Nathan agreed completely with this sentiment; he wanted the Alliance dead and buried, for a variety of reasons. Tarek and the Duchess were two of his key allies, and both backed his proposal to nullify the Alliance. They did not yet, however, have the strength of numbers necessary to do this.
‘Now hold your horses there, Duchess,’ he said cautiously. ‘We all have strong feelings about the matter, you especially, and we understand and respect that, ain’t that right Tarek?’
Tarek nodded, curving his lips upward into a respectful smile.
‘I realise,’ Nathan continued, ‘that we need to kill every last one of the Rebels, especially Gisborne. But we must find the Mothers … you understand that too, don’t you? And now we’re in a better position to do that than ever before in history! I want to take down the Alliance project as badly as you do, Duchess, believe you me, but we have to be patient, and strike when the time is right.’
The Duchess regarded Nathan with a cold glare and parted her lips to speak, but decided against it at the last moment and remained silent instead.
‘What some of us tend to forget,’ Nathan continued coolly, ‘is that the Alliance was not only about harnessing beastwalker powers for our own good, but also dividing them, turning them against each other, and thereby severely weakening the Rebels by having them fight a war on two fronts instead of just one. The ol’ divide-and-conquer strategy, see? And in that respect – weakening and dividing them – the project has been a runaway success. As much as I hate to admit that, it is a fact, and we can’t deny that. But things are gonna be changing, and changing soon. Real soon. Once the Rebels are finally broken, and once all access to the Ancient Powers has been destroyed, then we can turn on our Alliance partners. We hit ‘em fast and hard; a Night of the Long Knives, as such. After that, we can focus one hundred percent on finding the Mothers … but only after the Rebels have been defeated and eliminated.’
The Duchess spoke in a soft, cool tone that betrayed none of the seething emotions boiling beneath her freckled skin.
‘Aye, I understand, and you know that you have my support for this, as much as I dislike it.’
‘Right now we don’t have much of a choice anyway. Ma’s being real hush-hush about this new tech development that he seems to think is gonna be a game-changer.’
Tarek nodded and began to speak.
‘My sources have been unable to unearth any significant details about the project. Have any of you two been able to find out anything?’
The Duchess shook her head, as did Nathan.
‘Ma’s got the lid screwed on real tight,’ Nathan muttered. ‘That sumbitch ain’t letting a single damn detail out. But he’s demanded that we provide him with a beastwalker, alive, kicking and relatively willing. So here we are, doing what we’re told.’
‘As we must,’ the Duchess murmured. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a lightning streak of rage flicker briefly across Nathan’s eyes, but she said nothing.
She turned and led the others through a series of corridors and down two flights of stairs, whereupon they arrived at a pair of large steel doors, guarded by five troops who were armed to the teeth. The leader of this contingent stepped aside and saluted the board members, while a guard punched in a code on a panel on the wall. The doors opened with a hiss, revealing an empty room the size of a basketball court, at the centre of which was a huge Perspex cube, inside which, on a stark and plain prison cot, dressed in the orange garb of a jailbird, sat Aboubakar. His face and body were covered with many deep, partially healed scars; the wounds William’s tiger claws and teeth had inflicted on him had been deep and severe.
‘Wait outside,’ Nathan grunted with curt authority to the bodyguards, who obeyed the order in stoic silence as the three board members walked into the room. The doors hissed shut behind them, and then the trio headed towards the transparent prison cell, striding with the confident step of those who wield enormous power.
‘Well, well, well,’ Aboubakar growled in a snarky tone. ‘Look who it is, the Three Stooges. Have you come to read me my last rites? Perhaps offer me a final meal before you put a bullet through my skull? If so, I’d rather have a muscular, well-hung young hunk to play with in my last moments, if you don’t mind.’
‘We’re not here to offer you a last meal or any other parting gifts, Aboubakar,’ Nathan said, taking the lead immediately. The expression he wore on his face was calm and measured, with just the slightest hint of a diplomatic smile evident in the curve of his lips. ‘But we do want to talk to you about William Gisborne. Tell us what we want to know, and we may consider forgiving your failure to bring him to us.’
Aboubakar laughed, the harsh baritone booming rattling the walls of the Perspex prison with its volume.
‘You Huntsmen are not known for your forgiving natures,’ he said, still chuckling. Then, abruptly, his expression changed into one of cool aggression. ‘So, forgive me if I don’t believe a single poisonous word that crawls out of your reptile lips, you cold-blooded snakes.’
Nathan’s temper was rising; it hissed and sizzled with the desperate hunger of hot acid reacting with naked metal. He stepped back, clenching his jaw, and allowed Tarek to take over.
‘Aboubakar,’ he said in his gentle, soothing tone of voice, ‘As-salamu alaykum.’
Aboubakar’s eyes blazed white in their sockets.
‘You make a mockery of those words,’ he snarled. ‘I will not greet the likes of you with terms of respect.’
‘You, talking of respect?’ the Duchess smirked, butting in. ‘Well that’s rich, isn’t it, coming from a former smuggler, swindler and pirate.’
Her words were dense with the ponderous weight of moral authority,
