Page 89 of A Touch of Treachery
Everyone bobbed their heads in agreement.General Percy spun around, and he finally noticed me hovering outside the library.That muscle twitched in his jaw again, and he strode forward.He stopped and looked at me for a moment, then slammed the door right in my face.
The sharpbangmade me flinch.
I resisted the urge to pound my fist on the wood.General Percy had made his decision, and he was repeating the same mistakes he’d made on the Mexico mission all those years ago.Back then, Percy had ignored Grandma Jane’s attempts to rescue her son, just like he was ignoring my help now.Well, I would be damned if I let Desmond suffer the same awful fate as my father.
I might be on the outside looking in, but that was nothing new at Section 47.For years, my supervisors and coworkers had overlooked and underestimated me, but I was the one who’d discovered Henrika’s moles, and I knew that I could track her down now.
I spun around and strode away from the closed door.Jethro Percy could suspend me, fire me, and threaten me all he wanted.But one way or another, Iwasgoing to find Desmond.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
DESMOND
Foralongtime,I floated in a black void of unconsciousness.But things slowly began to intrude on that peace and quiet.
The murmur of voices, one high and soft, the other low and deep.Cool air wafting across my skin.A hint of dampness tickling my nose.Callused hands clamping around my arms and legs.A rock-hard surface pressing against my back ...
I knew that I needed to wake up instead of falling back down into the darkness, but I couldn’t quite remember why it was so important.The nagging sensation wouldn’t dissipate, so I cracked my eyes open.A dark gray ceiling swam into view.I frowned.This wasn’t the honeymoon suite I was sharing with Charlotte—
Charlotte.
Memories erupted in my mind.The guards aiming their guns at Charlotte.Henrika telling the other paramortals that Charlotte and I were spies.Henrika demanding that I surrender.Bryce punching me over and over.Charlotte screaming my name.And then ...and then ...nothing.
The last thing I remembered was staring up at Charlotte and watching her blue aura explode with worry.That same worry squeezed my chest tight right now.What had happened to Charlotte?
I rolled to the side, swung my legs down, sat up, and put my feet on the floor.My head spun at the motion, and fresh pain exploded in my face.Nausea sloshed in my stomach, and cold sweat broke out on my forehead.
I leaned forward, staring at the floor and trying not to vomit.The nausea slowly receded, and I gently probed my injuries.Sore, puffy bruises dotted my face, and I was willing to bet at least one of my eyes was blackened.My nose was broken, my lips were split and crusted with dried blood, and I had some cracked ribs, given how much my chest ached with every breath.Bryce hadn’t pulled his punches, and I was lucky the vindictive former cleaner hadn’t beaten me to death.
The last of the nausea faded away, and I raised my head.I was sitting on a paper-thin mattress stretched out over a slab of concrete to create a crude bed.The jacket I’d been wearing in the clearing had been stripped off my body and wadded up to form a makeshift pillow.The wall at my back was also concrete, as was the low ceiling.A metal toilet jutted out from the wall, along with a sink.
The other three walls were made of glass that looked at least two inches thick.A security camera was nestled in the corner of the ceiling, and the lone red light on it blinked like an all-seeing eye.
I slowly got to my feet.The aches in my skull, face, and ribs intensified, and my mouth felt like it had been stuffed with dry, bloody cotton, but I ignored the pain and staggered over to the door.It too was glass, with a metal knob.I twisted the knob, but it didn’t move.Locked.I bit back a curse and tried again and again, twisting and rattling the knob and the glass door in its frame, but neither one budged an inch.
Trapped, I peered through the glass.Unlike my sparse cell, the area beyond was filled with scientific equipment.Microscopes, beakers, burners, test tubes, petri dishes, and more perched on long gray plastic tables that filled the center of the room.Metal counters studded with sinks lined one wall, while large industrial refrigerators with clear glass doors fronted another wall.The recycled air was unnaturally cool, and the faint lemony scent of disinfectant tickled my nose.
As a Section cleaner, I’d broken into dozens of places like this, so I knew exactly what it was: a lab.
Boots scuffed on the gray tile floor outside my cell, and Henrika strode into view.She was still wearing the same pale green sweater and pants she’d had on in the woods, but she’d traded in her winter jacket for a white lab coat.A chill slithered down my spine, but I squared my shoulders.
Henrika peered at me through the glass.“Oh, good.You’re finally awake.I was starting to worry Bryce had hit you too hard and scrambled your brains for good.”
“What are you going to do to me?”
She arched an eyebrow.“No blustering demands?No threats about how you’re going to escape?No witty quips about how much you’re going to enjoy killing me?”
“I’m not much for blustering demands.”
Henrika nodded.“Blustering demands are definitely more your father’s department.You’re just the tool Jethro uses to carry out his dirty deeds, instead of doing them himself like he used to when he was a Section cleaner.”
As much as I hated to admit it, she was right.Iwasa tool my father used to accomplish his objectives, whether it was thwarting a thief’s heist, taking down a criminal conglomerate, or eliminating a terrorist.
But the way Henrika talked about my father ...it sounded like sheknewhim, as though they’d had some personal interactions in the past.But how could that be?Sure, Henrika had said that the General had bought weapons from her, but the General bought weapons fromeveryone, friend and foe alike.Charlotte hadn’t found any other connections between Henrika and my father, but I still felt like the two of them were playing some game.Only I didn’t know the rules, and they were both using me as their bloody pawn.
“What did my father do to you?”I asked, weary resignation creeping into my voice.
Henrika tilted her head to the side.“You’re not even going totryto defend him?Protest that Jethro couldn’t have possibly done anything wrong?After all, he is one of your commanding officers at Section 47.Even more important, he’s your father.”
