The Reckoning (Unbounded Series #4) (33 page)

“Let’s go,” Jeane said, motioning in the direction of the hallway with her rifle.

Concentrating on Jeane’s deadening influence, I brought up my arms, using the physical gesture to focus my thoughts. And shoved back. Hard.

Abruptly, my senses jumped into life again. I extended my shield around Ritter and the others. I couldn’t break through Lew’s impressive mind shield, but I could stop him from hurting my friends’ minds and maybe deflect a few bullets. My shield might even eliminate Jeane’s effect on them. Maybe.

I grinned at Jeane. “I don’t think so.” To Ritter, I added under my breath. “Get him.” Even with Jeane blocking Ritter’s ability, I’d bet on him any day against that scrawny pinhead.

Ritter didn’t hesitate. He launched himself at Lew even as I went for Jeane. They fired, but we’d taken them completely by surprise, and the bullets went astray. Or maybe they were just inept, having depended all their very long lives on others to protect them.

I landed on Jeane and knocked her to the ground. Ripping the gun from her, I tossed it aside. She was kicking and punching and yelling obscenities. “Nighty night,” I said. I put my hand on her throat in exactly the right spot, just as Ritter had taught me.

“What do you know?” I said, as her body went limp a few minutes later, “it really works.” I glanced around and saw that Ritter had also made short work of Lew, who lay unconscious on the ground.

Rising, I started to pick Jeane up, to carry her out and down to our waiting car.

The next second, the
rat-a-tat-tat
of machine gun fire made me duck. Ritter came toward me at full speed, grabbing me with his good arm and hurrying me out of the way as bullets sprayed into the rubble-strewn carpet behind us. From the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of yet another chopper, this time stamped with what looked like Morocco’s royal seal. Either Jeane hadn’t been lying about her connection with the ruling family or the Emporium did have some very high connections here.

We caught up with Keene and Cort in the gaping doorway. As the chopper angled for a better position, we helped the brothers get the plutonium past the rubble in the penthouse to the outer hallway, which still had its ceiling. I was relieved to be hidden from the royal chopper, until more bullets sprayed above us, some ripping through the roof.

We ran for the stairs, where Mari had shifted and was waiting. When we made it to the main floor, we found more pandemonium. People ran in all directions, some lugging suitcases, others with children in their arms. There were no hotel employees in sight and no police officers or rescue workers. Apparently, fear of the building’s possible collapse outweighed the importance of their duty.

Jace appeared out of the crowd. “This way.” He pushed a luggage cart toward us, where we deposited the cask, and soon we were running through a hallway to a deserted kitchen and down a ramp where Stella waited nearby with the SUV.

There was a crowd even here, milling around a body lying in some rubble. I hoped it was one of the Emporium guards that had fallen during the blast or the ensuing battle and not some innocent bystander hit by tumbling debris. Regardless, I didn’t know how the Emporium, the Renegades, or the US government would be able to cover up what had happened here.

HOURS LATER, AFTER WE’D SAFELY
handed off the plutonium to CIA agents, our group gathered in the sitting room in another of Basilio’s properties and stared with concern at a television and three different laptops. We watched as continuous news coverage spread out over the world. Walker Anderson, who had fled after Mari had come to warn Stella and Jace, was the center of attention. He had video of Desoto’s guard in Texas coming back to life, of Delia’s body and blurry figures on top of the ruined hotel. He had Stella’s decoder, which was being examined by some of the most brilliant minds in the mortal world. With this “proof” came his story of a race of long-lived people and the strange powers they held.

“They won’t believe him,” Mari said, obviously afraid of what it would do to us if they did.

Stella shook her head. “They
will
believe him because there are several similar reports from people who found remains of the Emporium guards that fell off the roof. Dead, but not quite. The ones we left on the rooftop—and Jeane—are conveniently missing, but apparently the others were left behind.”

She blinked behind the eyepiece of her neural headset, and the display on one of the laptops changed. “This report says the Moroccan government has several of the guards under constant surveillance, and while they are definitely dead, their tissue is regenerating. We have doctors claiming that it might be the beginning of a cure for all ailments, and conspiracy theorists saying it’s either an alien invasion or a zombie virus.”

We all groaned. I didn’t know whether to run in fear of how the mortals would react or hope that somehow it would be all right.

“Ava’s on the phone with the president now,” Dimitri said. “I think at this point it’s more of a what-to-say situation than how to cover it up.”

“Then this is it.” I was glad to be wedged in on the love seat between Ritter and Dimitri, the two most important men in my life besides the man who’d raised me. It was hard to believe this was really happening, and it must be stranger to them, especially to Dimitri, who had kept the Unbounded secret for a millennia. “The mortals will hate us once it gets out about the plutonium.” So far, Walker was the only one talking about that, but the employees we’d saved in Venezuela were bound to confirm at least the existence of the plutonium.

“We need damage control,” Cort said from his seat next to Stella on the couch opposite us. Beside Cort, Keene nodded silently. He’d been quiet since learning that two passersby had been killed by debris from the hotel explosion, and nothing we said seemed to shake him out of it.

Mari settled somewhat awkwardly on the armrest next to Dimitri, chewing on a fingernail. “Will we have to stay in hiding?”

“From the Emporium, at least. If they take over.” Jace stood by the television near the heavily curtained window. Every so often, he’d peek out, as if expecting reporters or police at Basilio’s main residence across the street, but it was already one in the afternoon—seven hours after we’d gone to the hotel—and no one had come. It appeared that Walker had chosen not to name us.

“Taking over won’t be as easy without the money,” Dimitri said.

Ava swept into the room wearing an off-white suit, exuding her usual confidence, her hair swept up in an elaborate twist at the back of her head. “President Mann is going to make an announcement. Now that we’ve recovered the plutonium and averted the war, he and his staff feel—and I agree—that the best thing we can do is to confirm the existence of Unbounded.” She raised a finger and added, “With some . . . well, variations. Obviously, he won’t be detailing our long war with the Emporium.”

“But isn’t that what the Emporium wanted?” Mari asked. “To tell the world about Unbounded? Does this mean they’re going to be able to take over the government?”

Ava shook her head. “Remember the documents you got from Desoto’s? Well, the president is about to make some very prominent arrests—mostly those people the Emporium has put in place to further their agenda. If there has ever been a time when we have the upper hand, that time is now.”

Ritter chuckled, the first sign of levity I’d seen from him since the battle. “You’re saying they won’t have sufficient people left in high places to be able to take control.”

Ava shared his grin. “That’s exactly what I’m hoping.”

“He’s on now,” Stella said. The laptop facing us on the coffee table turned to an image of President Mann. Seconds later the local television station switched to the same image.

“That was fast,” Jace said, coming to sit on the floor near the love seat. “It’s just after eight in the morning there, right? Kind of early for this sort of thing.”

“No one in the White House went to bed last night.” Ava remained standing, but she moved closer to the couch to get a better view of the two laptops facing Stella.

On the screen, the camera closed in on the press secretary as he stepped to the podium on a stage. His eyes were bloodshot, and his hair wasn’t quite in place. By the looks of things, he’d had a rough night. “The president is here to address the events that occurred in Morocco last night while most of America was sleeping. He will not take questions at this time. Afterward, I will read a statement. Again, questions will not be permitted. However, we will hold another press conference tomorrow and will be answering questions then. Mr. President.” With apparent relief, the press secretary stepped back from the podium as the president came forward.

As usual, President Vincent Mann was a compelling figure. His dark head was balding, but he exuded strength, confidence, and vitality. The American people had grown to love him these past weeks since he’d taken over for President Stevens after his illness, and everyone was sure he’d win the next election. I hadn’t been a fan at all until I’d met his son, Patrick, but I knew now that Vincent Mann was sincere in his duties and obligations. He wasn’t perfect, but he was on our side.

“I am here,” President Mann began, “to both confirm and correct some allegations that have been made regarding the events in Morocco. First, I want to confirm that we have found a gene in some people that allows them to live extended lives. Even up to two thousand years.”

The room around him went crazy. Reporters blurted questions, cameras flashed, and people waved their recorders. President Mann waited until the hubbub died.

“You all know the story that came to light several weeks ago when I became President of the United States. How we discovered that our biological son had been mixed up at birth and adopted by others, and how the son we loved and raised as our own nearly died in a skydiving accident a few months ago. I have appreciated your support through his recovery and through our reunion with our biological son. But there is more to the story. Patrick, the son we raised, is one of these long-lived people. The Unboundaried, or Unbounded, as they call themselves. Because of this, his life was threatened, and he has since been living in Europe for his safety. However, he’ll be here with me tomorrow to answer your questions.”

“The face of the Unbounded,” I whispered. If anyone could do it, it would be Patrick Mann. He was a technopath like Stella and would have access to all the media references in the world. He could instantly scan psychology posts and review how people reacted to crises in history. He’d know how to calm fears.

“This is all new to Patrick as well. As you can imagine, he was just as surprised as the rest of us when he realized that he was different, but after learning about it these past weeks, I am confident that this evolution, or whatever it is, will be something we as a people will successfully face together. Many changes will be in store, but we will remain united. These people have talents, dreams, and a love of family as any of us do, and I believe they will be—and have already been—a boon to our society.”

He paused for the applause, but the room was silent. Then murmuring voices rose in fear, followed by a raised shout. “What about the plutonium? Were these Unbounded really going to sell it to Iran to start a war?”

The gathered crowd all reacted at once, hollering and waving to get his attention. President Mann held up a hand for silence. “No questions, please. Save them for tomorrow, when we will all know better what questions to ask. However, the plutonium rumor is the second item on today’s very short list, so I will speak to that.” A welcome murmur ran through the reporters.

“Some time ago,” Mann continued, “we had some reports about weapons-grade plutonium being illegally produced and sold. Last night we seized two shipments, one in Venezuela and one in Morocco. Naturally, we couldn’t announce any of this until we had successfully completed the operation. We are currently working to dismantle the factory with the Venezuelan government and clean the surrounding area, which has been contaminated. We have also offered Morocco our help in bringing to justice those who have brought chaos to Casablanca. Having experienced similar terrorist attacks, we understand their outrage.”

Mann’s voice grew quiet as he looked down, sorrow filling his face. “Greed—plain and simple—was the reason for this brazen, immoral attack on world peace, and we have issued twenty-seven arrest warrants for those involved. We are confident that the documents we possess will result in charges of treason. More arrests are pending. I am saddened to say that eighteen of those people serve in our government.”

Another murmur broke out and more hands rose. Mann ignored the hands, staring gravely over the crowd. “While it’s true at least one of those being charged is Unbounded, most are like us. That’s right, our own people betrayed us.” His voice grew in volume. “There were also several Unbounded who were responsible for capturing the plutonium and bringing it to safety, and we are all deeply in their debt. To them, I say, thank you. Thank you for risking your lives. That’s all for today. We will be spending time in the next days, weeks, and months with world leaders to decide where to go from here.” He paused, but not long enough for the questions to come. “Greed is a terrible thing, my friends. But we are one nation”—he held up a finger over his head—“one nation, however diverse our people. This is a new era, to be sure, and we will face it with courage and justice for all. Thank you.”