Avenger of Sins (SPECTR Series 3, #6)

Chapter 8

EIGHT

Ryan sucked down yet another cup of gas-station coffee, fighting his body’s desire for sleep. His head pounded relentlessly now, and his eyes ached. A nosebleed had started shortly after he convinced the delivery driver to hand over his car, hat, and deliveries, and still dripped intermittently.

The wheels hummed monotonously, while outside the windows the landscape went from foothills to mountains. He was heading up the great spine of the Appalachians. Old mountains, these were: older than bone and once high as the Himalayas.

No more, though. They’d been worn down, pared away, until only nubs remained. Just like his life, his friends, everything.

He was alone now. He’d gotten back his surviving friends, only to have them torn away a second time by SPECTR.

It hurt. God, it hurt. Being with Jonny and Selina again had felt right, in a way nothing else had since leaving the Center.

If only there had been some way to incapacitate the drakul. Without its interference, things would have gone differently. They would have had Director Kaniyar in their hands, and the three of them would still be together, as they should be.

Agent Pittman had a number of ideas on the subject. Apparently, Director Kaniyar had put a great deal of thought into how to stop the drakul, should it become necessary. Unfortunately, none of her ideas were applicable for a normal civilian, let alone one on the run. He couldn’t exactly lure it into a foundry and knock it into a vat of molten steel, let alone any of her plans that involved military grade weapons. Even the simplest method, a powerful spirit ward, was beyond his ability to create.

So Selina—Jo—was in custody. And John was still bound to SPECTR, unable to escape.

Ryan was alone again, as he’d been for so many years. But at least this time, he had some purpose outside of the petty punishments he’d dealt out to his parents and granddad.

He needed to focus on taking down Harlow. This would be the most difficult part of his plan, but he had to believe he could carry it out. Once Harlow was dead…

Best not to think about that. SPECTR wouldn’t stop coming for him, and he wasn’t going to end up in another lab.

He’d die first. The only question was how many of them he’d manage to take with him.

The SPECTR office nestled amidst Atlanta’s glittering skyscrapers. A sleek lobby let onto high-speed elevators which whisked them far above the rest of the city. Inside, it was much like any other office building, except for the exorcism rooms. No doubt there was some sort of freight-style elevator elsewhere for bringing fausts here for exorcism, probably locked away from the rest of the building with the only keys in the hands of agents.

Kaniyar awaited the four of them inside a bland, windowless conference room, along with another agent she didn’t bother to introduce. Was she auditioning various people to take over Pittman’s old job?

“I’m sorry about Agent Pittman,” he said to Kaniyar, as the unfamiliar agent handed him a cup of coffee.

Grief flickered in Kaniyar’s dark brown eyes, then was ruthlessly suppressed. “We’re going to catch his murderer,” she said, rather than acknowledge his condolences.

Caleb stretched out in his chair, long legs casually crossed. “Harlow’s the next target, right? Or at least, so we think?”

Kaniyar nodded. “As you know, he currently works for a private military contractor, and has refused SPECTR’s offer of assistance. There’s nothing we can do officially, except try to intercept Ryan before he arrives. We’re working on that, believe me, but in the meantime I want Gray and Night close to the Armaros compound, ready to jump Ryan if he makes it that far. Starkweather, you’re going with them.”

“I’ll go as well,” Zahira volunteered.

But Kaniyar shook her head. “Not this time, Noorzai. I want as few of my people in the line of fire as possible.”

“From Ryan, or from Armaros?” Caleb asked, folding his arms over his chest.

She met his gaze coolly. “Either one. The Armaros compound consists of a hundred fenced-in acres in the mountains of Virginia. There are guard posts all along the perimeter, plus cameras. Probably other technology meant to deter interlopers. They have connections at very high levels in the Department of Defense, so the chance of them taking a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ approach to intruders is larger than I’d like.”

“Oh, but it’s okay if John gets shot by some fucking mercenaries,” Caleb said, letting his arms fall and leaning forward.

Kaniyar raised a brow. “I would hope that Special Agent Starkweather isn’t stupid enough to put himself pointlessly in danger, especially when he’s accompanied by two beings who can’t be killed by weapons fire. But then again, given some of his past actions, perhaps he is.”

“Caleb,” John said sharply, when Caleb opened his mouth to either object or cuss out Kaniyar, or both. Kaniyar’s reminder of his past mistakes stung, but she’d only done it because she knew it would needle Caleb.

The important thing was he was being given the opportunity to get to Ryan first. To stop him before he killed or was killed in turn. Kaniyar could insult him all day for all he cared.

Caleb scowled, but let the matter drop. “What will Zahira be doing while we’re gone?” he asked instead.

“Whatever work I assign her.”

“It’s okay, Caleb, Gray,” Zahira said quickly. “I’ll be safer here than in Virginia.”

Caleb’s expression went momentarily blank; talking with Gray, no doubt. “All right,” he said at last. “It’s probably for the best, at least for now.”

“I don’t require your permission to give orders to my agents,” Kaniyar said, not bothering to disguise her annoyance. “Or to you, for that matter.”

That was bound to make Caleb mad; John prepared to intervene. But to his surprise, Caleb just shrugged.

Taking advantage of the quiet, John said, “Shall we get on the road, then? Or was there something else you needed, Director?”

“Nothing more. Get going, Starkweather.” She stepped to the side, then added, “Stop this lunatic from hurting anyone else. For Agent Pittman’s sake.”

“I see,” Reid Harlow said into the telephone. This call had come in on his special line, the one whose number he handed out only to a select few. It would probably be simpler to use what they called a burner phone these days, but such shenanigans felt beneath his dignity. Besides, he trusted the security on his end to be iron-clad. If the agent on the other end of the line slipped up, it would be their problem, not his. “Thank you. I’ll see another deposit is made right away.”

He put down the phone and turned to his computer. A few clicks, and the agreed-upon amount was winging its way through a long list of shell accounts, before it would ultimately come to rest in one dedicated to paying for all the expensive treatments the agent’s mother required to keep her alive.

Honestly, if the government didn’t want its agents compromised, it ought to pay them better. The private sector was far more lucrative.

So, Carrie Lydell was dead. Pity. The exorcist had been a true patriot. She did what needed to be done, no matter how distasteful. A shame SPECTR hadn’t been able to keep her alive, though it sounded as though she’d done them no favors. Security had never been something she needed to think about; it was something other people did for her.

But she was dead, and the telepath likely on his way to Armaros. So long as SPECTR didn’t interfere, he should arrive soon. He’d find it simple enough to penetrate the compound, never realizing he was being funneled inside, until it was too late to escape.

Unless the drakul got here first.

That was the most interesting tidbit the agent had for him earlier. Harlow had never made a study of the creatures, but he recalled Graham Forsyth’s obsession well enough. The Soviets summoned one during the heart of the Cold War; Graham had intended to do the same, as part of his demonic army.

It hadn’t turned out well for him, and Harlow had given the matter little thought, except to raise a toast to his old friend’s ambition. But now it seemed Kaniyar’s drakul was in play.

Why did she have it chasing down the telepath? Was it immune to mental manipulation?

“All that power will soon be ours for the taking.”

Harlow glanced at the two exorcists on the couch, but neither had moved, all of their concentration still focused on him. The errant thought belonged to him, then. And it was true, was it not? If the drakul was coming here, the funnel would serve to get it inside the tunnels as well. A few misdirections and obstacles to keep it from actually catching the telepath, and it would be firmly in his grasp. And if SPECTR came looking for it…well, this wasn’t an official operation, so there would be no paper trail. The spokeswoman for Armaros Corporate Solutions could simply spread her hands in bafflement and explain that neither the telepath they’d been warned about, nor any possessed persons, had shown up. Something must have happened to them along the way; had SPECTR tried retracing their steps?

Harlow leaned back in his chair with a smile. The drakul would be the perfect fit for Project Solomon, and Fifteen would be a valuable asset once he realized it was in his best interests to cooperate.

SPECTR might have wasted them both, but Armaros wouldn’t make the same mistake.

Dinner consisted of what they could grab at the Sheetz where they stopped to get gas: a hot dog for John, a bowl of fruit for Caleb. Despite the bitter cold, John said, “Let’s eat at one of the tables outside.”

It was an odd choice, but Caleb didn’t question it. They were on I-81, just north of the Virginia border. Another hour or so driving on the interstate, then they’d have to take winding side roads through the mountains to reach the Armaros compound.

What they’d find when they got there, he didn’t know, but he pictured it like the black ops base Forsyth had taken him to. Guards, drones, electric fences, and Christ knew what else.

It was a good thing he was hard to kill. Ryan was a lot more fragile; this could all end in finding his body out in the woods, shot to pieces by a drone.

Instead of going straight to the outside tables, John held up his phone silently, then went to the SUV and tossed it inside. Caleb did the same. Night lay on the back seat, dormant, and didn’t respond.

The wind whipped across the parking lot, and scattered flakes of snow spit from the darkening sky. John had to be fucking freezing in his light jacket from New Orleans. “Here,” Caleb said, taking off his heavy elk hide coat. The wind tried to bite him, but it felt refreshing rather than cold. He draped the coat around John’s shoulders and received a smile in return.

“Thanks, babe. I wish we’d had time to go back to the apartment in New Orleans and grab some of my heavier clothes.”

“We were in sort of a rush, if you recall.” Caleb sat down across from him at one of the outdoor tables and opened his fruit bowl. “So why did you want to eat out here in the freezing cold?”

“Because I don’t want Kaniyar listening in.” John took a bite from his hotdog.

“Fair enough. What do you want to talk about?”

John turned his attention to his food. “I’m coming with you to confront Ryan.”

“Like hell!” Had John lost his senses? “He already mind-controlled you once! You don’t want that again.”

“Of course not.” John lifted his chin. “I want to talk to him. Face to face. I think I can convince him to stand down.”

“He’s never going to surrender.”

“Not as things have been, no.” John met his gaze steadily. “When I talked to Jo, she said she was done letting other people make all the decisions for her. She’s going to act for herself, try to use her murder trial as a chance to blow the lid off what SPECTR did to us all those years ago. I want to help her, and I think Ryan will, too.”

There was a spark in his eyes that Caleb hadn’t seen since Ryan betrayed him. Maybe before that. John’s plan, such as it was, might not work. Ryan might try to take control again, or Kaniyar might intervene, or…

“It is his decision to make.” Gray cut through his inner ruminations. “We must help him, whatever he chooses.” A pause. “You told me as much yourself, back in New Orleans.”

Damn drakul, using his own words against him. “How can we help?”

“I’m not sure yet. We need to set this up so the truth will come out one way or another. Some of it will depend on what happens with Jo, but however her trial goes, I’m not going to let them cover up what happened again.” His eyes sharpened into blue diamonds. “We deserve better than that.”

Caleb nodded his agreement, even though it sent a chill of fear through him. He was all for defying SPECTR, but these were dangerous waters. If Kaniyar decided they were more trouble than they were worth…

A worry for another time. “Fuck yeah,” he said instead of voicing any of his concerns. “We’ll figure it out one way or another. It’s all going to come out once we’re done.”

“Thanks.” John reached across and took their hand. “For now, let’s get out of the cold and back on the road. We need to find Ryan before he gets himself killed.”

Ryan crouched on the ridge and peered through the gathering dusk at the Armaros Corporate Solutions Virginia Headquarters. The icy mountain wind caused him to shiver, and rhododendron branches snagged in his hair and clothes. At least he didn’t have to worry about ticks in the winter.

He did, however, need to worry about security cameras. He hadn’t spotted any yet, but what did that mean? It wasn’t as if his telepathic ability allowed him to override electronics, or control some distant viewer. It only worked up close and personal.

Nothing he could do but worry, so he put it out of his mind. Raising a cheap pair of binoculars to his eyes, he focused on the hollow below. A million years of rain had carved it out of the mountainside, growing wider as it spread away from the ridgeline. Trees blanketed most of its length, a single road just visible through the winter-bare branches.

Below him, at the narrow end of the hollow, clustered the Armaros Corporate Solutions compound. A high concrete wall surrounded what looked like office buildings, a garage, and some military-style vehicles. No large open spaces that might be used for training or firing ranges—that must go on elsewhere.

At the end of the hollow, set into the mountainside, was a massive pair of steel doors.

So, Harlow had himself an underground bunker of some kind. No wonder he’d waived SPECTR protection—even if someone managed to get past the walls and the guard shacks, those doors were designed to keep out an army.

Fortunately, he wasn’t an army. Unless the bunker was the size of NORAD, its occupants would need supplying from the outside.

Ryan carefully picked his way down the steep slope, ducking through groves of mountain laurel and rhododendron. This mountainside would be beautiful in the spring.

If only he could live long enough to see the flowers bloom again.

As he approached the road, the distant sound of an engine echoed off the trees. Taken aback by his own good luck, he almost waited too long; the truck with Corporate Dietary Solutions emblazoned on the side was nearly past when he stepped onto the tarmac, waving his arms.

The driver rolled down his window, squinting at Ryan in the growing dark. “Who are you? What’re you doing out here?”

He smiled, even though pain spiked through his brain as he reached out to the driver’s thoughts. “I need you to do me a favor…”