Memory Zero (35 page)

The corridor beyond was quiet. Darkness shadowed the corridor to his left. He headed right, figuring that whatever Kazdan intended with Sam, he wouldn’t be doing it in the dark. Or at least, he hoped he wasn’t. He’d barely walked ten feet when the man in question suddenly appeared.

“Laser down, Stern.”

He was tempted, very tempted, to simply blow the bastard’s brains out. Even though Kazdan had his gun aimed and ready, he had a decent chance. But with Sam still hostage, he simply couldn’t take the risk. For the second time that day, he eased a laser to the floor.

“Suzy,” Kazdan murmured, his gaze never wavering.

Kazdan’s slender, dark-haired wife appeared around the corner. She carefully picked up the cannon.

“I’d love to kill you right here and now,” Kazdan said conversationally. “But unfortunately, you have something I want.”

Gabriel hadn’t a clue what that could be, but he wasn’t about to argue about anything that saved his life. “Then maybe we could make a trade.”

Kazdan smiled, revealing bloodied canines. Gabriel hoped the neck he’d been feeding on wasn’t Sam’s.

“She’s mine, Stern. She always was.”

Maybe. And maybe Kazdan was misjudging the depth of Sam’s strength, the depth of her will and honesty. She couldn’t join with Kazdan—not willingly. If there was one thing he’d learned over the last few days, it was that evil simply wasn’t a part of her makeup.

“If you believe that, then you are a fool.”

Kazdan’s eyes narrowed, and Gabriel knew he’d guessed right. Sam wasn’t a willing partner in anything.

“Where are the disks, Stern?”

He raised his eyebrows. Sam had obviously hidden them. He wondered when she’d found the time. “Somewhere safe.”

Kazdan’s growl was a low sound of anger and frustration. “I can shoot you right here and now.”

“Then you’ll never get the disks, will you?” He studied Kazdan steadily, wondering just how important those disks were to his schemes. “I want to see Sam. I want to know she’s okay before I tell you one damn thing.”

Kazdan considered him for a long moment, then glanced at his watch. “Can’t hurt, I suppose. Suzy, check him.”

He watched the woman approach, debating whether he should grab her and use her as a hostage. But he wasn’t entirely sure Kazdan wouldn’t just shoot them
both and be done with it. Suzy patted him down briskly and efficiently, but she made no attempt to undo the knife sheath. It was empty and useless, anyway.

“Clean,” she said, stepping back.

Kazdan nodded. “Keep moving, Stern. And remember, one wrong move and I will kill you. I’m not that desperate for the disks.”

Gabriel smiled grimly. The mere fact that he was still alive proved how desperate Kazdan was to get those disks back. Hands raised, he continued down the corridor, taking note of the twists and turns as he was herded down several sets of ramps. They approached a series of holding cells, and a sentry opened a door as they neared. He was relieved to see Sam asleep on the bunk inside.

“You have until dusk. Then I want those damn disks.”

The door slammed shut, and the lock rasped home. Gabriel listened to the sound of their footsteps fading into the distance, then he knelt beside the bunk. There were bruises on Sam’s face, and on her arms and shadowing her neck, contrasting starkly against her half-unbuttoned white shirt. They were not the sort of bruises that came from a beating; these seemed to come from an internal source rather than an external one. It might have puzzled him had he not seen photos of men and women with similar bruising. Ten years ago, in a vague attempt to understand the mechanics behind shapeshifting and shapechanging, the government had run a series of investigations, using well-paid volunteers. Though the machines were specifically designed for the task, the tests themselves were too invasive.
Ninety-eight percent of the volunteers died after several hours, their hearts simply exploding under the pressure—and both the dead and the few who survived had bruising like this. To this day, no one really understood why. Similar tests had been performed on humans, with no such casualties, and certainly none of the bruising evident on Sam.

So were the tests done at Sethanon’s request, or were they Kazdan’s idea? Given that he’d heard Kazdan say that Sethanon wanted Sam left alone, Gabriel suspected the latter, but even so, why would the bastard risk her life and put her through these tests? What did he hope to achieve?

He gently touched her swollen cheek. She stirred, murmuring something he couldn’t catch.

“Sam,” he said, carefully brushing the sweaty strands of red-gold hair away from her eyes. Though she obviously needed the sleep, they had to figure a way out of here before Kazdan came back.

Her eyes opened, but her gaze was unblinking, that of a sleeper still caught in a dream. The shadowed ring around her irises was stronger than ever before, the gray almost consuming the blue. “Ten minutes,” she mumbled, reaching out and touching his hand, her fingers as cold as his were warm.

He glanced at his watch. If she wanted ten minutes, then she would have ten minutes. Entwining his fingers with hers, he sat on the floor beside the bunk, leaning his head back against the wall as he waited for her to wake.

G
ABRIEL
’
S WARM HAND GRIPPED HERS
, callused and strong, and somehow very comforting. Rather
like the man himself, Sam thought. She opened her eyes. Gabriel was watching her, his gaze intense and concerned.

“You okay?” His voice was soft, yet she sensed the anger in it. Not at her, but perhaps at what had been done to her. Which was odd, really, when they were neither partners nor friends.

“Yes.” She felt like shit, but there was little to be gained by stating the obvious. Besides, she was alive, and that was more than she’d thought possible an hour ago. “How did you get here?”

“Karl bugged the men who took Jan. We arrived at the first camp in time to see you loaded into a truck. I followed you here.”

And had obviously gotten caught. She wondered what had stopped Jack from killing him outright. “Did you see Jan and Lyssa?”

“Karl has them. I’ll contact him when all this is over.”

“Good.” At least something had worked out the way it was supposed to. She studied their entwined fingers, but made no attempt to remove her hand. Nor did he—and for that, she was glad. There was something very comforting about his touch. “I’m sorry about your brother.”

His hazel gaze was suddenly warm and sent a shiver skating across her skin. “My brother is fine.”

She frowned. “But Jack said Stephan was dead.”

“Because both he and Mary know that Hanrahan was Stephan’s other identity.”

“But Hanrahan was killed.”

“Sort of.”

How could someone be “sort of” killed? She rubbed
a hand across her eyes, wondering if her inability to understand had something to do with the ache still in her head. “Did you know Jack’s wife is the one impersonating Lyssa? She’s obviously a multi-shifter.”

“That surprises me. I didn’t think Kazdan was one to share.”

“I don’t think he is. I think he was ordered to.” She hesitated, then added, “Suzy is pregnant, and I can’t help but think the child might be Stephan’s rather than Jack’s—even if Jack chooses to believe otherwise.”

“No wonder he wanted Stephan dead. And no wonder he wants to take the throne and kill Sethanon.”

“He’s not the only one Jack plans to kill.”

He frowned at her. “What do you mean?”

“Mary was coming here—”

“Mary’s dead,” he interrupted, his voice sharp.

Her gaze flicked across his face, and she sensed the pain under the calm exterior. “You killed her.”

“She gave me no choice.”

Had she given him another option, would he have taken it? She suspected not—not when Mary had almost killed his brother. “When did you shoot her?”

The edge in her voice obviously caught his attention, because his gaze intensified. “Maybe fifteen, twenty minutes ago. Why?”

“Because she was apparently confirming details of the PM’s itinerary. Sethanon’s planning a hit sometime today.”

“A hit or a replacement?”

She shrugged. Either was possible, given what they’d seen on Jack’s disks, though she couldn’t see what simply assassinating him would achieve. Better to replace him and have background control.

He climbed to his feet and offered her his other hand. “Can you move?”

There was only one way to find out. She placed her free hand in his and climbed slowly to her feet. The small room spun several times and, for an instant, it felt as if her stomach were crawling up her throat. She swallowed heavily and asked, “Do you know the PM’s schedule?”

He shook his head. “But my brother will. SIU works with the Fed and State boys when it comes to official government visits. Are you going to fall if I let you go?”

“No.”

He released her hands, but he watched her warily for a minute or two before he moved across to the door and tested the handle. “Locked tight.”

She pulled the pin the hirsute stranger had given her out of her hair, but its shape caught her by surprise. It was an abstract man and woman, standing back to back, one dark, one light. The image was similar in theme to the tapestry in Jack’s office, but this particular image was one she’d seen before. She just couldn’t quite place where.

“Here, try to open it with this.”

He accepted the pin, a sudden, rueful smile catching the corners of his lips. “This will test my skills.”

According to her hirsute friend, it wouldn’t. She wondered who the man was and how he knew so much—about her, about Gabriel, and about what was going on. Was he one of Jack’s men? Or perhaps one of Sethanon’s?

But why would Sethanon—or even one of his or Jack’s men—want to help her?

Gabriel squatted in front of the door, his gaze intent as he shoved the pin into the lock and began to carefully turn it. After a few minutes, there was a faint click.

They were free of the cell. Now all they had to do was get out of this complex.

“
W
HEN
I
WAS LED DOWN
here,” he said softly, as he rose, “there was a guard stationed to the left of the door. I couldn’t see anyone else, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be.”

Sam nodded. “You take out the first guard, I’ll look for others.” She could do that, even if she felt like shit. He didn’t ask if she was capable, which was refreshing. She’d only have to break a nail with Jack and you would have thought she was dying. Obviously fake concern, she now realized.

He grasped the handle, held up three fingers and counted them down. Then he thrust the door back hard. There was a grunt and the sound of something hitting the floor. Gabriel followed through fast. She ducked to the right. A guard stood at the far end of the room, rifle rising as he turned to face them.

“Gabriel, shooter, ten o’clock!” she warned, dropping to the ground.

He tore the gun from the grip of the unconscious
guard near his feet and fired. The second guard went down with a muffled cry.

She hobbled over to the second guard’s prone form and scooped up his rifle. With her back against the wall, she studied the corridor beyond, listening and watching for any sort of alarm. Gabriel patted down the two men.

“Found a set of keys,” he said in a hushed voice, stopping on the opposite side of the doorway. “They might be of use.”

“It could be the keys to his house or even his mailbox, for all we know.” She kept her voice as low as his. “Chances are they won’t be car keys.”

“Our luck’s got to change sometime.”

Luck was something she’d learned never to rely on. “Do we go for a phone or a car?”

“I can’t risk phoning Stephan from here. It’s too dangerous—for him and for us.”

“Car, then. Do you know where we can find one?”

He hesitated, face suddenly grim. “Yes. And I know where we can get the keys.” He held up three fingers again.

She watched his countdown. At three she moved out, keeping low as she swung left. There was no one in sight.

“This way.” He motioned to the corridor leading off to the right.

She followed him, almost running to keep up with his long strides. By the time they reached the top of the looping corridor, sweat was trickling down her back, her muscles ached and she felt light-headed. When he stopped to investigate another door, she leaned against the wall and desperately tried to catch
her breath. Jack’s tests had sapped all her strength. She felt as fragile as an umbrella in a windstorm.

“You okay?”

Her gaze rose at his concerned question. Worry was very evident in his hazel eyes, which was natural, since he was using her as much as Jack. He was just being nicer about it. But she nodded. Weak or not, she had to go on. She had to stop Jack.

“You look sort of gray,” he said.

“So would you if you’d had a near-death experience.” The concern in his gaze got stronger, and she forced a smile. “Go. I don’t think we have that much time to play with.”

He nodded and moved through the door. She covered his back, scanning the room, weapon at the ready as she watched for any sign of movement. But there was no life here, only the dead—either in coffins or as a headless corpse sprawled on the floor.