Darkness Falls (Dark Angels 7)

“Oh, I have, but it only keeps the main computer system going, not the peripherals.”

“Peripherals being the light screens and keyboards?”

“No, they’re necessary and included. I just did a quick system shutdown when I saw the vamps entering. Didn’t want to chance them getting access to my baby.”

I snorted softly. He thought more of his computer’s safety than he did his own—anyone else would have disappeared into the panic room and let the computer fend for itself. I had no doubt it would take an exceptionally skilled hacker to access Stane’s system, even if he had left it on and running.

“I think you need to widen the net and include security in the systems it keeps going.”

“I think you could be right.” He swung around and splayed his fingers across a scanning pad on his desk. A second later, his bridge came back to life. “I guess the big question is, should I expect similar attacks, or will that be the last of it?”

“We don’t know,” I replied. “Azriel sent a warning to the council, but whether they’ll take any notice or not is another question.”

“And the would-be queen bee of said council?”

“Is another matter entirely.” My voice was grim. “But speaking of her, can I borrow your cell phone?”

“Sure, but why?” He dug his phone out of his pocket and tossed it over.

“Because I need to contact said queen bee.”

“Just as well I’ve enabled the sc

rambler for all but selected people,” he said. “I don’t want her getting hold of my number.”

“Stane, she’s Directorate.” I punched in Hunter’s number, and Space Invaders began to uniformly march across the screen as the phone connected. I smiled, then added, “She can get any number she wants anytime she wants.”

“Not this one, she won’t,” he said, amused. “When you get off the phone to her, I’ve got some information you might not want to see.”

“Oh, fabulous.” Things were obviously about to go from bad to worse—the thought had barely crossed my mind when the Space Invaders disappeared and Hunter came online. As timing went, it was pretty much perfect.

“Risa, dear,” she all but purred. “What a lovely surprise it is to see you.”

“I’m betting it is,” I all but snapped back. “Considering your fellow council members just sent nine of their finest to finish me off.”

All amusement fled, and her expression became very, very scary. “When did this happen?”

“About fifteen minutes ago. I take it, then, that my astral follower hasn’t reported the situation to you yet?”

“No, because that was something I did not envisage and, as such, was not in her brief.”

Meaning she’d asked for only key-related information to be relayed? If so, I very much suspected it was a situation that would now be rectified. “I’m also gathering the councillors didn’t seek your approval or even ask for your opinion of the action?”

“No, they did not.” And they would pay for that, if the icy, murderous glitter in her eyes was anything to go by. “It is hardly an action I would approve as yet.”

As yet. It was a very telling slip of the tongue.

“Well, Azriel sent them a warning not to make another such attempt, but you might want to address the situation yourself.” Somehow, I managed to keep most of the anger out of my voice. If there was one thing I was certain of, it was the fact that I didn’t want her murderous fury aimed at me. I was in trouble enough with Hunter. “After all, you need me alive to find the damn key.”

“I’m well aware of what I do and don’t need,” she snapped. “I will take care of the council. You had best concentrate on finding the keys—especially given you only have ten hours left to produce that second one.”

And with that, she hung up. I blew out a breath and tossed the phone back to Stane. “Well, if there are any councillors left after she’s done chastising them, I’ll be very surprised.”

“That would be no great loss, from what I’ve seen of them,” Stane commented. “So that search you wanted on your accountant.”

I walked across the room, grabbed a chair, and sat down. I had a bad feeling I didn’t want to be standing when Stane told me the search results. “And?”

“And, as I said, it’s not good news.” He tapped the screen in front of him, then flicked some images across to the screen nearest me. Two were birth certificates, the other a passport document. The name on one of the certificates was Michael Judd; the name on the other two was not.