Dark Abyss (2 page)

Which meant he was responsible not only for keeping peace within the city but protecting it from attack from the outside when necessary.

And he meant to do that! Whatever it took!

Instead of waiting for the reports to be brought to him, Simon toured the disaster area and the emergency medical stations that had been set up to treat the injured. He felt vaguely nauseated as he made his way at last to the Watch Center. The death toll was staggering.

The bastards had planned their assault well, or been damned lucky. He wasn’t sure which, but they’d managed to set the bomb off at the peak of activity in the center of the city and caught a bus load of potential colonists on top of that. Of the fifty men, women, and children that had arrived for a tour, thirty-five were dead and the rest likely to die. Twenty men had been in the plant itself and it had been shift change so they still weren’t sure of just how many of them had been killed—possibly all of them unless some had left a little early and some had been late reporting for their shift. There was another hundred dead or dying who’d been in the office building directly across from the blast or moving along the street between the two buildings, sixty in or around the surrounding buildings, because the concussion of the blast had blown out the windows and the buildings had imploded. Added to that, they had several hundred people with injuries from the flying debris.

He discovered when he reached the Watch Center that it, too, had been closed off due to damage. Wondering how many of his own men had been in the building when the shockwave hit, he headed toward the nearest watch station on the edge of the city. There were several inches of water standing on the foyer floor when he emerged from the pool and uneasiness flickered through him. Hoisting himself onto the rim, he ignored the dryer and the locker with robes and stalked into the control center. To his relief, he spotted his lieutenants, Ian, Caleb, and Joshua as soon as he entered.

“What the fuck is all this water doing on the floor?” he growled by way of greeting.

Ian flicked a quick look at him. “Glad to see you’re still among the living, too,”

he said sardonically. “There’s been a good bit of traffic in and out since the blast.”

Simon glared at him, and then encompassed the rest of the room. “Emergency or not, there’s a reason for protocol. There’s a fucking inch of water in here! Somebody, or everybody, is going to get electrocuted. Oscar! Get the vac and get this floor dried up before we have another disaster!”

Caleb looked him up and down pointedly. “Guess everybody was in too much of a rush to stop to dry off and grab a robe.”

Irritation flickered through Simon, but, unfortunately, Caleb had a point. Deciding to ignore the provocative comment, he headed toward the console the three men had been Ian pointed to the screen. “Most of the surveillance cameras close enough to have caught anything were destroyed in the blast. This one was pretty beat up, too, but we lucked out and managed to get most of the feed from it. That man right there was the last to enter the building before it blew.”

Simon leaned close, studying the grainy image Ian had paused on the screen and then leaned back, trying to bring the man’s features into focus. “This isn’t worth a fuck.

Has he been identified?”

“One of the workers,” Caleb supplied.

Simon glanced at him frowningly, waiting.

“The supervisor gave us a positive ID on him—name’s Trey Carter. New colonist.”

“How new?” Simon asked grimly.

“Moved into the territory about six months ago. Applied for a job at the plant, which just happened to have an opening since one of the workers had disappeared only a few days earlier.”

Simon felt his belly clench. “And nobody thought that was worthy of comment?”

Ian shook his head in disgust. “I questioned the supervisor myself. I’m positive he didn’t have anything to do with it—he’s second generation, no known ties outside the territory. The man that disappeared was a friend of his. He said he guessed he was just too upset to consider that the man applying for the job was ‘convenient’, had his mind on his missing friend and all that. I believe him.”

Simon studied Caleb pointedly until he finally took the hint and got up, offering Simon his seat. “Any other suspects?”

“We’re ninety-nine percent certain it wasn’t anybody with the tour group. They were checked at the border before they ever entered the submersible bus and checked again before they were allowed to enter the city. We’ve determined the bomb would’ve had to have been big enough that it would’ve taken something fairly large to conceal it—it couldn’t have been concealed in their clothes—and the tourists were required to check everything before they were allowed in. Plus they were scanned.”

Simon nodded, feeling a little relieved that at least the disaster couldn’t be put down to sloppy security on that end.

“So … what have we found out about Trey Carter?”

His lieutenants exchanged a look. “Nothing. Nada. Not a damned thing.”

Simon stared at Ian in disbelief. “What do you mean nothing? He had to have the procedure to become a colonist. There would’ve been some sort of background check, at least medical! He would’ve had to have registered as a colonist.”

“Fake,” Caleb said succinctly. “All of it.”

“What the fuck do you mean by that? Did they run any background checks on him or not?”

Ian tapped the screen. “That man right there … I don’t who the fuck he was, but I know who he wasn’t. He wasn’t Trey Carter.” He tapped the keys of the console and brought up a photo of a man who looked to be around forty. “That’s Trey Carter, and pretty much everything we have on file is for that man—except that isn’t the man who applied to become a colonist.” He pulled up a photo from employment records. “That’s the man who was working at the plant.”

“Jesus!” Simon growled. “Find out which fanatical organization he was working for. He was working for one of them. It took some clout to get him in here. Someone was backing him.”

The discovery that their suspected bomber was a plant wasn’t just sobering. It was terrifying in its implications. “How many men did we lose in the bombing?” he asked brusquely.

The room got quiet at the question. “Watchman Bart Singleton was on patrol of the area when it went off. Watchmen Calhoun, Mason, and Smith were only a block away. Calhoun probably isn’t going to make it. Mason and Smith are stable and probably will, but they’re not going to be fit for duty any time soon. Tom Carson and William Singleton were killed in the Watch Center when the windows blew out. Billings got mauled by a shark after the bombing. They say he’ll make it, but he lost half his arm.

As far as we know at this point in time, nobody else sustained more than a few minor cuts and bruises.”

Simon lifted a hand to his face, massaging the throbbing pressure in his temples.

“Everyone will have to pull double shifts,” he said finally. “We need to run a background check on anybody in any position to plant another bomb in another critical facility. I want around the clock guards on our water reserves. If they blow that up, we’re looking at worse than a few weeks of rationing water. Power plants, food processing—Contact the owners. I want everybody that isn’t at least second generation Atlantean pulled from their job and kept out until they’ve been thoroughly checked out.”

Ian looked doubtful. “We run the risk of alerting any potential saboteurs.”

“Better that than taking a chance on losing anything else critical or more people dying. If they make a run for it, we’ll have them.”

“But you don’t expect it?” Caleb said musingly.

Simon shook his head and rose. “I think if there’d been others, they would’ve blown us all to hell. I’m just not willing to take a chance that I’m wrong.”

* * * *

Anna tried to tamp her rising excitement as she looked over the test results of her latest crop. She discovered she couldn’t. With one failure after another, to be looking at what might just be her first breakthrough was dizzying. The produce was perfect—nutrition-wise, anyway! She frowned faintly as she set the report down and studied the fruit itself.

Truthfully, it wasn’t very appealing visually. The meat looked a little stringy and the color wasn’t all that appetizing … or the smell.

“Well, if it doesn’t pass the taste test, it can’t really be considered a success,” she muttered to herself, trying to work up her enthusiasm and actually eat it.

Hearing footsteps in the hallway outside her lab, she relaxed fractionally as a sudden thought occurred to her and hopped off her stool, moving quickly to the door to catch her assistant before he left.

“Paul! Do you have a minute?”

Her assistant halted in the corridor and turned to look at her questioningly. “Sure!

What do you need?”

Anna felt her face heating. “I just wanted to show you something.”

Something flickered in his eyes. For a brief moment, she saw speculation in his expression that sent a flutter of nervousness through her, then it vanished and he smiled broadly. “Don’t tell me the tests were a success!”

Anna felt her excitement rise to the forefront again. “Yes! Come have a look at the readouts!”

His enthusiasm bolstered her flagging confidence and she rushed ahead of him to grab up the report and give it to him to read. “My god! This is fantastic!” he exclaimed when he’d skimmed through the report, grinning at her.

Anna chuckled with excitement. “Isn’t it? It’s almost the perfect food!
And it thrives in seawater contaminated soil! I was just about to give it the first taste test.

Would you like to try some?” she ended hopefully.

His smile faded as he stared at the fruit lying on her table. “Ah … you should be first. It’s your success.”

Anna looked away. “We’ll both try it,” she said firmly. “You’re my assistant. I might not have gotten this far without your dedication to the project.” She saw his expression was reluctant when she handed him a piece of the vegetable she’d cut.

He stared at it and lifted it to sniff it. “This is fresh?” he asked a little doubtfully.

“Well, it has been sitting there for an hour or so … but I just harvested it.”

“Hmmm—it smells a little like … uh … fish … interesting texture.”

Anna frowned uncomfortably. “Really? I thought it sort of smelled a little like banana.”

He sniffed it again. “I think you’re right. I do detect just the faintest sort of whiff of banana there.”

“Well,” she said briskly, lifting the piece she held in imitation of a toast. “Here’s to success!”

Paul nodded. Swallowing a little sickly, he popped it into his mouth. Anna watched his face closely as he chewed a couple of times. A look of alarm flickered across his face. He looked around a little frantically, strode quickly to the waste basket, and spat it out.

Disappointed, Anna touched her tongue to the fruit and grimaced. “Salty.”

Paul cleared his throat. “Definitely fishy, too. But there was also the distinct taste of bananas,” he added hurriedly when he saw her expression.

“I should try cooking it,” Anna said decisively. “I think it might get rid of the stringiness.”

Paul tried to look enthusiastic. “The right seasoning is probably just what it needs,” he said bracingly.

Anna nodded, trying to ignore the depression slowly creeping through her and obliterating her excitement of before, trying to think of a recipe she might try the produce in. Something with a little lemon to neutralize the faint fishy taste?

“I don’t suppose you’ve given any more thought to my invitation?” Paul asked, breaking into her thoughts.

Anna stared at him blankly, trying to remember what invitation he was referring to.

“The group?”

That still didn’t ring any bells.

“Humans for Humanity?”

“Oh! That group. Oh! I don’t know. I’m really not much for socializing.”

He smiled at her coaxingly. “It would do you good to get out. You spend too much time in the lab with your plants. Maybe what you need is to step back from it for a little bit?”

Anna was of the opinion that she needed to put in more hours, not less. People were starving. With the rise of the sea levels, they’d lost the coasts, forcing everyone to evacuate to higher ground and shrinking the land available for producing food. Her research was aimed at reclaiming land that had been contaminated by seawater so that they would no longer grow traditional crops.

So far, she hadn’t had much luck with it, though, she thought morosely. She’d managed to develop a number of genetic hybrids that would thrive in soil devastated by tsunamis. She’d even managed to produce plants that would yield, but the fruit they bore was inedible as far as taste—nutritious, but horrible.

Her peers referred to her projects as franken-veggies. They thought she didn’t know, but she’d heard the whispers and snickers when she had to meet with company people for her reviews.

“There’ll be plenty of food,” Paul coaxed.

Anna blinked him into focus again as her stomach growled hopefully at the suggestion. “It’s a dinner party?” she asked with more interest. “Do I have to dress?”

He sent her a wicked look that brought a rush of blood to her cheeks. “I think that would be a good idea, yeah.”

It took her a moment to realize he was teasing. “I meant dressy dress,” she said a little testily. “I’m not sure I have anything ….”

Realizing that she was wavering, Paul pressed the issue. “It’s nothing fancy or formal. Wear what you have on.”

Anna looked down at herself doubtfully, discovering she was ‘wearing’ soil from the greenhouse. There was a stained patch on one knee of her jeans, as well, from putting her knee down on one of her franken-veggies. “I can do a little better than this,” she said tartly.

“Great! I’m going home to change myself. I’ll pick you up in … about an hour?”

Anna stared at him, trying to recall if she’d actually said she would go or not and finally nodded. She frowned when he left, feeling an odd mixture of reluctance and anticipation.

It occurred to her forcefully when she reached the kitchen and settled to flipping through her recipe book in search of a concoction that might work with her latest harvest, that Paul actually seemed interested in her … as a woman. The thought was radical enough it completely distracted her from her search for the perfect recipe.

Lifting her head, she thought it over, wondering if she could realistically consider his invitation in the nature of a date. He’d said it was some sort of group meeting, though, and try as she might she couldn’t envision any kind of meeting as date-like, even if they were serving refreshments.

Of course, it had been a long time since she’d actually had a date. She frowned, trying to decide just how long, but finally gave it up as unimportant. She didn’t think it had been long enough that dating could’ve changed radically—not since college, and she’d left college …?

Well! There was no getting around the fact that she was definitely out of the dating loop! She was pretty sure it had been at least two years since she’d gotten her doctorate in genetics ….

Her stomach growled, reminding her that there’d been the offer of food. She studied the fruit she’d dropped on the counter and finally set the recipe book down.

Gathering up her ‘harvest’, she put it in the cooling unit and headed into her room to bathe and dress for her ‘whatever’—date slash dinner slash meeting.

At least she’d get fed. If there was any romance … well, Paul was sort of cute and it had been a very, very long time!