Tania ignored that. “I had a therapist once,” she said. “He tasted bitter. But before he died, he told me some things about projection. That’s where you imagine other people have the feelings you’re having. You talk so much about me being scared of Cade. I think you’re afraid of him.”
Konrad snorted. “This is a rather transparent attempt to insult me.”
“Maybe. But if you’re so smart and you want Cade dead, why not do it yourself? Why put the commission out there? Why boss around your government friends?”
“Cade is an insect. I don’t need to dirty my hands with that kind of work.”
“And yet, you had that whole setup in your house. Lights, this collar. Like you planned it for him. You know what I think? I think you’re a coward. You want him dead more than anything, but you’re terrified of him.”
Konrad’s face darkened. He picked up the remote, and, for a moment, Tania thought she’d gone too far.
For a second, Tania savored the novelty of being scared.
He turned his back, dismissing her. “Go,” he said. “If you’re not back in an hour, I press the button. Be a good girl and you’ll get a pint of blood when you get back.”
“Which door?” she asked.
Konrad pointed at a back door.
“Feel free to use the alley. You should feel right at home.”
Tania walked toward the door. But Konrad had to get in the last word.
“The trap was never meant for Cade,” he said. “For one thing, he’d never have been stupid enough to let it happen to him.”
Biting back a reply, Tania left. Konrad wasn’t going to simply kill her now; he was going to avenge the insult. It was going to be long and painful. She considered going past the one-hour deadline, just for an easier way out.
But she had to admit he was right: there was no reason to rush it.
FORTY-ONE
The truth is more sinister. In 1978, a team of government engi- neers was drilling through rock to expand the giant secret under- ground base at Dulce, New Mexico, when they opened into a cavern containing dozens of the Greys. A firefight ensued, with sixty-six Secret Service and FBI agents killed before a “high-level government operative,” supposedly answering only to the presi- dent himself, managed to restore order (according to my sources). Some “alien experts” or “paranormal investigators” will tell you the Greys, like the Reptilians, are actually aliens, sent here to colonize and subdue the planet Earth. This is disinformation. As their presence underground indicates, they are actually the an- cient adversaries of man who have plagued us for generations. That the U.S. government has reached accord with these things tells us all we need to know about who is actually in charge.
Z
ach sat in the car in long-term parking at LAX. The smart thing to do would be to follow Cade’s advice and go home. He never wanted this job. It wasn’t in the plan. He had spent so much time planning and maneuvering, getting into exactly the right position.
And it wasn’t like he was running away. Cade told him to go. He’d done his best. His ribs hurt like hell. He still smelled smoke and concrete dust from the explosion. People were trying to kill him. That definitely wasn’t part of the plan.
He checked his phone. Still plenty of time to catch the red-eye to D.C.
So now that he had an escape hatch, why was he hesitating to use it?
Maybe because something rankled in the way Cade had dismissed him. Zach had never been fired from any job. He’d never failed at a task before. He didn’t like the idea that this was too much for him—even if it was painfully true.
He got out of the car, one hand clutching the wad of cash. In the car window, he caught a murky glimpse of himself. He looked like hammered crap. Zach focused on the idea of a hot shower and a fresh suit. Even the idea of stretching out in a business-class seat with a cold beer sounded like pure luxury. That helped quell his misgivings.
Sure, he might get some strange looks from airport security, but he had his government ID. He could talk his way through any questions.
He started for the terminal. Then stopped again.
What if this really was part of the plan? What if he was supposed to be here? If he could help nail Konrad, even when he’d been told to quit, then he could probably name his job in the White House. Maybe Cade was testing him, seeing if he’d quit when things got rough.
Then again, maybe he was just stubborn.
He got back in the car and took out his sat-phone. With a tap of his finger, he lit up the GPS screen. Konrad’s address was easy to find. The phone even offered him turn-by-turn directions.
Zach twisted the wires and started the car again. He wasn’t done yet. He was going to show Cade, and everyone else, that he wasn’t just baggage on this trip.
Zach was going to prove he could be a hero after all.
FORTY-TWO
H
elen dropped her keys on the entry table and entered her apartment. It was like an operating room: clean and sterile. Not so much as a family photo or a pile of dirty laundry. Nothing to make it personal. In that way, it was the perfect reflection of her.
Helen reached for the alarm panel and punched in the security code.
Her place was wired with a system that could detect motion, changes in temperature, even differences in the composition of the ambient air in the room. The Company looked after its human capital.
Despite all that, she was careful. Something must have been out of place. Something tipped her. Or she was just paranoid.
She gripped the pistol concealed in her handbag, came out with it in a two-handed shooting stance—
Nothing.
She shook herself and lowered the gun.
Helen crossed the room to her sofa and clicked on the TV. The gun went on the end table, where the remote had been. She rubbed her eyes. Yawned.
A cold voice whispered in her ear: “Ms. Holt.”
To her credit, she didn’t scream. She went for the gun.
Cade threw her over the breakfast bar, into the kitchen. She bounced off the fridge and hit the floor.
Cade stood over her before she’d caught her breath. She looked up at him, disbelief etched in her eyes.
“You’re dead,” she blurted.
Cade hauled her to her feet and pushed her back against the counter. “And have been for some time,” he said.
“How—?”
“I can find anyone,” he said. “You each have a unique scent. City of ten million people, it just takes a little longer.”
Actually, Cade had simply trailed her from work. But it never hurt to add to the reputation.
Not that she would get a chance to tell anyone.
He could see the effort it cost as she wiped the shock from her face. She leaned back, wincing at the pain, and crossed her arms. “Did I at least kill your annoying little buddy?”
Cade stepped closer again. “You should be more concerned about your own chances of survival, Ms. Holt.”
There. He saw it. The atavistic fear, crawling up from some deep part of her brain, notifying her of the threat. Cade tried not to take joy in it, but the predator in him loved this. The pure fright of the trapped prey, with no chance at either fight or flight.
He watched as she tamped down the panic, struggled to breathe deeply. Her eyes darted around the room. The closest alarm pad was on the other side of the kitchen. Same with the phone. Her emergency beeper was in her bag, out in the hall. He’d effectively blocked her from any way to call for help.
She noticed his clothes.
“You look ridiculous,” she said. “Been shopping in the clearance aisle?”
He felt another stab of admiration. Trying to buy time. Get him talking.
Cade took another step, and her composure collapsed. He was just a foot away from her now. “Do you want to live, Ms. Holt?”
She swallowed hard.
“Yes,” she said, voice hoarse.
“Then tell me something I can use.”
“I am a citizen, and an officer of the United States government,” she hissed. “You can’t touch me.”
That surprised him. She knew about the oath, if not exactly how it worked.
“Where did you hear that?”
A smirk, despite the fear. “We know a lot more about you than you do about us.”
She had that right, at least. Still, he reached over and gently prodded her with a finger.
“My oath to protect does not extend to traitors,” he said. “You’d be surprised what I can do to traitors.”
That got a response. Her eyes flashed with anger. “I’m not a traitor,” she snapped.
“Of course you are. You’re shielding Konrad. What I don’t know is why.”
“I don’t make policy. The higher-ups said to watch him. I’m just doing my job.”
“Just following orders? I was there when that defense was invented. It didn’t work then, either.”
“Don’t get self-righteous with me. I’ve seen your file. You’ve done a lot of monstrous things in the name of God and country. We’re just like you, Cade. We get our hands dirty.”
Cade was tempted to laugh in her face. “You think you’re like me?”
“I know what you’ve done.”
“You have no idea what I’ve done. I have been on this planet a hundred and sixty-three years. I have filled whole graveyards with bodies. Watched Hell erupt on Earth a dozen times. Killed beings older than mankind. You’re right, I have done monstrous things. Because I am a monster. While you—you are merely human.”
He stepped closer again. Now he was only inches from her face. She started to tremble.
“Why are you protecting Konrad? What’s he offering you?”
“I can’t tell you,” she said. “You can call me a traitor, you can kill me—”
“I could, yes. But I want to know: why?”
“I can’t, I can’t—”
Cade let his voice drop to a whisper. “Then there’s nothing else to say, is there?”
Helen’s eyes widened as she realized what that meant. She made her decision fast.
“I told you before,” she said. “He’s a valuable asset. You don’t seem to understand, Cade, we’re fighting the same war. We just refuse to fight it unarmed.”
Cade knew what she was selling. Pitching herself as another soldier. At the mercy of forces greater than her, trying to do what was right in an insane world.
Of course, he also saw her palm a steak knife out of the drawer behind her.
“He can give us tools we need. He’s still brilliant. We can use him.”
“That’s not what I asked,” Cade said. “What I want to know is, what is he offering you?”
She tried to look confused. Failed. “I don’t understand.”
“You’ve gone too far, Helen. You tried to kill me. Whoever you work for, I don’t think that was their idea. I can only think of one person that would serve: Konrad.”
“No, you’re wrong, I’m not—”
Cade let his voice drop to a growl. “Don’t lie to me again. Last chance: what has Konrad offered you?”
She looked torn. Calculating. For a second, he thought he saw the real her, underneath all the shifting façades.
Abruptly, she reached up and tore open her collar at the throat.
“Bite me,” she said.
Cade was genuinely surprised. He took a step back.
“What?”
“Make me like you.” Her voice was pleading. “Please. Do it. I’ll do anything you want, tell you all of it—but you have to give me this.”
“It’s not—it doesn’t always work,” Cade said, the truth stumbling out of him. The change didn’t take in every victim of a bite. Most people simply died. Some rose again. He didn’t know why.
Her eyes were crazed as she looked at him. Now she stepped closer to him, and he retreated again. “I know the chances. You think I don’t know? I want this. I want it.”
“No,” he said, no longer uncertain. It was a simple fact, embedded in him like bedrock: he would never spread the disease.
“I can make you do it,” she said.
He didn’t bother to reply to that. It was simply too absurd.
Then he heard something from the TV.
“—to Jennifer Espinoza in Culver City,” the anchor with the sandblasted face was saying.
The screen switched to a shot of an attractive young woman standing in front of what looked like a park.
“Roger, I’m standing here at Holy Cross Cemetery, where someone displayed a sick sense of humor by robbing the grave of famous horror actor Bela Lugosi. Police say someone took all the remains of Lugosi, best known for playing Dracula in the classic movie—
Cade turned his head, like a dog on point.
“Lugosi was buried in one of the many capes he wore in his most famous role, Roger, so police are monitoring eBay and other auction sites in case someone tries—”
Cade was momentarily baffled. Konrad would never be so obvious. It would almost be like sending him a message.
Helen thought he was distracted. She whipped the steak knife from behind her back.
Cade didn’t care. She couldn’t hurt him. She gave him a hard smile.
He figured it out a second too late. She already had the serrated tip at her throat.
With a quick slash, she laid open her own jugular.
Blood sprayed down the front of her blouse, out onto the kitchen floor.
Cade froze.
Her blood was everywhere. All over her. The stink of it, rich and fresh and warm.
Still smiling, Helen sagged to the floor as her life poured out of her.
“Come on,” she whispered. “Do it.”
Cade felt his fangs push their way out of his mouth, unbidden.
He turned and ran. Nearly knocked the door off its hinges on his way out of the apartment.
His inhuman hearing picked up a small chuckle from the back of her throat. “Pansy,” she said.
FORTY-THREE
In Europe in the Middle Ages, and even later, witches were known to be notorious grave thieves. Their dissection of corpses for parts of the body needed in the “witches brew” is famous in folklore.... Not too many years ago, the only way for medical students and medical schools to obtain corpses for dissection and study was to hire grave robbers. Sometimes when students were unable to hire others to do the gruesome job, they were obliged to do it themselves.