Blood Diamond (47 page)

“You’re rather calm about this, Mr. Anderson.”

What would my brother say? Sometimes, I knew him more by reputation than from interaction. By reputation, he put the needs of the Inquisition above all else, so I said, “If you have a business proposition for the Inquisition, it is my duty and responsibility to listen,” I replied, adopting the scornful way Elliot spoke when handling Inquisition matters.

“I think you’ll find our proposal quite interesting. Gavin, take us to the warehouse,” the man in the back ordered.

The driver headed north to a highway before turning westbound.

“A warehouse? If you’re interested in the transport of goods, you have the wrong Anderson.” Pretending to be my brother and adopting such a callous tone and outlook left me sick to my stomach.

“Fortunately, we are not interested in the transport of goods. My name is Alan Fredrick. I work for Basin, a research firm. We have developed a way to cure victims of witchcraft and lycanthropy. We wish to work with you in order to rid the world of the supernatural and ensure the ongoing survival of humanity.”

~~*~~

I couldn’t speak as the implications of what Alan Fredrick told me sank in.

The dead waited in eager silence, and I understood a little more about their deaths. The white, sterile room must have been part of a research facility. Could witchcraft be cured?

A shiver ran through me. Suzanne would have loved to have been born without witchcraft, free from the Inquisition. Piece by piece, I put together what had happened—first to me, and then to the pack in Thunder Bay.

It was impossible for Suzanne to have faked her death on her own. Too many people had been involved. There had even been an investigation of the crash. For her to make her escape, she would have needed help. After leaving Thunder Bay with Jacqueline, the living dead had come to kill the Alphas.

Suzanne wouldn’t have mourned their loss. Considering that she was willing to strike our daughter, I easily believed she would have led the living dead right to the Fenerec.

My anger spiked as the realization of what had happened sank in. Those murdered, those I carried with me in the stone hidden beneath my suit, had been the science experiments of the demented and prejudiced. There were those who loathed anything to do with magic. Until I had been born, my family had been the perfect example of purity, untouched by the supernatural.

My family, however, had kept their blood pure to rule over the supernaturals and police them, not to destroy them. That’s why I was still alive.

Until I had met Evelyn, I had been very careful never to break the Inquisition’s rules.

“You have found a way to cure witches and Fenerec?” I asked, unable to force my voice above a whisper.

“Werewolves, Mr. Anderson. Let’s not confuse the matter. They’re cursed beasts who require help—or execution. You have overseen their containment for years. You know how dangerous they are.”

The driver took an exit, leaving the elevated highway in favor of a smaller one that had seen better days decades ago. Despite its proximity to a major thoroughfare, it had a barren feel to it.

It was the perfect sort of place to dump a body without someone finding it for a long time. Traffic slowed and ground to a halt due to construction on an overpass. The driver slowed the car and came to a halt at the start of the bridge.

I drew a deep breath and hated myself as I said, “I will not deny that the werewolves, as you call them, are quite dangerous.”

If I had anything to say about it, I was going to be equally dangerous. If Basin was behind my daughter’s death, I would destroy them all, no matter what the cost.

“They are extremely dangerous. I trust you can understand why purifying humanity is so important. With werewolves and witches around, we can’t ensure our ongoing survival. The Inquisition has done admirably well eliminating dangerous individuals. However, the time has come to put an end to the supernatural plaguing us and infecting our families. You know this is fact. Your brother, may he rest in peace, was evidence of this phenomena.”

My daughter’s warmth in my chest chilled to ice, and her rage joined with my own. The intensity of it cramped my stomach.

I wanted to kill them all, but until I knew more about them, their goals, and what they would do, I couldn’t. All I could do was ask questions and hope I found the answers I needed. Once again, I wondered what my brother would say and how he would act.

I hadn’t seen my brother in action enough to know, so I hoped how I handled my business would work. When I wanted information, when I wanted to press a deal, respect and delicacy went a long way. “And this cure doesn’t harm the patients?”

“The patients,” Fredrick murmured. “Yes, that’s a lovely, eloquent way of referring to the victims of witchcraft and lycanthropy. There were willing volunteers who died in the early stages of the cure’s development. It is thanks to their dedication to our cause that we were able to make it so far in helping them.”

I drew a deep breath. The stench of the city, of smoke, oil, and road dust from construction filled my nose. There was another odor, a sour one that turned my stomach.

Alan Fredrick was lying to me.

I could readily believe that there were those who would do anything to rid themselves of unwanted witchcraft. With few exceptions—the True Fenerec numbering among them—becoming a lycanthrope was a choice, not an accident of birth. However, the blood diamond told another tale.

Who would volunteer for such torture?

Only my daughter had been spared from the horror of the death the others had endured.

Clenching my teeth, I asked, “You have perfected this process? Please understand, the Inquisition has many highly trained individuals. Their skills are a notable asset, even if you exclude their supernatural nature.”

“Indeed. We haven’t had a single casualty in over two years.”

The sour stench once again burned my nose. “How many have you tested this cure on?”

“Several hundred have volunteered since we perfected the cure,” Fredrick replied. “Can I interest you in a tour? One of our facilities is located several blocks away from here, once we make it through construction. Damned bridges.”

A tour would give me a chance to find out the truth. If my daughter had died in Montreal, I would find out. The thought of my Jacqueline numbering among those to suffer through two deaths turned my stomach. It was well enough that construction had stopped traffic completely, or I would have vomited all over the interior of the Mercedes.

I made it to the railing, shuddering as I spit bile out of my mouth. I stared down at the stone embankment sloping down to the road below.

The back window of the Mercedes rolled down, and after I had a chance to catch my breath, I turned. Once again, I stared down the barrel of Fredrick’s Glock. “Are you all right, Mr. Anderson?”

I blurted out the first excuse I thought of, “Ulcer.”

At the rate I was going, it’d be true enough.

“If you’re finished, get back into the car.”

I nodded, making a show of panting for breath. “Please give me a moment.”

Fredrick lowered his gun. “Of course. Don’t be long.”

With an audience of curious construction workers and drivers watching me, I wondered if my kidnappers would shoot me if I didn’t comply fast enough. So long as they had reason to believe I was my brother, I was probably safe enough—as long as I looked interested in their proposition. Wiping my mouth, I straightened and headed back to the car. If I wanted to get my revenge for my daughter’s murder, I needed to infiltrate their firm.

“Sorry about that.” I reached for the door.

The ground buckled beneath my feet. Losing my balance, I fell back against the guardrail. The concrete crumbled beneath me, and with a groan of strained metal, I fell to the stone-paved slope below. I hit the ground hard, sliding down the bank. Thunder deafened me, and chunks of cement and twisted metal rained down on me.

The last thing I saw through the haze was a dark-haired man armed with a gun bursting out of the backseat of the Mercedes. The bridge broke apart as it collapsed, stealing away the lives of fifteen people, including Alan Fredrick, who I needed to find my daughter’s murderer.

~~*~~

Time lost meaning as I stared at the ruins of the bridge. I had missed being crushed by less than three feet. Debris surrounded me, and a veneer of rock dust caked me, choking off my breath. I wheezed, and despite knowing I needed to get away from the destruction, I couldn’t move.

My chance to get close to Jacqueline’s killers was gone, buried in the wreckage of the fallen bridge and the crushed Mercedes. The names of the two men, as well as the identity of their company, were a small consolation. One of their facilities was nearby—within several blocks.

All I could do was hope I could find the place on my own.

But first, I needed help. I pulled out my cell. The screen was shattered and the frame was bent. My temper flared, and unable to contain my fury, I threw the device into the ruins, spitting curses. I searched my pockets, relief washing over me as I found my ring. I slipped it onto my finger.

I checked my watch last. It had fared better than my phone. While it wouldn’t let me call anyone, it still worked.

When I tried to stand, my body protested the abuse, with the worst of my pain centered in my right ankle. It took me several tries to get to my feet.

As the dust settled, I gawked at the ruins, wondering how I—or anyone else—could have survived. Mangled cars and construction equipment jutted out of slabs of broken cement. Wherever the Mercedes was, it was beyond my reach.

An eerie silence fell, which was broken by the wail of sirens. The names of the dead burned into my memory, along with the glimpses of their last moments. None of them had suffered.

There hadn’t been time for anything other than a brief flash of fear, dismay, and disbelief. Their ends had been swift, but my anguish and horror remained. I couldn’t imagine how anyone on the bridge had survived.

If my brother and the others were right, I had been the one to cause the earthquake in Thunder Bay. Did bridges often fall while being repaired? I didn’t think so. That left one other option.

Because of me, fifteen people were dead.

~~*~~

I escaped from the chaos of the bridge collapse under a shroud of dust. Whether by luck or fate, I was the only surviving witness of the destruction. The street below the bridge connected to the highway through a sloped parking lot.

It hurt to walk, but I managed the hike up to the highway. While many of the businesses in the vicinity looked run down, curious spectators gathered to gawk at the destruction.

The dust was a mixed blessing; while breathing was difficult, it obscured my clothes and face, as it did those around me. I slipped in among them.

Around me, subdued conversations in French were punctuated by the occasion English word or phrase. A woman pulled out her phone and took several pictures. “Unbelievable,” she said, shaking her head.

“Not really,” a man in a t-shirt and torn jeans replied, coughing and waving his hand in front of his face in the futile effort of clearing the air. “Not the first, won’t be the last.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, shoving my hands into my jacket.

“Not from around here, eh? These happen. Couple of years back, one fell and killed five people. There have been bits and pieces falling off bridges for years,” he explained, gesturing to the wreckage. “That’s why there’s all the fuss on the 20.”

I remembered the detours we had been forced to follow in order to make it to our hotel, although I wasn’t sure which highway we had taken. I’d been half-asleep in the taxi. The hope that the bridge collapse hadn’t been my fault, that I hadn’t somehow caused another earthquake, left me breathless. Once I managed to compose myself, I asked, “I don’t suppose you know where a pay phone is, do you? I broke my cell earlier today.”

Laughter answered my question. “A pay phone? They’re going extinct. Who do you need to call?”

Did Evelyn count as my wife or girlfriend? I grimaced as I realized I didn’t know the number of her new phone. “I’m in town for business, and I think I’m going to be late.”

Pulling out a cell, he offered it to me. “If you know the number, you’re welcome to use mine.”

I took it, smiling at him. “Thanks, I appreciate it.” Dialing Richard’s cell, I put the phone to my ear, wondering what I’d tell him. While the phone rang, I took a few steps away, though I suspected I’d be overheard despite the precaution.

He answered on the third ring. “Murphy.”

“Hey, Richard. I’m an idiot and dropped my phone, so I mugged some guy and took his. Can you put Evelyn on for me?”

“I’ll take that to mean you asked if you could borrow someone’s phone. You realize your room has one, right? Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?”

“Maybe,” I evaded. “Maybe I went to the bar to get some coffee so I wouldn’t poison myself or break the room’s machine. Can you give the phone to Evelyn, please?”

I heard him sigh. “Evelyn, your mate wants to talk to you.”

Moments later, I heard Evelyn’s laughter. “You’re terrible at following directions,” she scolded.

“I know. I’m sorry. Hey, do me a favor? Step out of hearing range of them all, would you?”

She told the others she needed some privacy before she replied, “Okay. What’s going on?”

Since I had no idea if a Fenerec could tell if I was lying over the phone, I decided to go with a slightly modified version of the truth. “I may have been doing some research.”

“Jackson, you were supposed to go to bed
without
working.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” Once she found out that I had been abducted and had come within three feet of death, I was going to be extremely sorry. I’d deserve it, too.

“If you’re calling me with your confession, you must have found something. For that, I suppose I’ll be forced to forgive you,” she teased. “But to bed with you as soon as you hang up.”

“I found something I’d like you to look into. It might have something to do with what happened to Jacqueline.”