Of late, I’ve come to realize that when it comes to keeping out in front of the global arms race, there is virtually no line of exploration that’s definitely off the table.
So, without government oversight, where had the twisted minds here at Koenig gone?
I reached the end of one hallway and passed through a security door that led to another corridor lined with doorways that looked exactly like the one I’d just come from. So much so that I actually went out the door and stood looking at the previous doors and then turned around and looked at the new set. The absolute similarity was unnerving and disorienting.
I called up the floor plan on my mobile and studied it.
“Bug,” I said, “somehow I made a wrong turn.”
Bug didn’t answer.
I tapped the earbud.
“Cowboy to Bug, do you copy?”
Nothing. Not even static.
I tapped my way over to the command channel. “Cowboy to Deacon,” I said, trying to reach Church.
Still nothing.
I turned around and looked down the hall. The beam cut a pale line that pushed the shadows back, but not much.
Suddenly I caught the smell again.
Sulphur, human waste, and spoiled meat. And the aroma of perfume.
I don’t remember moving or pulling open my shirt, but suddenly my gun was in my hand. Even though the whole place was absolutely still and quiet, I yelled into the darkness.
“Freeze! Federal agent. I’m armed.”
My words bounced off the darkened walls and melted into nothingness.
Then, from behind me, someone spoke my name.
A woman’s voice.
Soft.
Familiar.
Achingly familiar.
An impossible voice.
“Joe…”
I whirled, gun in one hand, flash in the other, pointing into the darkness.
A woman stood ten feet behind me.
She was dressed in black. Shoes, pants, jersey, gun belt, pistol. All black. Dark hair, dark eyes.
Those eyes.
Her eyes.
My mouth fell open. Someone drove a blade of pure ice through my heart. I could see my pistol begin to tremble in my hand.
I stared at her.
I spoke her name.
“Grace…”
-6-
I don’t know what time does in moments of madness. It stops or it warps. It becomes something else. Every heartbeat felt like a slow, deliberate punch to my breastbone, and yet I could feel my pulse fluttering.
She held a pistol in her hand, the barrel raised to point at my chest, and I had an insane, detached thought.
You don’t need a bullet to kill me. Be her and I’ll die.
Not, be her, and I think I’ll die, too.
She licked her lips and spoke.
“Who are you?”
The accent was British. Like Grace’s.
But…
But the tone was wrong.
It didn’t sound like her.
Not anymore. It had a moment ago when she’d spoken my name. But not now. Not anymore.
“Grace,” I said again, but now I could hear the doubt in my own voice. “I…”
She peered at me over the barrel of the gun, her eyes dark with complex emotions, fierce with intelligence.
Very slowly, very carefully, she raised her gun so that the barrel pointed to the ceiling and held her other hand palms-out in a clear no-threat gesture.
“You’re Captain Ledger, aren’t you?” she asked.
I kept my gun on her.
“Who are you?” I asked, but my voice broke in the middle, so I had to ask again.
“Felicity Hope,” she said. “Barrier.”
I stood there and held my gun on her for another five seconds.
Then…
I lowered the pistol.
“God almighty,” I breathed.
She frowned at me; half a quizzical smile. “Who did you think I was?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Felicity Hope holstered her piece and came toward me. “You called me Grace.”
I said nothing.
“You thought I was Grace Courtland, didn’t you?”
“Grace is dead,” I told her.
“I know.” She stood there staring at me.
Up close, I could tell that it wasn’t her. This woman’s hair was paler, her eyes darker, her skin had fewer scars. But the height was the same, and the body. The same mix of dangerous athleticism and luscious curves. The movement was the same, a dancer’s grace. And the keen intelligence in the eyes. Yeah, that was exactly the same.
Damn it.
When the universe wants to fuck with you it has no problem bending you over a barrel and giving it to you hard and ugly.
I cleared my throat. “Did you know her?”
She nodded.
“Was she… a friend?” I asked.
Felicity shrugged. “Actually, we weren’t. Most of the time I knew her I thought she was a stuck-up bitch.” She watched my face as she spoke, probably wondering what buttons she was pushing. Then she added, “But I don’t think I really knew her. Not really. Not until right before she died.”
“How?”
“What?”
“How could you know what she was like right before she died?”
“Oh…we spoke on the phone quite a lot. She was officially still with Barrier and had to make regular reports. I was the person she reported to.”
“You were her superior officer?”
She looked far too young. Grace had been young, too, but Grace was an exception to most rules. She’d been the first woman to officially train with the SAS. She’d been a senior field team operative in some of the most gruelling cases on both sides of the Atlantic. There was nobody quite like Grace and everyone knew it.
Felicity shook her head. “Hardly. I was a desk jockey taking field reports. I know I’m not in Major Courtland’s league.”
“No,” I said ungraciously. “You’re not. Tell me why you’re here.”
She said, “Changeling.”
“Which means what exactly? The name keeps popping up in searches but no one seems to know exactly what it is.”
“What do you know about transformational genetics and self-directed theriomorphy?”
“Some,” I said, dodging it. “What do you know about it?”
“Too much,” she said.
“Give me more than that.”
“They’re making monsters,” she said.
I shook my head. “Not in the mood for banter, honey, and I’m never in the mood for cryptic comments, especially not from total strangers I meet in dark places. This is American soil and a legally-closed site. Spill everything right now or enjoy the flight home.”
She took a breath. “Okay, but I’ll have to condense it because there’s a lot.”
“So,” I said, “condense.”
“Can you take that flashlight out of my eyes?”
“No,” I said, and didn’t. The light made her eyes look very large and moist. If it was uncomfortable, then so what? I was deeply uncomfortable, so it was a running theme for the day.
She said, “Ever since the dawn of gene therapy and transgenic science it’s become clear that DNA is not locked. Evolution itself proves that DNA advances. Look at any DNA strand and you’ll see the genes for non-human elements like viruses hard-wired into our genetic code.”