, trying to recall the layout of the room, but the one and only time he had been there his mind had been otherwise occupied.

Aroska followed the line with his eyes and found the third one from the right positioned over what remained of Ziva’s bed. He made his way over to it, climbing gingerly over the tossed bedcovers and the mattress that had been ripped from its frame. The pressure switch had been expertly installed. If not for the fact that Ziva herself had told him it was there, he would never have known. It was no doubt the reason HSP had passed it over…assuming they had.

He placed his palm flat against the tile and held his breath as he slowly began pressing against it. It gave after a few moments, collapsing into the wall about two centimeters with a soft click. He could hear mechanisms whirring within the wall and one of the adjacent tiles suddenly popped from its place, startling him. Glancing toward the door and listening for signs of Marshay and Ryon, he took hold of the tile and lifted it, finding that it folded on unseen hinges. This compartment had also been cleverly hidden, invisible to anyone who didn’t know it was there. He took another look at the long line of tiles and wondered how many others housed secret compartments.

Behind the cover Aroska found a metal strongbox, the kind designed not so much for security as for protecting against fire or water damage. There was no keypad or manual lock, just a sturdy handle and some writing in a language he wasn’t familiar with. The box was as large as the tile itself, roughly thirty centimeters wide, and it appeared the compartment was equally deep. It was a hiding place whose contents were not meant to be accessed often, but when they were it was meant to be fast. Part of him wondered what Ziva could be hiding that was so important, and part of him knew better than to bother questioning anything she did. The realization that he still barely knew the woman kept creeping to the front of his mind, and yet the fact that he was currently the only person she could trust made him feel as though they should be long-time acquaintances. The confusion was beginning to give him a headache.

Risking another look at the door before proceeding, Aroska took hold of the handle and twisted it downward, hearing the satisfying click as the latch released. The sturdy door swung open, revealing a dark space occupied only by a stack of credits and another object he didn’t recognize. Heeding Ziva’s instructions to bring all the contents of the box, he stuffed the credits into his pocket then reached in for the other item.

It was narrow and cylindrical in shape, about the length of his forearm. He turned it over slowly, trying to wrap his mind around what exactly he was seeing. It was solid black, with a soft outer layer that enhanced his grip on it. The object weighed about a kilogram and didn’t rattle at all when he gave it a gentle shake. Each end had a narrow slit cut in it, but he couldn’t see inside far enough to tell what might emerge from those slits. Unable to see anything else of consequence, he held it up and took another long look at it in the light.

“For starters, you know my secret.”

“Don’t let anyone catch you with it – you’ll know what it is.”

Then, his own voice.
“You don’t have one of those retractable swords, do you?”

When Aroska realized what he was holding, he wanted to drop it. He couldn’t, however, because his grip on the kytara had suddenly tightened to the point that his knuckles were white. He stood there staring at it, feeling unworthy to be holding such a significant object, until something in the back of his mind reminded him that he should hide it and close the compartment before Marshay or Ryon came in.

Suddenly brimming with questions, he tucked the weapon under his arm and lifted the tile back into place. It fell into position and the pressure switch popped back out with a monstrous click that sounded ridiculously loud in the silence of the room. He slid backward off the mattress and managed to turn around just as Marshay appeared in the doorway.

She hesitated for a moment before making eye contact, surveying the damage for herself and giving Aroska a split second to slip the kytara out of her line of sight. If anyone, he guessed Ziva would trust Marshay and Ryon to keep her secret, but he wasn’t about to take a chance and screw things up. Merely holding the thing made him feel uncomfortable enough.

“HSP did this?” he asked in an attempt to keep the older woman’s mind off the reason he had been snooping around in the bedroom.

“I don’t understand why they were so quick to turn against her,” Marshay said with a nod. “We all understand the concept of guilty-until-proven-innocent, but she’s one of them. Even if she did commit the murder, they should have at least tried to defend her.” She paused for several long seconds. “She didn’t do it, did she?”

“I don’t believe so,” Aroska said, sliding the kytara up the sleeve of his jacket. “There’s more to all of this than meets the eye.”

Marshay nodded sadly and glanced down at the sturdy backpack she carried. “This is what you came here for,” she explained. “It’s a collection of items Ziva keeps for when she has to leave quickly, for when the bird has to fly. If you’re familiar with that phrase, it’s evident to me that she’s been in contact with you. I won’t bother asking where she is or where you’re going. I’m sure she told you not to say and it’s probably best that we didn’t know anyway. I will say this: we’re on her side, and we’re ready to help if she needs it. I don’t know the full extent of the situation, so you two look out for each other. Bring her back in one piece.”

Somehow Aroska got the feeling that Ziva would be doing most of the work in that department, but he nodded respectfully and moved forward to relieve the woman of the heavy backpack. “I will, but if there’s anyone capable of getting herself out of a mess like this, it’s definitely Ziva.”

That brought a hint of a smile, and Marshay put an arm around his shoulder as if he were an old family friend. “True. Now come, stay a while. The agency has a team watching the house and we don’t want them to think you just came to chat. ‘Interrogate’ at will, Lieutenant.”

-40-

Residential Sector

Noro, Haphez

Ziva snapped to attention when she caught sight of Aroska’s car pulling back into his garage. She was once again sitting cross-legged in her place behind the filthy window of the abandoned house across the street, having successfully navigated her way back after the incident in the alley. She hadn’t stopped sweating since then and had been stricken by an inexplicable trembling that had overtaken her body. She had deemed the cause to be nothing more than nerves, but again had been unable to understand why she was allowing the current circumstances to affect her in such a way. She’d made it through situations ten times more difficult than this – or so she told herself – and of all the times she’d found herself in a pinch, now was when she needed to be strongest.

Hoping to relieve some of the pressure on her nerves, she had once again allowed herself to slip into a state of deep concentration, letting her mind go completely blank. She had never been a fan of meditation and the like, finding it to be a waste of time and energy, but in light of current events she found it very relaxing. At this point, with nothing more constructive to do with her time, she saw it as a way to stay on top of the game. If Emeri had not yet gone public with her Nosti abilities, he no doubt would at any moment, so she saw no harm in preparing herself for whenever the news was released. There was no guarantee that her Nostia would work at any given moment, but the meditation had seemed to help tilt the odds in her favor.

Somewhat stiff, Ziva rose to her feet and remained there behind the window for several more minutes. Satisfied that Aroska hadn’t been followed, she once more exited the little house and slinked across the street, toting her helmet under one arm. Night had fallen and traffic was scarce, allowing her to cross relatively unconcerned. She reached out with her mind and, finding the front door locked this time, carefully manipulated the internal mechanisms until it slid open.

Aroska was standing in the light of the kitchen and whirled when she entered, pistol drawn. He immediately relaxed when he saw her, though his wrinkled brow told her he was displeased, and he came into the living room and turned on the light.

“It’s good to know you can still be ready for a fight,” Ziva said, tossing her helmet onto the sofa. She saw her old backpack sitting in one of the dining chairs and silently thanked Marshay for sending it without fuss. If there had been a time when she’d been happier to see something that belonged to her, she couldn’t remember it.

“How did you get in here?” Aroska demanded, his perplexed gaze shifting between her and the door.

Ziva tilted her head. “Take a wild guess.”

“I thought you were just going to crash here,” he said. “Where the hell have you been?”

His voice had taken on a quality Ziva wasn’t sure she liked. It was one thing to have a general concern for her well-being, but to question her actions when he knew good and well
she
was the one calling the shots? She would see to it that his attitude didn’t last long. “Who are you now, my father?”

She thought she saw him roll his eyes before he turned back into the kitchen. “Here’s your stuff,” he muttered, waving half-heartedly at the pack where it waited in the chair.

After being in the same room for thirty seconds, Ziva already felt herself growing impatient with the man. She watched with crossed arms and knitted eyebrows as he went to the cooler and stood there with the door open as if trying to decide whether he actually wanted something to eat. Mood becoming increasingly foul, Ziva went to her pack and opened it up. Everything seemed to be in order – she found credits, a pen light, several medipacs and caura injectors, a small toolkit, hunting knife, pistol, and even a change of clothes. The pack contained every item she had stashed around her house except…

Her heart rate quickened and she whirled. “Where—” she said, the words “is it” trailing away when she caught sight of her kytara. Aroska had it in his hand, balancing one end on his forefinger and shifting his arm back and forth as it teetered. He let it fall into his palm when he saw he had her attention and held it up, the corners of his lips curling upward in a slight smirk.

“Give it to me,” Ziva ordered, hands on her hips.

The smirk widened into a full smile. “Not unless you show it to me, tell me how it works.”

“I don’t have time for games, Tarbic,” she growled. She took a quick step forward and grabbed for her weapon, but Aroska was quick as well and pulled it up just out of her reach. He cocked his head and shrugged, clearly saying
I told you so
without having to speak the words.

Not about to let him manipulate her like a puppet, Ziva took a step back and sent a hot glare at him before focusing on the kytara. He held it above his head and slightly behind him, smiling down on her like a brother who had just stolen his little sister’s favorite toy. She was sure he wanted her to jump up and down and throw a fit, but she was determined that he would receive no such pleasure. As if the juvenile popularity contest between her and Dasaro wasn’t bad enough…

With a quick jerk of her hand, she had an invisible grip on the kytara and gave it a sharp tug with her thoughts, just enough to take Aroska by surprise – which it did, judging by the expression on his face. He released it immediately and it flew to Ziva’s hand. The grip was warm and soft from being held, and it formed perfectly to her palm as if it had always belonged there. She rubbed her fingers gently over the smooth surface, then, tightening the muscles in her forearm, she flicked her wrist upward.

The metallic
shink
of the blades engaging echoed through the room. Each was thin, perfectly symmetrical, and extended nearly a meter from the end of the grip. Unlike the kytara she had impaled Gamon with nine years earlier, hers did not have serrated blades. She ran her thumb over one of the razor-sharp edges, drawing blood even with the slightest touch. Gripping the handle with both hands, she began to pull in a way only she knew how; the weapon broke apart at a previously invisible seam, separating into two lethal short swords. She looked up into Aroska’s wide eyes as she fitted the two halves back together, and with another flick of her wrist the blades retracted silently back into the handle.

“I don’t know what you think this is,” Ziva said, holding it up to him with white knuckles, “but it’s not a toy, got it? There’s no way you could understand and you’re never
going
to understand. You’re lucky I don’t gut you right now.”

That did a sufficient job of shutting him up, though Ziva had expected some type of challenge or smart remark. He shut the cooler door and glanced about the kitchen, reluctant to make eye contact. She caught herself when she realized she was reveling in the fear she had obviously struck in him. Perhaps he wasn’t the only one in the wrong when it came to getting along.

His shifting eyes finally settled back on hers, unsteady as if they would dart away again without warning. “So does that work on all doors?” he asked, voice dry.

Ziva turned and dug a tunnel through the items in the backpack, stuffing the kytara down into it. “No,” she replied. “It only works on standard doors – homes, businesses, that sort of thing. Blast doors, security doors, the ones that use more complex locking mechanisms, those are close to impossible. If I had more experience I could probably do it, but I don’t mind using tools. It reminds me I’m not invincible.”

She could tell Aroska was being eaten alive by curiosity, but also that he was trying hard to remain professional after her brief display of power. She knew she would have to share at least a portion of her story at some point, if for no other reason than to keep him quiet, though she had a feeling her abilities would come into play during their escape just as she had been contemplating earlier. There were times when part of her still regretted sacrificing her secret to save Aroska’s life, but as she stood there with him now she realized she would be completely on her own if she would have allowed him to die on Sardonis. It wasn’t that she couldn’t handle things on her own – it was just nice to have someone backing her up when virtually everyone she knew had either turned against her or had their hands tied.

“So is it some sort of magnetic field,” Aroska asked, “or is it more like telekinesis, mind control?”

“Look,” Ziva muttered. “We both know how much I would
love
to tell you all about it, but it will have to wait. There are a lot of important things that need to be done in the next couple of days, and it is imperative that we both stay focused. That means you don’t pester me, and I will do my best to not be short with you.”

“Fair enough,” Aroska said with raised eyebrows. “I take it you came up with some sort of plan?”

Ziva walked into the living room and, after confirming that the windows were sufficiently tinted, took a seat on the sofa with her legs crossed and her arms folded. “I will admit that I have yet to come up with a way of actually getting
off
the planet, but I know what we can do to buy some time.”

Aroska followed her in, bringing one of the dining chairs with him, and seated himself on the opposite side of the center table a comfortable distance from her. “This coming from the woman who keeps telling me the sooner we get this over with the better?”

“We have no choice,” Ziva replied. “We’re not going anywhere with the way things are right now. What we need is a way to climb over the wall Dasaro has set up, and once we’re on the other side we can move about more freely. Theoretically my plan should bring the entire wall down, and then it will just be a matter of figuring out what to do next.”

He shrugged and brought his elbows to rest on his knees. “Let’s hear it, then.”

“Think for a minute,” Ziva said. “How would you react if you were walking down the street and caught sight of a capital criminal even HSP’s finest hadn’t been able to catch?”

Aroska appeared thoughtful for a moment, though there was a glimmer in his eyes that told Ziva he was catching on to what she was asking. “I would approach and identify, stay out of sight. Once the identity was confirmed and I was certain they hadn’t spotted me, I would call for backup and continue to follow at a distance, reporting developments as I went. I would hope the agency would send someone to help take care of it.”

“Good. Remember all of that tomorrow, but keep in mind that you’re the Agent in Charge if Dasaro is out of the picture.”

The glimmer faded instantly. “Meaning what, exactly?”

Ziva leaned forward, making sure she had his attention. “Go to Haphor first thing in the morning and take my bag with you. Go to my step-father’s palace; I couldn’t care less what you do there, but make sure Dasaro thinks you’re there to question them. You’ll be on your own, but that’s what we want. No matter what happens around you, just play along. I won’t tell you any more than that because I want you to make it as realistic as possible. If all goes according to plan, the blockade will be lifted and we can get off this rock. There’s a chance we’ll only have a short window of time to get away so we’re going to have to make it count.”

“Hold up,” Aroska said. “What do you mean ‘
we
’?”

“I mean
us,
Aroska. That’s the thing – you’re going to have to come with me. If you do any more to help me, Dasaro will come after you too and you’ll have to run just as much as I will. If you want out, just say the word and I’m gone, but I need a decision right now.”

There was a brief hesitation before Aroska sighed. “I’m in,” he said. “I feel like it’s too late for me to turn back now – you’ve done a good job of piquing my curiosity. Besides, I’ve been sitting on my ass for too long and it will do me some good to get out of the house.”             

Ziva fought away a smirk. “You tasted blood on the Dakiti mission, didn’t you? Now you’ve been exposed to special ops and you can’t help but involve yourself again. Am I right?”

He smiled slyly and shrugged. “Maybe…I trust you’re speaking from experience?”

Ziva had to admit that she was, at least a little, but she was suddenly silenced as the things she had been pondering all day eased back into the front of her mind. There was something about Aroska’s undisputed willingness to help her that made her entirely uncomfortable. She wasn’t sure what reason he would have to turn against her, but then again she had no inkling as to what his motives were for standing by her in the first place. She’d given him plenty of opportunities to say no and make excuses, yet he’d stuck with her despite the fact that she’d given him no incentive other than empty threats.

“Why help me?” she asked.

“What?”

“There’s got to me more to it than ‘getting out of the house.’ What reason do you have to help me when you know it will put you in just as much danger?” It felt odd asking the question. Upon thinking harder, she wasn’t sure how she would answer were she in his place.

“Well,” he said, pausing in a manner that gave Ziva the impression she had caught him off-guard. “You’re right; Dasaro seems like a complete bastard.” He stopped again, his smile diminishing when he realized she wasn’t laughing. “You’ve been a great help to me in the past couple of days. It’s the least I can do to return the favor.”

Ziva scoffed, unconvinced. “Yes, but helping someone sober up and helping someone evade the law are two entirely different things. I want a better answer than that.”