Page 69 of Shadow Blind

Someone must have autopsied them and discovered the nanobots and Winchester had passed the information on. His contact in Hurley’s office had said they were in contact with Winchester, although the SEAL refused to tell them where he was, or who he was with.

Winchester had hooked up with someone powerful, though. Someone with a full lab—one equipped with AFM, NMRs, SEMs, STMs and SPMs. All of which were required to work with nanotechnology and all of which were expensive as hell. It reminded him of the ghost jet that had landed and taken off in San Bernardino. But there was also Winchester and his dead teammates’ disappearance from the evacuation site in the hills above Karaveht. Something must have dropped in to pick them up before Clark’s crew had arrived, yet there was nothing on the SAT pictures during that timeframe. Nothing on radar either. No flight plans.

A ghost chopper, if you will, rather like Mr. No Name’s ghost plane. No doubt both were owned by the same organization that had discovered the nanobots.

Which was terrible news.

He’d prayed—actually prayed—that No Name’s phone call had been to inform him they had the Barnes woman under wraps. At least he’d have had a bargaining chip to get Winchester into his lab.

But no…dammit.

Clark took a deep breath, forcing air into his lungs. For the first time in, well, forever, he was on the verge of panic.

Whoever Winchester was working with was well-funded. So well-funded they’d discovered his nanobots. But even worse, they had access to Winchester—who was apparently immune to the nanobots.

If they figured out why Winchester was immune, and figured out how to replicate that and make others immune, they’d render his weapon inert. His retirement plan would self-destruct.

The only thing in his favor was the fact the weapon would never be traced back to him. He’d covered his tracks and his identity completely, hid himself through endless shell companies and aliases.

He was safe.

When his cell started buzzing, he picked it up, hoping the call was from Mr. No Name saying he’d tracked down Winchester, or someone claiming Winchester’s bounty, which would mean they’d captured the cagey bastard.

Basically, just hoping for a ray of sunshine on this shitty day.

But nope—the call was from Doctor Lovett, his nanobot miracle worker.

“Daniel,” Clark forced a jovial tone. “I was just thinking about you! How does a raise sound?”

He should present him with a BMW, too, or a car of equal status and value. It was simply good practice to keep your top performers well rewarded. Such generosity was one of the first things he’d learned as an entrepreneur whose success often depended on the brilliant creations of others.

“Clark!”

There was a harried note to Clark’s name. And Lovett hadn’t responded to the offer of a raise.

“What’s wrong?” Clark’s tension, which had barely faded, returned with tornado force gales.

“It’s the NNB26 prototype.” Lovett sounded stunned. “They’re active again.”

Perplexed, Clark frowned. “That is not possible. I haven’t reactivated them.”

“That’s the point,” Lovett said in a rush. “I checked the program. Nobody reactivated them. Yet they are active again. Scurrying around like ants in their maze.”

Instinctively, Clark shook his head. “That’s simply not possible.”

“Possible or not,” Lovett’s voice rose and edged into shrill, “the NNB26 prototype nanobots are active. Come down and see for yourself.”

Chapter twenty-eight

Day 11

Denali, Alaska

“Everything’s so pretty!” Demi stared out the window, soaking in the thick flock of snow weighing down the tree branches along the road. “You really do live in a winter wonderland.”

“I remind myself of that every December and January when the sun refuses to rise until 10:30 a.m. and then disappears again at 3:00 p.m.” Kait leaned forward in the driver's seat, staring intently at the snow packed road before them. “Or when I’m stuck at home for days on end because of an endless round of blizzards.”

“Like the storm that rolled in the day after I arrived.” Demi’s voice sounded sleepy to her own ears. The tall, thick snow berm that streamed past the car was hypnotizing. Did Alaskans imagine snow berms rather than sheep when they had trouble sleeping?

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