“Evolution is more complex than that.”Keep him talking.“If simple survival were all that mattered, human females wouldn’t live past menopause. But they do, because grandmothers increase grandchild survival rates by thirty percent in most cultures. Evolution isn’t about individual strength. It’s about community survival, accumulated knowledge, mutual support?—”
“Are you finished with your reproductive years, Dr. McAllister?”
After the incident in Barin Kala, the doctors had suggested my future health status was unknown. There had been so many arsenical compounds in my system that they were still watching for organ failure. For cancer.
I’d closed the door on the idea of being a mother so long ago, but still, the question hit differently tonight.
Did Rav want kids?
Focus, Brooke. Distract them. Slow them down.
Give your team a chance to get here.
“How did you find Haddad’s research in the first place?”
“He said he would heal my daughter, but she died anyway.” Martinelli waved one of his faithful to the laptop. “He was onemore charlatan in a long line of men who saw dollar signs when they looked at me. But I put an end to his scheming.”
My stomach lurched. He’d funded Haddad’s research, and then what? Was Martinelli behind Haddad’s death and the destruction of his lab? No, if he had been, he would have had all the research. More likely, Haddad had realized that Martinelli was a madman and destroyed everything to stophim.
“Sir?” said the man at the laptop. “I apologize for interrupting, but we’re five minutes behind schedule.”
“You’re dying,” I blurted out. “Let me help. I’ve been working with the formula for three years. I know more than anyone else does about it.”
“You’re right, I don’t have enough time for empty promises of one more month or one more year.” He nodded to the man at the laptop. “Prepare the sequence.”
He paused, looking out over the lights of Naples. The music from the festival drifted up, mixing with distant laughter—happy people who had no idea what was about to rain down on them.
“I work at a big lab,” I said, frantically searching for the lie that would convince him to stop. “We have top-tier researchers. You don’t have to do this!”
Owen moved closer, and I tried to pull away, but the guards held me in place. His fingers touched my collar, pushing the fabric aside to inspect more of the scarring. “Don’t worry, Brooke. Once we identify the marker, the phoenix will heal you, and you’ll be beautiful again. We can have our second chance.”
Second chance? The delusion in his voice made my skin prickle. He actually thought I’d want him afterthis?
The man at the laptop offered Martinelli a firing switch attached to a cable. “Press the button when you’re ready.”
Martinelli waved them all closer. “The phoenix will protect us.”
Everyone started moving toward the golden statue. My boots scraped against the stone as I tried to resist the guards pushing me forward, but I wasn’t strong enough. Maybe I could use the forward momentum and take out the laptop or the control box. They wouldn’t be able to launch if I did that, would they?
The guards had my arms, but neither of them had my feet or my head. I stomped on the instep of the man to my right, who immediately let go. I rammed an elbow into his stomach, doubling him over.
I reached for my baton, flicked it out to its full length, but the guard on my left twisted my arm harder, and I couldn’t suppress my sharp cry of pain. I dropped the baton, and he landed a blow to my side that dropped me to my knees.
Chapter 41
Rav
Rural Nova Scotia,2020
“Pendragon’s looking for operators with your background,” Percival was saying over the phone. “CIA contracts are good money. I’m back in Afghanistan, working with a group protecting archaeological dig sites, including the Pendragon owner’s son, Arthur.”
That almost pulled a smile from me. But the fog that had settled over my mind this past year stopped my lips from curling.
“They must have loved your call sign.” I kept the phone pressed to my ear while shifting position, trying to find an angle that didn’t aggravate the dull ache radiating from my shoulder down to my fingertips.
“Would you believe his best friend’s name is Lance?”
“Sounds like fun, but…” I stared at the stone fireplace, the centerpiece of my grandmother’s cottage. The fire crackled, warming the open-concept living room and kitchen. Fall sunlight streamed through the windows that hadn’t been cleaned in months, catching dust motes swirling in lazy patterns.
