Shadows to Light (Shadows of Justice 5) (15 page)

She nodded again. It was hard to know just where she stood with the smuggler, surely a trait that kept him on top in his chosen profession.

"You have allies, Mira. Trust them."

Before she could question his repetition of Cleveland's assurance, the man was gone. She supposed he meant Jameson and the team Callahan had pulled together. Slick Micky might even count himself as her ally. He was letting her stay in his private little corner of the city after all.

But both he and Cleveland had put a certain weight on the word that added meaning and intention.

She searched the translations for the word, but didn't come up with anything in the healer records that fit. Did she really believe either man would know to reference an obscure text written in a dead language?

Of course not.
But she didn't really believe either man spoke for the sheer joy of hearing the sound of his own voice.

Allies.
She hadn't thought in terms of enemies and allies since her days with the Army. She'd met people, made a couple friends in those days, but none of them were in Chicago. None of them knew enough about her order or her father to help her if they had been.

Maybe it was just coincidence and all this covert crap had warped her reasoning skills.

Allies. Who talked like that?

Her father.

That was it! Jumping up, she ignored Jameson's return to study the footage Callahan had pulled from the lab. She slid the viewing bar back several minutes, before she even entered the lab. Her father, limping around, working through the pain. In a rush to meet Montalbano's deadline, no doubt.

She went back and forth over the time when she'd managed to sneak past the guard.

"What are you doing?"

"He knew I was there. From the moment I walked in, he knew I was there." She pointed to the screen, waited until Jameson politely agreed with her. His doubt was obvious, but irrelevant.

"Here's where I helped him. Just a little pain relief. Against his wishes." She knew Jameson didn't understand. To be fair, she wasn't entirely sure she understood where she was going with this either. "Allies, Jameson. He has allies."

"Okay. Do you know who they are or how that helps us find him?"

She caught her top lip between her teeth while she reviewed the same few seconds over and over. When Jameson put a hand on her shoulder, it was a natural reaction to cover it with her own.

"I'm not sure I'll ever get over that," he murmured.

"What?"

"Thinking you
were blown to bits."

"Oh." She turned and smiled up at him. "I'm not sure I ever said thank you for getting us out of there."

"You're welcome."

Turning back to the screen, she
paused it once more. "Right here, he told me to go. I think he was expecting Luke."

"You think Luke is an ally?"

"Yes. It's the only thing that fits this situation."

"He was with an enforcer team, Mira."

"Asking about me, right?"

"It could be a trick."

On some level she understood the logic of that, and yet... "If it were a trick or a trap wouldn't he have urged us to follow him? Hear me out," she added, freezing the video at the precise moment when Luke had pulled out the det-cord to start the explosion.

"Is that enough or too much?"

"Too much. Could be a rookie mistake."

"But Luke isn't a rookie.
Can't be. He's older than me. I met him when we moved to the dorm across from the old lab. He was my dad's assistant."

"What are you saying?"

"I don't know how he looks our age, but he's not. And my dad said something about the good work they'd done there once. That's not really the point anyway. He destroyed the lab so Montalbano couldn't have all of whatever Dad developed. Montalbano is not an ally."

"No."

"And I believe Luke is." She could practically hear Jameson thinking it through. "Yes, he blew up the lab, but I think he knew what he was doing."

Jameson scowled. "Trying to kill you?"

"No. Not on purpose."

He sighed, a gusty sound that infected all her insecurities. "So you believe your father is safe now?"

She nodded, belatedly realizing that put an end to her necessary association with Jameson. As soon as they proved her father was free of Montalbano they would go their separate ways. Her stomach twisted.

"Assuming you're right, where would Conrad take your father?"

"I-I don't know. Not back to the order." Unless it was a set up. Oh, she hated doubting herself, hated having scads of new information and no way to reconcile it with current circumstance.

"Can a healer in trouble with one order find protection with another?"

"It depends on the trouble, but healers from other orders do visit each other. There are only a few communities left and they're spread all over the world. It's a longstanding habit to have places to hide."

He looked at her with such intensity, she took a step back.

Jameson snapped his finger. "In plain sight. Just like you did."

"Huh?"

He made a circle with his hand, indicating the suite. "This place is perfectly hidden amid the rubble of the neighborhood. You've been perfectly hidden in a variety of health care jobs."

"I got perfectly caught too," she reminded him.

"Not the point. God it's so obvious." He started to the door. "Come on. Let's go tell Callahan."

"Tell him what?" Whatever light bulb had gone off over Jameson's head sure wasn't illuminating anything in her own mind.

"That we can have your dad home safe for Christmas."

Now she was really confused. "What are you talking about?"

"Mira, think about it. Dr. Luther's safe with Conrad. We know what your dad delivered for Montalbano. When we find your dad, we'll get the antidote we both know he must be working on, and Montalbano's bleed-out bullet is null and void. Problem solved, happy holidays."

"Find him where?"

"There can't be that many labs around town with the equipment he needs."

"No."

"And with Conrad's overwhelming success –"

"Now he's a success?" She couldn't keep up with Jameson's thought process.

"He did enough damage at the lab that the investigators will be hard pressed to determine who and what was there. That covers tracks and buys us time."

"But –"

"The enforcers were looking for patient records, a list of names."

"Yes?"

"I saw it, skimmed it before I turned it over. There was one consistent trait." He gripped her shoulders. "All hemophiliacs. I'll bet you ten to one, he's hiding in plain site at a research hospital. Shouldn't be that hard to find him."

"Oh no."
She'd gone cold so suddenly, his big palms felt like heat packs. "The enforcers aren't leaders. I'm not saying they're automatons, we look to them for security, but the order isn't big on disobedience. There's no reason to go after my dad or his records unless they were ordered to do so. He isn't on trial, hasn't even been in the community for years. They came after me because of my 'disobedience' as decreed by the Five."

Now he looked as confused as she'd felt moments ago. "Someone
in
the order, someone running those enforcers knew what Dad was working on and told them to investigate." She watched the blood drain from his face as the implications sunk in, but she forced herself to say it. "Someone in the order is working blatantly against the general directive of the order."

"Who would do that? Why?"

"I don't know. But –" She thought of the damage the enforcers had inflicted to his kidneys. "But knowing how to turn the body against itself has terrifying potential. If they want this anticoagulant on the global military market, this is beyond serious."

"We have to tell Callahan.
Now." He grabbed her hand and hauled her back down the hall.

Running to Callahan was the last thing she wanted. All the old messages about privacy, safety and security were rearing up, insisting she handle this alone.

Her father. Her order. Her problem.

All her life she'd been taught healers dealt with problems internally. Outside influence wasn't accepted or appreciated. Her departure from the community to follow so boldly in her father's footsteps had been considered rude by even her friends in the community.

Former friends.

Her father was an outcast and someone in her order was the crux of the problem. The Five were cold, and often harsh in their judgments, but she wasn't sure they would stoop to using Dr. Luther's gifts for research against the general population.

And just what was she going to do about it?

The Five didn't have any measure of compassion as far as she could tell. They didn't like her family and they'd been ready to strip her of her gift just because she saved Jameson's brother. She'd seen a
person
in the ill prisoner, but they considered him useless, possibly even an infringement on society.

Having read through a great deal of the history and documentation of the healer's gift she wondered what had pushed her order so far from their original purpose. What would it take to show them how wrong they were?

Her temper was edging toward a new high when they rushed in to find everyone crowded into the Callahan suite.

Brian was talking a mile a minute, Jaden was pacing, and Callahan looked a little green. Petra and Nathan were huddled over a hologram with Cali.

Jameson hesitated and Mira hung back behind him, wanting to stay out of the way. When Petra glanced up, her eyes went wide with surprise when she saw Mira. She walked over and did that almost touching thing again. "You might want to dial it down."

Mira followed her pointed gaze to her hands and jumped. Her hands were glowing with that pale blue light she'd cast over herself during the explosion. Jameson turned, but she tucked her hands out of sight and gave him a weak smile.

"You okay?"

"Sure." She nodded quickly, hoping she wasn't lying to him and grateful when Petra guided her away.

Her relief turned to dread as she realized they appeared to be watching a recording of a gang war. Two rough looking men faced off on a corner, flanked by supporters. The audio was crap, but Mira didn't want to hear details. Seeing it was bad enough.

Someone drew a gun and all she could think was that personal firearms were illegal. Gun possession soon became the least of the offenses as the fight escalated. Gun muzzles flared, a knife flashed, then the crowd dispersed and bodies were left behind.

Blood ran into the street, flowed in glaring red streams around debris and down into the storm drain.

Mira clapped a hand to her stomach, willing it to be calm. She knew she couldn't get there in time to help, but it didn't stop her urge to try. "What...when?"

Jameson was suddenly by her side and she let herself lean, let herself take the comfort he offered. This time his warmth seeped into her, soothing away the cold helplessness.

"This was over a day ago," Nathan said softly. "Brian is using his connections.
Tracking down what the evidence van collected and where they took it for processing."

She nodded though she didn't really understand. Cali looked at her with too much sympathy. "It looks like
Montalbano was testing your dad's new formula."

* * *

It was a risk to visit the scene, to even venture out for fear of being recognized, but some circumstances required a personal touch.

He walked the perimeter of the charred building and gave credit to
whomever had leveled it. Probably Conrad. No arson investigator would be able to determine what had been going on in this lab. In fact, he had it on good authority they were already chalking it up to careless students looking to develop a new designer drug. Score one for Montalbano's network of influence.

He was not entirely impressed but he was even less worried.

Montalbano had his new weapon and would surely be adjusting his lifestyle with the inevitable return on his investment.

No, his real concern rested with the Luther family and the security of his own flawlessly designed plans. Jacob, his second in command reported two of his enforcers were dead by their
own means. They'd been found in Dr. Luther's abandoned clinic – what a pathetic idea that clinic had been – cuffed and bruised by rubber bullets fired at point blank range. Unfortunately, Jacob had been interrupted when a military team arrived to clean up the mess. He didn't worry that they would learn anything from the bodies and now he smiled a bit, imagining how frustrated the ham-handed interrogator must have been. It was obvious to his deputy that two out of the team of three had chosen an honorable death over capture.

He respected that, had trained them himself in the art of death and the circumstances that required the greatest sacrifice. But the third man was different.