Tempting trouble, p.35
Tempting Trouble, page 35
“It’s the only way left to get her mind to respond,” Jed continued. “Grace has been conditioned by me to block out any kind of antidote without her mind acknowledging it. If we don’t probe her mind, she remains shut down.”
Anger was powerless. Anger magnified a problem. Lance kept hold of the destructive tide threatening to take over. He needed every tracker instinct to help him think of another way. He remembered Grace’s desperate plea before she decided to do it her own way, how she was against having her mind probed by a stranger, especially by a Command-sent medic. He’d accepted the fact she had secrets, ones so important she would rather die than betray them, and Lance knew he would protect her from this invasion. But are you willing to let her go?
“I’m not going to let you or any of Command’s damned mind piranhas hurt her, McNeil,” he ground out, frustration gnawing his insides.
“We’re on the same side, Mercy. I’m trying to save her too.”
“Do you know what a mind piranha would do to her?” Lance demanded, his face a grim mask. “Everything she’d ever held dear to her would be exposed. I can’t let that happen to Grace.”
“Why?” Jed had to know. “She’s just one of your passing friendships, isn’t she?”
“She’s mine,” Lance’s reply was fierce and swift, “and if you think I’m just going to let Command use her like a guinea pig, you’ve got another thought coming.”
Jed steepled his hand on the table, feeling the steam rising from the coffee cup under his tented hands. He needed more out of this man, much more. “Yours?” he cocked his head in mockery. “She’s mine first.”
That was the truth, although not necessarily in the way the other man was obviously deciphering. He calmly anticipated the answering angry jerk of the man across the room. Yes, definitely a good response.
Lance wanted to pounce on the older man and beat him up like he did Charlie. His hand tightened around the glass he was holding. “She’s just your student,” he said testily, his eyes flashing warnings.
“Are you sure that’s all she is?” Jed pressed on, not the least perturbed by the crackle in the air.
Lance slammed down the glass. He had about enough of this man’s closeness to Grace. Lifting his hands in a gesture to stop, Lance bit out, “I don’t care. She’s in danger of slipping into a brain-damaged coma, and I don’t have to sit here defining what she is to you, McNeil. Just know she’s no longer playing that role for you. I intend to be around her for a long time.”
Jed continued studying him quietly. There was more than physical attraction here. Softly, he said, “It would be tough for her to relinquish her role, seeing she’s my daughter.”
A bomb could have blown up outside and Lance wouldn’t—couldn’t—have moved from his spot. How was that possible? The Ice Man’s daughter. As his mind made quick calculations, he slowly lifted his drink to his lips, swallowing the alcohol with a deliberation he didn’t feel. He could see the resemblance now—the way they cocked their heads; the way they walked; for God’s sake, didn’t the way she stood under the tree that first time he saw her snag at his memory? It was the exact pose in which he caught the Ice Man when he tracked him down years ago. Like father, like daughter. He took another big swallow from the glass.
“Jesus,” he swore, equally soft. “That’s the secret she’s afraid to expose.”
Jed nodded. “Yes. You know the history of the Virus Program since you were sent out to look for me. Because of the threat to assassinate anyone connected to the Viruses, all nine of us took precautions. Unfortunately, they managed to hit four of us, killing two and their families, so I trained Grace to make sure she stood a chance, just in case they canceled me.”
“That year you disappeared, when you left a message with Command you wouldn’t return until you were found, you were training her.” He’d wondered what the hell Jed was up to in Florida. “Was she with you when I caught up?”
Jed nodded again. “You didn’t see her because I’d ordered her to stay far away enough to watch but not to interfere with the tracker and me. As fate would have it, if there is such a thing, you were the one assigned the mission to track me. You’ve met before, you see. And now, here we are.”
“Grace knows you—why can’t you go in there and deprogram her mind to respond to the antidote? She trusts you,” Lance said, puzzled.
Jed’s lips twisted. “Unfortunately, we’ve struck a devil’s bargain, my daughter and I. We’d programmed ourselves not to listen to each other’s voice in the event we choose to shut down.”
“In case you’re used by the enemy to trap the other,” Lance guessed. He gazed at Jed quizzically. This was the strangest father-daughter relationship he’d ever come across, but then, nothing in his world was easily defined. “But Grace would technically respond to somebody she trusts, right?”
“Yes.”
“I could go in with the antidote and try.”
“She can’t just respond to a voice, Mercy,” Jed said dryly. “She’s in a self-hypnotized state. Only a mind probe would get to her, hence the reason I told Kershaw to bring—”
“Fuck those mind piranhas,” Lance cut in. “They’ll devour her, especially if she fights them, and you know she will, with this secret. Jesus, McNeil, you should know what she’s going to do. You’d do the same too.”
There was resignation in Jed’s response. “I know.”
Silence as each man wrestled with decisions. Lance’s head slowly lifted.
“I think I stand a chance.”
Jed cocked his head. “You’re not going to tell me you know how to mind probe,” he said. His eyes narrowed as he watched a slow flush creep into Mercy’s coloring. The younger man was actually looking uncomfortable.
“Not quite,” Lance muttered, then reached for the glass and tossed down the rest of the whiskey. He scratched his chin in disgust. There wasn’t any delicate way to put this. “I…er…have been trying to imprint Grace.”
“I…see.” The silver eyes were expressionless, never leaving Lance’s face. The temperature in the room took a dip.
“She…has been…responding subliminally,” Lance said, with reluctance. The Ice Man was going to cancel him for sure now. Imprinting his daughter. Jesus. He got up to pour himself another drink.
“Grace can’t be imprinted with any of your tracker tricks,” Jed coldly informed him. “She’s been trained by me. Unless, she was willing?”
“Not…exactly.” Lance felt foolish, but went on anyway, “I figured she had training as a Virus, so I tried another way.”
“And what did you do to my daughter?” Jed asked, wondering whether he ought to be amused or angry, to pat the man on the back, or to cancel him. Mercy was a lot more devious than the ordinary tracker, and he supposed, perfectly suited for an equally devious evasion expert. Slowly, he drank from his coffee cup, his eyes still on Lance. He couldn’t gauge any fear in the other man. A touch of embarrassment, perhaps, but no backing down. He liked that.
Lance shrugged in response. What did he expect him to say? That because he thought Jed was a lover, he’d decided to bind Grace through sex by using the Eastern method of controlling sexual energy? As if the Ice Man hadn’t done that in his missions. But Jesus. This was his daughter, not a lover. He didn’t just step in shit, he was sinking in it. In the gravest of situations, he almost laughed aloud.
“McNeil, she responded a little. I think she’ll listen to my voice.” He looked directly at his lover’s father. “I would never hurt Grace. She means a lot to me.”
Jed’s gaze turned thoughtful. There wasn’t really much time to waste on a moral discussion. Here was a way and they would take it. “When Kershaw arrives with the mind piranha, we’ll get the antidote and instructions from him. You’ll then administer it.”
Action. Lance breathed out in relief. Finally, something at which he was good. Grace’s life was in his hands now. “You won’t let anyone through till I’m finished,” he asked rhetorically. He needed all his focus on saving Grace.
Jed’s brow lifted. “I don’t think I’d want any one to see what you’re doing to my daughter.”
Lance had the grace to flush.
***
The mind probe was a woman and she wasn’t looking pleased. Lance instinctively didn’t trust her. Psychological warfare was part of covert subversion training, of course, and he was no stranger to all the different forms of mind control every agency practiced.
Lance and others like him were action-oriented commandos; whether they attacked as trackers or evaded as Viruses, they were in the midst of a real combat. Mind piranhas, on the other hand, feasted after the work had been done. He abhorred parasites and this one definitely wanted a victim today.
Command sent Laetitia Binoche. He knew her by reputation. Thin and fragile looking, her head seemed too big for her small body, her shoulders tiny and rounded under the shock of badly cut blond hair. She was pale as a vampire, even her lips appeared bloodless. Her eyes were dark as night and as impenetrable. However, she was a tall woman, almost as tall as he was, and she moved quickly for one with such long weak-looking limbs. Her voice was the only animated thing about her. “You wasted my time coming here for a potential asset to tell me I’m no longer needed? Has the subject awakened without an antidote?”
“She’s still out.”
“Then what’s the problem?” She drew to her full height, her eyes narrowing. “You look like you’ve been through a rough night. Either that, or your file photos have been touched up.”
Lance returned her mocking study, for the first time considering her as a female instead of a mind piranha. “I’m sure my files have plenty of bad photos,” he said. “Why were you looking at them?”
The pale mouth curved. “I always study all my victims.”
The lady was definitely in the mood for mind games. Sorry, but time was short. “I’ll let you go back to your hobby then,” Lance politely told her, giving Dan Kershaw, who was standing behind her, a meaningful look. “All I need is the antidote and the instructions to use it.”
Her laughter rang out in short staccato notes. Lance noted her voice was louder than normal. “Do you think live to service every whim of COS commandos, at the beck and call of your unit? I work by contract and you’re costing me a bundle right now.”
“How much?” Lance asked, crossing his arms, looking bored.
Laetitia’s eyebrow lifted in mockery. “The asset must be important. Let me see her. She might be of use.”
“You’re not to go near her,” Lance ordered, very aware of being emotionally tested. “I’ll pay you for the antidote.”
“My time and my expertise are expensive. My knowledge and the prescriptions I could give you are worth a lot more than your easy cash, my dear Mr. Mercy. If you want it, you’ll have to barter for it.”
“You’re still contracted with COS Command,” Jed said quietly from the other side of the room. “I can get someone else here if you’ll hand over the antidote.”
Laetitia nailed him with her dark stare. Dislike made her voice even harsher. It was obvious she and Jed knew each other. “I’m an independent, and my contract, Agent McNeil, stated a total evaluation of a new asset under the unusual influence of three drugs, one of which is the new one I helped developed. Command is very interested in what I can learn. Do you think I would just squander this opportunity to dissect this asset for mere cash?” She turned and looked at Lance again. “Well? Believe me, you don’t have time to wait for one of his friends.”
“What’s your price?” Lance blandly asked, nonchalantly pouring himself a drink.
“You’re a fascinating study, Mr. Mercy. I’ve generated a great interest in certain tracker abilities.” She eyed his masculine frame from top to toe. “The price to assuage Command and to give you one dosage of antidote is one session between you and me.”
Silence.
“Don’t agree to it,” Jed instructed, his own demeanor a frozen mask. “Let her do her job on Grace.”
Lance slowly shook his head. He couldn’t risk Grace’s life. “One session,” he agreed softly, still not moving from where he was, his eyes holding Laetitia’s. “When and how long?”
“Let’s keep an element of surprise in this,” she said, smiling unpleasantly. “Anticipation brings a certain excitement to life, doesn’t it?”
“Your mind games won’t work with me, Laetitia.”
“This is a new test on which I’ve been working, and I’m quite sure you’ll enjoy it. It involves massaging the eight holes of the sacrum—” She laughed at the first reaction from Lance, as a scowl marred that handsome face. “Ah, I see I finally caught your attention. I’ll call you when the time comes, sometime within a year. We’ll make a doctor-patient appointment. For my records, you understand. Uncle Sam is so fastidious about recordkeeping, you know. One session, lasting less than a day. That’s my price.”
Lance walked the short distance between them, stopping when they were almost touching, so close he could see the telltale contact lens rings on her irises. “Agreed,” he told her, very quietly, “but with the antidote, I want your diagnoses, advice and instructions for the patient. If the antidote fails, the deal is off.”
“Ah, finding loopholes—a man after my own heart,” Laetitia mocked back. “Agreed.” She looked around at the other two men. “Nice to have witnesses. I’d have taken Jed instead but I don’t think he’d have said yes.”
Lance gave a short laugh, startling her. “Why would he indeed?” Little did she know. I would like to start work, if you don’t mind.”
Half an hour later, he sat beside Grace, watching closely as Laetitia hooked her up to monitor her heart rate and prepared an IV for use, her movements deft and precise. Norcuron, she explained, didn’t mix well with the first drug she’d ingested, which was a synthetic mix with a serotonin base.
“Her system is on overload,” warned Laetitia, as she attached the bag of fluid “She may hallucinate or become cataleptic, depending on which drug was the stronger dosage. I have no way of finding that out, so that part is the blind factor here.”
“English, please,” Lance interrupted the instructions, rubbing the back of his neck.
“Serotonin is found in drugs like Prozac, but the compound she was given is synthetic based. You do know how serotonin has an unusual effect on clams, right?”
Lance frowned. “Yes. Clams multiply like crazy when fish farmers feed them serotonin.”
Laetitia’s smile widened, her small shoulders shaking with what Lance could only construe as twisted delight. “In her case, being human, she may, like some Prozac patients, experience spontaneous—how shall we say it—sexual satisfaction. Her state of arousal will depend on how responsive she is to you. Damn it, Big Cat, won’t you let me experiment with her a little? This could be big for new subversive tactics.” She caught Lance’s penetrating stare, and then shrugged. “Oh well, I suppose I could simulate this on another asset.”
“What is cataleptic?” Lance pressed on, wanting the woman out of his sight as soon as possible. She disgusted him. For her, a human life was an asset with which to play.
“That’s what Norcuron does to a person—neuromuscular paralysis with functioning faculties. Our Charlie knew what effect he wanted from his girl here. Total paralysis of her body while her mind is left conscious and functioning. Interesting mind game he prepared for her, I must say. Fear is natural when one is unable to move, and she looks pretty young, so add that to the idea of being undressed and touched—like I said, he was looking to break her down bit by bit. I like his style.”
He couldn’t bear the idea of Grace helpless, being mauled by that scum, Charlie. He wished now he’d done what he wanted, beaten the man till he was dead. Every time he thought of how close Grace was to being raped—feeling Laetitia Binoche’s dark tinted eyes gauging his reaction, he forced himself to stay under control. The bitch wanted to pry into his mind and he wasn’t going to give her the satisfaction of knowing how Grace’s condition affected him. “So, finish telling me what else I have to do.”
“Besides emptying her mind, you mean?” She didn’t bother to hide her smug amusement at being the one in control of the game.
“Laetitia, if you don’t want to see through the bargain we made—” Lance left the sentence hanging, deliberately walking toward the bedroom door, opening it with exaggerated politeness.
She laughed again. “An impatient tracker. I love it.” She sauntered over and turned face-to-face with Lance. “No way would I let you slip away, Mercy. If you could get her attention,” she jerked her chin back toward the bed where the sleeping Grace lay, “and somehow make her believe you’re to be trusted, then release the IV drip valve. You need to let it in slow and easy because of those two drugs still lingering in her system. Remember, she’s either going to hallucinate or be cataleptic, or alternately both, and you have to make sure she doesn’t panic and retreat even further. Even I won’t be able to help her then. Self-induced coma is tantamount to suicide. Clear?”
Lance inclined his head slightly, already dismissing the woman. He looked out of his bedroom and met Jed’s silver eyes. Grace’s father looked calm, standing like a statue by the sliding door to the balcony. The older man nodded at him, giving silent permission for him to proceed as planned. Laetitia stepped outside and he closed the door, locking it. He turned back toward his bed.
Grace. For the first time in a long, long time, Lance Mercy said a prayer.
***
The sky was even a more brilliant blue than she remembered. She, the lioness, queen of all she surveyed, lay on her back, lulled by the heat into a paralyzed stupor. She couldn’t move from the spot. For the first time ever, she wasn’t comfortable in her hiding place. Where was he, her lord and master? She hadn’t detected his familiar roar and she was tired of waiting. She couldn’t stretch, couldn’t explore, and it was too bright to sleep. At first, she was confident he would come and everything would stop looking so strange, and she wouldn’t feel so lonely. Nothing. It seemed like forever. Why couldn’t she move? She was suddenly afraid.
