“I swear the man gloated while he turned his pit bull on me.” Gleason shook his head as he paced the confines of his office and paused at his desk to stab his finger at the intercom. “Moore, isn’t there anything you can do to turn up the air circulation? This place stinks of Amundson.”
Landon looked up mildly. “I think he wears that scent to mark his place.” He smiled. “Not much more than an animal. A crafty one, but not much more.”
He kept himself calm, hoping his demeanor would help Gleason settle. The last thing they all needed was for Gleason to go off half-cocked. The trouble was, Landon still hadn’t even had the chance to change into more suitable attire. The best he’d been able to achieve was to replace the Gore-tex with a white lab coat over his bathrobe and pajamas. He didn’t like the way his ankles looked so naked.
“You should hold on to the fact we got Vallon out of here and on task as we’d planned. I know it was a shock to her, and that she’s dangerously close to afterburn overload, but she was hungry for the task. You should have seen her face.”
That brought Gleason around, interest replacing some of the worry about Fitzsimmons’ machinations.
“So you think she’ll investigate?”
“Wouldn’t you? Her father’s file is in that box.” Landon studied his fingernails, and then looked up. “In case you hadn’t noticed, all her problems go back to her dad. The man never spent time with the kid. She was always trying to make him notice her. Unfortunately, the behavior just continued to today.”
“So I’ve finally noticed her.”
Landon nodded. “And in the right way—by assigning her a special task that shows you trust her. If this works out, she’ll be on track. A top agent in the fold and loyal to you for trusting her.”
Gleason’s stony gaze met Landon’s. “You were the one who gave her the assignment. The loyalty will be to you.”
“Give her some credit. She knows the orders came from you.”
Gleason turned away. “I just hope you’re right.” He shook his head. “Damn it. Can’t they do something about this air?”
Landon inhaled the scent and set his own irritation aside. “He’ll have read the reports about the Gifted and our sensitivity to scent. He’d know just how much this would bother you. Think of that.”
At that, Gleason seemed to force himself under control. He went to his desk, sat down, and looked at his research chief. “You really should get changed. Or get some sleep. I can manage from here.”
Landon stayed where he was. “We should talk about contingencies. I figure Vallon’s got 16 hours—fifteen and a half now — until she’s due at your office, before Fitzsimmons sends in the hounds. What do we do if they pick her up before she finishes her investigation?”
Gleason sighed, and suddenly the big man looked diminished and tired. “How about pray. Knowing Vallon she won’t go easily. It’ll play right into their story about rogue Agents.”
“I’m not buying that it’ll happen, but I agree we need to prepare for the worst. I’ll get the files ready and you should get Moore to prep the computers for purging both the mainframe and the backup. If they are going to take over, then let them start from scratch.” He allowed a thin smile to form on his lips. “Who knows, they might even need us.”
An increased hum in the ceiling, and papers stirred on Gleason’s office. The man relaxed. “You are one bloodless, S.O.B., Landon. It’s what I love about you.”
Landon shrugged and allowed himself a momentary resentment that Gleason understood him so little. There were things that were necessary in life, and understanding the Gift was like food to his body. Understanding how the Gift manifested differently in himself—and just what that meant—most of all.
“Not bloodless. I just have confidence in Vallon Drake. She’s brilliant, tenacious, and talented.” He paused, but he had to get this over with. “While we’re on the topic of issues, there is one more thing. Vallon asked me about Gild the Lily.”
That straightened Gleason in his chair. “She said it when she was in the pit, but I told myself I’d misheard. There’s no way in hell she should know about that old project. It’s been locked in my personal folders for years.”
“Well she got it from somewhere, and she’s asking questions.”
Gleason fell back in his chair. “Jeezus. Just what we need—that old specter being resurrected.”
“It was a reasonable idea at the time, but thank god cooler heads prevailed.”
“Like you and me.” Gleason smiled.
“Yes. And we’ll be cool now, as well. Besides, it can’t harm us—we never acted on it.”
“We can be cool, but can Vallon Drake? That’s what concerns me, Landon. Normally I think your plan could work, but with H.S. thrown into the mix, I’m not as sure. And if she’s asking us about Gild the Lily, she’s going to ask other people. Maybe start people prying.” Gleason drummed his fingers on the desk, hit the intercom again. “Moore, start emergency dumping procedure Alpha Eight.”
A pause, and then, “Yes. Sir.”
The intercom went silent and the two of them sat in silence, Landon trying to determine the next steps to take.
“Cat’s out of the bag, now,” Landon said. “The agents aren’t stupid. They’ll know something big is up.”
A knock at the door, and Moore stuck her head inside. “Chief? Something’s happening. An attack on Vallon Drake.”
“What?” Both men were on their feet and out the door.
It couldn’t be true. Landon’s stomach clenched. Vallon was the most Gifted they had. There was no way she’d be caught like the other agents. She couldn’t be.
But the war room’s scent of burned out machinery was overrun by the scent of fear.
Across the map pit a crowd had formed around one desk; Chavez’s, Landon realized. She and the others had been put on duty monitoring smaller areas of the city from their computer consoles.
Now the smaller woman sat hunched over the screen, her hands gripping the edge of her desk and sweat forming on her brow.
“Get back to your posts,” Gleason growled, pushing a path through the other officers, Landon in his wake. Then they were crowded around her desk, peering at the screen.
Fremont street pattern. Landon tried to –reach- with his meager Gift, but got nothing but a vague sense of movement and change, an aftertaste of ozone in the back of his mouth that left him weak in the knees and hating his limitations.
“Holy Christ,” Gleason muttered and leaned down over Chavez, who was moaning as she peered into the screen.
Gleason’s power flared as he leaned over Chavez. He had a powerful gift, to show so much power after all he’d been through this evening. Then suddenly Chavez went limp in her chair. Gleason staggered.
“My God.” Gleason turned dilated eyes on Landon, stark fear radiating off him. “She’s gone.”
Landon shook his head. “No. That can’t be. She’s too powerful.” He rolled Chavez away from her desk and bent down, touched the computer, but the lights flickered in the room. Someone yelled, and the earth shuddered and lurched. Lurched again and he fell against the computer. The lights went out and the screen died.
Darkness filled the room, and the sound of panicked breathing.
“Someone get the emergency power online,” Gleason growled. “Everyone stay calm.”
Someone nearby was trying unsuccessfully to stifle quiet sobbing as they waited. And waited. Chavez, Landon realized. Seeing what she’d seen was a shock.
He moved towards the sound, found her in the darkness, and caught her hand. “It’s going to be all right. Vallon is okay, you’ll see.”
She shuddered as the room had, and he felt her shake her head. “You did not feel it.” Her accent came thickly. “I try to help her, try to block the change, but it was like I was not even there.”
She was crying openly as the lights flickered and returned. Gleason stabbed the computer ‘on’ button and the machine hummed to life.
“It’ll be all rig
ht. You’re safe here.”
She looked up at him with terrified eyes and shook her head. “No. I’m not.”
“Mother of God. More change is building.”
Gleason’s strained comment turned Landon back to the computer. Fremont again, though the grid lines on the screen told him nothing more.
“None of us are,” Chavez whispered.
Landon looked at her and she must have seen his question.
“Safe.”