Memory Zero (Spook Squad 1)

Sometimes these computers were as dense as any human. “Do a prio

rity-one search through all available government records, military or otherwise.” He hesitated, tapping the desk lightly. It wasn’t likely he’d get back to this office anytime soon. He had too much to do. “Send search results, a copy of Ryan’s current file and any updates to outlink 5019. Security access one.”

“Transfer proceeding. Search proceeding. Director Hanrahan wishes to speak with you.”

He scrubbed a hand across his eyes. The day was definitely getting worse. “Put him through.”

The director’s familiar features came online. “I want an update on the Ryan case.”

He watched the director’s heavy jowls flap like sheets in the wind and barely controlled a smile. With all the weight Hanrahan had lost lately, he looked more like a basset hound than ever. “Investigations are still proceeding, sir.”

The director’s heavy-lidded gaze flicked to the right of the screen—a warning there was someone in the office with him. Who?

“Why haven’t the investigations been wrapped up? Ryan admitted to shooting her partner. It’s a matter of record that she made several threats toward him. What’s the problem?”

Gabriel frowned. Obviously, Hanrahan was putting on a show for whoever was in the office with him, but the new information was startling. This was the first he’d heard of any threats. “Ryan claims her partner was a vampire, and that she killed him in self-defense,” he informed Hanrahan, dutifully playing his part in whatever drama was ongoing.

“Poppycock. The woman knows the trouble she’s in and is just spinning you a line. State is getting restless over this. They want a result, and so do I.”

There was an edge to the director’s voice that didn’t make sense. Something was obviously wrong. Who the hell was in there? For a second, he considered storming Hanrahan’s stronghold, but the director’s eyes, green slits barely visible beneath the heavily curtained lids, seemed to warn against it.

“When I find out what’s going on, you’ll be the first to know, sir.” Which was the truth, in more ways than one, he thought grimly.

“Not good enough, Stern. You have until tomorrow to wind up your investigations and hand the woman back for prosecution.”

Prosecution. He snorted softly. So Sam’s fate had already been decided—and she was being shafted big-time. The question he had to answer now was why. And there was precious little time in which to do it. “You’ll have my final report tomorrow afternoon.”

Hanrahan nodded. “See that I do.”

The screen went blank. Gabriel swore and leaned back in his chair. Someone wanted Sam out of the way, someone powerful enough to put pressure on Hanrahan to wind up an investigation.

He had to find Sam, and fast. Not that he had any intention of handing her over to anyone—at least until he’d sorted out the puzzle she presented. But where would she have gone? Where would he have gone, in the same situation?

Jack had been her partner for five years. Given their work, the stress and long hours it often entailed—as well as the fact they were rumored to have been lovers—she had to have known him better than anyone. Except, maybe, his wife.

Which was exactly where he would have started. He swung back around. “Computer, do we have an address for Jack Kazdan?”

“Subject currently has two addresses listed—19 Lincoln Street, Mulgrave, and Apartment 811, 15 Russell Street, Melbourne.”

He raised his eyebrows. That end of Russell Street was right near Federation Square and considered prime real estate. Kazdan, like Sam and her Brighton apartment directly opposite the beach, should never have been able to afford to rent a bathroom in that area, let alone own an apartment.

Maybe the two of them had some connection other than sex. “Which address is listed as his permanent address?”

“Mulgrave.”

Great. It might be only a ten-minute flight in normal conditions, but the wind was picking up. He rolled his shoulders slightly. The muscles protested. If he flew anymore today, there’d be hell to pay tomorrow. But flying was quicker than driving, and he had a suspicion he’d better get to Mulgrave promptly or risk losing Ryan for good.

He stood and headed for the roof.

THE HALL WAS EMPTY. Sam bit her lip and pressed back against the wall. Slowly, carefully, she edged along to the next doorway. After silently counting to three, she quickly stepped inside, her gaze sweeping the semidarkness. Nothing.

Tension slithered through her limbs. They were here, somewhere. She could feel them—a whisper of evil that burned across her skin. She moved on to the next room, but it, too, was empty. She flexed her fingers and tried to relax a little. The last thing she needed right now was to blow someone else’s head off.

Another board creaked, this time in the kitchen. It didn’t make any sense. She’d checked the house and had found no one, though she had stupidly left the back door open. But the vampire, at least, shouldn’t have come in from outside. Vampires couldn’t move around in daylight—it was the one myth that was true.

Yet Jack’s body, or at least his clone’s, hadn’t burned when touched by sunlight. But then, maybe the real Jack had been the vampire, not the clone.

She stared at the kitchen door for a moment longer, then took a deep breath and kicked it open. Two people sat at the table, drinking coffee, totally unconcerned by her sudden appearance. One was a man she didn’t recognize—he was the vampire she’d sensed. The shifter she’d sensed was Suzy. Sam frowned. Why had she never noticed this before? Or had she been too busy hating to observe the almost translucent quality of Suzy’s skin—the sure sign of a shifter?