Page 26 of Avenger of Sins

Nothing he could do but worry, so he put it out of his mind. Raising a cheap pair of binoculars to his eyes, he focused on the hollow below. A million years of rain had carved it out of the mountainside, growing wider as it spread away from the ridgeline. Trees blanketed most of its length, a single road just visible through the winter-bare branches.

Below him, at the narrow end of the hollow, clustered the Armaros Corporate Solutions compound. A high concrete wall surrounded what looked like office buildings, a garage, andsome military-style vehicles. No large open spaces that might be used for training or firing ranges—that must go on elsewhere.

At the end of the hollow, set into the mountainside, was a massive pair of steel doors.

So, Harlow had himself an underground bunker of some kind. No wonder he’d waived SPECTR protection—even if someone managed to get past the walls and the guard shacks, those doors were designed to keep out an army.

Fortunately, he wasn’t an army. Unless the bunker was the size of NORAD, its occupants would need supplying from the outside.

Ryan carefully picked his way down the steep slope, ducking through groves of mountain laurel and rhododendron. This mountainside would be beautiful in the spring.

If only he could live long enough to see the flowers bloom again.

As he approached the road, the distant sound of an engine echoed off the trees. Taken aback by his own good luck, he almost waited too long; the truck withCorporate Dietary Solutionsemblazoned on the side was nearly past when he stepped onto the tarmac, waving his arms.

The driver rolled down his window, squinting at Ryan in the growing dark. “Who are you? What’re you doing out here?”

He smiled, even though pain spiked through his brain as he reached out to the driver’s thoughts. “I need you to do me a favor…”

NINE

It wasdark by the time they parked the SUV off to the side of a winding road disappearing off toward the mountain. Caleb had steered it off the road onto what looked like no more than a deer path, in hopes it wouldn’t be seen by any passing vehicles.

“So what now?” Caleb asked as they got out.

John looked around. The woods were silent except for the lone call of an owl:Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you-all?In summer there would be cicadas and crickets, small animals rustling in the leaves. For now, winter spread a quiet blanket over the hollow.

There was no snow at least, except for a dusting on higher peaks. Nothing to betray footsteps, if Ryan had passed this way.

Was Ryan already here? Or had they beat him? And what should they do in either case?

“We walk,” John answered.

“And if there are cameras in the woods?” Caleb asked.

John began to walk, and Caleb fell in beside him. Night drifted off to one side, vanishing from sight in the shadow of every tree. If not for the scent of night-blooming jasmine and copal, mingled with the crackle of etheric energy, John wouldn’t have even known she was there.

Would she show up on camera, even one with night vision? He didn’t know, and it didn’t really matter, since he and Caleb certainly would.

Last fall’s leaves crunched under their feet as they made their way through the trees a few yards away from the road. John had brought a small flashlight, which he used to keep from tripping over fallen branches and winter-dead briars.

“I have my SPECTR badge,” John said. “Hopefully, if we do get caught, they’ll listen to a federal agent when they wouldn’t an ordinary trespasser. Harlow used to work for SPECTR, after all.”

“True, but he refused Kaniyar’s offer of help,” Caleb said. His long hair whispered over the elk hide of his coat, and he moved with the confidence of someone who didn’t need a flashlight to see.

“If I’m standing right in front of him, offering a solution, he might be more amenable to assistance.” John ducked under a branch, felt a twig grab at his hair. The chill soaked into his skin through the thin jacket he’d worn in New Orleans, but Caleb’s thicker coat was too slim in the shoulders for him to wear comfortably.

Caleb was silent for a long moment, before saying, “And if we do end up standing in front of him? The sick fuck who thought up Operation Mephisto in the first place?”

John’s stomach did a slow roll. He had no memory of the man, and sure, it might be that there were still memories he’d never get back. But men like Harlow tended to be hands-off in his experience. Walsh, Lydell, Foster, and others had been the ones to do the dirty work and write the reports.

Was that better or far worse? Harlow hadn’t overseen their suffering directly, only handled bloodless reports. He was fine giving the orders, but when it came to seeing the results of those orders, was he squeamish? Disinterested? Just too busy with Goddess-knew what other projects and operations?

“I don’t know,” he said after a few minutes filled only with the rustle of leaves under their feet, the hoot of the owl growing fainter. “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

Caleb took his hand, and their fingers curled together. “I’m glad you’re here,” John said, squeezing Caleb’s fingers. “You and Gray. And you, too, Night. Thanks for seeing this through.”

“It is mortal nonsense,” Night replied, her glowing pupils the only thing he could make out in the darkness. “But it is…interesting. A diversion from the hunt, but unique in my experience.”

---