SHIAM Conspiracy- Book 1 (30 page)

“What’s going on, Captain?” Zak chose to use
Mashkkha title out of respect in front of the ASID suits.

“It seems that these – gentlemen - are taking
over my investigation.”

“Look, Captain,” the suit standing in front
of Mashkkha interrupted, a mixture of anger and contempt in his
voice. He was clean cut with short-cropped sandy coloured hair. His
hazel eyes were as cold as his expression. The dark blue suit, red
tie and white shirt were standard dress for ASID. “You know as well
as I do that ASID investigations take priority over local
jurisdiction. End of story. Now go get the rest of your team out of
here before they contaminate my crime scene any more than they
already have. But don’t
you
leave until I have a chance to
debrief you!”

“Radcliff!” Zak finally put a name to the
man. He was cut from the same cloth as Vennhim and Zak liked him
about as much. He’d been Vennhim’s partner when Zak retired from
the Department.

“Good to see you again, Harris.” Radcliff
said dispassionately.

“Oh, no it isn’t!”

Radcliff glared at Zak for a long moment and
then turned back to Mashkkha. “Just get your guys out of here.
Now.” He walked to the door and stopped. “Don’t any of you leave
until you’ve been debriefed.”

Zak watched Radcliff leave. He knew without
looking at Mashkkha to confirm it that the man’s temper was
boiling, but he was helpless to do anything about the situation.
The Aragne Special Intelligence Department had the authority to
take over any investigation they took a mind to. And they simply
loved to throw their weight around with the local authorities. But
what the hell was Vennhim doing here?

“I thought you were retired,” he said to
Vennhim, his eyes closed against the nauseous feeling that had
regained control of him. “What are you doing hanging with the
Department?”

“I am retired,” Vennhim answered simply. He
was quiet for a moment, as though considering his words. “Agent
Radcliff was kind enough to give me a courtesy call when he was
called in on this.”

Zak forced his eyes open even though his head
was pounding and his stomach churning. “And just how did he get
called in on this?”

“Apparently, ASID received an anonymous
call.” Vennhim said. “The caller said it was a matter of national
security. Mark was assigned. When he got here and saw what the deal
was, he called me in.”

“Dragon crap,” Zak said. “There’s something
more going on here.”

“
I
f you don’t slow down you’re going to
run into something.” Zak watched her through half closed eyes,
fighting his drowsiness from the pain medication the paramedics had
given him.

“Keep still and save your energy,” Megan
replied.

Megan turned West on Halcyon Drive and
crossed the bridge to Sol Kappur West, then headed North to the
Bolias Expressway. Zak didn’t have a clue where she was going, but
didn’t much care at the moment. His side was throbbing in time with
his head, his bruised shoulder ached and the movement of the hover
car wasn’t helping any of it.

Agent Radcliff had questioned each of them
before allowing them to leave the warehouse. Questioned. That was
an understatement. It had been more interrogation than debriefing.
Zak was not very happy about any of it. And the fact that Radcliff
allowed Vennhim to sit in on it impressed him even less. He
withheld as much as he could, telling them only what he had to.
Judging by Radcliff’s questions, Megan and the Captain hadn’t been
any more forthcoming. Radcliff had finally given up, informing them
that they will be called into ASID for further questioning after
they had time to recover from their ordeal.

The paramedics wanted to take Zak along with
Harry Mathers to the hospital. When he refused, Megan assured them
that she was capable of tending to his injuries and they
reluctantly agreed.

Rain was still coming down hard which forced
Megan to drive at ground level once again, though she was going too
fast for conditions. As usual. Zak closed his eyes and focused on
the rhythmic swish of the windshield wipers playing a counter-beat
to the pelting rain. At some point he must have dozed off because
the next thing he knew Megan had stopped the Pegasus and turned off
the engine.

He opened his eyes in time to watch the last
of the rain streak down the passenger window. They were parked
inside a garage, or at least it had garage type paraphernalia in
it. But it wasn’t like any garage Zak had ever been in. First of
all, it was probably the size of his loft. Okay, that was a slight
exaggeration, but it was
big
! It was also cleaner than any
garage he had ever been in and that wasn’t an exaggeration. The
floor was spotless, as was the walls and ceiling. Various tools and
lawn equipment either hung neatly upon the walls or were laid out
on the extra-long workbench that stretched across the back of the
structure. They all looked brand new and were as neatly placed as
though on display in a retail store. There were several vehicles
besides the one they were in. Four of them he recognized as
antiques, old gas combustion types from more than fifty years
ago.

“So, where are we?” Zak asked.

“Home,” Megan answered. She opened her door,
but did not get out right away.

“You
live
here?”

“What can I say, Daddy is rich.” Her smile
was enchanting and tugged at something inside him that made him
uncomfortable. She told him to wait until she came around the car
to help him out.

Struggling with his unwanted attraction
toward her, Zak’s guilt inevitably returned. He had a sudden urge
to tell her the truth about his involvement with her father, to
finally get it all out in the open.

Megan swung the passenger door open and held
out her hand to help him out of the car.

Looking up at her, he was suddenly cleansed
of the desire for confession. Her smile was charismatic; the golden
flecks within her deep green eyes seemed to induce a hypnotic
effect on him, tempting him with the desire to be with her. Now was
neither the time nor place to risk terminating their partnership in
the Grimrok assignment. And that is exactly what would happen if he
began spilling his guts to her now. He’d tell her later, when the
time was right.

He allowed her to take his arm and drape it
around her shoulder for support. The warmth of her body against him
was distracting, even with the pain he was in. He longed to know
her better, more intimately. He leaned against her a bit more than
was required, enjoying the contact. She made no sign of protest as
she led him to a door located along the far wall near the rear of
the garage.

If Zak thought the garage was over the top,
it was nothing compared to what he found inside the house. Even in
the midday gloom brought on by the storm, Zak’s first impression
was one of luxury beyond anything he was accustomed to. Megan
switched on lights to a hall with rich green walls and a pale brown
runner that led off toward the front of the house. The walkway was
generously wide for a hallway, with genuine antique wooden stands
spaced along each wall displaying a variety of freshly cut flowers
and an assortment of expensive looking Elvish figurines. The walls
were framed with several paintings that, as far as Zak could tell,
were also Elvish in origin.

To his left the hall ended almost immediately
at a double archway that opened into a large dining room. Looking
through the open doors he could see a massive oak dining table,
which was obviously the focal point of the room. A number of
matching chairs were clustered around it, sufficient to seat at
least fifty people. An oak buffet stood along one of the walls,
completing the expensive dining set. Most of the far wall of the
room consisted of tall windows stretching nearly floor to ceiling
and framed by heavy wine colored drapes. A flower garden could be
seen just outside the windows, a small forest of evergreens beyond
that. The garden seemed bright and colorful even on this dark
rain-drenched day.

Megan helped Zak through another door located
directly across the hall from the garage entrance. Flashes of
lightning sent irregular strobes of hash white light down through
an overhead skylight as they entered. The kitchen wasn’t quite as
large as the dining area, was well equipped and contained an
assortment of stainless steel appliances. Zak imagined that this
room, like the dining area, would be bathed in golden warmth on a
bright and sunny day.

“I take it you have a staff of several dozen
lurking about somewhere?”

“Only ten when my father is not here,” Megan
answered. “They live on the top floor. When I am here by myself, I
let them have most of their time to themselves.”

She led him over to one of the marble topped
prep areas and told him to lie down upon it. He winced from a jolt
of pain as Megan helped him up onto the counter and then gently
eased him onto his back. He turned his head to watch her as she
crossed the room, her hips moving with a naturally sensual rhythm
as she walked. She disappeared into what Zak assumed was a storage
room. When she returned to him, she gently pulled his t-shirt up to
his shoulders and carefully removed the bandages from his side. He
caught himself smiling as he watched the concentrated concern on
her face as she tended his wound. He was growing accustomed to the
excessively radical facade of her make-up and wardrobe, and
suddenly realized that he couldn’t imagine her any other way.

He cut off the direction his thought
processes were taking before they could go any further. She was
Elf. End of story. But when she looked up at him and their eyes
met, he felt something more than simple lust for her. Something
that he refused to name.

“You don’t need to do this, you know,” he
said, shrugging off the emotion.

Megan ignored his comment as she continued to
work on his side.

One of the medics on scene at the warehouse
had told Zak he had suffered from a mild concussion just as Megan
had suspected. The pounding in his skull seemed to confirm it, but
he did his best to ignore it. The pain from his side was
considerably more intrusive, indicating that the medication the
medics had given him was beginning to wear off. In spite of his
determination not to show weakness in front of her, he found it
difficult not to wince as Megan probed the wound.

“This needs to be stitched shut in order to
heal properly,” she said as she inspected his wound. “I will put
some
Aelhara
on it first. It is an Elvish herb. It will numb
the area as well as disinfect it.”

She worked with care and efficiency. When she
was done with his side, she rubbed the herbal mix onto his bruised
shoulder and redressed his head wound as well. Within a short time
his wounds were cleaned, medicated and bandaged.

“You should heal quickly,” Megan said. “The
medicine I used has exceptional healing properties.” A look of
realization came over her. “I am sorry. Perhaps, I should have
asked first. You may not have wanted Elvish treatments, but when
you refused to go with the medics...”

“It’s fine, thanks.”

Relief softened the weariness of her
expression. Her hand lingering upon his bare shoulder made him
suddenly uncomfortable and he raised himself up into a sitting
position on the counter, his blood soaked t-shirt still folded up
under his arms. At the same instant Megan seemed to become
self-conscious of her touch and pulled her hand away.

“Thanks,” he said again, watching her
embarrassment with curiosity. Up until this point, nothing about
her had given him any indication that she was shy about anything.
The flecks of gold in her eyes brought out the emerald green all
the more. He could easily become lost within their depths... He
felt suddenly awkward again and looked away.

“You need to get some rest,” Megan said. “I
will show you to one of the guestrooms.”

“You don’t need to bother.”

“Nonsense!” Megan interrupted his protest.
“You are injured. I can heal your wounds quickly as long as you do
not object to Elvish cures.”

Without waiting for any further protests,
Megan helped him from the kitchen and led him upstairs to a bedroom
that possessed the same luxurious ambiance as the other areas of
the house he’d been in. Even though Zak didn’t feel totally at ease
in the plush bed, it was beyond comfort and it didn’t take him long
after Megan left to fall into a deep sleep.

. . .

“What!” Zak cried out, bolting upright before
coming fully awake. Pain stabbed at his side from the sudden
movement.

“It is okay. You were having a
nightmare.”

He sat breathing heavily both from the pain
and from the unpleasant dream that still lingered within the
shadows of his mind. He felt disoriented until he noticed those
emerald green and gold-flecked eyes watching him intently. As he
recognized Megan sitting on the bed next to him, the rest of his
surroundings fell into place around her.

“Here, drink this.” She picked up a cup from
the nightstand and offered it to him. It had a woodsy smell to it
and was bitter going down.

The rumble of thunder pulled his attention to
the window. The day was even darker than it had been, rain rapping
upon the pane and on the shingles of the roof. He sat listening to
the staccato rhythm as he collected himself. The dream had been so
real, as real as virtual space blending with the world.

“What time is it?” he asked. He had thought
the nightmares had left him. It had been over two years since the
last. The inevitable guilt that accompanied them weighed heavily
upon him once again. Now would be a good time to tell her.

“Seventeen hours, nearly dark.” Megan had
changed into a loose fitting pale green dress, the material so
light that he could nearly see her beneath it where it pressed
against her body. Her make-up was now rather conservative compared
to what it had been. Her feminine transition was a striking
contrast to her rebellious look and seemed to accent her natural
beauty. Reaching out, she placed her wrist upon his forehead. “You
have a slight fever. It should be gone by morning though.”