All The Queen's Men (Fantasy Heights) (10 page)

She cried out this time, a high, long sound that made Thomas strain up into her one last time, gone utterly rigid.

The aftermath was more unguarded than was strictly wise. Never mind that Thomas had a long list of offenses to answer for, all she wanted right then was exactly what she got: long, searing kisses and half an hour of him allowing her no farther away from him than he could help while they tidied up, not talking much.

Though curious about what he might have learned while he was away, Amanda kept her questions to herself. The nature of his silence and some of the faraway looks warned that her earlier impression, that he had no good news to offer, might have been slightly conservative. He was good at hiding things, she knew. Right now, she figured he was hiding so much that he was barely able to keep it all from tearing him apart.

Only once Thomas’s stomach growled did they let reality back in. They had dinner. While they washed up, he finally started to talk. He confessed his plans about returning to the military. He told her he’d first put the brakes on the idea when she showed up because he’d smelled trouble. Josh’s ascension to the Accord killed the idea completely. And he was glad he hadn’t left now that they’d been infiltrated.

Amanda asked about Nicole and Ridley. “How bad are they? Is there any hope?”

Thomas shook his head. “All the queen’s horses and all the queen’s men won’t be putting them together again.”

“King’s,” Amanda corrected. “All the king’s men.”

“Sorry. It’s been a long three days. It’s bad, her and Nicole both. It would have been kinder to kill them, I think. If Ridley’s awake, she’s either crying or screaming about something called the Eight-man. It’s… fuckin’ terrifying, actually.”

She
watched a chill run through him, and the dark hairs on his arms rise up to stand on end.

When he spoke again, he sounded gruff. “Remember me wondering if maybe Gail Warnous wasn’t so crazy? That maybe someone really had pushed some bad juju on Robert Warnous to make him sing again?”

“Yes, of course. I haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since.”

“Gail was right. These blood tests they’re doing. Wade put his ass on the line and sent the CDC all the chemical analysis stuff from the Janos library, plus everything we know about Kay’s updated versions of the Janos drugs. Nic, Ridley, Mercury and Phillip are all positive for one or more compounds. Steph tested positive. Gail and Robert did, too.”

She lowered her chin, giving him a cautious look. “And what does that mean?”

“It means these DriveRate people are drugging people to influence their behavior. Or to shut them up. Nic and Ridley crossed them, somehow. They used compounds to fry their memories. As far as we can tell, Mercury and Phillip were given milder forms of the drugs to make them more susceptible to influence.”

“What about Steph and Robert? Or Gail?”

He shook his head. “None of those three had the exact same combination of drugs. Gail has much the same cocktail they used on Simon Dixon, like they were trying to drive her crazy. Steph was given some wicked addictive stuff along with something that fires up the serotonin and dopamine in her brain. The CDC docs say it mimics what they see when someone’s in love.”

“Except she thinks she’s in love with Robert instead of Eric.”

“Looks that way,” he agreed. “As for Robert, he’s an experienced addict, and they’ve got him addicted to a form of the compound that yields a crazy euphoric high. They probably didn’t need anything more to make him their puppet, and here’s the thing. Wade pulled Warnous’s financials. The guy is flat broke. And anyone who knows Steph knows she’s always been a raging Warnous fan-girl. Two and two makes four, the DriveRate people planned this. It was all premeditated. Probably to gain control of Fantasy Heights.”

“But why? If they’re so dependent on this place to prey on the clients and staff, then—”

“No. That’s where we were wrong. Scott told me what DriveRate was doing in our computer systems. They were siphoning data, and it wasn’t active clients and staff they were interested in. It was the rejects—the fantasies rejected by the screeners, the clients and applicants who failed the psych screenings. They’re mining the castoffs. I’m not sure I want to know why.”

The answer seemed plain as day to Amanda. “Market share. They’re going after Fantasy Heights’s market share by scavenging and accepting the clients and staff we rejected.”

“What, like they’ve created a Fantasy Heights clone somewhere?”

“Why not? According to Derek’s files, they cloned the Paramour Project.”

He stared at her again. “I’m gonna choose to delay my panic because I have to ask why? If that’s the case, then why go after Steph?”

Amanda thought about it, but didn’t come up with much. “Same reason, maybe. Scavenging. She’s got a lot of connections they can’t phish from any computer system.”

That one caught Thomas up short. “So you’re saying it wasn’t only control of Fantasy Heights they wanted. They want control of Steph and her connections.”

Amanda was struck by a sudden sense of dread. “Please don’t take what I’m saying seriously. I don’t know anything about investigating. I’m only brainstorming. It’s all supposition. No proof.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re wrong.”

“It doesn’t mean I’m right, either. Talk to Wade. See what he can do. And for the love of God, get Carter Warnous as far away from this place as you can.”

“Don’t worry about Carter. Wade has him stashed someplace safe. I wish we could do the same with Steph. Get her away from Warnous. And we can’t just sit around waiting for these last two DriveRate people to show themselves. We need to force them out.”

“How?”

Dark eyes scanned her for a while, inspecting. Speculating. “I need to talk to Dr. Carpenter before I say any more.”

She remembered feeling a frisson of fear, but also excitement.

And then Thomas’s smartphone went off. He had a special ringtone for Josh. Hearing it, he’d hurried to answer, only to learn that Jerod Hughes had just resigned.

That had been yesterday. No one had seen Jerod since.

Amanda’s interview with Jerod’s father banked hard downhill. Mr. Hughes drew a circle around Steph’s name.

Then he tapped the tip of his pen beside it.

Both she and the district attorney jumped as someone began to pound on the conference room door. The loud, frantic banging brought them both to their feet.

Her signal, at last. Holy crap, talk about the nick of time.

“Come in. Come in, for God’s sake,” Mr. Hughes hollered.

Max Crosby pushed the door open. He was winded. “We’ve got a problem.”

“Another one?”

“Steph’s been kidnapped. They put a bag over Warnous’s head, tied him up, and snatched Steph right out of the cabin. Thomas needs you upstairs in the security office. Immediately.”

Mr. Hughes swore and abandoned Amanda without so much as a backward glance. Max, too, ignored her in his haste to obey Thomas’s missive.

Willing herself to be calm, Amanda counted to twenty, giving the others plenty of time to get upstairs before she slipped into the Accord center, then out into the tunnels. She had memorized the route that morning. The lights seemed brighter, every sound impossibly loud as she made her way to the tunnel exit closest to the staff cabins.

Feeling precious seconds tick away, she exited into waning daylight. Now it was more important than ever that she appear perfectly calm. If anyone noticed her heading toward the luxury cabin where Dr. Carpenter had been housing Robert Warnous, she needed to be forgettable.

Two doors shy of Warnous’s cabin, Amanda took an abrupt left and slipped into the deserted cabana. As promised, a metal carrying case waited atop a low, round table. In earnest now, she removed its contents: a small black receiver module, a laptop computer and two power packs.

She assembled the module and laptop exactly as Thomas had instructed. As soon as she booted up the recording software, she was rewarded with the sights and sounds of success. Two doors down, in Dr. Carpenter’s cabin, the short-range camera planted during the kidnapping was transmitting beautifully.

The monitor showed her Josh’s back as he stood over Warnous, who sat sullen and silent in one corner of a sofa. Josh was yelling at him. “What the hell do you mean, you didn’t hear anything? How could you not hear anything? They walked right in the front door. That can’t be done without making noise.”

Poor Josh. And poor Thomas, who would have to explain at some point that he had kidnapped Steph and handed her off to Eric, who was about to smuggle her into a private, high-security treatment center.

No one else could know. For now, everyone had to believe Steph had been kidnapped, or their plan to sweat Warnous would not work. They weren’t interested in the excuses Warnous would make to Josh and the local authorities. They were more interested in what Warnous would do later, once he was alone. Her job for the night was to make sure their equipment recorded everything the camera and its microphone captured. If something interesting happened, she would text Thomas, who was busy pretending to investigate how the kidnappers had gotten onto the grounds.

She allowed Josh a few more minutes to vent on Warnous, and then called his cellphone. Half expecting him to let her call roll into voicemail, she was surprised when he stopped yelling long enough to answer on the second ring. “Where are you?” he demanded.

Feeling both mercenary and ashamed, she lied. She made her excuses, explaining that there was a lot of data entry she’d promised to handle, and Josh shouldn’t worry about her tonight. “Scott and Thomas commandeered me a nice quiet cabin to work in.”

She forgave Josh the warring traces of relief and guilt in his voice as he rang off.

“We’re doing the right thing, we’re doing the right thing,” she chanted, and settled in to watch the monitor.

A parade of people came in and out of that cabin for the next couple of hours. Warnous stayed relatively calm through multiple questionings and visits. Yet as predicted, once he was alone, he started to panic. She watched him take out a cellphone he wasn’t supposed to have, and dial a number.

She immediately picked up her phone to let Thomas know. She texted:
Cell use.

Warnous’s call must have gone to voicemail. He said aloud, “What the hell did you do with Steph? Does this mean the deal is off? Call me. And someone damn well better bring me what I need, or else.”

He looked at his phone and thumbed the hang-up button while Amanda raised her brows at the receiver. If only she knew who he’d called.

Warnous spent the next four hours pacing. Impatient. Fidgety. Looking unsteady. Clutching his phone, muttering curses. Half a dozen times he lifted his phone again and started to dial, then stopped himself.

Finally, when it was well after midnight and Amanda could barely keep her eyes open anymore, Warnous turned toward the front door. Someone had entered the cabin. “It’s about friggin’ time,” he said. “What’s goin’ on?”

Amanda fired off a second text to Thomas:
Visitor
.

Two people stepped into the room. Both were right beneath the camera with their backs to it. The first she recognized instantly: Marla. The second, a sizable dark-headed man, didn’t show enough of himself for her to get a good look.

Marla tossed her purse onto the sofa. “Oh, like you don’t know. What did you do? Hire someone to kidnap Steph?”

“Sure. Whatever. I’m not an idiot, you know. Isn’t it a coincidence how Steph should conveniently get kidnapped so you don’t have to deliver on your half of the bargain?”

“I told you,” Marla argued. “We can’t get to Gail while she’s locked up. Soon as they let her loose, we’ll deliver on our end. But in the meantime, I can tell you one thing—we did not take Steph.”

“Then who did? ’Cuz it sure as hell wasn’t me.”

Marla put her hands on her hips and turned to look at her silent companion. He still hadn’t moved, and Amanda still couldn’t see who he was.

Warnous took a step toward Marla. “Did you bring it?”

“Is that all you care about?”

Warnous didn’t answer, but a moment later, Marla pulled something from her purse.

Amanda leaned forward in her chair. If she wasn’t mistaken, Marla had just been caught on camera with one of those little black syringe cases.

Amanda scooted even closer once Warnous snatched the case from Marla’s hand. He set it on a coffee table and snapped the case open. The monitor didn’t display high enough resolution for her to see whether there were two syringes inside, but the contents were clear enough when Warnous removed a syringe. He clamped it between his teeth while he ripped open a swab packet, and then stood to drop his pants. He swiped at his thigh, and injected himself with whatever was in the syringe.

All the while, Marla and her mystery guest stood by watching.

Warnous tossed the syringe back into the case and pulled his pants back up. He was still trying to fasten his belt when he keeled over sideways, narrowly missing the sharp corner of the coffee table.

Neither Marla nor her companion moved.

The man, in an unfamiliar voice said, “Jeez. What did you put in that syringe?”

“Not what he was expecting. But it’ll keep him nice and pliant for a couple hours. Get him into the boat. There’s less than five minutes before security patrols the shoreline again.”

Amanda picked up her phone once more. Hands shaking, she sent Thomas a third text:
911. Warnous drugged. They have boat.

The man said, “Grab your stuff, and I’ll grab him. We need to be long gone by the time Bishop finds out he’s missing.”

Marla clicked her tongue. “Why is everyone so afraid of Thomas?”

“You heard what Nicole said about his military and FBI record.”

“Yeah, well, Nicole also said Thomas was going back to the military, and you see he’s still here. If Nicole was a credible source, Yvette wouldn’t have had her cleansed.”

“Fine. You go right ahead and be arrogant. Me, I’m gonna get the fuck out of here before that girlfriend of his turns up.”

“Oh, for God’s sake,” Marla complained. “For the nine-hundredth time, Amanda is not some hired gun. I don’t know how all this crap gets started.”