Sizzle and Burn (20 page)

The top floor of the building was reserved for offices. Online and catalog sales were handled on the middle floor. The first floor served as a warehouse for the wide variety of nutritional products sold under the Cascadia Dawn Natural Food Supplements label.

The company was successful but it was not large. That was intentional. He planned to see to it that it remained a regional niche player in the nutritional supplement business. It was the perfect cover for an illicit drug lab.

Cascadia Dawn did not manufacture and package its own products in bulk. It hired an outside firm to do that. But it did possess a state-of-the-art research and development lab where new nutritional formulas were developed and older ones were updated. The lab occupied a large portion of the basement of the building. It was divided into two sections.

He went down the last flight of stairs, opened a heavy steel fire door and walked into a small office.

An attendant in a white jumpsuit was seated at the desk. He got up quickly.

“Good morning, Mr. Nash. Do you want to enter the lab?”

“Yes, please, Miller.”

“I’ll get a suit for you, sir.”

Miller opened a cabinet and took out a sealed plastic packet containing a disposable lab coat, elastic-brimmed hat, gloves, mask and booties.

Nash stepped into a small chamber and donned the clean apparel quickly. When he was ready, Miller pressed a button that opened another door.

Nash walked into the pristine space beyond the door. The stainless steel workbenches and equipment gleamed beneath the bright industrial lights suspended from the ceiling. Technicians and assistants gowned in white from head to toe nodded and murmured greetings as he went past.

Everyone in the room was working on a variety of supplement products of the type found in health and fitness stores across the country. Nash knew that some companies in the field had gone under over the years but for the life of him, he didn’t see how anyone could lose money in the nutritional supplement business. Sheer incompetence was the only way he could imagine going bankrupt. It was astonishing how much money consumers were prepared to throw at any product that promised to help them lose weight, get an erection, reduce stress or improve their immune systems. And all the stuff could be legally sold without any evidence of effectiveness backed up by clinical trials.

Amazing. And profitable.

He nodded to several technicians and then went to the far end of the room. There he stopped in front of another stainless steel vault door and paused at the computerized lock. He was one of only two people in the entire building who knew the code. As far as the vast majority of the staff was concerned, the door to the second, smaller lab was secured in order to protect against industrial espionage and theft. The Cascadia Dawn supplement formulas were highly prized proprietary secrets.

Only a handful of people knew the true value of the unique formulas concocted inside the inner lab.

This secret facility was not the only lab funded by the organization. There were a few others, equally well disguised, scattered around the country. But he intended for this one to become the most important and successful of all the labs. It was going to be his ticket to the ultimate seat of power, the one held by the director of the organization. As John Stilwell’s descendant, that position should have been his by now. He had a far more legitimate claim to it than the current director. But he knew how to bide his time. He had been born a level-seven hunter. Thanks to the drug, he was now a ten. In addition, the latest version of the formula that had been specially engineered for him was expanding his range of powers. His natural business acumen had been enhanced to the level of a mid-range para-strategy talent. He was also developing some hypnotic abilities.

Now, however, after learning what had happened to Houdini, it was clear that it would be wise to back off from the attempt to expand his range of psychic talents.

The steel door opened. He stepped into the room and waited for the door to relock behind him.

Three people were at work at the lab benches. They all looked up when he entered. One of them, Dr. Humphrey Hulsey, regarded him with pale, emotionless eyes. Hulsey was a tall, thin skeleton of a man, with spindly arms and legs. Nash thought the safety glasses he wore made him look like an oversized insect.

“Well?” Hulsey demanded. “Did your operative get that information for me yet? I can’t proceed with the new experiments until I see the Tallentyre data. According to Quinn’s notes, it’s critical to stabilizing the formula.”

Nash resisted the impulse to pick up a nearby microscope and smash it against Hulsey’s shiny skull. Hulsey was the only person in the building who dared to speak to him as if he were an employee rather than the CEO. Hulsey got away with it because he was a brilliant research chemist. He was also a level-eight intuitive with a psychic talent for analyzing patterns—the kind that were hidden at the molecular level.

Hulsey was also the only other person on the staff who was a high-ranking member of the organization. The combination of his intellectual and paranormal abilities made him invaluable. Unfortunately he was all too well aware of his critical importance to the members of the Inner Circle.

“No,” Nash said. “I’m here to talk about the latest version of the X9 that you prepared for me.”

Thus far Hulsey’s greatest contribution to the ongoing research on the founder’s formula was a breakthrough that had made it possible to genetically tailor the drug to an individual’s specific psychic profile.

“I just altered the drug for you again a few weeks ago.” Hulsey sounded disgusted. “What’s wrong now?”

Nash moved closer to him and lowered his voice. His assistants had been cleared to the highest security levels but Nash made it a policy not to trust anyone any further than absolutely necessary.

“The surges haven’t stopped,” he said quietly. “They’re coming more frequently.”

Hulsey snorted. “Don’t blame the drug for your anger management issues. If you’ve got a problem with self-control, I suggest you take a close look at your own psych profile. You know the old saying it’s in the blood.”

He turned back to his microscope.

Nash managed, just barely, to clamp down on the tide of white-hot rage that threatened to consume him.

“You will prepare a new batch,” he said, “without the additional enhancement capabilities. I want to return to the original version, the one that jacks up only my hunter talents. Do you understand, Dr. Hulsey?”

Hulsey did not look up from his microscope. “Of course I understand. You can’t handle the other talents.”

Nash forced himself to leave the lab without giving in to the urge to slit Hulsey’s throat.

For the time being he needed Hulsey but eventually that would change. No one was irreplaceable, not even Dr. Humphrey Hulsey.

Thirty

Z
ack stopped on the sidewalk outside Incognito and studied the window displays. On the other side of the glass were two mannequins dressed in Victorian-era attire, an astronaut, a pirate and a familiar superhero. An array of elegant and fanciful masks dangled on long ribbons secured to the ceiling.

“No offense,” he said to Raine, “but I would never have guessed there’s a large market for costumes except at Halloween.”

“Halloween has become a major adult party night,” she said. “People spend small fortunes on their costumes.”

He pushed open the door for her. “That’s just one day a year.”

“Add to that the annual Oriana charity fund-raiser, which is traditionally an old-fashioned costume ball, a variety of kids’ parties during the year, several high-end private bashes and events, contracts with some regional theater groups and an online site and you’ve got a viable business.”

He smiled. “Okay, I’ll take your word for it.” He followed her into the shop. “Got to tell you, though, I find it hard to believe that anyone over the age of ten would want to put on a costume.”

“Aunt Vella used to say that everyone wears a mask.”

The sales floor of the shop was not large. It was dramatically decorated in vivid colors and lit with theatrical lighting. There were several more costumes on display, including a mannequin dressed in a tutu and one wearing an elaborate gown that reminded him vaguely of the big, ornate dresses worn by women in the eighteenth century.

A series of paintings in sleek, modern frames hung on the walls. Each one featured a haunting image of a mask.

“Aunt Vella did them,” Raine said. “Painting was one of the few things that calmed her. She could lose herself in a picture for hours and days at a time. I could only hang so many of them here in the shop. Most are stored in the Shelbyville house.”

“You don’t have any hanging in your condo.”

She gave him an enigmatic look. “Would you want any of those masks on your walls at home?”

He studied the nearest painting. He was a good three feet away from it but he could sense the faint, disturbing energy.

“No,” he said.

“Luckily most of my customers don’t notice the bad vibes,” she said quietly. “People think the pictures are fascinating. I’ve had several offers for them.”

“Ever sold any?”

“No,” Raine said. “They’re all I have left of Aunt Vella.”

There was a sales counter to the right and an opening draped in red velvet set in the far wall.

“Is that you, Raine?” a voice called from the other side of the crimson curtain. “I was just about to call you.”

“Sorry I’m late,” Raine said. “Things got complicated this morning.”

The velvet curtains parted. A short, round woman in her early twenties appeared. She looked as if she had just walked out of a vampire film.

“This is Pandora, my assistant,” Raine said. “Pandora, Zack Jones.”

“How do you do,” Zack said. “I didn’t catch your last name.”

“I don’t use one,” Pandora said, eyes slitting in a not-so-subtle warning.

“Right,” he said. “That explains it.”

He managed, just barely, not to smile.

Pandora was dressed in a long, flowing black gown with wide sleeves. Massive platform shoes with five-inch heels graced her feet. A heavy necklace decorated with an odd design wrought in some silvery metal hung around her neck.

Her artificially black hair was parted in the middle and fell halfway down her back. Pale makeup gave a ghostly pallor to her skin. Dark lipstick and elaborately painted eyes provided a startling contrast. Small rings and studs gleamed in her nose, ears, brows and lips.

Pandora looked at Raine, expressionless. “New boyfriend?”

To Zack’s amazement, Raine blushed.

“No,” Raine said quickly. “New, uh, acquaintance.”

Zack looked at her. She turned even pinker and hastily cleared her throat.

“Like I said, my life has become somewhat complicated lately,” she added smoothly. “Zack wanted to see the shop and meet you. He’s going to hang out here with us today.”

“Why?” Pandora asked, still suspicious.

Raine made a face. “Because the Bonfire Killer has decided I’m his nemesis. Zack is playing bodyguard for a while.”

Pandora was horrified. “That freak has targeted you?”

“Looks that way,” Raine said.

“Damn it, I was afraid this would happen someday. Didn’t I tell you that getting involved in all those cold cases would come back to haunt you?”

“Yes, you did.”

“Where did you find him?” Pandora angled her head at Zack. “You don’t know any professional bodyguards.”

“Zack is sort of an investigator,” Raine said.

Zack smiled. “Actually I’m a real investigator.”

Pandora crossed her arms and looked disgusted. “Not another guy in law enforcement. Thought you learned your lesson with Mitchell.”

Raine frowned. “I told you, Zack is not a boyfriend.”

Zack looked at Pandora. “I don’t worry about enforcing laws. I just ask questions and try to get answers.”

“Yeah?” Pandora did not appear convinced but she shrugged a plump shoulder.

“Mind if I take a look around the back room?” Zack said to Raine.

“No.” She went toward the velvet curtain. “Follow me.”

Pandora gave Zack one last, suspicious glare and then went behind the counter and sat down in front of the computer.

“By the way, Marie Antoinette called,” she said over her shoulder to Raine. “She rescheduled her fitting for Thursday.”

“No problem,” Raine said, moving through the curtain.

Zack followed her. “Marie Antoinette?”

“Joanne Escott, the mayor of our fair town. She’s getting a costume from us for the annual charity ball I mentioned. She doesn’t know quite how to deal with Pandora so I make it a point to be here when she comes in for her fittings.”

“Why the Marie Antoinette name?”

“This year Joanne wanted to wear an elaborate eighteenth-century gown, complete with the big, powdered wig like the costume out front. I told her she’d look like Marie Antoinette and that was probably not the image she wanted to project as mayor. She was very determined. I finally pointed out that if she wore the costume, her critics at the
Oriana Journal
wouldn’t be able to resist printing a picture of her at the ball with a
let ’em eat cake
caption.”

“I assume that observation made her change her mind?”

“Yes, but unfortunately, I don’t think her second choice was particularly wise, either. Couldn’t talk her out of it, though. She’s going as Cleopatra.”

“With or without an asp?”

“Oh, she’ll have one. We here at Incognito pride ourselves on attention to detail. Wouldn’t dream of letting our mayor attend the ball in a half-asped costume.”

He laughed.

“Here it is.” She waved an arm. “Our back room.”

He walked slowly around the space, opening his senses. There was a dressing room and a three-way mirror to his left. The rest of the room was filled with a number of long, rolling carts outfitted with hanging rods. He estimated that there were a couple dozen costumes on each cart. A wide variety of elaborate masks were displayed on several rows of plastic heads arranged on shelves.