When his father had died, the truth had been revealed, and he had been given a choice. Replace him. There really hadn’t been a choice, in fact. The option had been presented to him, the responsibilities explained, and there never really was any doubt he’d accept. Now he realized if he hadn’t, he’d probably have been killed immediately, since he would have known too much.

  But he hadn’t hesitated.

  He had grown up with wealth and power, thanks to his father. If these people were the source of all that, he wanted it. But with the shackles of modern morality and laws removed, he finally experienced real power. If you never worried about being arrested, never worried about being judged, you could fulfill all the desires the deepest recesses of the mind could conjure.

  He had committed every manner of pleasure and depravity to every manner of person on the planet. And they had enjoyed it if that was what he had demanded, or begged for mercy, if that was his desire of the moment. He had killed, he had tortured, he had raped. He had saved lives, rescued the innocent, and made tender love to women he truly felt for. He had done it all, living at the fringes, at the extremes, little demanded over the years beyond the occasional action, such as the current operation.

  Starting as Number Twelve all those years ago, with each advancement, he had learned more, though even now he wondered how much he actually knew.

  They were ancient.

  How ancient, he wasn’t sure if even Number One knew, yet he knew it was many generations. They had been involved in countless human conflicts, manipulating things in the background, relishing in wars that were significant enough to advance mankind technologically. Under his term, they had manipulated several Middle-Eastern conflicts, and even had their fingers in the current Korean, Syrian, and South China Seas hotspots.

  Though what they were doing today would overshadow anything that had come before. It would trigger the ultimate conflict, one that would eventually solve many of today’s problems, and force the advancement of mankind beyond its current stagnation. Competition fueled ingenuity.

  During the Cold War, the United States and Soviet Union had fought to outdo each other, whether in nuclear weapons or fighter jets, or rocketry and computers. The Space Race had spurred technological innovation that still resonated today, yet that spirit of competition was nearly dead.

  Instead, it had been replaced with cooperation and profiteering. Countries no longer dreamed big, and corporations instead focused on shareholder returns, rather than innovation.

  But recreate the Cold War, and the competition would return. Already, their efforts were paying off. Russia was the enemy again, modernizing their military and developing new weapons capabilities that were forcing everyone from the United States to the Chinese, Japanese, and Indians, to respond. It was an arms race that now had more than two participants, with inconsequential countries like North Korea and Pakistan now nuclear powers, the Japanese debating tossing aside decades of passivity, and the Chinese asserting control over the territorial waters of sovereign nations that had once been their allies.

  It was the perfect storm, nurtured by those like him, waiting for one final match to be tossed on the kindling of decades of subtle manipulation.

  A match he was responsible for.

  “Sir?”

  He shook his head, realizing he had been standing in the hallway, staring at the dessert he had brought with him. “Ice cold Diet Coke, glass of skim milk, and two Boston Cream donuts.”

  She smiled. “So your usual.”

  He grunted. “Yes.”

  She squeezed her chest together slightly. “Will you be following your dessert with…dessert?”

  He stared, a stirring below, then shook his head. “Maybe later.”

  She almost looked disappointed. She, he treated with tenderness. There was something about her that he liked beyond the sexual. He had never hit her, never treated her with anything beyond respect—or at least the level of respect one could have for someone you could order to pleasure you at the drop of a hat.

  He headed for his quarters, feeling reinvigorated, a spring returning to his step that had him checking his watch.

  Perhaps a little dessert?

  He smiled.

  Dessert while eating dessert.

  It was settled.

  He swiped his pass, the door to his quarters unlocking with a beep, and he stepped inside, still marveling at what unlimited funds could buy. The windows wrapped around two sides of the living area, yet the view they provided were actually projected images that he could select depending on the mood he was in. Whether that was a lodge in the Serengeti, or the view from a hundred-story penthouse, it was hyper-realistic.

  The current view, looking down upon the minions of New York City, was one of his favorites. Central Park to the right, skyscrapers dwarfed by his to the left. He sighed as he loosened his top button and stepped into the bathroom. Splashing water on his face, he stared into the mirror. He was showing his age. Just a hint. Most would look at him and guess he was in his early forties as opposed to late fifties, the hormone therapies available to the super-rich working wonders. Yet he still felt weary at times, more mentally than physically.

  Never more so than now.

  Thousands were dying, and millions would ultimately die before this was over. He might even die, though he doubted it. Not here, buried underground in the middle of nowhere. He and those lucky enough to be inside, would live through whatever horrors the world brought upon itself. And in the end, it would be people like him that would lead the brave new world, steering mankind back to the path of greatness it had let slip away over the past generation.

  He sat on the leather couch, the overstuffed cushions enveloping him like a tender embrace. He smiled, closing his eyes. There was a knock. “Come.”

  The door opened, and his dessert entered on a tray and in high heels. “Change of plans, darling.”

  She smiled. “I had a feeling.”

  I think she really likes me.

  He drew a deep breath as things were daintily removed.

  She’s paid to like you, and you’re an old fool if you think it’s anything more.

  Yet did it really matter? If she were putting on a show for his benefit, then so be it. It was the illusion he was paying for, and she was living a far better life than she would have been on the streets of Prague where he had found her. They both got something out of this relationship, though to call it consensual, would be pushing it.

  I wonder if she knows she can never leave alive.

  She dropped to her knees in front of him, spreading his legs apart. He leaned past her and grabbed the glass of milk and one of the donuts. “Darlin’, you’re too good to me.”

  She unzipped his fly. “It’s about to get even better, Mr. Croft.”

  He took a bite of his donut and leaned back, closing his eyes as he savored each chew. He groaned.

  The Assembly is eternal.

  41

  Unknown Location

  Sherrie White woke to find Fang’s breathing shallow once again. She rolled onto her knees, checking the woman’s pulse. Rapid and weak. “I’m going to give you another transfusion.”

  Fang shook her head. “No, you’ll end up killing yourself.”

  Sherrie ignored her, instead inserting the needle once again in her arm.

  “I said no.”

  Sherrie stared at her. “I feel fine. We both need to survive long enough for them to find us, and this is the only way.”

  “I’m dying. I’ll be dead long before anyone gets here.” Tears filled Fang’s eyes and she raised a hand, taking Sherrie’s and weakly squeezing it. “Tell Dylan…I love him, and I’m sorry.”

  Sherrie raised Fang’s hand to her lips and kissed it, squeezing her burning eyes tight as she fought the tears that demanded release. “You’re going to tell him that yourself.” She placed Fang’s hand back down. “And what the hell do you have to be sorry for?” She switched out the IV drip for the tube she had previously used for the transfusion.

  “For leaving him alone.”

  Sherrie paused, and she thought of Leroux. What would he do if she died? He had been alone until they met, and though he had grown over the past couple of years, she feared he would revert to his former self, turning inward once again, shutting out the world around him.

  Perhaps Sonya will make a move.

  Her stomach flipped at the thought, already jealous of the woman for what she might become to him.

  You’re being ridiculous. You’re not even dead yet, and you have him shacking up with his staff.

  “We’re both going to live, we’re both going to go home to our men, and we’re both going to kill that bitch that put us here.” She watched the precious fluid flow through the tube toward Fang’s arm. Fang reached to pull it loose, but Sherrie swatted the hand away. “Don’t make me put you out.”

  Fang smiled slightly. “Fine. Kill yourself.”

  “That’s the spirit.” She looked about. “You know, I’ve been thinking. I don’t think she’s watching us. If she were, she’d be providing us with supplies to save your life. She has to know that if we’re supposed to be some sort of security for her, then we have to be alive to be of any value.”

  Fang nodded. “Yeah, but she knew I was wounded.”

  Sherrie motioned toward the supplies they had been left. “Yes, which was why she left what she did. I can’t believe IV bags and XStat were in her original plan. But I don’t think she counted on the wound being as bad as it is.”

  “I told you, I’m dying.”

  “Piss off with that talk. You’re depressing me.” Sherrie grinned. “Now, like I was saying, there was no food left for us, so that means we aren’t meant to stay here long—probably no more than a few days.” She tapped her watch. “And we’ve been here about half a day. We just need to last long enough for whatever endgame she’s after to play out, and we’ll probably be set free.”

  Fang sighed. “You don’t have enough blood in you to keep me going that long.”

  Sherrie smiled. “Don’t you worry, we’ll be fine.” She looked away, not trusting she wouldn’t reveal her true fears. For Fang was right. She might be able to do this one more time, if that. Any more and she risked her own life. She was willing to do it, and she would, yet she feared whoever did find them might find two corpses. They had to get out of here—waiting wasn’t an option.

  She stared at the door then up at the ceiling. “When we’re done, I’m going to check out that ceiling.”

  Fang moved slightly and Sherrie looked at her. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, just getting sore from lying in one position for so long.”

  “You have to stay still.”

  “Tell that to my bum.”

  Sherrie chuckled. “Yeah, I hear ya. Mine’s getting a little sore too.” She pointed at the door. “How do you suppose that’s locked?”

  Fang closed her eyes. “Could just be a simple lock. Key, tumblers. Nothing special.”

  “Right. But this place was prepared. There’s the camera for one thing. The wires are hidden, so it wasn’t just slapped in here. And a door with no lock or any hint of hardware on one side, isn’t a standard order. This place was prepped long before yesterday.”

  “What are you getting at?”

  “Well, if this was prepped, I wonder if they’d use something as simple as a key. Keys can get lost, keys have to be duplicated if you want more than one person to have access. I’m thinking they might have gone a little more hi-tech.”

  Fang shrugged and winced. “Well, even if they did, it’s all on the other side of that door, so we can’t get at it.”

  Sherrie’s head slowly bobbed. “I wonder…” She let out a quick breath. “I wish Chris were here. He’s the tech guy. He’d probably already have us out of here.”

  “So would Dylan.”

  Sherrie patted Fang’s shoulder. “Well, they’re not here, and it’s a well-known fact that we’re not only beautiful, but intelligent. I think it’s time we puzzled our way out of this box, don’t you?”

  Fang smiled, already appearing a little better than a few minutes before. “Absolutely.”

  42

  Williams Residence

  Bronx, New York

  Shannon stared at the news channel, no longer registering what she was seeing. It was all just too much. The kids seemed enthralled, and though their mother had said they couldn’t watch it, the two times she had tried to change the channel had resulted in temper tantrums. It was just easier to let CNN babysit them.

  She occasionally caught herself watching it too, what was going on simply too cool to completely ignore. School was canceled, which was awesome, but this morning she had been railroaded into babysitting the neighbor’s kids, though she was getting paid double her normal rate, so that was good. She just couldn’t wait for Mrs. Williams to get home so she could go and meet up with her man before her own mother got home and enforced the stupid curfew.

  She stared at her phone and sighed. The Wi-Fi was down for some reason, and she had no internet access on her phone anymore. She had kept going over her bandwidth limit, and her mother had cut her off.

  Bitch.

  If she didn’t want her going over her cap, then she should pay for a better package.

  I can’t afford that!

  Then get a better job.

  Her mother was an idiot sometimes, and she was never there. Between the three jobs she was holding down, she almost never cooked a proper meal or cleaned the apartment. Now her mother wanted her to do all the things she never had time for. It wasn’t fair. She was fifteen. She wasn’t some slave.

  She couldn’t wait to leave, to escape this prison of rules her mother had created. She wished her father was still around, but he had been shot in a drive-by three years ago. Her mother had said he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time, though she knew better. Word on the street was he was a low-level dealer that had moved onto the wrong corner.

  But one day she’d get even.

  She knew who was responsible, and they’d get theirs once she got her own piece. Her boyfriend, Levar, had promised to get her one if she treated him right, and she was doing everything she could to make her man happy, though with no Internet access on her phone, sending him dirty pictures was nearly impossible unless she went to McDonald's and used their free Wi-Fi.

  But that took away the spontaneity of sexting.

  It sucked.

  Her mother would probably be happy. She kept warning her about sexting and sending nude pictures, though her mother was so out of touch with how things were today, Shannon didn’t pay attention to much if anything that came out of her mouth.

  Besides, Levar loved her.

  There was no way he’d share those pictures with his friends. She was his baby, and he had promised to take care of her forever. When he finally made his bones, he’d be given his own corner, make mad stacks of cash, and they’d be set. She’d move out of her prison and into his crib, living large with no rules, with her daddy avenged.

  “I’m thirsty.”

  She ignored the little whiner.

  “I said, I’m thirsty.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have drank all the water your mom left.”

  “But I was thirsty then, too!”

  “Nobody should be that thirsty. Now leave me alone.”

  “There’s more.”

  “More what?”

  “Water.”

  She glanced up from her phone. She was thirsty too, and her mother had said not to drink anything from the tap, something she thought was bullshit until she heard it repeated on the news over and over. “Where?”

  Terrence jumped to his feet. “I’ll show you.”

  “No!” cried his older brother Michael, but Terrence was too quick, his tiny legs already propelling him down the hallway toward the bedrooms.

  Shannon rolled off the couch and followed, the other kids trailing behind her, yelling at their brother to stop. Terrence opened the master bedroom door and rushed inside.

  Shannon hesitated.

  The one room always completely off limits when babysitting was the parents’ bedroom. Terrence emerged with a bottle of water.

  “See? I told you!”

  “Where’d you get that?”

  Terrence disappeared again, and Shannon stepped inside the forbidden room. He yanked open the closet and she gasped. Dozens upon dozens of bottles of water along with canned goods sat neatly stacked—enough to last them probably weeks. She stepped slowly toward the trove, still not believing her eyes. She reached out and ran the tips of her fingers along the supplies everyone so desperately needed.

  She had heard about the looting, of course, and heard about hoarding, but had never actually witnessed it. They had so much, yet she had heard Mrs. Williams explicitly tell her mother that they had almost nothing left.

  That lying bitch!

  A rage built inside her.

  Why should she and these runts have all this? Why do they deserve to eat while the rest of us starve?

  She pulled out her phone and texted her man.

  You’re not going to believe what I just found!

  43

  Assembly Detention Facility

  Washington, DC

  Joseph Medina shoved Dylan Kane’s parents into the room, the other couple, presumably Chris Leroux’s parents, jumping to their feet. He yanked the hoods off his two prisoners as Mark Leroux shouted at him.

  “What’s the meaning of this? Why have you—” Mark’s eyes narrowed and his jaw dropped as he finally took notice of the new arrivals. “Rick? Jenn? They took you, too?”

  Medina pointed toward the half-height wall at the back of the room. “Bathroom. Do your business in there, get water there, nothing else.” He pointed at a box in the corner. “Food.” He glanced up at the camera in the center of the room. “Don’t try anything stupid, we’ll be watching.”

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29