“That’s five days from now,” Sabar said.
His eyes seemed larger today, as if they were dilated. They were a somber brown tone, but Ralph had seen them change to a golden-yellow that was both eerie and scary as hell. He wasn’t human, this man sitting across from him. Melanie hadn’t been, either.
And that fact, Ralph thought, was his new claim to fame.
“In five days you’ll meet him at the warehouse. You give him the money—one million cash—and he’ll give you the weapons.” Ralph outlined the deal once more for him. They’d been over this a couple of times, but this lunatic liked to hear it over and over again.
“The UK79865. That’s the weapon I want.”
Ralph nodded. “That’s the one.”
The UK79865 was a highly sensitive heat-tracking semi-automatic rifle. It came with a built-in silencer and scope with range of accuracy of more than one hundred feet. The bullets for this weapon were what set it apart from others used in the military—hollow-point lead-only bullets designed to expand immediately upon impact. This feature was prohibited by the military but used in some law enforcement weapons. Slakeman had created a special alloy-and-lead solution that would create the effect of an explosion once the bullet pierced its target.
Sitting across from him was some type of creature, a non-human. Ralph knew there had to be others—and given how adamant this one had been about the weapons he wanted and the number he was willing to buy, Ralph thought there had to be some kind of war either brewing or already beginning. A war that this one planned to win.
“What time?” Sabar asked him
“Midnight. I’ll give you the address.”
Ralph pushed a card across the crisp white linen tablecloth. “I know you’ve got your little setup going down at Athena’s. Heard money has been pouring in pretty good for you. But this is the real deal.” He leaned his hefty elbows on the table. “This guy doesn’t fuck around so I’d suggest you keep your end of the bargain or this transaction will go to shit faster than you can blink those funny-looking eyes of yours.”
He knew the moment the words were out they were a mistake.
“Don’t threaten me,” Sabar said slowly, using his large dark-skinned hands to pull back the locks of his hair, so that they now fell down his back.
He looked feral, this one. Like at any moment he would jump over the table and rip Ralph’s throat out. That was a genuine fear, because Ralph sensed that even being in a public place didn’t mean much to this guy. They’d robbed that bank a month ago not giving a damn who saw their faces and their claws. Ralph had confiscated all the tapes—paid a pretty penny for them, too. They were sitting now in a safe at his house, his insurance policy for when these animals decided they wanted to change the rules.
“I’ll be there and I’ll have the money. You make sure this guy has my shit or both of you are gonna wish you never met me.”
Ralph was kind of wishing that right now.
Tonight was like a flashback of old times. X hadn’t realized how much he’d missed being with Nick and Rome like this until just now.
At Rome’s old place they had a room that had been specially designed for them. There was comfortable leather furniture big enough to accommodate all of their six-plus-foot heights, a pool table, plasma television with an entertainment system that would rival any department store, and a full-service bar. At Havenway, Baxter, Rome’s longtime butler and confidant, had seen to it that they had a comparable space.
It was almost midnight when they’d finally finished the conference call with the other Faction Leaders. Neither Nick nor Rome had been ready to return to their females after that enlightening conversation. And if truth be told, X wasn’t really in the mood for the solitude of his own place. In fact, he was dreading going back there alone, dreading lying in his bed and facing the dreams he knew would come. The nightmare that continued to haunt him.
This room was actually bigger than the one they’d had back at Rome’s. It was on the first level of the compound, with gleaming hardwood floors, because cats had a tendency to rip through carpet in the heat of their shift. Instead of the glass patio doors that had opened out to the running space Rome had constructed at his mansion, there was a control panel hidden beneath the regular light switch that opened two heavy steel doors at the far side of the room. Those doors opened right into the dense foliage of Great Falls National Park. Of course it wasn’t the Gungi, but it was open space where the cats could get out and stretch their bodies without too much fear of being noticed. It seemed the chance that the shadows might be revealed to their human counterparts was ever growing.
“It sounds like they’ve got some pretty in-depth notes on this mystery species they’re researching,” Rome said as he sat at one end of the wheat-toned leather sofa.
Nick was in a recliner, leaning all the way back with his hands folded behind his head. He stared up at the ceiling as he nodded. “A government lab looking into an unidentified species—sounds awfully familiar,” he said.
“They have to have some concrete evidence to launch this type of investigation,” X told them from the spot where he stood looking out one of the small windows. It was dark outside, and to anyone but a shifter nothing could be seen. But in his night vision he saw the sway of trees in a pre-fall breeze. Every now and then he’d see the eyes of an owl staring out into the darkness to see if there was anybody or anything staring back.
“You think they have a shifter in their custody?” Rome asked.
X didn’t immediately answer, as if to do so would somehow validate his thoughts.
“It would not be the first time this government has possessed another being and held it for investigation,” Baxter said, coming to stand in front of Rome with a tray holding three filled glasses.
Rome took his glass and stared quizzically at his friend. “What are you saying, Baxter?”
The tall thin man, with his weather-beaten brown skin and watery rimmed eyes, walked with quiet footsteps over to the chair where Nick sat offering him a glass. Well, not necessarily offering. With Baxter you took what he was giving you or dealt with his silent reprimand. Most times all he had to do was give a knowing look and his will was obeyed. There was a quiet authority about the guy, a sort of allegiance they paid to him even though none of them really knew why.
Baxter knew everything there was to know about the shadows, and some stuff they didn’t even know. He’d been with the Reynolds family for longer than any of them could remember. He was also on speaking terms with the Assembly, which meant that he was accepted by them in some way. But he wasn’t a Topètenia. That fact had always perplexed X.
“I am saying, Mr. Roman—” He spoke as he came up behind X, stood, and waited. “—that they must have some proof in order to investigate. What you should be trying to figure out is where that proof originated.”
X turned to take the drink even though he didn’t really want it. Baxter’s impending scolding was even less welcome, X thought as he took an absent sip.
“Bas said he was planning an operation where he’d send in a team to check things out more thoroughly,” he said.
“And that is a good idea. Mr. Sebastian has a good head for planning operations. He will no doubt come out with knowledge. The remaining question is, what will you do with the knowledge he obtains?” Baxter left the question hanging in the air as he moved back to the bar to place the tray he’d handled there.