Penumbra (Spook Squad 3)

And he very much doubted that the person behind these murders could be tracked down so easily.

“Let me know if you find anything.”

Finley nodded absently and Gabriel left the lab, heading up to his office. He grabbed a cup of coffee from the autocook and sat down at his desk.

“Computer, update.”

“Please state name and rank for voice verification.”

He did so. The screen flicked to life and began listing all the reports and activities going on in the SIU. With Byrne having taken official leave to cover Stephan’s need to be at their parents’ compound with Lyssa and his new son, control of the SIU was nominally in the hands of Harry Krane, Byrne’s second in command. However, neither Stephan nor he was about to let an outsider take full control of the SIU, so all reports and decisions were covertly siphoned through to him. He then channeled all the appropriate information on, and held back the more clandestine reports for when Stephan resumed his position.

He found nothing of real interest until he read the report from the bug Sam had placed in Wetherton’s office. And though it revealed little more than the name behind one of Wetherton’s many phone conversations, it sparked a whole lot of questions.

That name was Les Mohern.

Why would a petty criminal like Les Mohern suddenly come out of hiding to contact a government minister like Wetherton? For that matter, why would he even visit someone like Kathryn Douglass? Was there a connection between the two that no one knew about?

Maybe so. After all, Les’s brother had worked for Kazdan. He doubted that it was a coincidence that, after his brother’s death, Les had gone to ground. Maybe he’d done so for a reason—such as fearing for his life.

But if that were the case, why would he now surface to contact two high-profile people like Douglass and Wetherton? Surely he had to know that both would be under some sort of surveillance, given their positions. Why would he risk discovery to contact either of them?

He clicked on Mohern’s name and studied the background report. Bingo—an address. He finished the remainder of his coffee in one gulp and stood.

He’d discovered long ago that when instinct scratched this hard, it was better not to ignore it. This Les Mohern was a key. But to what, he now had to discover.

—

Sam slept.

And, as usual, she dreamed.

But this was not a dream she’d had before. This one was new. And terrifying.

The night was filled with smoke and fire and fear. The very air burned so hot the metal walls around her were beginning to bubble and melt. And yet the heat and the flames never touched her, skittering around her as she ran through the madness. Seeking safety, seeking freedom.

Lights flickered ahead, scattering brief patches of luminescence through the smoke-filled darkness and highlighting the figure ahead. For an instant that figure seemed huge and hairy, with fearsome claws that rent and tore at those stupid enough to try to stop him. Then the lights went out again, and it was just Joshua running ahead, telling her to hurry, that this was their chance. Their only hope.

And she obeyed, running after him hard, ignoring the many screams, even rejoicing in them.

Until she heard that one scream.

Mary.

She stopped abruptly. Ahead, Joshua had also stopped, his actions reminding her briefly of a puppet jerked to stillness by its master.

He swung around. “There’s no time for this, Samantha.”

“She cared for us, Josh. I can’t let her die for that.”

“She was paid to care for us. It was her job, her duty. She is no better than the rest of them.”

“She sang us nursery rhymes and told us stories that made us laugh. She gave us dreams of a life beyond this place. And she left the window open for us at night, giving us what freedom she could. I will not let her die.”

“It’s too late. I can’t let you—”

“You can’t stop me.”

Before he could react, she thrust out her hand. Power flowed through her, surging from the floor—from the earth itself—up through her body and out her fingertips, leaping the distance between them and hitting him hard. It flung him backward, into the thickness of the fire and out of sight.