NightShade Forensic FBI Files, page 29
It was sinking in now, what Donovan and Eleri had failed to recognize before: the Lobomau were not just a few random gangs in a handful of cities. They were an extensive and tiered organization—more like MS-13 or al Qaeda than the Del Surs that ran a portion of Los Angeles.
He’d made a massive mistake in coming in here. He wasn't sure now if the bigger threat was Miranda Industries or the Lobomau. As he again swept his head side to side, trying to capture images, a worker came over and squatted down in front of him. Green eyes examined the man in the cage, even as Donovan caught the scent of wolf. The man's eyes narrowed. He opened his jaw, pulled his lips back and bared his teeth.
Working hard at keeping a neutral expression, Donovan sat quietly, slowly moving his head side to side, as if he were bored. He continued doing so, barely acknowledging the man in front of him.
“What do you know?” The man pushed the words forward like a threat, as though Donovan might change right here in this crate and answer him in plain English. That wasn't going to happen.
Donovan merely blinked at him.
“We can make you talk.”
But nothing about his smell said he was any kind of real threat. There was no whiff of anger, no waft of rage. Not even the kinds of pheromones one gave off if they were in the middle of a mental break. If someone was going to torture him, it wouldn't be this guy.
So Donovan did nothing. No nod, no change, and certainly no growl in response.
“Have it your way.” Irritated with Donovan’s lack of cowering, he stood up and smacked the top of the cage hard enough to rattle it.
He was so tightly wedged in that Donovan felt the hit in every bone, but he didn't react. If anyone asked, he would say he learned that skill at Quantico. But the fact was, he’d learned it years before. His father was always explosive and, at a very young age, Donovan had learned that no reaction was the best reaction.
He could keep a straight face through just about anything. But fifteen minutes later, the effort of that became exponentially more difficult.
First, he noticed the low murmured voices increasing slowly. The speech became peppered with more demands than before, more shouts. Donovan next realized the activity level around him had ramped up a notch. At last he caught the words, “He's here.”
Donovan didn’t know who exactly was here, but he was willing to guess it was the boss. And that was monumentally bad timing because, though he couldn’t see him, Donovan could scent Agent Noah Kimball.
The other agent had snuck inside the compound.
63
Eleri fought against the push of the current. It rushed at her, swirling her around, pulling her in several directions at once. Flipping and turning her, it caused her to lose even her basic orientation to up and down—a deadly prospect for SCUBA divers.
Clearly, this was not an ocean current, but one made by the man following them. His actions showed that he didn't intend for any of her crew to get out alive.
Hannah and Jason—when Eleri managed to catch sight of them—were also getting tugged and turned. Her shoulder bumped something that turned out to be Jason at one point, the two of them out of control as the water tossed them like rag dolls.
As the man moved the water, he operated everything from a safe distance, pushing them together and swirling them through the red of the chum. The chum, too, moved in a controlled dance, coming back in closer each time it started to get too far away.
In the distance, she could see the sharks approaching. Her vision was the only sense she really had now, and her brain was only gathering snatches of information as the water turned and flipped her. Her sense of touch was limited to what she bumped into, and her hearing was masked by the heavy sounds of her own breathing through her respirator. She realized then that she would likely run out of air before the man could kill her.
Then again, maybe not. But she couldn't even get herself oriented, let alone calm her breathing or reach to her side to check her gauges.
A hand clamped her arm where Jason had gotten himself together enough to hold on to her. She was grateful that he anchored them together, removing one of her million concerns. Her emotions were swirling as much as the water as the sharks, flicking their tails, moved in quickly.
Closer and closer they moved, until she watched a mouth open near her, the rows of sharp teeth snatching up a huge chunk of what must have once been a tuna.
Jason held on to her, but maybe it was a mistake. They were facing each other, rather than away, and Eleri jabbed her gloved finger in the water, pointing over his shoulder at the quickly approaching shark. Circling her wrist quickly, she broke his hold on her arm and turned him just in time to see it.
He barely had the speed to move his hand. Humans didn't have the dexterity in the water that sharks did. The sharks were at home—sleek and fast. The humans were sluggish and—right now—disoriented. They weren't going to last long at this rate, but it wouldn’t stop them from fighting.
Again, she breathed in and slowly counted to five, hoping to spot Hannah. But though she found her third diver, Hannah was only a blur; she was too far away to be seen clearly through the swirls of chum and the moving water.
Grabbing Jason's hand, Eleri began the hard task of swimming toward Hannah. Luckily, Hannah spotted them and managed to aim for their direction, but a swift attack came from the right. A shark targeted on Hannah and began swimming swiftly toward her as Eleri watched.
With her free hand, Eleri reached out, palm toward Hannah, and willed the shark away. But it kept coming. She wanted to recite her prayer to Aida Weddo, but the mouthpiece prevented it. Now that she had a focus—her friend, her assignment for this case—Eleri aimed everything she had at keeping Hannah safe. Though she couldn’t say the words out loud, she let the spell chant heavily through her brain.
It didn’t work.
She felt nothing as she watched the large shark continue directly toward Hannah, who only turned her head at the last minute. Luckily, the woman was a smart and competent diver. It seemed she saw the threat just in time to arch herself up. But it wasn’t far enough, and the shark still hit her flank with the front of its nose, knocking her off path and sending her spinning again.
In the distance, Eleri saw the man, still there, still working. His hands moved just before Hannah spun harder. It wasn’t the shark that hit her, it was him! Eleri thought.
Fuck. There was no way Hannah would be able to get oriented again, not if he kept rolling her. Judging by the shadows in the distance of her peripheral vision, there were more sharks coming. These were not friendly nurse sharks, not spotted with leopard prints, not sporting long whiskers to let them feel the bottom.
No, these were great whites and bulls. And Eleri was petrified.
She was fighting through every breath to maintain her composure. They might be underwater, and these two might be the divers, but she was the FBI agent. She was supposed to be in charge. She was supposed to save their lives. She was also the one in the NightShade division. She was the one who was supposed to be able to fight an attack like this. . . and she was failing miserably.
Three. She sucked in a breath as she counted herself down one more time.
Two. She blew it out.
One. She sucked oxygen in through her regulator. Her hand reached out to grab Hannah’s, only to have the other diver bumped away at the last moment before they could touch.
Reluctant to let go of Jason, even though he was twisting and the force was trying to break their grip as the water swirled around them, she held on. Chum swirled around her, obscuring her vision and making her heart race. Something bumped hard at her tank—too hard—knocking her into Jason. Eleri wasn't sure if it was the man or a shark. She didn't look. She wasn't bitten, and she had to count that as a win.
Kicking as hard as she could and trusting the fins to propel her, she again fought to reach Hannah. Her free hand stretched forward, and she recited her prayer in her head again.
She was stretching out—Aida Weddo protect us—only to catch a flash of movement on her right as a shark jerked around and came for her extended arm.
Sleek and deadly, its mouth opened and, at the last minute, Eleri yanked her hand back. She did it with just enough time to reverse and throw a punch at the shark.
It was her only defense. She should have spells, but they weren’t working. She didn’t even know how much good punching the shark did. The only good she could count was that, right now, her hand remained intact.
Hannah had oriented herself and Eleri felt her chest expand in relief. Thank God the other woman was a strong swimmer and a talented diver, because Eleri was clearly not able to close the distance herself. Maybe it wasn't smart to be in a cluster, but it seemed that they were in more danger apart.
Hannah reached out, but even though no sharks were near her at the moment, she again was bumped away. Eleri tried again to cast on her friend, to make the water bring her closer, or at least stop the currents the man created. In the distance, Eleri saw him operating the whole machinery.
Just as she was once again about to grasp Hannah’s fingers, her other arm yanked as Jason was pulled away from her.
Turning, terrified, and sucking in even more of her oxygen, she watched as a large shark latched onto Jason’s tank and tugged him away. Refusing to let go, Eleri grabbed his arm with both hands tight and kicked in the other direction.
Quickly, she saw this was futile. The shark would win. She could not outswim a monster and she could not overpower it.
There was no way for her to fight the shark from where she held onto a clearly terrified Jason. The bite was on the tank on his back, and the shark had a hold behind him. Unless Jason was double jointed in both his hips and his shoulders, he couldn't reach backward to fight.
Hand over hand, Eleri walked herself down his arm until she was close enough. Unfortunately, the fins made any kick to the shark’s body pointless. Kicking with her toe lost all measure of force because of the fins. Kicking with her heel was just as bad—the fin was designed to slow motion in that direction to give her forward propulsion. She had to use her hands.
Quickly checking through her options, she considered sticking her thumb in the shark’s eye and instead opted for another punch. Bringing her fist down hard on its nose, she made the creature let go of the tank. Punching it again, she landed the blow this time not on its nose or eye but into the gills as it quickly turned away. It felt like a bad dream of fighting with no force, but this was real.
In a quick check, she turned Jason, looked for punctures in his tank and found that, though it had been dented, no bubbles were leaking. She yanked him one way and aimed a clenched fist at the new shark that was bulleting toward them only to find another was coming from the other side.
And that was when she lost it.
She was trained to stay calm, but nothing she was trying to do worked. None of the spells she was trying to cast had had any effect. Whoever this man was, he had powers underwater that she could not duplicate or even fight.
Her emotions exploded, running wild. Her calm—or what little she’d managed to hold on to it—fled entirely.
Around her respirator, even though it broke all the rules of diving, her mouth opened as she let out a primal scream. Bubbles swarmed from her lungs as the mouthpiece that carried her oxygen floated away. But as she watched, the shockwave spread out around her, hitting the sharks and making them turn.
They flinched as though the sound hurt.
And—without any oxygen to breathe in—Eleri screamed again, letting out the very last of what was in her lungs. She watched as a second shockwave radiated out around her. It hit Jason, but she held on to him, maintaining her grip despite the wave that wanted to carry him away.
The force hit Hannah, but since it also hit the sharks, it stopped the imminent attack. Hannah took a moment to reorient herself for probably the thousandth time and began swimming against the massive outward current toward Eleri and Jason.
Though one of Eleri’s hands hung onto the other diver, her free hand reached out. Luckily, this training was natural. She swung her arm in a wide circle, trapping the hose and dragging it with her until the respirator at the bottom was pulled through to her hand. She struggled to stick it back into her mouth before her body fought to take in a breath to replace all that she had lost.
She sucked down oxygen, the sound filling her head with a roar as air passed through the hose.
She had done something.
Fuck staying calm. That had done her no good.
Taking Jason's hand and turning it over in her own, she shoved him toward Hannah, pointing for them to swim off into the distance. Then she turned on the man.
Now, she could see him. The water had cleared with her scream, and he hung almost motionless, turned toward her. He must be staring at her, for he was no longer aiming his hands their direction.
The currents were no longer an issue. The sharks were no longer coming. And as Eleri watched, the chum began to float away.
She could reclaim her regulator if it floated out of her mouth again, so she sucked in a breath, shoved her hands in front of her and screamed once more. The regulator flew from her mouth, pushed by the sound and the bubbles, but she didn’t care.
She just watched as the force hit the man and he tumbled over backward.
64
As GJ looked over the railing at the barnacles, the boat suddenly rocked hard, almost sending her sprawling.
The sound—a hard slap against the hull—told her a wave had hit. Something big.
Frowning, she turned at the same time Neriah did, and they ran the three steps to the other side of the small boat. Together they gripped the railing and watched as a series of ripples radiated out from a point on the water maybe fifty feet away. Each one rocked the boat again, though they were clearly aftershocks of the first.
“What was that?” GJ asked.
“Underwater explosion, maybe,” Neriah posited, her hands coming up as if to shrug but quickly reaching back to grasp the railing as the boat rocked back and forth.
Despite their words, neither looked away from the water.
GJ was still trying to figure out what had happened when she saw the start of a second explosion. A bubble of water formed in a central location, rising past the surface and breaking into an outward, racing ring.
Tapping Neriah’s arm, GJ yelled, “We have to start the boat. We have to go there.” She pointed even as she braced her feet and gripped her other hand tighter against the approaching wave.
“We're not going toward an explosion!” Neriah countered, still gripping the rail and planting her feet a little wider on the deck.
“Yes, we are.”
Perhaps it was the assassin. Then again, maybe it was Eleri! It was possible, and GJ could hope. Maybe it was merely some C-4 and a good blasting cap. But whatever it was, it was strange, and GJ had learned that when strange things happened, she had to investigate.
“Go!” she told Neriah, who still had not moved.
“I don't want to go into that.”
“We have to. What if our friends are down there?”
Neriah was still shaking her head. The rocking of the boat had lessened slightly and she held one hand up in front of her as though to ward off something bad.
GJ pushed again. “That could be Hannah and Jason and Eleri. We have to help them.”
Neriah shook her head and blinked, and GJ couldn't help the strange shiver that passed through her. There was something odd about that blink. But she shoved it aside.
There were more important things right now. “If that's our crew, we have to go.”
“If it's them, they're dead,” Neriah said, her final word a heavy-handed pronouncement that GJ had not expected.
“How do you know?”
Neriah shrugged again, shook her head back and forth, and tried to soften her tone. “No one could survive that underwater.”
“Sure they could,” GJ replied, not knowing whether her statement was accurate. She had absolutely no experience with underwater demolitions, explosions, or even earthquakes—nothing that would create the kind of wave they had just experienced. But she had experience in NightShade, even if only a little. She knew her divers might survive that shockwave.
She also suspected the wave was Eleri.
If it wasn't Eleri, it was likely the assassin. Either way, they couldn’t just sit and watch. “Now, Neriah! Start the boat and go.”
This time, Neriah planted her feet, put her hands on her hips, and shook her head in a defiant No. “They're already dead.”
The three short words sent chills down GJ’s spine. Neriah spoke it as though she knew it. “What are you saying?”
“I'm saying they can't survive that.” The diver waved her hand toward the spot where the force had originated.
“We still have to check,” GJ protested. But Neriah still shook her head. “Then give me the keys.”
Something in the woman’s resistance bothered GJ to her core and she pushed back with firmer statements. “I'm the FBI agent. I'm in charge here. We have to check on them.”
This time, Neriah smiled—a cold, evil grin. “They're dead.”
Blinking and trying to shake away the cognitive dissonance of the diver’s smile, GJ asked again, “What are you saying, Neriah?”
“He got them.”
That's what it was.
GJ stumbled backwards as another wave hit the side of the boat, smacking into it and rocking it violently. The realization of what she missed struck her then, too.
The video of Allison’s death left in Missy Maisel’s email had not been a warning.
It had been proof.
Missy was working with Miranda Industries. And so was Neriah.
GJ tried to be as cold as Neriah, changing her thoughts before she had time to process them. She had to get the keys. She had to get Neriah handcuffed and arrested. She had to get the boat to where Eleri, Jason, and Hannah were almost definitely underwater. Neriah’s words meant that the assassin was here, and she believed that the shockwave was them dying.
