Did I really sleep so long?
Considering her final thoughts of the night it surprised her. Pleased though, she sat up.
And met the eyes of the stalker standing at the foot of her bed — the man with the smug grin, the man whose eyes spoke of an infinite horror, the man who haunted her dreams and tore strips from her soul, the Pythian leader—
Tyler Webb.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
Hayden screamed and then went for the gun, but found her hand grasping only air and pillow. How the hell had this bastard gotten so close without waking me up?
Never mind. Webb had outplayed himself this time. Trying to ignore the chagrin she felt at screaming — a sense of embarrassment and failure that months of this kind of torture naturally fostered — she threw off the single sheet and jumped to her feet. Webb grinned soullessly at her.
Something wasn’t right.
Kinimaka was suddenly in motion, shifting the bed with the sheer force of his instant momentum. Webb grinned even wider. Hayden would get to him first, but every forward move she made was stunted by a wave of caution. What are we missing?
She grabbed his shirt, hauled him toward her, ready to vent months of frustration and feeling a moment of elation when the other great fact occurred to her—
This was the Pythian leader! Captured…
“The end is coming,” Webb hissed in her face. “But not today.”
His tongue flicked out, touching her cheek, and then the great bulk of Kinimaka was there. Except there were two bulks, and one was considerably more sinuous and deadly than Mano’s.
Even without seeing the face Hayden knew.
Beauregard Alain.
It was the reason Webb remained so calm, so infuriatingly smug. Beauregard had already removed their guns and they were no match for him in hand-to-hand. Still, that didn’t stop them trying. Hayden shoved Webb into the far wall and spun with a straight elbow to the face. Beauregard dipped and glided away, straight into Kinimaka’s bulk. The Hawaiian grabbed eagerly, then grunted as striking blows hammered against pressure points. Webb stayed up against the wall, watching. Hayden kicked at the back of Beauregard’s legs, digging into his calf. The Frenchman jumped as if hit by a cattle prod, lashing out in mid-air and catching her a painful blow on the arm. He came down on the bed, jabbed Kinimaka with a right and Hayden with a left just below the ear.
Both swayed, the pain momentary blinding them. Hayden struggled to shake it off.
It was at that moment that Torsten Dahl entered the fray.
The door to the room clicked open — the trio having asked for extra keys in case of a crisis — and the Swede filled the space. Hayden experienced a silent moment of rejoicing.
“Mr. Dahl,” Beauregard said. “This party is already full.”
“Oh, no,” the Swede growled. “I don’t think so. I’ve been looking forward to this for a bloody long time.”
Webb stepped forward then, looking to intervene. “Then you will have to wait a while longer. This exercise is over.”
Hayden paused in her fast and silent deliberations over the loyalties of Beauregard Alain. “Exercise?”
“To prove that at any time, and anywhere I can get to you.”
“Fuck you.”
“Look for me soon.”
As if by prearranged signal Beauregard burst into sudden, violent action. A charge at Hayden brought Dahl into the room and Kinimaka leaping hard, whereupon Beauregard merely tangled her feet, tripping her to the floor. Webb eased toward the door as Beauregard maneuvered Kinimaka straight into Dahl.
“Tricky little bastard!” Dahl grunted, a muffled shout as the Hawaiian took him to the floor.
Beauregard took hold of Webb’s arm and finessed him around the struggling pile. Webb looked like he wanted to say more but the Frenchman dragged him even harder. The deadly assassin’s worst fears were realized when Dahl, never one to lose hope, threw Kinimaka to the side and reared to his feet.
Webb found himself flung into the corridor. Beauregard faced Dahl, all concentration. “One on one,” the Swede said. “No tricky bollocks. Fight me.”
“It’s coming,” Beauregard said. “Soon.”
Dahl lunged, a fist already in full flight. Beauregard stepped back and closed the door. The entire piece of wood and its frame juddered as Dahl punched it closed. “Ow!”
Outside, swift feet spirited Webb away. Hayden rushed to the door and flung it open, saw Beauregard headed down the stairs. Should she give chase? Yes, but all that had just transpired had served only to drain her. Shockingly, the will wasn’t there. Is this how a victim feels?
With the fight inside her leeched away she retreated back into the room. Two pairs of eyes stared at her.
“We have real work to do,” she said firmly. “Get dressed and let’s get back to the Sierra Nevada plant.”
“We just let the Pythian boss get away,” Dahl moaned.
“No we didn’t. We allowed Beau to stay undercover for when he’s desperately needed. I assumed that’s why you let him slip away?”
Dahl gulped slightly. “Umm, yes, sure. That works.”
“Good. So get the hell outta my bedroom so I can shower and change. And make yourself useful — try and think of a way to own that Webb asshole once and for all.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Fuck ma’am. You trying to shit me, Dahl?”
The Swede thought better of any more banter and quickly retreated. Kinimaka gave her a slightly hurt look.
“You want me to go too?”
“Unless you wanna do it in the shower with Dahl in the adjoining room?”
Kinimaka nodded. “Gotcha.”
Hayden waited until the door was closed before she sat on the bed, gripped her head between her hands and sobbed.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Tyler Webb was truly ecstatic. What a way to leave things with Hayden Jaye! Utterly superb. The hotel room visit had been the culmination of the current phase of stalking and now, with her wits in tatters, he intended — actually circumstances were forcing him — to take a relatively short break.
No mind. The bitch will be thinking of me every hour of the day and especially through the night. Wondering… feeling my eyes upon her… imagining what isn’t even there. Every sound, every admiring or odd look. Every turn of phrase from a stranger.
The game was set then for a grand finale. But first he had important matters to attend to. Ramses had been in touch and the great bazaar now had a date if not yet a venue. Still, Webb knew the approximate location and that he had to get his real life into gear if he was to attend. Beauregard was prepped. The components would, hopefully, be acquired without incident.
And Julian Marsh’s crazy plan was, quite literally, soon to go nuclear.
Interesting.
Webb seated himself behind his makeshift desk, still trembling with excitement. He even let out a little giggle to ease the tension. But there were jobs to do. First he organized a flight for himself and Beauregard, the jet even now being prepared on a private runway ten miles from his current location. It would fly them anywhere in the world at a moment’s notice. Then he arranged the fundamentals for the next and probably final stage of his plan — he would be moving to New York as soon as he returned from the bazaar. DC was entirely too hot right now and this backward hovel just wouldn’t do. The New York office was perfect, even loftier than his office back in DC where he enjoyed his daily scrutiny of the ants scurrying below. It would be a fitting palace from where to end the Pythians.