Keri Arthur - Fireborn

“I agree, which is why I intend to flee overseas once I’m out of this state. I have passports and clothing at a safe place ready to go. All I need is transport there and then on to the airport.”

“A deal that certainly gives you more than it gives me.”

“Unless, of course, the information I might have also includes a hard drive containing not only every scrap of information I stole from Wilson, but every detail of anyone I ever dealt with in the sindicati.”

I blinked and her shark smile got bigger.

“It always pays to have some form of backup plan.”

“So why don’t you use said backup to exchange for your freedom?”

“Because, as you said, they have obviously—for whatever reason—decided it is safer to be rid of me than use me again. Therefore, they will merely agree to the exchange and then kill me anyway.” She raised an eyebrow. “I am fully aware of what my employers are capable of. Do we have a deal?”

I hesitated, but I had no real choice and we both knew it. Not if I wanted the answers that might well be hidden somewhere in those files. Besides, given Morretti was currently off-limits investigation-wise, it couldn’t hurt to have a secondary option in the sindicati to chase down and question.

“Okay. Deal.”

She held out her hand. “Shake on it.”

I leaned forward and clasped her hands. Electricity buzzed across my senses, and I smiled. “Sorry, but I’m one of those people who can’t be read telepathically.”

“Well, damn.” She didn’t seem too put out, however. She pushed upright in the bed and pressed the buzzer for the nurse. “Let’s get out of here first; then we’ll play twenty questions.”

I raised my eyebrows. “I doubt they’ll release you that quickly.”

“They can’t actually stop me. Besides, we both know that my only chance to escape unscathed is in the next few hours. Once the sindicati realize what has happened to their assassins, more will be unleashed.”

Undoubtedly. The nurse came in, and for the next half hour, Amanda argued her case about being released. Eventually, the hospital staff gave up and brought in an Against Medical Advice form for her to sign. She did so, then, still in her hospital gown and wearing my coat, followed me into the parking lot.

“Right,” I said, starting Jackson’s truck. “Where to?”

“Southern Cross Station.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You hid passports and clothes at a train station?”

“Best place,” she said. “And close to public transport should I need a quick escape.”

At least she wouldn’t be escaping quickly in her current getup. Not when she wanted to avoid notice, anyway.

“Okay,” I said, once we were headed into the city. “Time to start upholding your end of the deal. What have you been told about Wilson’s death?”

She shrugged. “Not much. The police simply said a man in a red-hooded cloak all but sliced him to pieces.”

“And his body? Has it been released by the coroner yet?” If it had been, then maybe Jackson could use his contact again and get us the coroner’s report. It might not help, but it couldn’t hurt, either.

“No, it hasn’t, simply because there was no body.”

I blinked. “What?”

“There was no body.” Her expression was amused. This time, the emotion was real. “The thug in the red cloak took his body with him when he ran off.”

“But that makes no sense.”

Why kill him in broad daylight and then snatch his body? Were the red cloaks making some kind of statement? Or was there something else going on? Something that was far bigger than this investigation—bigger, maybe, than even Sam realized?

I had a bad feeling that might be the case.

And was it possible, I thought with a chill, that they’d snatched Wilson’s body to ensure they had him when he came to?

Sam had said the red plague virus was spread through either cuts or bites, which meant that if Wilson hadn’t been killed, he would have been infected. So what if the virus reacted to death the same way sharing the blood of a vampire reacted in the human body? That is, on death, it put them into a coma while the body made the change from one form to the other?

Maybe he’d merely looked dead. Maybe he’d simply slipped into a form of suspended animation while he went through the change to becoming something more than human.

If that was the case, then one of the men who’d been employed by the government to find a cure for the red plague virus was now under the control of the red plague victims themselves.

And while that was a scary thought, an even scarier one was, if that was the case, then there had to be someone behind these things, controlling them. The red cloaks I’d seen hadn’t seemed intelligent enough to do anything more than hunt and kill; nor had they appeared to want to do anything more than that. So either there was more to the cloaks than first appeared, or there was something deeper going on.

Either way, with Baltimore dead and his research in the hands of god knew who, Wilson was the only one left who had any hope of finding a cure anytime soon. Sure, other people could pick up the pieces, try to replicate and move on, but the reality was, it could take them years to even get back to where Wilson and Baltimore were.

But why would the red cloaks—or whoever was behind them, if there was someone behind them—want to control any possible vaccine? Did they hope to use the cure for themselves, or was there a more nefarious plan? I very much suspected the latter, though I wasn’t entirely sure why.

“Given witnesses said he used talonlike fingernails to rip Wilson up,” Amanda commented, drawing me from my thoughts, “maybe they simply took the body to prevent any possible DNA evidence from being found. That’s what the cops appeared to think, anyway. They seemed pretty certain they’d find his body dumped somewhere in the sewer system.”

I wished them luck with the search, because I seriously doubted they would find anything beyond rubbish, rats, and the occasional dead animal. “Did Wilson seem on edge before his death? Had there been any break-ins at either the research foundation or at your house?”

She shook her head. “Why?”

“Just trying to uncover any links between the two murders we’re investigating.” I tapped the wheel for several seconds. “What about friends? Did he confide in anyone besides you? Was there anyone new in his life, someone perhaps he was reluctant to talk about?”

“A lover, you mean?” Her expression was amused. “No, there was no one like that. It’s rather hard to keep such things secret from a telepath.”

Undoubtedly. I glanced in the mirror and noticed a white Ford following us. Nothing unusual given white Fords were a dime a dozen on the roads these days, but there had been one parked down from Amanda’s, and after everything that had happened recently, I was a little wary of coincidences. I flicked on the blinker and went into the left lane. The Ford remained where it was.

I slowed as the lights ahead changed to red. “Did the police mention anything about Wilson’s research notes?”

“No, but I know they’re missing. I had a visit from Denny Rosen two days after Wilson’s death.” She pursed her lips, her expression thoughtful. “Shame this has all gone down as it has. He might very well have been my next target.”

“Once Wilson was finished with, you mean?”

“Oh no.” Her expression was amused. “During. Wilson is work. Rosen, as head of a major research foundation, would have been a delightful—and undoubtedly profitable—sideline.”

“You really don’t have any morals, do you?”