Cloak and Dagger (The IMA Book 1) (19 page)

“
Oh, she means it, Christina. She's just as cruel as the rest of us.”

“
She isn't! She helped me when nobody else would! She kept Adrian from killing me!”

Michael sighed and rubbed his eyes. There were dark circles around them that hadn't been there before. He made a forwarding motion with his hand.

“
Your death wasn't accidental.”

“
Impressive.”

Sarcasm?
I couldn't tell. In the silence that followed, I heard A cry out again. I turned in that direction and again, Michael blocked my path.

“
Leave her.”

“
I can't. He's killing her, don't you see? She
helped
me, and he's killing her!”

“
Callaghan can't hurt her. Not as long as she's fucking his boss. You are a different matter. If he's attacked you once, he will do it again — especially if he left you alive.”

“
A is
sleeping
with Mr. Richardson?”

“
That's one way of putting it. I doubt they do much sleeping.”

I colored. “Her daughter…”

“
It's his.”

“
I don't believe you.”

“
She's not as innocent as she looks. I'm surprised she bothered to help you at all.”

“
What does she see in him?”

“
Power. Money.” I might have imagined the pause. “Sex.”

“
That's disgusting.”

“
You asked. Don't ask things you don't want to know the answers to. I don't have time to argue. Can you walk?”

“
Yes.”

“
Not fast enough.” He swung me over his shoulder so I was draped around his neck like a mink coat. I was too tired and too surprised to fight him. It wasn't a good idea, anyway. Not when I was six feet above the ground. His face said the subject was non-negotiable anyway, and his threat about not getting in his way was still clear in my mind.

A tremor coursed through his body. He stumbled. I probably wouldn't have noticed if I hadn't been on his shoulders, but I was and I had. “Put me down,” I said hastily. “I can walk.”

“
You're in worse condition than I am.”

“
Then why are you helping me?”

Michael opened his mouth to respond and I heard gunshots. He set me down on the bench. I watched him draw a large gun.

“
He
killed
her.”

“
Stay here. Don't make a sound.”

On the edge of the bench, my hands were white. The sirens were still going off. I could see one of the alarms near the ceiling, flashing like a police car. Michael made his way towards the door and one of the spinning red beams turned his hair and skin flaming red. He opened the door slowly at first, then threw it wide open. I caught a glimpse of the sterile white hallway. He pointed the gun at me, giving it a downward shake, motioning for me to stay where I was, and slipped out the door as silently as a shadow.

I counted the seconds — he was gone for less than thirty. When he returned, there was a rigidity to his face I didn't like; it made him disconcertingly similar to the Michael-corpse from my dream. I wanted to ask him what he'd seen but didn't quite dare.

“
Sit down,” he said brusquely.

“
What happened to getting out of here?”

“
Change of plans. Sit down.”

“
What do you mean, change of plans? What's going on?”

Michael fired the gun. “Sit
down
.”

I sat down.

“
There is a rift going through this organization. Roughtly half are satisfied with the way things are now. The other half thinks we've gone soft. They want to turn the IMA into a freelance mafia. The main advocate of that is Callaghan. The other is a man named Morelli but he's not the one to worry about — and that's not what's important. What
is
important is that, right now, they are united by
one
thing and that is their mutual desire to see us both dead.”

“
You're only one man,” I said.

“
Two.” I stared at him, not understanding. “Including you. You're in this with me.”

I nodded, thinking I could escape the moment he was gone. Screw his plan. I wasn't going to get myself killed because of him. He wanted to go play Rambo, fine — he could do it by himself. I was going to look for A.

Something cold snapped around my wrist. Michael snapped the other cuff to one of the wooden legs bolting the bench down to the floor. “What the
hell
?”

He dropped the key into his pocket. “I need you. I can't have you running off.”

Was I that transparent? “They're going to find me here!”

“
Then you had better be really quiet.”

He was going to leave me here as bait so he could get away. I couldn't believe it. “Bastard. I should have known I couldn't trust you.”

“
You shouldn't trust me. But trust me on this: I
am
coming back.”

The alarm was still going off.

“
Say
it.”

“
You're coming back.”

Michael glanced at the doorway. “That's right, darlin. You'll hardly know I'm gone.”

And then he was.

Chapter Sixteen

Valiance

I noticed, and didn't enjoy the feeling of helplessness. I tugged on the handcuff. Stainless steel — it wasn't going to break. The bench was a different matter. The wooden peg wiggled when I pulled. Not a lot, but enough to show a weakness in the design.
Enough to work it free?
I jostled the peg back and forth. It got looser. Finally, it fell out with a hollow clatter that made me start guiltily, half-expecting Michael to burst through the door with a face fit to kill.

But no, I was free. Better yet, I had one-upped the man who used to baffle me with his thoroughness. I felt like Houdini, only better. I shoved the dangling handcuff up my sleeve. Provided nobody got a good look at me, it wouldn't be noticed. I hoped.

Except for the incessant alarm, there was silence. I waited thirty seconds before opening the door and scanning the hallway. Empty. Almost empty. There was a uniformed man lying on the floor, facing away from me. Was he unconscious? Or dead? I stepped closer, surveying him frowningly. His posture was relaxed, his eyes closed — then I saw the other half of his face. Or what remained behind the liquid mess that dripped into the ragged caverns where his features had been. I bent down, trying to keep whatever I'd last eaten from rising back up.

Someone had been shot here, only mere feet away from where I'd been hiding in the locker room. Shot in the
face
. I remembered the gunshots — Michael's expression. Was
this
the sight that had greeted him, that had made his face look so grim? Nice to know he was still capable of being shocked. There hadn't been a scream, at least. Maybe it had been painless.

What if this happened to my parents? What if they're locked up in a bunker somewhere, being tortured by a man like Adrian?

I looked down the hallway, avoiding the dead man. I'd never been through these corridors on my own. I always had an escort before and the size of the place made an impression on me all over gain, now that I was alone. The alarm made me less shy about trying the doors than I might have been, but all of them were locked.

Of course.

The alarm cut off mid-shriek, plunging the corridors into a deathly silence. Who had shut it off? And why? Had they caught Michael? Apart from A, he was the closest thing I had to an ally in this place.

In the sudden absence of sound, my breathing and the soft scuff of my feet on the polished floor sounded so loud, I almost wished the alarm would come back on. Without that blaring sound to mask me, I would have to be twice as careful about making noise.

There was another gunshot, farther off. I could barely make it out for what it was. I quickly headed in an alternate direction, farther from the gunfire, towards a series of darkened rooms with large glass windows. I could see the faint glow of computer monitors inside. They looked like laboratories. I tried one of the metal doors but these also required access codes and no one had been hasty enough to leave them unlocked. Or maybe they locked automatically in the case of an emergency. I rapped the windows — the glass was thick, the kind used in pressurized tanks. They wouldn't shatter. Another dead end.

I headed back into the main hallway. Somebody crashed into me. Another uniformed guard. Young. His dark eyes were wide with fright, his hand clapped over his side as though favoring an injury. I held my handcuffed arm behind me, just in case, but his eyes barely skimmed over me as he mumbled an apology and broke into a sprint. I wondered if he would have done anything, even if he had noticed that I'd escaped. Somehow I didn't think so. He'd seemed desperate…almost panicked. As if the devil himself was after him.

He'd dropped a badge. The cord that had held it around his neck was broken. Snapped. Like someone had pulled it too hard.
Miles Trevelyan
. Didn't know him. Shrugging, I tossed it back on the floor. Never would, either. But I saw somebody I
did
know.

Adrian.

I dove back into the small corridor with the laboratories, pressing myself up against the shadows and praying he wouldn't see me. I could hear him running. His breath was a little pushed; it sounded like he had been running for a while. Had he been chasing the guard? Or was somebody else chasing both of them? There was another gunshot, closer this time. Adrian glanced over his shoulder and headed into my corridor.

His gray eyes widened in surprise. “Well, well — I was looking for you.”

He was?
I tried to hide the handcuff.

“
All dressed up with nowhere to go. I'm impressed you still have the energy to escape.” I watched his eyes flicker to the hallway. He was definitely the chased. For once. But when he looked back at me, his smile was full of assurance. “Maybe I was too easy on you.”

I should have stayed in the locker room
.

There was another blast. “Oh, Michael.”

“
What?”

“
The rifleman. He didn't even bother attaching a silencer to that handgun of his — and he's got two assault rifles to boot. Setting off alarms left and right. He must want to be caught.” I almost mentioned the other two gunshots, then thought better of it. Adrian didn't need to know. With any luck, they'd shoot him next.

“
Michael is in big trouble,” he informed me.

I took a step back. “Isn't he always?”

“
Mm-hmm. You know him well. A little too well. But this time, he has outdone himself. Not only has he failed at being dead — and
staying
dead — he bribed a technician here to wipe the database clean and then ran off with the back-up disk.”

“
Too bad.” I took another step back. “What was on it?”

“
Everything. An entire library obliterated in a matter of seconds. The little fool didn't even realize what he'd agreed to until I interrogated him. Then he did, but it was too little, too late…”

The sneer was wiped from my face as I grasped what he was alluding to. Before I could come up with a response, he leaned over me, sliding his hands down the wall until they were level with my face. “That reminds me — where did we leave off?”

I looked at the hallway, hoping to see…anyone.

“
Everyone evacuated.” He found my desperation hilarious. “In a matter of minutes, special forces will be coming in to take Michael down. Until then, we're alone.”

Stall him
. “He was chasing you, wasn't he? He was going to kill you.”

“
Oh, Michael and I go way back, Christina. I taught him
everything
he knows.”

“
Y-you did?”
Everything?

“
Nobody else wanted him. He had a foul mouth, and a criminal record to boot. But I
like
a challenge. He requested a transfer after a year. I suppose I can be a little much for people. They tend to prefer me in small doses — or not at all, if they can help it.” He flashed his teeth. “They usually can't.”

“
Because you're a sick fuck who tortures people!”

He wagged his finger at me. “You make it sound so
simple
. It isn't. Not at all. Torture covers a broad spectrum. The two main subgroups are physiological and psychological, but these can be divided into the subcategories of spiritual, emotional, physical, and sexual. Everyone has at least one weakness in at least one of these areas that can be exploited. Finding it only requires patience, and a suspension of societal norms.

“
Tell me,” he continued. “Why is it that this gets me no results” — he dug the heel of his hand into one of my stitched-up sides — “but
this
does?” I waited, trying not to breathe, as I braced myself for the pain to follow. His breath tickled my face unpleasantly. Too late, I realized what he meant to do.

It wasn't a kiss, because that implied at least some form of emotion was involved — hatred, love, lust. This had none of these things. It was a passionless attempt to hurt me. He was
assaulting
my mouth — and it was working. I was revolted by everything. The smell of him, like the dry, crumbly sweetness of baby powder. The girlish softness of his lips. The way his breath tasted of
mint
. It was worse than I could have imagined, and I did the worst thing possible.

I screamed.

He gave me a cold, knowing smile. I was shaking so hard, it took a moment for my larynx to work. “Your boss — ”

“
Will do absolutely nothing. Michael pushed him over the edge. Derailed his conscience. Richardson wants information — by any means necessary. I take care of the rest.”

“
This is hypocrisy.”

“
Wrong again,” he said cheerfully. “I'm only following orders. I can't be faulted for
enjoying
my orders — not by him, anyway,” he added, as I began to launch another protest. “And yes, while you are, admittedly, quite fun to play with and I do
so
enjoy the time we spend together, if Richardson changed his mind and told me to slit your pretty throat…I'd do it.”

I believed him.

“
You were worth quite a bit of money alive. Rewards were posted galore. Michael could have turned you in and kept that money for himself if he wanted to sabotage us. The authorities mightn't have killed him — not if he told them what they wanted to know. He could've pleaded for a lesser sentence by putting away some of his old mates. But he didn't. You were with him for over a month, Christina Parker. Do you honestly expect me, or anyone else for that matter, to believe that he let you live without” — he lowered his eyes meaningfully — “a bit of
bargaining
on your part?”

“
It's the
truth
.”

“
We'll see if your tune stays the same once I get you singing.” He loosened my collar. “Just like a wee bird.” I raised my leg and kneed him in the groin. I heard him retch. It was the most satisfying sound I'd ever heard in my life.

I turned to run. A metallic click stopped me dead.

Adrian was still half bent over, clutching his abdomen and looking like he might be sick, but he was smiling.
Smiling
.

“
No,” I whispered. “Shit — ”

“
Oh, yes.” He caressed my face with the muzzle of the gun. “Now, what say you and I go someplace a little…quieter?”

“
You'll do no such thing. Drop your weapon.”

Michael had one of his guns drawn. He looked hot, sweaty, and fatigued. The dampness on his clothes suggested blood, though it was impossible to tell whether it was his. When I encountered him in the locker room, he'd already been injured.

Michael gave me a look that suggested there would be hell to pay later — if there
was
a later. “Drop the gun, Callaghan. Now.”

“
Whatever you say, Michael.” The gun fell to the floor with a clatter.

I heard him step forward to pick it up. “Hands against the wall.” He directed with the big rifle. “I have a clear shot at your head.”

Adrian moved as if to obey. The crinkle of his heavily-starched shirt was the only warning I got as he grabbed me, whirling around so I was pressed against him, back to front, with his knife at my throat. I remembered what he had told me, only moments before.

“
Don't come any closer, or she dies.”

“
I'll shoot you both.”

“
What?”

“
You won't. I know you're empty. If you weren't, you would've killed me when my back was turned.” He paused, adjusting the knife with the neatest flick of his wrist, and I felt something warm trickle down my throat. “And we both know you don't really want to kill her.”

Less than half an inch deeper, and he'd slice into my jugular vein.

Michael held his stance — and the bluff — for a moment longer, then tossed the assault rifles aside, producing another handgun that had been tucked out of sight at the hip. Sweat trickled down my face, down my neck, making the cut sting. “Let her go. You want me.”

“
Not quite, Michael, my boy. Not quite.”

Without warning, he pushed me. Michael caught me by the collar, tearing the back of my blouse. He stopped my fall, though my knees still hit the tile hard enough that I felt the shock of it in my bones. “Get behind me,” he said under his breath.

His next words were cut off by the alarm. It had started up again. He didn't jump, as I had, but it was enough of a distraction that he almost missed the flash of silver headed towards his chest. “Look out!” I gave him a hard shove, and he twisted around to fight me off so the knife plunged into his left shoulder, instead of his heart. The gun went off as his fingers contracted spasmodically. By now it was no longer aimed anywhere near Adrian, and the bullet took out one of the ceiling lamps with a loud bang, sending down a shower of sparks and broken glass.

I covered my face and head as Michael began to curse at the top of his lungs. The knife was small, but at least two inches of it were embedded in his skin. The sight of it, standing straight up like that, was unnatural. Michael moaned, his fingers digging into the flesh of his shoulder.