Shadows to Light (Shadows of Justice 5) (10 page)

He scooted away from the hot door to pull Mira into his arms. The blue light shimmered and flexed around her, but her eyes stayed closed, her body limp. He stared up the flight of stairs they had yet to navigate,
then back to the door.

Tendrils of fire were licking at the jamb, around the bottom edge where he'd so recently been.

"Time to move." He repeated the phrase as he got to his feet, as he scooped Mira over his shoulder. He wobbled, but not from the burden, just the stress, just the pain.

Those he could ignore. Grabbing the rail with one hand he ordered his feet to a sprint, and considered his tortoise-like pace a victory as it carried them further from the fire.

He rounded the first landing, noted the trail of his bloody hand print, and tried to find a faster gear.

The cleaner air seemed to be full of hope and he felt like he'd found a normal runner's high when he hit the second landing. There was a definite spring in his step when they reached street level and burst out into the brittle winter air of the alley.

He let loose a victory cheer with no concern for who might hear him. He'd saved Mira. That was all that mattered. He found it odd that firefighters weren't here yet, but Jameson knew time could warp in a crisis. What had felt like hours in the fire had probably been mere minutes.

Gently he laid Mira down, wishing for something better than snow dusted asphalt. When he released her, the blue light pulsed in a wild sphere, receded and gradually Mira faded from his sight. He rubbed his eyes before he remembered the stealth suit. Her hand was small in his and he still felt her body next to him.

"Come on, Mira."

He fumbled around her face, found her mouth, and plucked the stealth disc from its place under her tongue. Within a moment, she was visible, her pale skin stark against the black fabric of the suit.

"Can you hear me?" He pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You made it. We're safe. Wake up."

He brushed the hair back from her face, still marveling that she didn't smell anything like the fire. Yes, her hair was singed, but aside from being unconscious, it was the only thing wrong with her.

She was breathing, why wouldn't she wake up?

He reached for his cell card, but it had broken during the escape.

Exhausted, unsure if he could even figure out the next step, much less take it, he decided she had the right idea. There was nothing they could do at this point and he wasn't yet sure where he wanted to take her. Once he'd moved them away from the door, out of any possible traffic path, he popped her stealth disc back into her mouth. When they were both invisible, he stretched out beside her and stared up at the clear sky to wait.

The cold felt good after all that hot and while he knew he could break into the dormitory where they'd been staging this op a few days ago, he also knew Callahan wouldn't leave them hanging. Tactically, professionally, he should be thinking, reporting, and assessing possible outcomes. But he couldn't bring himself to do more than hold Mira's hand and wonder about that blue light.

A fire crew arrived but they battled the blaze from the opposite side of the building, sending only a pair of men up and out the stairwell into the alley. When he heard them muttering about a blood trail, he glanced at his palm, not too surprised it was healed.

Jameson guessed it was a chief and an arson investigator who walked the perimeter a few minutes later, but by then Jameson's and Mira's tracks were well blurred by all the action.

He was just starting to worry about whatever kept Mira unconscious when he heard a boot skid across the ice.

He
turned, shocked to see the delivery man from Leanore's had crept so close. If it hadn't been for the ice Jameson wouldn't have had any warning and the guy would likely be tripping over them.

"You've probably heard me now," the man said softly.

Jameson didn't even breathe.

"Come on, then. I'm your ride home."

Jameson only moved his eyes, looking for the trap, listening for other clues.

"Mira knows me."

Jameson thought of the way she'd grinned when this guy delivered their food. Maybe he was safe, or maybe he just hadn't tried to hurt her yet. He watched the man smack the side of a tracking device. Looked like a Trident II, which meant someone had added the low frequency tag to their equipment.

"Damn military never gets the bugs out."

Jameson scooted away from Mira, watching the delivery guy for any reaction. Sure enough, he swiveled, following Jameson's movement. Bugs or not, they'd been found.

"It's working fine." Jameson nearly laughed out loud when the guy jumped like a scared rabbit. "What's the plan?"

"I drive you to a safe location."

"That's it?"

He shrugged. "That's all I know. Well, that and we've gotta get moving. Your girl did something that has the radios full of chatter."

Not good.

"Fine." Jameson flipped out the stealth disc, snorting when the guy jumped again. "You hopped up?"

"Hell no.
I've got –"

"Two kids."
Jameson scooped Mira into his arms. "Lead the way. But you're out of luck on the tip this time."

The delivery guy laughed softly.
"Name's Cleveland."

"Thanks."

"Just one more block. You need a hand?"

"I'm good." It wasn't the physical burden, it was the continuing worry. He tried to shake it off.
"Any medical staff where we're going?"

Cleveland nodded.
"Best on the planet."

Jameson didn't argue, but he hoped the exaggeration wasn't too far off. He was pretty convinced Mira and her father had been – were – the best medical minds ever.

Chapter 7

He stared at the footage. Replayed it. Put in on a repeating loop while he walked around the holographic display.

Turning back to his desktop monitor, he compared the footage to the feed
Montalbano had sent him directly from the lab. That flash of blue light was not part of the explosion, but it was definitely the answer to his prayers.

He drummed his fingertips on the desk. There was no doubt it was precisely as he hoped and she was still alive.

The official police report located two bodies in the ashes of the fire. Both Montabano's men. As they were entirely disposable, that was not his problem. The report from his own man was more troubling. Two of his best three man team were dead and gone. And it seemed Conrad had managed to rescue both Dr. Luther and the patient list from the clinic.

It was certainly a loss of good men, but they were martyrs for the cause.

He had a team standing by to scour databases for pertinent medical details of the people on that list. Searching everyone ever treated at a Luther clinic had proven annoyingly ineffective. He had no idea the number of people who wandered through life with blood disorders or how many of them had agreed to be Dr. Luther's guinea pigs.

What people did for money sickened him, but they weren't his problem either.

The holograph flashed again, the three dimensional recording showing the point when the girl...

What?

'Changed' seemed like a word far too pedestrian to describe that moment. It was certainly far too pedestrian to describe how she had transformed his plans.

He didn't think he'd been a true believer until the moment he'd seen that hologram. Oh, he'd known the Luther line was capable of amazing things, but this was a power he'd credited to the ignorance of those who didn't have any real understanding of science, genetics, or healing. This was the power he craved and was almost afraid to believe in.

They had to move quickly. If they didn't find her soon, they'd never be able to strip her power or control her gift. Or duplicate it. He closed his eyes and enjoyed a moment, letting the possibilities play out.

He pulled up the ancient text and read it again, carefully, though he'd memorized it years ago.

Onto the field she raced to tend those fallen... and there, in the midst of the battle, the healer came to be surrounded by a radiance, bathed in a light not of sun, nor moon...

His mission had been clear from the moment he'd understood the subtext in this passage. To restore the healers to their rightful place of power he would do anything. To guard their secrets from those who would exploit them he would do anything. Including eliminate a line of immense talent if she could not be turned to his cause.

It was the only way.

His research had uncovered the sad fact that radiant healers were doomed to early burn out, had habitually exposed the community to persecution. That the Luther daughter was the one to transform grated against his pride. Her father had had so much, and tossed it aside for a pitiful world view. He needed to find her, to save her from her father's notions of charity.

His monitor chimed with an incoming call. Montalbano.

He
quieted his mind, narrowing his focus to this small man's intentions.

"Yes?"

"You destroyed my lab."

"I did no such thing."

"I'm looking at the feed, I know it was your guy. Your guy who took my doctor. My deadline."

He made a note, adding
Montalbano to his hit list. When he ordered the end of Montalbano's life he would be sure to specify that the last word the man heard was 'deadline'.

"I have confirmation the formula you requested was complete. Give it to your manufacturers. Our business is done."

"But the antidote..."

He hated to hear a grown man whine. "Any good chemist can eventually reverse the process. Go make a fortune from one army and another fortune from their opponent. This is not my problem."

He'd given him Luther, now he'd taken him away.

"I need my doc back."

"That doctor was never yours." He disconnected the call before he lost his temper. Montalbano was forever overestimating his worth, but he would surely have a new gravy train within the week. The man knew how to land on his feet.

His problem was learning just where Mira had landed.

* * *

Montalbano
heaved the monitor into the wall. Since his incarceration in the psych ward, he'd given up on the calm, collected leader. Now, he fully embraced the erratic behavior and used his volatile nature to fuel the fear and respect of those he employed. It kept them on their toes.

He still pulled the strings in his organization, still had enough money and power to buy loyalty.

Most of the time.

No one believed it, not even his mother, but he wasn't a fool. Oh, he'd made mistakes, trusted the wrong people, but he wasn't about to do it again.

Except that's just what this felt like.

He was looking to be the next big ammo supplier, but he wanted to offer something special. Something no one else could bring to the table.

A few quiet inquiries and suddenly Dr. Luther had arrived, complete with a private lab. Montalbano smiled, recalling the day he'd explained the new reality to the Army's golden physician.

"You all right boss?"

Montalbano glanced up to see his closest associate, Crayland, leaning in through the door. He motioned him inside. "Give me good news."

"Yes sir. All our street value is up."

Montalbano listened to the report of his seedier endeavors. It was money, even if it wasn't a pretty way to get it.

Hell, he'd never wanted the all fucking headaches that went with running private casinos and the five star restaurants that fronted them.

Give him anything addictive and he'd milk the masses dry while they begged him for more. The military was nearly as bad, saying one thing, doing another. His few legal contracts were nothing compared to the deals he'd made against his country.

So what if ugly money meant he didn't marry well? There was plenty more to life than the right bride, to hell with his mother's opposing viewpoint.

Although if he dealt this properly, the new ammo might just be his ticket out of the family black sheep pasture. Everyone respected the arms business. Hard not to respect the guy behind the trigger aimed at your head.

"That's all fine." He interrupted
Crayland's report on the prostitution take for the last week as an idea came to him. "Put the doc's last formula into production."

"But."
Crayland cleared his throat. "I thought we were selling that formula and making the antidote."

Montalbano
gave Crayland a long look. "Do we have the antidote?"

"Well, no. Far as I can tell it burned up in the fire. But we aren't set up to make the bullets, boss."

Well fuck. He knew that. He
knew
that. They just had chemists. The cream of the chemist crop who'd washed out of posh corporate jobs for using their own products or insider trading. The doc had been his first legitimate medical professional.

With the doc,
Montalbano had the world on a string. Without him...

The bastard who'd made that connection might be anonymous now, but that would change soon enough. He'd assigned some new guy to tracking the calls and the very few clues.

"Get the serum into production. I'll make a few calls to work out the details."

Crayland
nodded and got to his feet.

"And keep an ear to the ground. I want to find that two-bit hack
who blew my lab."

"Yes, sir."

"Alive."

Crayland
gave him the affirmative. "You want someone to clean that up?" He pointed to the remains of the monitor.

"Forget it. Leave it for the cleaning crew."

"Okay, boss."

When
Montalbano was alone again, he pulled another monitor out of the supply in his credenza. If you were gonna play the fool, might as well do it right.

* * *

Jameson had been in Slick Micky's place once before and he'd never thought to return. He'd been shocked when Cleveland turned his vintage yellow 1957 Chevrolet behemoth toward the ruins where Micky hid a multifaceted smuggling operation.

But shock turned to utter disbelief when Callahan met them in the garage.

"Sir?" It was the only word that found a way out of his mouth, there were so many questions banging together in his brain.

"It's just Callahan while we're here." He nodded toward the car, where two women were already tending to Mira. "You did a good job."

"Any word on the asshole who tried to kill her? I saw him leading Dr. Luther away."

"Yeah the cameras saw that too."

Jameson swallowed. Was Callahan telling him they'd seen the weird flash of light when Mira went down? Or the two of them in the alley? He sure as hell wasn't ready to verify anything.

"They'll turn up."

Jameson didn't bother to speculate. Dr. Luther wasn't his primary concern. When the stretcher rolled by with Mira on it, he didn't wait for permission to go with her. No way in hell he would leave before she woke up.

"I'll be up in a minute," Callahan called after him.

Running on fumes and training, Jameson catalogued what could only be called the residential section of Slick Micky's warehouse. In fact, this didn't look much like a warehouse at all. His admiration grew when they entered the cleanest, best equipped hospital suite he'd ever seen. With this many toys and so many people, how did the smuggler keep it off the grid?

He stood at the door while the two women cut away Mira's clothes and hooked her up to monitors. His knees nearly buckled when the heart rate monitor beeped a strong and steady signal.

They didn't put her on oxygen and noted that her blood pressure was normal.

So what the hell was wrong?

"We don't believe anything is wrong, exactly."

He jumped at the nurse's reply. "Sorry, didn't mean to say that out loud."

"No problem. Happens all the time." She looked at him with such sympathy he wanted to punch the nearest wall.

"Let's give her some rest." She motioned for him to precede her out the door.

"I'm not leaving."

Her expression turned grim as she looked him over head to toe. "I see. Then you'll
be wanting a few things for your own comfort. And if you're in this room, I'll have my eye on you too."

"Yes ma'am."

She shot him a look, then pulled out a hand held device and barked out a short list of supplies. He stood by Mira's bed, not quite brave enough to touch her while the sharp-eyed nurse went about seeing to his needs.

He hadn't meant to be more work, but she seemed like the sort who didn't do anything halfway.

Another young woman entered with a stack of clothing. "In the chair," the nurse directed without turning from her own task of recording Mira's readouts.

When the young woman left, the nurse faced him. "You will take a shower and change into clean clothes. I'll have a meal sent up to you and you will eat it."

He opened his mouth, but she cut him off with a wave of her hand. "Argue with me and you're out of here."

"Yes, ma'am."

"When you're done eating I expect you to sleep. Exhausting yourself won't do her a bit of good. Am I clear?"

"Yes. Thank you," he added as she headed out.

"The room is wired into our central security systems." She gave him a final, stern look. "And the feed is monitored."

He nodded again, not giving half a damn who watched him while he waited for Mira to wake up. Finally alone, he took her hand and gave it a squeeze. She didn't react no matter how much he willed her to do so.

Her skin was so pale over the fine bones and tendons of her hand. The blue veins just under the surface made her look like she'd been carved from the fairest marble. He knew her strengths and wondered at his own weaknesses. This coma or shock or whatever was driving him out of his mind. He murmured nonsense and encouragement just because the words felt good to his own ears. "Come back to me, Mira."

Pressing a kiss to her brow, he went to clean up. He didn't want to get booted out of here for not following directions.

* * *

Micky
gave Trina's hand a kiss, then knocked on the door to the guest suite Callahan had requested and let himself in. Thanks to Micky's head of security, he was braced for the crowd, but the six people waiting in the room marked the largest gathering outside his professional family who knew the location, and most of the capabilities, of his warehouse. This past spring, when he'd called Jaden for help protecting his girls from a madman, he'd been forced to owe her a favor and it had opened him up to her connections. In recent months, through various off-the-record events, they'd proven themselves trustworthy when they needed the shelter or resources only he could provide. But it was still enough to make a smuggler uncomfortable.