Then a surge of white-hot pain.
Then nothing.
CHAPTER 25
When Fairchild came to, she was lying face down on the hard concrete surface of the terrace, a dull ache pulsing behind her eyes. It was impossible to tell exactly how long she’d been out, but apparently it was long enough for someone to cuff her wrists behind her back. She strained with all her might, but the heavy steel bracelets refused to budge.
A similar pair of shackles with a slightly longer chain had been fixed around her ankles.
“Sit her up.”
Gloved hands clutched her by the hair, jerking her into an upright, kneeling position. A dozen big bodyguards were standing around her, some in suits, others in tactical gear. One of them was holding her transponder pendant. The air suddenly felt terribly cold.
As for Slayn, he was still standing exactly where Fairchild had left him when the taser had zapped her unconscious. There was no sign of a wound where her knife had slashed him. Not even a damn scratch.
And yet… the man did not seem entirelywell.
He was standing perfectly still, as motionless as a wax dummy, his mouth still fixed in the same smarmy grin he had flashed just before Fairchild had attacked him. He didn’t even seem to be breathing. The only movement was the dance of golden candlelight across his features, coming from the two candles that were still burning on the dinner table beside him.
“Over here, pet.”
Fairchild turned her head in the direction of the voice, and there was a second Slayn, dressed identically to the first in a satin robe. The difference was, this Slayn seemed to be alive. And he had the woman with him. Inga.
With a smile, the real Slayn strode forward until he was standing next to his double. He gently swished his fingers across the double’s face. For a moment, the features came apart in a puff of sand, just as they had done for Fairchild’s knife. Then they swirled back together again, repairing the temporarily mangled visage.
“What do you think?” Slayn said. “Impressive, no? It’s something new my R&D department cooked up. This is actually the first time we’ve tested it in the field.”
“I’m honored,” Fairchild said bitterly.
She was disappointed in herself for being duped, but the illusion was indiscernible. If it had been a standard holographic projection, the glow would have given it away, but this… this was something else entirely.
Nearby, one of the bodyguards pressed his fingers to the earpiece he was wearing. He turned to Slayn.
“Sir, Blue Team has the third one in custody.”
“Good,” said Slayn. “That’s the last of them.”
Fairchild’s heart sank. They were talking about her guys. Her three guys. Slayn’s men had captured her teammates too. But how?
“Stand her up.”
More hands yanked Fairchild to her feet. She was tempted to fight, but she held back. For one thing, she was outnumbered. For another, she was bound hand and foot. And for a third, the prongs of the taser that had stunned her were still embedded in the back of her neck. One quick trigger pull, and she’d be riding the lightning a second time. Better to play along, for now.
Slayn stepped in front of her and placed a finger under her chin. The gesture was slightly absurd, considering she was taller than him, even with her shoes off. She was tempted to bite that finger, but she didn’t.
Not yet.
“Don’t look so sad,” Slayn cooed affectionately. “It wasn’t your fault you got caught. Not really. Your mission to assassinate me most likely would have succeeded, had it not been for Inga. She’s the one who ID’d you.”
Fairchild tried to conceal her surprise, but she shifted her eyes to the woman, who was now standing just behind Slayn, gloating.
“What’s the matter, Fairchild? Don’t you recognize your old teammate?”
For a moment, Fairchild didn’t know what the woman was talking about. She’d never seen Inga before in her life. Not until two nights ago at the restaurant. Then Inga’s face split into a big, toothy grin, and Fairchild’s heart jolted.
“No,” she whispered.
“Yes,” said Slayn. “Inga Rooker, known to her former colleagues in the Guild as ‘Rook.’”
