“Murdered?” Jade asked. Paranoia was one thing, but if Roche’s publisher had actually been the victim of foul play, it might confirm everything he had just said. On the other hand, even a mysterious or unexpected death might turn out to be a coincidence. True believers like Roche were adept at turning such coincidences into proof of a conspiracy. “By the Changelings?”
Roche ducked his head as if the question had been a physical assault. “Possibly. Ultimately, I’m sure they are the puppet masters, pulling the strings of their unwitting agents.”
Professor leaned forward. “Why bring this to Jade? Are you looking for protection?”
“Protection?” Roche murmured. A sad smile touched his lips. “Truth is the only protection. But knowing the truth is not the same as proving it. That is where you can help.”
Jade made no attempt to hide her skepticism. “You think I can find proof that Phantom Time is real?”
“No. You can find—” A loud bang from outside the room cut him off in mid-sentence. It might have been a car backfiring or a firecracker thrown by a prankster, but Jade knew it was neither.
“That was a gun.” Professor instantly went on the defensive, seizing hold of Jade’s arm and pulling her down. She needed no further urging, scrambling around the end of the desk, seeking cover behind it with Professor right behind her, but while her body knew what to do, her mind was reeling.
This can’t be happening.
It was not the threat of danger that tripped her up. She had been shot at before. Rather, her denial stemmed from the fact that this apparent attack seemed to validate Roche’s paranoia, and by extension, his insane theories, and that was a big pill to swallow.
Roche reacted as if he had been rehearsing for just such a scenario. He slid from his chair, dropping to his knees behind the desk, and lowered his bulk so that only his eyes and the top of his head were visible above it, a small semi-automatic pistol gripped in his pudgy hand.
The door to the office swung open and Jade’s already overtaxed brain did a back-flip as she instantly recognized the man framed in the doorway.
“Rafi?”
Roche raised up just enough to stab his pistol in Rafi’s direction but he pulled the trigger prematurely. The gun barked, the small room amplifying the noise of the report, but the bullet plowed harmlessly into the wall two feet to the right of the intended target. Jade’s ears rang with the noise of the shot and her nostrils were filled with the sulfur smell of burnt gunpowder. Before Roche could correct his aim and loose another shot, Rafi raised the gun in his right hand, calmly took aim and fired.
FOUR
The bullet punched into Roche’s chest, knocking him back. Jade gave an involuntary — and inaudible — yelp, but Professor pushed her aside and dove for the pistol that had fallen from Roche’s grasp. Faster than Jade’s eyes could follow, he crawled around the end of the desk and returned fire.
Jade’s senses were assaulted by the roar of gunfire and the sound of bullets striking the wall behind her and the heavy wooden panels of the desk. Even though none of the shots found her, each impact reverberated through her like a punch to the gut. A haze of sulfur fumes and wood smoke curled in the air overhead, further obscuring her view of the gun battle, and a blizzard of splinters stung her face, forcing her to seek refuge behind Roche’s body. In the instant that she did, the tumult ceased. She looked up just in time to see a crouching Professor disappear around the end of the desk, taking off in pursuit of—
Rafi?
— the gunman.
“Wait!” She started after Professor, but a hand gripped her forearm, restraining her. It was Roche.
He was still alive, but only just. The shadow of death, a gray pallor, was on him and in his wild eyes, Jade could see that he knew it. His lips moved, a torrent of blood spilling out as he tried to form words.
“Fuuuuhhhh…” She could not hear what he said through the ringing in her ears, but the way his teeth and lips came together, she could only assume he was wasting his final breath on a curse. “Eeewww.”
His pupils, sharpened to pinpoints by pain, abruptly lost focus, and Jade knew he was gone.
Murdered.
Rafi, the young man she had saved from drowning earlier in the day, someone with whom she had broken bread and shared jokes, had just gunned down a man in cold blood, and tried to kill her as well.
Maybe I didn’t know him as well as I thought.
She pulled free of Roche’s deathgrip and scrambled after Professor. She caught up to him just as he was preparing to venture through the exit. His eyes met hers, just for a moment, but long enough for her to divine what he was thinking.
The killer had been in their midst, and Professor blamed himself. Despite all his precautions, a deadly assassin had insinuated himself into their circle, waiting for the moment to strike.
Yet, Rafi had killed Roche first, almost as if he had been lying in wait for the conspiracy theorist. But how could he have even known Roche would visit her? It didn’t add up, which she assumed was why Professor was giving chase. Who was Rafi working for? The Dominion? The Changelings?
A body — Jonathan, Roche’s hulking bodyguard — lay sprawled across the exit, blood leaking from the precise hole drilled into his forehead. Just beyond, a car — a silver sedan that had not been there when they had arrived — peeled out of the parking area in a cloud of dust,
“Stay here,” Professor growled, and then leapt over the corpse and sprinted toward their parked Land Rover.
“Like hell,” Jade muttered and bounded after him.
Professor shot her an irritated glance but knew better than to argue. As he opened the driver’s side door, Jade was right behind him. “Let me drive. You shoot.”
“Shoot what?” he retorted, displaying the pistol he had taken from Roche. The slide was locked back, an indication that Professor had already fired out every round in the magazine. He tossed it onto the passenger seat and then slid behind the wheel and slotted the key into the ignition.
Jade hastened around the front of the vehicle, more than a little worried that Professor would try to leave her behind. She climbed inside as the engine turned over, and barely had time to close the door before the Rover began to move. Professor stomped the gas pedal and the tires threw up a shower of sand and gravel. Though the fleeing car had a lead of only a few hundred yards, it had reached the paved highway and was pulling away. The Rover jounced down the dirt access road, but once the wheels reached pavement, it took off like a rocket. Jade stole a look at the speedometer and saw the needle creeping toward 150 Km/h — almost a hundred miles per hour.
She shifted to the side and wriggled the spent pistol out from under her. The metal was hot to the touch. “So what are we going to do if we catch him?”
“Bluff.” Without taking his eyes off the road, Professor reached over and worked the pistol’s slide release one-handed. The gun shuddered in Jade’s grip as the spring-loaded mechanism shot forward, giving the appearance that the weapon was ready to fire. “Judging by how many rounds he fired, he’s probably out, too.”
“And if he has more bullets?”
Professor shrugged. “He ran. If he had the ammo, he would have stayed to finish us.”
“You’re betting our lives on that.”
“I told you to stay behind.”