“I need a face-to-face,” she said. “And I’m bringing the asset with me.”
“Impossible. Follow procedure and upload your report.”
“We have to speak to whoever originated this assignment. Someone upstairs.”
“That can’t be done. Even asking is a breach of protocol.”
“Then breach it,” she said. “I guarantee he’ll want to hear from me. It’s about the Telum.”
“The Telum?”
“I don’t have time to explain. If you can’t handle my request, pass me along to someone who can.”
There was hesitation on the line.
“This is highest priority,” she insisted. “It doesn’t get any higher than this.”
A long pause, then the voice said, “Wait for our call.”
The line clicked and Callahan lowered the phone, looking over at LaLaurie, who was resting at the side of the trail. They made eye contact, his gaze hopeful, but she shook her head and gestured to the phone, indicating she was waiting for an answer.
She knew her handler was passing the message along, and a flurry of calls would follow, sending it up the chain of command until someone who carried enough weight could figure out what to do with it.
Fifteen minutes later, her phone rang and she put it to her ear. “Your request has been denied,” the voice said.
“What? Did you tell them-”
“Continue with the investigation, Agent Callahan, and report back to us.”
Then the line clicked.
BOOK IX
Deep to the Roots of Hell the gather’d beach
They fasten’d, and the Mole immense wraught on
Over the foaming deep high Archt, a Bridge
Of length prodigious joyning to the Wall
Immoveable of this now fenceless world
Forfeit to Death
38
Jenna wasn’t at the shelter.
Michael had gone there to watch their morning ritual-the opening of the blinds, clearing away of cots, sweeping and mopping and setting up tables before heading into the kitchen to help prep food. And with the blood moon approaching, he had planned to make contact in a more meaningful way today, in hopes of getting Jenna to trust him.
Instead, what he saw was a fresh new face among the handful of regulars, and he knew this wasn’t good. Space was limited here and this new girl could very well have taken Jenna’s slot.
So where was she?
Had she even spent the night? Or had Zack tried again?
Something nasty fluttered in Michael’s stomach.
A feeling of dread.
Even though it couldn’t be helped, he cursed himself for leaving Jenna alone. His need for a new skin had not only compromised his ability to function in this broken world, but had also impaired his judgment-and Jenna (and the world) could well be paying the price.
She was an innocent. An unsullied soul. A simple girl who had run away-not to rebel, but to escape an intolerable situation-and she hadn’t yet had time to adjust to her new surroundings. To understand the dangers she faced.
To know the power she held inside her.
And because of Michael’s weakness, his carelessness, she was gone before he could tell her who and what she was.
He found the woman who ran the shelter on a smoke break in the alley out back. As he approached her, she took one look at him, saw a fit but aging man with gray hair, beard and fresh, new thrift-store clothes-including a well-seasoned army jacket-and immediately showed him her cell phone.
“I’ve got the police on speed dial,” she said.
“I just want to ask you some questions.”
“I don’t have any money. And if you’re looking for food, you can come back tonight. We open at six.”
“Thanks, but I’m not interested in that.”
She stiffened slightly. “Then what?”
“I saw you in the coffeehouse up the street a few nights ago. You were there with a young girl.”
The woman’s eyes narrowed. “And?”
“I know the girl’s been staying here at the shelter, but I haven’t seen her this morning. Did she spend the night last night?”
“Why are you so interested?”
“I think she may be the daughter of a friend of mine,” Michael lied. “A woman in Arizona.” He was making all kinds of compromises lately.
“I would’ve approached her before now, but I had to be sure she was the right girl. Her mother’s dying.”
The woman’s eyes widened slightly, but remained suspicious. She was used to being very protective of her girls.
“That’s funny,” she told him. “We had a nice long talk that night and she didn’t mention anything about her mother being sick. All she talked about was her perv of a stepfather. That wouldn’t be you, would it?”
“I told you, I’m a friend of her mother. And Jenna doesn’t know she’s sick. I don’t think she would’ve run away if she had.”
The woman stared at him, assessing his story-assessing
“Then what can you tell me about the guy who was with her? The one who called himself Zack?”
The eyes narrowed again. “How do you know all this? I don’t remember seeing you that night.”
“I was there. Sitting in back.”
“So…what? You’re some kind of stalker?”
“I told you, I just want to do what’s right. Get Jenna back home. Now tell me about Zack.”
“I think you need to get lost.”
“I don’t want any trouble. Just tell me and I’m gone.”
She sighed. “What’s to tell? He’s a creep. Uses those looks of his like a weapon. He was there, then he was gone. I haven’t seen him around since then and I don’t expect to, if he knows what’s good for him.”
“Do you have any idea where he hangs out?”
“Not a clue,” she said. Then she held up the phone again. “Now, do I have to make that call or what?”
