He had no idea of how well it worked, but he’d seen her moving before he left. Functioning and surviving. That was something. He had to push thoughts of her aside, because otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to function.

  Managing to cobble together some sleep in between checking on them, he also spent some time “researching” their condition and the equipment that Blossom was using. The set up for their memoriam interface was similar to the machine Hatch stole, but not at the same time. They’d made some significant changes. That actually might be in their favor, since the one he’d taken hadn’t worked exactly as specified in the beginning either. It took Hatch and Oz time to calibrate it.

  Unfortunately, Oz didn’t know enough of the intricacies of the pieces Hatch worked on versus the medical side he’d tackled. It had taken both of them. And as far as he was concerned, he would be fine with them not getting this one to work. Except, he couldn’t puzzle out why they wanted it to work in the first place. They’d speculated it might be a training tool or even used as some kind of entertainment, but it was frankly too invasive for either of those.

  So what then?

  And why were they obsessed with Valda?

  It was at ten hours to go and with a fresh cup of coffee in hand as he reviewed the number of attempts and subsequent failures, when Dirk said, “You really planning on doing this, Doc?”

  They were the first words he’d heard out of his rusty voice in weeks. Barely suppressing his startle, he twisted in the seat to find Dirk and Hatch both staring at him. Flicking his gaze automatically to the monitors, he allowed himself a brief nod. All of their vitals showed improvement, their faces had better color, and while they were still bruised, shaved, and beaten, they were alive.

  Now, he just had to find a way to work on their circulation and get them out of those shackles.

  One step at a time.

  “I believe I will be doing what is necessary.” It was a non-answer, depending on how one looked at it. Dirk stared at him, his fierce expression open to interpretation. He’d lived day in and day out with these two men for the last several years. Their need to save Valda, to bring her back to them, had united them in a way even their time together with her hadn’t been able to forge.

  Where once they had been four separate men with four separate relationships, they’d finally developed one of their own based on mutual trust and respect.

  Or he sure as fuck hope they had and he hadn’t imagined all of it. As if dismissive, he looked away from Dirk and took a sip of his coffee.

  “What’s necessary,” Hatch repeated, a scoff in his voice along with a faint croak. Despite hydrating them, they hadn’t been allowed food or water, so their throats had to be dry. He’d offered them ice chips earlier, but the pair had ignored him.

  Fair, he would likely have ignored a similar offer. They wanted to trust him. Just as he wanted to trust them. But this was a precarious situation, and unlike the two of them, he’d never learned the military shorthand they could talk to each other in.

  No, his shorthand was far more reserved for Valda. They understood the science and the biotechnical. When it came to more academic or philosophic debates, he and Andreas had that in common, as did Valda, whereas Hatch and Dirk were more likely to enjoy the sharp wit of a chess game, cards, or a sparring match with equal enthusiasm.

  Well, not Hatch for the last so much. He worried about his pretty face too much. Oz shot that not-so-pretty mug a look. The blue eyes staring back at him held an element of challenge. “We’re not going to cooperate.”

  At that, Oz allowed himself a slow smile. “When have you ever cooperated with me?” And just how many times had they argued over the right solution?

  The other man snorted. “I’d flip you off if I wasn’t trussed up like some turkey.” He definitely meant Oz was an idiot for taking this flyer to try and get them out on his own. He wasn’t a special forces soldier or a pirate. He didn’t even care for weapons. He’d taken an oath to preserve life, not end it.

  “Sounds like a you problem,” Oz murmured, and took another sip of coffee while not holding his gaze but not missing the roll of his eyes. The problem being he needed to get them out. He had the beginnings of an idea.

  “Fuck. You.” Hatch enunciated each word.

  “Enough.” Dirk snapped the one word like he needed to silence Hatch. Then he focused on Oz. “Whatever you plan to do. It’s not going to work.” In other words, what? He didn’t want Oz to try? Well, it was a little fucking late for that.

  “Then there’s no harm in trying,” Oz told him as he stood. He drained the rest of the coffee like he’d just been waiting to finish it. “Since you both sound well enough and your vitals are in order, there’s no reason we shouldn’t start right now.”

  “Doc,” Dirk warned. “This is a bad idea.”

  He almost laughed. “Wouldn’t be the first time,” he told him as he opened another cabinet and pulled out the sedatives. He drew up enough for four doses.

  One of the guards moved to him. “What are we doing?”

  “I’m getting them ready for transport,” Oz told him. “Sedatives,” he continued, holding up the auto injectors as he loaded them. They were a fast-acting brand. “You all seemed a bit concerned about moving them while they were conscious.” The snide note in his voice hit remarkably well. One of his instructors had enjoyed tearing them apart. He felt failure taught the best lessons. But humiliation, he once insisted, was the best motivator and would make sure his students didn’t forget.

  The guard scowled.

  “You two should probably join us. I’ll need you to hold them still.”

  “They haven’t given you an ounce of trouble,” one of the other two guards said as Oz headed straight toward Dirk. Now came the truest test of their friendship. Did the trust between them hold, or had they been through too much here?

  The guard he’d already tweaked, however, stayed right with him. Oz motioned him forward. “Brace him.”

  He gripped Dirk’s shoulders, which forced him to lean over him. Dirk slammed his head forward with a crack of his skull to the guard’s. The crunch of bone and the thwack of noise actually made Oz flinch.

  The guard went down with a strangled gasp. The pain probably barely registered before unconsciousness took him.

  Hatch smirked as the two at the door rushed forward. “I give that a seven for execution, but a total ten for delivery. Nice.”

  They both chuckled, and as soon as the guards had their backs to him, Oz moved between them and hit them both with injectors. It took some managing, but it was so much easier with the third guard already out of the way.

  The sedative worked fast, which was good because one of the guards went down swiftly, but he missed with the other and hit his shirt. The man whirled and locked his grip on Oz’s neck. Fumbling with the third injector, he got it into the guy as they both collapsed onto Hatch.

  Blowing out a breath, he stared upward for a moment. His neck ached and his heart hammered, but they were alive.

  “Not that it isn’t great to see you, Doc,” Hatch said idly. “But we’re not this close, and I’m definitely not into your topper there.”

  A laugh worked its way out of him as he gave the guy a shove off of him. Rubbing his neck, he searched the first guard, then the second before he found the security card he needed. With one swipe, he freed Dirk’s chair, then Hatch’s.

  Dirk was faster to his feet, and he still staggered a little on his way to the third. He gripped the guard’s head and twisted once, snapping his neck. He proceeded to clean up the last two, and Oz grimaced. Hatch weaved a little, and Oz got an arm around him.

  “We need to go,” he told them.

  With a look that said ‘no shit,’ Dirk collected weapons, then spat on the floor. “Tell me you have a plan.”

  “I have a plan,” Oz confirmed.

  “Is it a good plan?” Hatch asked as Oz nodded toward the door. They didn’t have time to discuss it here. They had to move. “It really needs to be a good plan.”

  “We’ll know in a minute,” Oz promised him.

  “Well, let’s not cock that up shall we?”

  Chapter 8

  Retrouvailles [French] The happiness of meeting together again after a long time.

  VALDA

  I hadn’t been on a plane in years. It wasn’t that they weren’t in use, but I didn’t travel. The flight we’d booked brought us in at Heathrow. Of the two London-based airports, only Heathrow was still active. The trains continued to run on time. Andreas held my hand loosely in his as we made our way through customs.

  The electronic identification Campbell provided us cleared customs without any effort. Campbell and his men were with us. More watchers would pick us up once we left the airport. The details of our security had been the subject of three, grueling hours after I persuaded Andreas to the plan.

  He was still not a fan, but Campbell’s strategizing had offered him a small measure of comfort. I trusted the security people to do their job. The science? The negotiation? That I could handle. The security measures were all for them. As it was, I had my hair pulled back into a single plait hidden under a scarf and a pair of glasses that offered me a Clark Kent-esque disguise. It would hardly fool anyone who knew me.

  But one bonus to the life I’d led? There was little out there pointing fingers to my identity. I’d lived as a hermit and later as a recluse. I didn’t address the public. I’d taken meetings with some heads of state, but those had always been done in utmost secrecy, more to protect the politicians than myself.

  Fingers interlaced with Andreas’, I let him take lead as we carried our ‘luggage’ out and headed directly for the taxi stands. I would have preferred the train, but Campbell wanted us to avoid isolated locations where ambush would be easier.

  We were not alone in the queue waiting for a taxi. It surprised me how many people were here. The compound hadn’t been far from Auckland, but I’d rarely gone into the city. I didn’t do well amongst large crowds of people. Perhaps because of my isolated upbringing. Or maybe I just didn’t trust people in large groups. The world had become a distinctly unfriendly place with tales of woe so common, that they were rarely reported or even remarked on for more than a news cycle.

  Yet, there was an eclectic mix of passengers here. Travelers, some foreign and some domestic. Businessmen and women. Military. A couple of families. A mother with a teenager that she kept hugging to her.

  Children were also a scarcity.

  My heart squeezed as we moved up. Andreas rubbed his thumb against the pair of rings I sported on my left hand. We were traveling as a married couple. Another element of hiding who we were. Andreas was even less known to the world than I was, though I’d had cause to question Campbell when he detailed that moving us in groups of no more than two at a time. Neither Andreas nor I were all that handy with weapons.

  I had some lessons, once upon a time, at Dirk’s insistence, but I wasn’t going to discuss that with any of them. Andreas, however, had surprised me when he indicated that he’d also received lessons, and he’d given me a faint, almost sad smile as he explained, “We had the time, and he always planned for what happened if we were separated. He made Oz learn, too.”

  An awkward silence invaded after that admission.

  Of course they’d had time. Years of it.

  I didn’t want to discuss Oz or the flash of guilt and regret that appeared in Andreas’ eyes after he mentioned him.

  When it was our turn, the handler pulled open the cab door, allowing Andreas and I to slide in with our bags. We weren’t traveling with more than two small cases, neither of which contained anything we couldn’t replace.

  The driver didn’t even look at us as he pulled away, just said, “Hope you had a good flight. Weather’s been bumpy the last few weeks.”

  “Smooth sailing,” Andreas responded easily, and I shook my head. It was like something out of a bad twentieth century spy novel. Then again, why mess with the classics? I focused my attention on the world beyond the cab as the driver left the airport and we turned onto the roads that would take us to London proper.

  Our next destination was the train station. We couldn’t take the train to London, but once in London, it would be easier to blend with the whole security team aboard the train. It made sense, and again, I trusted them to do their jobs while I reviewed my conversation with Alexander Smithson. He’d wanted video, I’d denied it to him. He could speak to me via voice or not at all.

  When he threatened Dirk and Hatch, I’d merely shut the communicator off and waited. Threats and intimidation required a response to be effective. In most instances, the application of pressure if proven even once effective, would be repeated and usually with much greater force.

  He would not be allowed to manipulate me with them. That he had taken and mistreated them at all was bad enough. If he believed that in harming them, he could control me, he would absolutely continue to harm them.

  Five minutes after I ended the call, Mr. Smithson called me back. He once again attempted to leverage their health and well-being against me, I ended the call for a second time.

  It took fifteen minutes before he called again, and it took embracing my detachment to keep from wondering if the next call would include him proceeding with one of his threats.

  Instead of waiting for him to speak, I had taken over and merely said, “Mr. Smithson, I’m a busy woman. If you wish to have a rational discussion, I might be persuaded. If you resort to bullying tactics, intimidation, or threats even once more, then understand I will end this call and never accept another.”

  A bluff.

  A gamble.

  A game.

  Hatch was so much better at these than I was. So. Much. Better.

  “Dr. Bashan,” Smithson had gritted my name out through his teeth. The frustration sounded quite uncomfortable for him. “I can agree to those terms. But I require you to listen to me in all good faith.”

  Good faith.

  Such an obscene term.

  I had faith in five things—six.

  Dirk. Hatch. Oz. Andreas. Science.

  Myself.

  I wouldn’t abandon my faith in Oz.

  After we retrieved Dirk and Hatch, then we would find them. I had no doubt Campbell or one of his men was already tracking him.

  Still, as the miles rolled past outside my window, I wished he was here. His soothing presence, easy smiles, and good humor might ease the rapidly coiling tension between Andreas and I.

  Andreas hated my plan, even if he agreed to it. And, as much as he wanted to, he hadn’t fully believed me about Hatch, but he had no other explanation for it either.

  I suppose he didn’t want to court insanity, and I appreciated him for it.

  It seemed almost inevitable that my thoughts returned to Dirk and Hatch over and over again. How had they managed to survive all those years with me right there but unreachable?

  They’d reached out to me, of course. They’d found a way. Broken. Borrowed. Stolen. Invaded. They’d found me, even hidden away in my own mind.

  Closing my eyes, I blocked out the world before I focused on Hatch too much. I wanted to see him again, just a glimpse to know he was all right. But we weren’t secure, and I wouldn’t endanger him. If it was as exhausting for him as it had been for me…

  Andreas tightened his grip where his fingers curled around mine, pulling me from my musings, and I glanced over and met his gaze. A wealth of feelings was on display in his dark eyes. The intensity would have made me uncomfortable once. If I’d even noticed it. Sometimes, my love of my work had absorbed me and made me oblivious to the world around me.

  What good was saving the world if I never lived in it?

  I couldn’t go back to that existence. The stark and sterile environment where only the research was pure. After the last five years and so many variations on the construct, I didn’t want to be trapped away like that again. If anything, I wanted…

  I just wanted.

  We could do this. I squeezed his fingers in answer. We had to do this.

  I would allow for no other outcome.

  Campbell joined us on the northbound train not even an hour into our journey to Manchester. He slid into the seat next to me and said, “Change of plans, we’re getting off at the next stop.”

  I wanted to argue. The journey had already taken nearly two days, and we were so close. But I bit back the urge.

  “Why?” Apparently, Andreas was not in agreement on that one. “We’re just under ninety minutes away, and our meet deadline is in two hours.”

  “We’ve had word,” Campbell said, his tone brisk. “We’re disembarking at the next station and taking an alternate route.”

  “What word?” Andreas pressed him, but the other man went mute. I shared a look with Andreas, more frown than anything else. The desire to argue waged a battle against the sense of trusting Campbell. This was his job. He’d been keeping us safe all these months, arguably years.

  “Next stop,” Campbell answered, as if that was the only answer, and then he was out of his seat and moving.

  “I guess we’re getting off at the next stop,” I murmured to Andreas, and he let out a deep sigh before scrubbing a hand over his face. He gave me a quick smile.

  The next stop came in three minutes. Andreas moved to his feet as soon as the train began to slow. He pulled down our bags and then stood with a hand braced against the seat next to mine until the train stopped.

  I didn’t catch the name of the town, even though they’d announced it. The air outside was cool, almost too cool. After weeks on the island, I pulled my coat a little tighter around me. While I couldn’t think of anything more suspicious than a number of passengers disembarking at this relatively small stop, only about ten in total that I could see did, including Campbell and three other men I recognized.

  So maybe our security team for the train was small, or others would get off at the next stop?

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17