Discord's Apple

A line had formed in front of Frank, who stood on the dried-up lawn in front of the police station directing people to the Red Cross shelter, which had already been set up in a tent in the town park; they were distributing coffee and fielding calls on a satellite phone. He held a clipboard, where he wrote down specific problems: buildings that had collapsed or looked like they were going to, gas or water lines that might

have ruptured. Mostly he assured people, in a steady, confident voice, that everything was under control. Didn’t matter if they really were; he only had to tell people they were. The usual government statement.

Robin cut to the front of the line.

“I really need someone to help me,” Robin said, gripping Frank’s elbow.

Frank tried to gently brush him away. “Sir, if you’ll just get in line with the others—”

“I think my wife is in labor.” It was the most persuasive thing Robin could think to say.

It worked. Frank’s eyes got wide. He gave the clipboard to the next person in line and put his hand on Robin’s back, urging him forward.

Robin led him around the corner, down a side lane, to the back of the building, where the Wanderer’s rented sedan was waiting. The Wanderer stood at the open back door.

“This way, right here!” Robin said when the old man seemed to lag. He pointed at the car. He didn’t keep up the act; he couldn’t help but grin. Frank suspected. Brow furrowed, he looked at Robin, the Wanderer, the car, and back to Robin, as if he knew who they were.

Before he could bolt, the Wanderer said, “Mr. Walker, we really need you to get in.”

His voice sent a chill down even Robin’s spine. Frank turned pale. Robin couldn’t exactly say what the Wanderer was or what power he wielded. Mostly it was his attitude, the implications behind his stonelike gaze, his unflappable manner. It was like the man had looked into hell and would be more than happy to tell you what he had seen there. And he would do so in that flat, emotionless tone of voice.

He didn’t need to carry a weapon or make threats to get people to do what he wanted. Robin took Frank’s arm and guided him into the car, closing the door behind him.

Robin got in on the other side. The Wanderer climbed into the driver’s seat and moved the car into the street.

Evie tried calling Bruce on the cell phone and couldn’t get a signal. Hardly surprising and just as well. What could she say to him?

Hey, Bruce, you won’t believe who just showed up on my doorstep.

He’d only chew her out for not getting any pictures of the sword.

There weren’t any aftershocks.

Arthur said he’d rather being doing something, and Evie understood the urge. All she could do right now was write.

She’d left Tracker totally in the air. The laptop battery was charged up. She’d write as long as she had the juice. So where was she?

She shot him.

She didn’t wait for him to draw first. She’d been watching his hands at the edges of her vision; she knew he was holding a gun. Before the words had left his mouth, she leveled and fired.

Twice more she fired, and the Russian and Chinese officers lay on the floor, writhing on top of the American agent’s body. The whole sequence took only a couple of seconds, because she’d been planning it since she first heard their voices.

The agent had studied her dossier, she assumed. Her dossier said that she never shot first.

Three more times she fired, three shots to three heads, killing them.

She leaned back against the wall and loaded a fresh magazine, waiting for guards to come barreling down the hallway at her. On the verge of hyperventilating, she swallowed back gasps. The room remained silent.

This was probably exactly what the agent was talking about, when he said the Eagle Eyes were out of control. She searched the bodies, not believing for a minute that they’d have any hard record of their multinational negotiations and war-brokering. But the U.S. agent had a data stick in his breast pocket. She took it. What the hell.

Apparently, they hadn’t brought any guards with them. No witnesses that way. A pickup was probably scheduled for them later. She wondered what the agent had expected he was going to do with the Eagle Eyes when they showed up. Was he arrogant enough to think he could have killed them all? He might have been able to—they expected him to be on their side.

She found that the first room in the bunker was rigged to collapse, low-level explosives planted on key support beams. That was how he’d planned on getting rid of them.

Back outside, staring at the expanse of tundra, the hopelessness of her situation hit her. She had no way to call for help. She had no place to go. Her own government had betrayed her. And her friends.

She had to find them. She had to give Talon the flash drive. He’d know what to do. He was the only one she trusted now.