Midnight Fire (14 page)

The leader—lean and handsome, straight black hair down to his shoulders, wearing a Daft Punk T-shirt—was about to send an encrypted message in the secure uplink, directly to the overhead satellite and it was then bounced down to a secure receiver in Pudong. It was a message that could not be intercepted by the NSA.

The leader could just see the general receiving the message. General Chen Yi’s office was on the twelfth floor of an anonymous-looking building in the Pudong District of Shanghai. The General had come up with the plan, a brilliant one, for taking over the most powerful country on earth without firing a shot. Funded by the billions and billions of dollars siphoned off the American economy after the Massacre. An audacious plan, using America’s strength against it.

General Chen Yi knew that a fighting war was unthinkable. America had a million and a half active military personnel, eight thousand tanks, fourteen thousand military aircraft, twenty aircraft carriers and seventy submarines, backed by a military budget of six hundred billion dollars.

A huge, powerful dragon standing guard over the hoard of treasure that was the United States of America.

An enormous fortress, sky high and incredibly wide, almost invincible.

And the back door was wide open.

They were ready.

The leader, who blended right in with the other slackers in the coffee shops of the Mission, was actually a lieutenant in the PLA and hand-picked by Chen Li to lead the mission. In San Francisco he was known as Jason Lee, his private joke, as a huge fan of vintage Bruce Lee films. He passed as a third generation Chinese-American, fully blended in.

In truth he was Zhang Wei, handpicked by Chen Yi when he was twelve and a computer prodigy.

Zhang Wei was very aware of what he was doing and of the upheaval to come, orchestrated by him and his team. The plan was excellent. And necessary.

He sat in his chair and opened up the satellite link for the first time.

Mission
-
ready
, he keyed in, sending his message to General Chen Yi in person.

Excellent.
Everything
on
schedule
, the reply came immediately.

Chapter Six

Summer was frozen, incapable of moving, even of breathing.

Someone had booby trapped her home. If not for Jack, she’d be dead by now, or dying.
Area 8
had done a special series on bioweapons and she knew enough about sarin to know that she’d have had a horrific death.

Sarin turned the body against itself. Within seconds there was an acetylcholine buildup that made the system go haywire. Sarin gas had no smell and no taste. Summer would have no idea what was happening.

Within seconds, her body would start to go crazy, nose running, eyes leaking tears, suddenly vomiting, bowels and bladder loosening. She’d be on the floor, panicking because her body was out of control. She wouldn’t have the energy to call 911. Not that 911 could arrive in time.

She’d be dead by the time they came pounding at her door. Dead in a pool of tears, feces and urine.

Summer had seen photographs from a secret file of people who’d died of sarin poisoning and the world tuned out as she saw those photographs in her mind’s eye. Superimposed her face on those contorted bodies who’d died wracked with pain.

“Summer!”

Someone shook her, hard.

She jolted, came back to herself. Jack had her by the shoulders and was shaking her.

“Summer, snap out of it!” He bent, put his face next to hers until all she saw was him. He was frowning, concerned. “You okay?”

She looked at him, chilled to the bone. Her mouth opened to say she was okay but she wasn’t. Not in this universe or any other could she be okay knowing someone had tried to poison her with sarin.

“We’re getting out of here.” Jack’s words barely penetrated. He disappeared and Summer felt even more chilled. Having that big body next to hers had given her some heat but now she felt frozen, bereft.

Dimly, as if from a great distance, she heard him rummaging around, with no idea what he could be doing. She couldn’t move, couldn’t even turn her head to follow what he was doing, she was nailed to the floor, trying to contain the wild trembling, trying to focus through the spots dancing before her eyes.

Something heavy and warm fell on her shoulders and her hands reached reflexively to hold it around her. The trembling eased.

Jack was back, some of that amazing warmth was back. He lifted her chin so she was forced to look him in the face. His eyes were narrowed, skin tight over the cheekbones. He had a big black hat on. A Fedora. “You’re in shock, sweetheart, and you have every right to be. But we can’t stay here, we’ve got to go. I have the flash drives and Hector’s computer. You can’t go back to your apartment so you’re coming with me.”

Nothing penetrated except the words—
coming with me
.

God, yes. After flashing on a horrific death, writhing on the floor alone, unable even to call for help—staying close by Jack sounded like a burst of heat in the Arctic. Because underneath the horrific image of her body on the ground in death throes was something else. Not an image, a truth.

She was alone.

If she’d been blasted by sarin gas, she’d have called 911 if she could. But who else would she call for help? She didn’t have any close friends she could call and there sure wasn’t a lover. A man who cared for her, who wanted her safe and happy.

Area 8
was mainly staffed by freelancers. Her editors—she knew them at work, had little idea of their private lives. And they were journalists—word nerds. No one you’d call for help in an emergency.

She’d have died alone, without anyone even in her head to say goodbye to.

Summer shuddered.

“You can have a breakdown later,” Jack said. He lifted her arms and put them in the heavy overcoat he’d dropped around her shoulders. Just like dressing a child. A big soft scarf replaced the one she had on. Jack wrapped it around her lower face and covered her neck and jawline. Finally, Jack placed a big brown hat on her head. Felt, with a brim. It was a little large and settled low on her head.

She focused on him, focused on his eyes as if they were waltzing and she had to look at him not to get dizzy. Then she was able to focus on more than those sky blue eyes and saw that he’d changed, too, with another heavy dark blue overcoat, a big scarf and the Fedora.

“I raided Hector’s closet. We weren’t seen coming in, but there are no guarantees. If someone did catch us, we’ll look different going out.”

Summer nodded. The warmth of the overcoat and Jack’s big body so close to hers were chasing away the bone-deep chill she felt. But her throat was too tight to talk.

“Sweetheart, we really have to go.”

She nodded again, a jerky movement. She had no control over herself at all.

Jack bent and gave her a quick kiss, heat and light blossoming on her mouth. As if he were prince Charming—which he certainly wasn’t—it brought her back to life.

“Okay,” she whispered.

“Good girl.”

They walked swiftly out, Jack’s arm around her back. She could feel the heat of his arm through the overcoat, her coat and shirt. He bent, murmured in her ear. “Keep your head down. The brim will cover your face.”

She watched her feet. He didn’t even need to say it. She was feeling so shell-shocked she’d have had to watch her feet anyway. Her whole body felt as if someone had cut some strings—she had to focus to put one foot in front of another, not stumble, not walk into a wall.

Luckily, Jack was right there. He had the backpack slung over one shoulder and had his other arm around her. She wasn’t going to stumble and she wasn’t going to walk into a wall. Not while he was holding her so tightly.

In some dim corner of her mind Summer realized that Jack had shortened his stride for her—they were matching steps exactly—and yet they were moving fast. Through the fog in her head, she observed as they walked down the stairwell and out the side door. In the stairwell, her footfalls were the only sound. Though he was much bigger and heavier than she was, Jack managed to make not a sound going down.

Then they were out in the open air of the night and Summer gasped, taking in a huge breath of night air. She finally felt like she could
breathe
.

A big hand clasped her neck warmly and forced her head down.

“Big breaths,” Jack ordered and she obeyed. One big breath, two.

“Better?”

“Yes,” she gasped. “Better.”

“Okay then.” He took her arm, looking around carefully. “Let’s get going. You can break down at my place.”

Break down. Oh, God. Yes. She’d nearly had a breakdown in Hector’s secret apartment. It had felt exactly like the bottom dropping out of her world, like going into shock, like extreme trauma.

“I’m so sorry,” Summer whispered miserably. “Sorry to wimp out on you like that.”

Jack stopped examining their surroundings and turned to her with a deep scowl. “Jesus, Summer. You just found out someone wanted to kill you with
sarin
. Do you know what sarin does to people?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I do.”

“So I think you’re justified in freaking out just a little, don’t you?”

She nodded numbly.

“And you can freak out later all you want, but right now we have to go.” Jack’s eyes seemed to glow in the dark. “Okay?”

She nodded again.

“Good girl.” Jack gave a half smile and bent to give her another one of those heart-stopping kisses that seemed to heat her up from the inside. “Let’s go.”

In moments they were out on the street, Jack, eyes darting left and right under the brim of the Fedora. They passed her car and kept on walking fast down the street.

“Hey, Jack.” Summer slowed down. “That was my car back there.”

The street was full of Mercedes, Lexuses and BMWs. Hers was the only Prius. How could he have missed it?

Jack didn’t answer immediately. He just gave a grunt of satisfaction next to a big luxury car Summer didn’t recognize, bent and pulled something out of his backpack. A few seconds later, he had the front and back plates in his hand and as she gaped, he switched plates between a monster black SUV and the luxury sedan. He walked quickly back to her Prius and took two plates out of his backpack, and switched those with her Prius’s plates.

“They’ll be on the lookout for your car, but for the moment they’ll be scanning traffic cams for your license plate number. They won’t have the tag numbers I just put on your car.” He pointed to the black SUV. “I’ll take that vehicle. Follow me in your car and when I pull over, pull over behind me. We’ll leave your car far away from here and proceed with the SUV.”

“How can you get in the car? You don’t have the key!” Summer objected. Jack just looked at her. “Oh. Okay.”

If he could break into her super secure apartment surely he could break into a vehicle.

By the time Summer got her Prius started, Jack had already broken into the huge SUV and stopped ahead of her. She pulled out and followed him. They headed south, crossed the 11th Street Bridge. Jack stopped at a suburban used car lot. Summer pulled in behind him and parked.

Half the street lights were broken. It was a bad part of town, barely clinging to a low end kind of respectability, but she knew that four blocks farther south, it became no man’s land.

He got out before she did and was at the driver’s side door in an instant. “Don’t lock the door,” he said as she was getting out.

“What?” Summer waved her hand at the grim surroundings. “It’ll be boosted before dawn if I don’t lock it.”

“Exactly.” Jack met her eyes. “I’m really sorry sweetheart but you’re going to have to sacrifice your cute little car. If we leave it here unlocked, inside of twenty-four hours it will be in a chop shop or taken out for a joyride and left in a field somewhere. The best way to get rid of a car. They’ll never find it.”

“Oh.” Instinctively, Summer reached out a hand and put it on the fender, caressed the metal. She sighed. “I just paid her off.”

Jack hooked an arm around her neck, pulled her to him and kissed her forehead. “Sorry.”

Not sorry enough to change the plan, though.

Her car. She loved it. It had never broken down or abandoned her, not once. It had served her faithfully like a knight of old and she was going to abandon it to a fate worse than death. Maybe cut up for parts or left to rot and rust in some abandoned field.

“Summer.” Jack cocked his head at the SUV.
Time to go.

“Yeah, yeah.” She gave the fender a last farewell pat and followed Jack to the SUV, having now lost her home and her car. Her last attachment to her old life was the broad-shouldered man in front of her, bending to open the passenger door of a stolen vehicle for her.

* * *

Jack was about as sure as he could be that no one could know he and Summer were in this SUV. They could track it as much as they wanted. It was anonymous and had someone else’s plates on it and no one could possibly know they were inside. The windows were tinted very dark. He’d chosen it for that reason.

Behind his safe house was a covered alleyway. He’d park there, safe from overhead drones or even satellite surveillance. The safe house had no security cams around it. He’d made sure of that.

But there was another reason he wasn’t taking evasive maneuvers. He wanted to get to the safe house as fast as was humanly possible. He drove at the exact speed limit. Getting pulled over would be hard to explain away so he didn’t give any police officer any opportunity to do so.

He knew the route so well he was on automatic pilot. He checked all the mirrors constantly, was aware of the cars behind him at all times and knew he could pick out a tail immediately, but he did this without thinking too much.

All his attention was focused on Summer. She was way too silent and way too pale for his liking. She had the uncoordinated movements of someone who’d had a bad shock. She’d stumbled when getting out of Hector’s little hideaway, something someone as naturally graceful as Summer wouldn’t do.

Even in the uneven light of the street lamps he could see her skin was pale as ice, almost cadaver pale. Even her lips were white and he knew for a fact that even without makeup her lips were a full, rich rose color. She looked drawn, as if she hadn’t eaten or drunk in days, as if something had sucked vital things out of her, leaving a husk.

Well, something
had
sucked vital things out of her. Her home had been invaded. That was a very basic trauma, almost as bad as being physically attacked. He hadn’t told her and he wouldn’t tell her for as long as he could get away with it—but her home was basically gone. That lovely flat, decorated with style and pretty personal touches, full of watercolors and fresh plants and tons of books and CDs—gone. The Chemical, Biological, Radiological and Nuclear Sciences Department of the FBI would go over it molecule by molecule but no one would guarantee that every single possible booby trap had been eliminated and Jack wouldn’t let her go back in if there was the faintest possibility of contamination. Every single soft surface of the apartment—curtains, sofas, all clothes, all tablecloths and sheets, the bed mattress—would be encased in plastic and removed to an FBI laboratory and she would never get them back again.

And anyway, Nick and the Director wouldn’t let her go back in until the investigation was completed. Which might be next month, next year. Might be never.

And her car—that was over, too.

Jack reached over and squeezed her hands. She was clasping them in her lap. They were cold, dry. He held them until he felt them start to heat up. There wasn’t much Jack could give her right now. He didn’t even have a home to take her to. But she was welcome to as much of him as she’d take.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly. He spoke quietly, as if she’d been in a bad accident.

She didn’t respond. Her pretty profile was still and pale.

Jack drove on in the dark, windy night. The straight route home took them through some trafficked avenues and he kept close watch on the cars around him, but nothing pinged on his radar.

About twenty minutes from the safe house, Summer finally spoke.

“I’m really sorry I freaked on you back there.”

“You’re allowed, when you discover that your home has been seeded with a deadly bioweapon.”