Veil of Justice, Shadows of Justice Book 3 (10 page)

"What’ve you got against your real name?"

"Same thing most kids with stupid names have.
How long have you known?"

There was obviously more to the story. "Not
long," he answered honestly. "I’m not even sure how I know."

"That must be Mira too." She sighed. "About
your car – I’m sorry. I never intended you to see her so filthy.
After Kristoff went after Petra –"

"What? How?"

"There was a case she consulted on that led
to some revelations about his work. He didn't take that well."

Nathan knew, long before the rest of the
world, that Kristoff had been selling drugs disguised as
supplements to the Army. What they gained in the field society paid
for when the addicts tried to return to civilian life. "But what
could Petra do?"

"It's a longish story. I did what I could.
Then I had to leave to protect myself and your sister. Your car was
my best escape. And I’m sorry for the modifications, but they were
necessary."

He was trying to process the rest of it when
the last bit sank in. "Mods?" his voice cracked. He cleared his
throat and tried again. "What modifications?"

"Mainly the back seat. I needed some covert
storage. You might find it useful in the future."

She was so cavalier he wanted to throttle
her. "Right. Anything else?"

"Not really. Your original plates are in the
trunk, but I wouldn’t use them anytime soon. That’s why I brought
three other options."

Nathan looked at the info and navigation
unit, a deviation from the original design, but required if you
wanted to actually use the car on public streets. "There must be a
faulty connection. The chronograph’s whacked out."

She’d caught up to the container truck and
settled in behind it before looking at the readout. "Nope. It’s
right."

Nathan blanched at the implication. "How long
was I out?"

"A little better than two days. Most of it
with a nasty fever. That’s why I didn’t waste any time when your
sensors started screeching."

"Thank you," he whispered, realizing for the
first time just how close they’d cut it. "Two days with a smart
virus and a fever should’ve killed me by now."

"Guess they don’t want you dead. Which should
worry you more."

She was right. And it did. He told himself he
would’ve come to that conclusion sooner if he’d been thinking
clearly, but the car was closing in on him again. He started to
wonder if his claustrophobia was related to the car, to her, or the
situation. What he felt in her presence and in her mind, aside from
the physical, currently defied explanation.

"Where are we?" he asked in an effort to
discover something useful. "Two days on the road is more than
enough time to get to Chicago."

"On the programmed expressways, I’d agree. On
the run, skirting civilization, a road trip takes a little
longer."

She stopped speaking, but he sensed there was
more to it.

"And?"

"And we’re not going to Chicago." She cleared
her throat. "I made an executive decision while you were burning
up. I’m pleased to announce we’re almost there."

The sun highlighted the ribbon of old highway
stretched out before them. "Why south?"

"You needed medical attention. You still
might."

"I feel great."

"Uh-huh."

The look she sent him took him back to his
internal debate about her effect on him. Did he really felt great
or did she just give him the illusion of feeling better? Did it
matter? "I feel as strong now as I did before I went in."

She thought the ‘
uh-huh
’ that time and
an additional word:
Mira
.

"Who or what is Mira?"

"She’s a nurse from the prison infirmary.
She’s the only sensible explanation – about you feeling all better
that is. When she healed me, she must’ve left behind enough energy
for me to send into you when you flat lined."

"You’re saying when you gave me
mouth-to-mouth, your breath had healing properties."

She shrugged. "It’s the only logical answer
since I’m not a healer."

He wasn’t sure he bought it. "Logic. Okay.
I’ve met some good nurses in my time, but come on."

Her fingers twitched on the steering wheel.
"My info’s sketchy, but I’ve heard some healers leave a residual
behind."

"With what sort of half life?"

She shot him an impatient look. "Apparently
at least a couple of days."

He couldn’t blame her for getting snippy. As
much as he tried to curtail his questions, his curiosity and a
healthy measure of skepticism kept his mouth going. "So Mira was
your inside connection."

She frowned, her vivid brows furrowed in
consternation. "No she wasn’t. I didn't have one."

"Then how’d you break in?"

She didn’t seem to hear him, her
concentration on the road as they merged with more traffic. He took
a mental peek and heard a flurry of thought. Refusing to intrude
further, for now, Nathan retreated to give her space and a little
peace. He’d prefer that she share the whole story willingly.
Soon.

* * *

Kristoff struggled to think through the
violent pounding of blood in his skull. He’d been seeing red,
literally, since waking to find Simon carting him toward a public
hospital. Apparently he'd driven the ambulance off the road,
rolling it into a ditch and Simon had been worried.

Worried! It grated.

Fortunately, he'd woken in time to talk sense
into his young assassin. With the ambulance associated with a
prison break, they’d stolen a car from the hospital employee lot in
order to get out of town. Unwilling to push his luck, Kristoff
avoided his previous shelters and ordered Simon to break into an
office building at the earliest opportunity. Though he hated
huddling in the maintenance basement like a common man, it had been
a prudent decision.

"Tell me again," he ordered.

Again, Simon related the same nonsense about
ghosts who shared his new concern for Kristoff. What had made the
boy capable of warmer emotions? This sort of lapse could undermine
everything. The last thing he needed was an insane assassin on the
payroll.

Kristoff rolled his chair closer to Simon’s
and braced his elbows on his knees until their noses nearly
touched.

"How did this ghost make you feel?"

Simon’s gaze fell. "Sad and scared."

"About things you’ve done?"

He shook his head and his clear, bright eyes
met Kristoff's. "No. About you."

Kristoff tried to digest this again. He'd
nurtured Simon's gift for murder for years. He’d trained him,
trusted him, catered to his every need no matter how dark or
violent and yet somehow, during this critical mission, Simon had
been compromised.

It seemed like yesterday they'd enjoyed the
success of Simon's first official execution. The task Kristoff had
designed to frame Nathan Burkhardt and bring that extraordinary
talent within his grasp. He'd spent years bonding Simon to him in a
way that shouldn’t be vulnerable to suggestion from an
outsider.

Unless…

Kristoff leaned back, keeping his expression
neutral. "Simon, what will you do if I die?"

They’d rehearsed the answer and outlined the
plan countless times. Simon's brief hesitation set Kristoff’s teeth
grinding.

"I use the casino hideout for two months.
After that, I can enjoy one kill a month. If I’m caught, I use my
Keris
on myself."

"That’s right." Kristoff beamed like a proud
father. "So why worry for me?"

"I don't want you to die. I would miss you,"
he confessed on a whisper.

"Who told you that nonsense?" Sheer willpower
kept him from screaming the words.

"My sister."

"Who?" Kristoff felt completely at sea.

"My sister, Petra."

Kristoff pushed to his feet, but there was no
escape, no outlet for the waves of anger pulsing through him. He
yanked up his sleeve and smacked another pain patch onto his
arm.

Petra! The woman continued to thwart him at
every turn.

Seeing the complete sincerity, the utter
belief in Simon’s eyes, Kristoff stifled the tirade burning his
tongue. He couldn’t argue against fact, but how had she known he’d
used Burkhardt genes to create Simon in his fertility lab? He could
only surmise that the common source had made it easier for Petra to
plant seeds of emotions that Simon would reach for.

"You let her use you," he pointed out.

Simon studied his shoes. "I let you use
me."

Kristoff felt something completely foreign
skate down his neck. Fear.

If Petra had managed to tap Simon’s humanity,
nothing was beyond her reach. And if Petra started reaching for the
truth, his plan could crumble. Nathan had been a vital pawn which
had been snatched from him by a virtual unknown. He was still
waiting on solid intel regarding the woman who’d liberated
Nathan.

Kristoff rubbed at the knots in his neck and
considered how to rein Simon back in. "You and I have an
understanding. You’ve always been free to go, as long as you don’t
speak about our association. This sister you claim used her gifts
to suppress you."

"Only for her survival," Simon insisted as if
that was somehow a credit.

Kristoff dismissed that with a wave. "Enough.
Are you with me or do we part ways here?"

"Always," Simon stated, "I’m with you."

"Then let’s move on." He had an impatient
client to satisfy. Not to mention his own curiosity.

"You forgive me?"

The ridiculous words irritated Kristoff.
"Yes. You’re like a son, Simon. I want you with me to the end."
Kristoff breathed easier when the younger man nodded. The familiar
glint of mad anticipation lit Simon's eyes, going a long way to
soothing Kristoff.

"What next?" Simon asked.

"Let’s see if we’ve any news." Kristoff
dragged a chair toward the bank of computers on the long wall of
the room they were hiding in. As his lieutenants checked in via
secure weblink, he’d learned his primary Chicago refuge was
compromised. One by one, he ordered his team to the casino on the
Ohio River while he waited for the news from the team he'd sent
overseas.

If only Petra hadn't eluded him, he might
already know how the mission progressed. Refusing to wallow in past
mistakes, Kristoff scanned news and government links for any word
on the search for Nathan.

Dubbed only as the Leavenworth Escapee,
Nathan had yet to turn up on any of the routes Kristoff expected.
He tried to use what he'd gleaned from his confrontation with Petra
to find some lead on Nathan, but he gave up quickly when a surge of
pain lanced his head. When he caught up with Nathan, he’d be sure
to ask how they dealt with the effects of extra-sensory mental
tasking. Grudgingly, he admired their strength, even though they
wielded it against him – for now.

"Dr. Leo?" Simon’s call wrenched him away
from his daydreams. "This message says the team is stateside."

"At last!" Taking Simon's seat, he keyed in
the message sequence guiding the group to the casino. When he
finished he turned to Simon. "Use the janitor’s code to file a
break in report and then find us new transportation."

"Yes, sir."

The tension alleviated, Kristoff felt
generous. "When we get to the casino, you can kill a local or
two."

Simon's content smile was reassuring. Soon
all would again be right with Kristoff’s world.

* * *

The whole story. Kelly sighed. It wasn't that
simple. Sharing the whole story would be a mistake worthy of severe
punishment, if her father were still alive to mete it out.

Of course, if she knew the whole story it
would help. In truth, she was just as baffled as Nathan. She hadn’t
decided how best to deal with the murderous thieves and she
suspected Nathan didn’t know how to recover or solve the mystery of
a group of missing prisoners.

She risked a sidelong glance. He’d rolled the
window down. Aside from his shabby appearance he looked content. A
bath, a haircut, and a couple weeks of decent food and he’d be back
to the man she’d met just a year ago.

As long as the virus didn’t strike again.
Setting the Mira theory aside, she’d feel better hearing him
declared fit after a real hands-on physical.

* * *

Nathan was dreaming again but he may as well
have been shouting. Kelly assumed it was the proximity that had
Nate’s thoughts coming so fast and clear in her own head. She
spared him another concerned glance. Sound asleep, he couldn't know
he was telegraphing so much. Since she had a particular and
personal aversion to telling him any secrets, she did her best to
ignore his visions of rats, fear, and absolute loss.

She checked the clock on the dash and
confirmed the time with a glance to the sky. Out here in the
wide-open plains, it was easy to see they were only about an hour
from dawn. She kept the car aimed toward her uncle's place but they
needed to find someplace closer to rest and hide soon. Though the
authorities hadn't resumed the chase, she didn't want to press her
luck by pushing on through the day.

Nathan said he'd be well in the daylight,
with fresh air and space. So far she wasn’t convinced he was making
any steady improvement. He'd had breakthroughs…she glanced at him,
thinking about that kiss…but she hoped the setbacks –

Hope vaporized as an invisible fist cinched
her throat, cutting off her air and pressing her to the driver's
window. She stretched to keep her hands on the wheel while she
eased her foot off the gas. If she could just get safely to the
shoulder.

"Nathan?" Her voice didn't work; her larynx
useless under the crushing pressure. She tried again, mentally this
time, "
Nathan
!"

He twitched.

Kelly fought panic as her vision hazed red
with black around the edges. The car rolled on, slower, but she
couldn't move her foot to the brake. Whatever had her pressed
harder, hard enough to break the seat.