Bounty Hunter: Dig Two Graves Page 16

  Sara smiled and pushed herself to her feet. “You’re going to love it.”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  Roderick Sloan’s temper steamed as President Darville scolded him.

  “I don’t understand how two tanks and eight squads could be destroyed by what you call ‘riffraff,’ Roderick,” she said.

  He gritted his teeth. Darville was receiving information, and receiving it promptly. He didn’t like her knowing things he hadn’t yet told her, and he especially didn’t like knowing he had a mole on his farm. “They were better prepared than I realized. I’m already working on a new plan—”

  “And what’s that new plan?” she interrupted. “Throw more of my tanks at the problem? No, Roderick. The tanks were sent to the Midlands for a training exercise. You insisted that a show of force would be enough to quell any unrest. But from what I hear, you’re trying to start a war.”

  “Believe me, I want a war no more than you do, Madame President.”

  “Then why are you doing things that start wars?” Her voice rose in volume as her face reddened with anger. She took a deep inhalation before continuing. “Life is hard in the wastelands, and the people will blame anyone for their problems. You’re making the MRC a fine scapegoat, what with you having my army raze the countryside. I cannot allow that. You take care of this mess you made without giving the people something to riot about. I am recalling the remaining thirteen tanks at week’s end, and they’d better be in as good a shape as the last time I saw them. If you fail me, I’ll come out there myself and oversee the Midlands.”

  “Everything is under control. You have my word.”

  “Things don’t feel under control, so I need more than your word. That’s why I’ll be meeting individually with each and every administrator in the Midlands today.”

  She disconnected the call. Sloan picked up a brass paperweight and threw it across his office, cursing.

  He’d worked for over two years on his plan to milk the Midland zone’s administrators, and now all his hard work was unraveling by threads being pulled in his own town. He needed to call the administrators before Darville got to them. If any of them told her the truth—that there was no rebel uprising in the Midlands and that Sloan was extorting money from them—she would send every murc in the zone after him. He’d always known he’d have to flee the Midlands if his plan became known, and it seemed the likelihood of that had just increased, no thanks to the spy in his camp.

  His other tablet chimed, and he ignored it. But it continued to chime. He picked it up, intending to toss it across the room, but decided against it and answered the call.

  “Now’s not a good time,” Sloan said.

  “You should not have gone after the silo,” his faceless friend said.

  Sloan’s eye twitched. Did everyone have spies on his farm? “It’s an untapped silo, full of resources. Besides, my runaway servants are in there. They breached their contracts; I have every right to go in and get them.” He didn’t say why he’d really gone after the silo, i.e., for a secure hiding place of his own. His faceless acquaintance was a business partner, and certainly didn’t need to know everything Sloan had planned.

  “The silo is not yours. Leave it alone. Continue plundering the Midlands. That is your priority, nothing else.”

  Sloan leaned back. “What’s in this for you? What do you gain from all this?” After all, Sloan was the one getting rich by robbing the administrators, not his mysterious benefactor.

  “What I have to gain is of no concern to you. But if you go near that silo again, you’ll no longer be of any use to me.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Joe drove one of Val’s spare cutters since his piece of crap was still at Sloan’s farm. He went to the old building where he became Marco Polo, the same building that had become the hideout for the Swintons. He still found it hard to believe—even though he shouldn’t have been surprised—that Zenith still operated. Their leadership had been decimated on Black Night. Zenith had surrendered the next day, and all their soldiers had laid down their weapons and returned to their homes. Joe had assumed everyone connected with Zenith had done the same, but he should’ve known better. Zenith, like any group, had zealots, and fanatics didn’t just give up.

  The Ravens should have hunted down every last Zenith commander.

  If they had, Sara, Nick, and Romy wouldn’t be in danger right now…at least, not in danger from Zenith. Joe had accidentally seen to it that they were in plenty of danger from MRC. He pulled up outside the old stone building and climbed out. He was wearing his exoshield, but the Swintons had seen him in it far more often than out.

  “Sara,” he called out, trying not to spook them.

  When there was no answer, he knocked on the door. “Sara. Nick. Romy.”

  The silence bothered him. That Champ hadn’t barked or come out to greet him bothered him even more. He pushed the door and found the one-room building empty, devoid of any signs of life. There was stale water in a pail, but no other supplies. There were plenty of footprints, and he scanned them. The sizes were in line with an adult woman’s feet, two children’s feet—one slightly smaller than the other and with different tread marks, and paw prints.

  There were no signs of violence—no scuff marks and, thankfully, no blood. But the Swintons had been here, and now they weren’t. He spun. “Sara!” He darted outside, searching for them. He found more tracks outside, some leading down to a creek and back, while others led out to near where Joe’s cutter was parked. He analyzed the prints and put the pieces together. They’d left in a cutter. They hadn’t been forced into the vehicle, which meant they’d left of their own volition. He found a larger set of footprints, heavier—likely male—and the left side was always a scuff, not a clear footprint, demarking a limp. Grundy Campo had a limp from a bad knee. It looked like Grundy had driven them away.

  But what would make them leave when both Sloan and Zenith still posed a threat?

  He activated his armlet and tried to call Sara, but hers was still offline and she’d sent no messages. He then called Val, who answered after several seconds.

  “How’re the Swintons?” she asked.

  “They’re not here.”

  “What? Where are they?”

  “I think they left with Grundy. Is his cutter still at the silo?”

  “Let me check. I’ll call you back.” She disconnected, and he continued searching the grounds while he waited.

  When his armlet chimed, he accepted the call before it chimed a second time.

  “Grundy’s cutter’s missing,” Val said.

  “He gave them his cutter. Any idea why?”

  “No. He did mention that he thought they were too close to the silo to be safe. I can only think that he took matters into his own hands, that hardheaded coot.”

  And he didn’t get a chance to tell Val before he died, Joe thought. “Does his cutter have a tracker on it?”

  “No. I don’t track any of our own.”

  “They’re out there on their own. I need to go after them,” Joe said.

  “Grundy wouldn’t have sent them anywhere that wasn’t safe. He’s smart…he was smart, I mean. Wherever he sent them must be safer than here.”

  “I’ll decide that for myself when I find them.”

  “Joe, we need you here.”

  “They need me, too.”

  “Give me three days. We’ll take Sloan out of the picture, and they’ll be safe from him.”

  “And what about Zenith?”

  There was a pause. “I’ll take care of Zenith. As soon as Sloan is handled, I’ll deal with Zenith, I promise. I’m just asking you to help me finish what we’ve started, so everyone—including Sara and the kids—can be safe.”

  Joe scowled. His jaw ached from clenching his teeth, and he forced his jaw to loosen. “Three days. I’ll give you three days, Val, and then I’m going after Sara whether Sloan is dead or not.”

  Chapter Forty-Six

  Val followed Scorp
ion’s instructions as they appeared on her armlet. Every message was signed with an icon of a scorpion.

  Wait by the elevator on your floor.

  She tapped a question. For how long?

  Scorpion’s response came quickly. WAIT.

  Val waited for more than five minutes, and was beginning to wonder if Scorpion had hit a snag or the connection had been lost. She glanced up to see Kit ambling toward her. He waved, and she looked away. She didn’t want to blow him off, but this was something she needed to do without anyone looking over her shoulder. It was one thing for Kit and his friends to know Zenith existed; it was another for them to know how deep Zenith had its pincers dug into her.

  Take the elevator down to the floor with the room. Then wait.

  Blowing out a breath of relief, she tapped the elevator, and the door closed just before Kit reached her. The elevator was fast, but it felt slow today. She kept her armlet screen shielded from any cameras, knowing that Renzo saw—and likely heard—anything captured by a camera in the silo.

  The elevator door opened, and she took a step out, then stopped. Had Scorpion wanted her to wait on the elevator or step out on the walkway and wait? She knew Scorpion was doing things—likely to the security system—to disguise her movement through the silo, but not knowing exactly what the hacker was doing made her uncomfortable. She felt out of control, and she hated that.

  Fortunately, the next message came quickly.

  Go to the locked door.

  She strode as quickly as she could without breaking into a jog. When she reached the door, she stopped and looked expectantly at the panel.

  And waited. Again.

  She jumped when the panel flashed green, a series of locks clicked, the door slid open into the wall, and lights inside the room came on.

  You have three minutes.

  Val cautiously entered. When she saw what it was, her mouth dropped open. “Son of a bitch.”

  She stood inside a full-scale Zenith command center—a damned war room. Screens covered the main wall, and rows of workstations took up much of the floor. Why the silo had been built made perfect sense now. It was a military base. The upper floors were barracks with plenty of weapons storage, while the deepest, most secure part of the silo held a command center. Renzo and his counterparts could run a war from here.

  She’d been in a war room once before, during the Revolution. As a lieutenantcommander, she hadn’t had the clearance to be privy to what took place inside those walls. They were reserved for commanders and above, like Supreme Commander Renzo.

  No wonder Renzo hadn’t wanted her to see this. He knew she’d balk at the idea of Zenith preparing for war as though it were inevitable. She also knew why he’d been concerned enough to send in a Z-team to keep it secure. Every Zenith command center was linked to every other command center’s systems. It wasn’t through the workstations—they were little different from the terminals in the operations rooms near the top of the silo. No, Zenith’s most secure systems were accessed via a network key housed within each command center. It was called a Z-key.

  Very few people knew Z-keys existed, but Val Vane was one of them.

  She went to the centermost workstation and looked around the machine until she found a black cover plate. She lifted the plate. Behind it was a brown keycard with the letter Z printed on the front. It wasn’t plugged in to anything—it wouldn’t be until the war room was activated.

  She grabbed the Z-key, tucked it into her pocket, and checked the time. She still had over a minute remaining, but she didn’t need the extra time, so she stepped out of the room to find Kit leaning against the wall, waiting for her. She sucked in a breath, startled.

  The door closed behind her, and she received a message.

  Everything going back online in ten seconds. Get out of there.

  She started walking, and he walked with her. “What are you doing here?” she asked.

  “I was looking for you.”

  “Down here?”

  “I’m a bounty hunter. It’s my job to find people.”

  She led him to the elevator, looked into his eyes, then glanced up at the camera. His gaze followed hers.

  He closed the distance and whispered, “Let’s go somewhere and talk.”

  His nearness sent a shiver down her spine, and she nodded. “It’d be nice to get a breath of fresh air.”

  They didn’t talk as the elevator carried them as high as current repairs allowed. They stepped out onto the temporary walkways and took stairs to where the new entrance was being constructed. She led him away from the workers to an outcropping of boulders.

  He pressed her against a rock, his features drawn tight. “I’ve seen Zenith war rooms before. What I want to know is, why is there one in this silo, and why you were in it?”

  She almost asked how he knew what the room was until she remembered that he was a Raven. She closed her eyes. She could—probably should—tell him a story about being curious. Instead, she told him the truth.

  “I was a Zenith commander in the Revolution. I still am a commander.”

  He took a step back and crossed his arms, but his face wasn’t angry or hate-filled. It was more like he was reserving judgment. She had his undivided attention, and an unspoken question to answer.

  “But it’s not what you think. Not exactly, anyway. I thought I was out after the war, but then, about a year ago, my war leader contacted me. I learned that there are pockets of loyalists trying to rebuild Zenith. I told him I wasn’t interested. I was a sheriff and trying to do what was right in Clearwater. He reached out to me every month or so, offering to help with my Sloan problem if I went back. But I wanted to take care of Sloan on my own, and I really didn’t want to rejoin Zenith. I’ve had enough of war.”

  She brushed the hair off her face as she’d begun to sweat in the brutal sun. “But then, that night when Joe and I broke out many of Sloan’s slaves... These poor people had nowhere to go. Plus, the murcs were rounding them up like cattle, so…” She trailed off.

  “You took the deal,” Kit said.

  “Yes. I took the deal. I told Renzo that I’d rejoin in exchange for a safe place for the refugees.”

  Kit’s brow rose. “Renzo? As in Supreme Commander Renzo, the blight of the Freelands?”

  She nodded.

  He shook his head. “That’s impossible. He was killed during Black Night. I was there. I saw him in the war room right before we blew that place to hell.”

  “I thought he’d been killed, too, until he called me. I was as surprised as you look now.”

  He gave her a black look. “I really liked thinking that bastard was dead.”

  His eyes were distant like he was going through memories, and she gave him the moment.

  When he turned back, his eyes narrowed. “So what does it mean that you’re with Zenith again? Are they getting ready for another war?”

  “I honestly don’t know. Renzo calls for updates sometimes. Otherwise, he said he’d contact me when I was needed.”

  “But you can’t be thinking about fighting for them? And seeing that war room down there, that’s exactly what they’re planning on doing,” he said.

  “I gave my word. Me in exchange for protecting the refugees. Of course, I intend to keep it.”

  “But it’s Zenith. They’re monsters.”

  She bristled. “No worse than the MRC.”

  His tight features seemed to relax as her words faded.

  “Does anyone else know about the war room or Renzo, or your connection with him?”

  She shook her head. “Just you.”

  “Good. Let’s keep it that way. Joe would freak out if he knew Renzo was still kicking—hell, I’m struggling with the concept myself.”

  “Are you going to try to assassinate him?”

  Kit’s expression turned sour. “I’m out of the assassination business, but I’d consider making an exception for him.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead. “Anyway, if he starts causing you problems,
or if you just need someone to talk to, I’m here. You know that, right?”

  She gave him a small smile. “Thank you.” Her brow furrowed then. “Wait. Why were you looking for me earlier?”

  He gave her a crooked grin. “I was going to see if you wanted to grab dinner with me.”

  She laughed. “Sure. Why not?”

  Chapter Forty-Seven

  Sara was lounging on the bed, reading a book on a tablet Lucinda had given her, when there was a knock on the door. Champ barked once and ran to the door. Sara jumped to her feet and grabbed the blaster. “Did either of you order room service?”

  “No, Mom,” Nick said, and Romy shook her head.

  She crept up to the peephole. She opened the door, relieved. “Artie, I wasn’t expecting you.”

  “Sorry for the intrusion. I thought I’d check in to see how things are going,” he said.

  She smiled. “Everything’s been grand, and thank you for sending Thor to walk Champ. While the kids are going stir-crazy, they know that it’s very important to stay inside for now.” She gave them a pointed look.

  “That’s good. Thor’s a good lad.”

  They stood there, fidgeting in the awkward silence.

  “Well, I should let you—” she began the same time he spoke.

  “I wanted to ask you—”

  They laughed.

  She waited for him to speak.

  In a rush, he said, “I wanted to ask you if you’d like to have dinner with me tomorrow, or another time, if you’re busy.”

  She laughed again. “I’m not busy. I’d like that very much.” She answered perhaps a bit too quickly. She didn’t mean to sound desperate, but she hadn’t had any time away from the children since the trouble at the silo began, and she hadn’t been on a date in…well, since before Nick died. That was ten years ago.

  Then she realized that maybe Artie wasn’t asking her out on a date. Maybe he just felt bad for her. Damn it. She hated second-guessing herself.