It was close to three when we ordered a couple of beers, then made our way over toward a secluded corner. Misha flicked on the voice screen as I flopped back into a beanbag.
"Give me your feet," he said.
I raised them both and plonked them in his lap. He studied the underside of both for a moment, then grunted and dropped my right foot back to the floor. He bent my left leg around so I could see my foot, and pointed to the slight spot of discoloration right in the middle. "See that?"
I frowned. "Looks like a freckle."
"That it does. Only, if you run your finger over it, you feel a slight hardness around the edges compared to the rest of your foot."
I did. "It's the tracker?"
"Yep."
"Landsend can make trackers that small?"
"Not only small, but untraceable to current finders."
"And you know this because you have one in you?" It was a guess, but not much of one.
He smiled. "Yes, I have one. But they don't entirely trust it, so I have followers as well."
"Why don't they trust it on you? It obviously works."
"Because I know how to remove it, and do so when it suits me not to be found. He thinks the signal is faulty, hence the followers."
"You play a dangerous game, Misha."
"Extremely." He reached over to our pile of clothes, and pulled a knife from the pocket of his jeans. "Hold still," he said.
He cut into my foot. Not deeply, so the pain wasn't really that sharp. After a few seconds, he grunted, then held up the spot on a fingertip so I could see. Now it looked like a freckle with four fine, wiry legs. He dropped it to the floor and smashed it under his heel.
"He will of course know you've found the bug."
"As long as he can no longer track me, I couldn't care less." I studied Misha for a moment. "He can't track me now, can he?"
"As far as I know, that was the only bug he placed. You can't use more than one on a person—stuffs up the signal or something like that."
"And I presume Kade has one, as well?"
"Everyone of importance to the project had one. Just in case."
"Then excuse me while I make a quick, phone call."
He shrugged. I pulled the cell from the pocket of my jeans and quickly dialed Jack's number. It was busy, so I left a message giving details about the bug and how to remove it.
That done, I shoved the phone back into my pocket, and said, "So tell me why Hunt was killed."
Misha relaxed back into the opposite bag. "He'd reached the end of his usefulness."
"And the fact that you're now talking about him means he wasn't a player, let alone a major player."
"Yes."
"So why not simply tell me his name in the first place?"
"He's dead, so the restrictions on my mentioning his name have gone." His smile was cold. "Besides, it was never part of the agreement that I make things easy for you."
True. But it was occasionally nice to think things could be easy. Stupid, I know. "Then Hunt was simply a means of gathering information?"
"Yes."
"To top-secret military bases."
"And what they were doing. But also a means of keeping an eye on the various investigations, both military and civilian."
"I'm gathering the Directorate wasn't one of those—you already have a man in there."
He smiled. "And here I was thinking no one was aware Gautier was one of us."
"Jack's known about him for ages." Which wasn't exactly the truth, but it couldn't hurt having Misha think we were more aware of the situation than we truly were. "Tell me about Mrs. Hunt."
He simply smiled. Meaning he couldn't, or wouldn't.
"What pack does the woman impersonating Mrs. Hunt come from?"
Again with the silence. Obviously, Mrs. Hunt—or whoever she truly was—was someone we had to keep following.
"What about Kade, then? Why was his partner killed and he kept alive?"
"His partner was killed because they were getting too close to a source. Kade was kept alive simply because he had interesting skills."
He certainly did. "What pack has brown eyes, ringed by blue and amber?"
"The Helki pack, who live around Bendigo." His eyes were chips of glittery ice in the hazy light filling the room. "It's simply a matter of asking the right questions, Riley."
I sipped my beer. "What can you tell me about the Helki pack?"
"They're shifters."
I gave him a deadpan sort of look. "We're all shifters." Even if most shapeshifters actually denied the fact they came from the same base stock as weres.
"Yes, but not all weres are shapeshifters in the same way the Helki pack are."
I frowned. "Meaning?"
"Meaning, some can take different animal shapes, other than just a wolf. And some can take on other human shapes."
"You're kidding."
"No."
This had implications I didn't even want to contemplate. "I'm surprised the Helki pack haven't disappeared into the dark recesses of hidden labs."
His smile was grim. "Who's saying many of them haven't?"
We had to find this other damn lab! Had to stop them. "Is the woman I saw tonight a member of the Helki pack?"
His eyes gleamed with amusement. "I think you're beginning to catch on. She's a clone made using the genes of the Helki pack."
More damn clones. Was there a never ending supply of these bastards? "So was the original Mrs. Hunt human, and did she have the same weirdly colored eyes? If not, how did the replacement explain the sudden difference in eye color?"
"The original was human, and her eyes were very similar to a Helki's in color—brown ringed by blue. And the new Mrs. Hunt retreated from her friends and charities for three weeks. The only person who might have noticed the slight difference would have been her husband—except the two of them have been sexually alienated for some time. They still share a room, but not the same bed."
"So the original is dead?"
"Yes."
I took a swig of beer, then changed tack. "You said once before that the answer lies in my past. In lovers from my past."
"Yes."
"Did you mean long-term or short-term lovers?"
"Very short-term, I believe."
Gee, that was going to make it easy. Particularly if he meant "short-term" as in one-night stand. "How far back in the past?"
He hesitated. "Three and a half years ago."
Great. That was going to be a cinch to remember—particularly if it had happened during the moon phase. I rubbed a hand across my eyes. "How connected is that man to the woman I met tonight?"
"Very connected."
"Sister?"
"No."
"Lover?"
"No."
"What then?"
"That I cannot say."
Could not, or would not? Given the smile touching his lips, I suspected the latter. "Is the man we're talking about from the Helki pack?"
"In the same sense as the woman, yes."
Then the Helki pack definitely had to be checked out. What remained of them, anyway. "Can you give me a description?"
He shrugged. "Brown hair, medium build. Blue eyes."
Ordinary, in other words. Then I frowned. "I thought you said he was a member of the Helki tribe?"
"I did."
"How could he have blue eyes?"
"The color of the eyes change, depending on what form they're wearing."
I raised my eyebrows. "Then why wouldn't the fake Mrs. Hunt just complete the disguise and take on the original's true eye color?"
"Because such transformations take a lot of energy and power. The less you actually have to transform, the longer you can hold the transformation. And the eyes, believe it or not, are one of the hardest items to hold and maintain."