“Brando, huh?” Shell said. “Does the name have any specific relevance?”

  “There aren’t any residents with the surname of Brando in the city. Other than that, no.”

  “I was hoping for a more interesting backstory.”

  “Sorry to disappoint.”

  She smiled. “I’ll let Mark know about your potential visitors. He’ll be relieving me soon.”

  “Can I trust him?”

  “Not like you can trust me.”

  It was hard for Cassidy to trust anyone, but Shell had earned it so far. “Understood.”

  She dug out her ClearPhone. “Here’s your key,” she said, passing it to his ClearPhone.

  “Thank you. Goodnight, Shell.”

  “Goodnight, Detective.”

  Cassidy left her by the elevator, making his way down the corridor to his room. Entering, he found the suite a worthwhile upgrade. A full sitting area in the front, with a short corridor in the back leading to bedrooms on either side. He didn’t need two beds, but if anyone happened to break into the suite, it might buy him more time to react.

  Normally, he wouldn’t worry about something like that. But with everything that had happened so far, he found himself in uncharted waters, unsure what to expect.

  Better to be prepared for anything.

  He intended to try to work his imprint and Hall’s mind through everything Dorne had told him, but the days’ events had taken their toll. With the cocktail wearing off, his knees were throbbing and exhaustion was settling in. He chose the bedroom on the right, closing the doors to both before collapsing onto the bed. He had just enough time to place his needlegun within easy reach before he fell asleep.

  Chapter 25

  Salem Dorne cursed as Hall’s projection froze on his ClearPhone, a red box flashing disconnected in front of the portrait.

  He had told Cassidy a lot.

  But he hadn’t told him everything.

  Damn it! He needed to warn Cassidy about Garrett, and he didn’t know if he’d get another chance to contact him.

  Looking up from his position at the window of the tower he was in—a building scheduled for demolition tomorrow afternoon—he could see the flames and smoke billowing skyward from the comm array atop the Agora. Unity had triangulated the comm tower more quickly than he had guessed, probably because it had taken Cassidy longer to discover the message he had sent than he had assumed. Was it the long freeze that had made the Initiative’s top agent so slow on the uptake?

  It didn’t matter now. What mattered was that his plan with Hall had come to fruition and Cassidy was in play. Once they had determined Garrett’s pattern and had put the pieces together, once they started to realize what it all meant, they had guessed Cassidy’s time of arrival almost down to the hour. Nevermind the day.

  War was coming. A year ago, it was a war Dorne would never have believed could occur. A war in which he still didn’t fully understand the stakes. And one he didn’t fully appreciate the reason for fighting. He had never envisioned pitting himself willingly against Unity or the Initiative. He had served for nearly seventy years with all of the loyalty, dignity and integrity he possessed. Of the things he had done for the Initiative, cold-blooded murder was the least of his transgressions. He had done it to protect the innocent. To save lives. Or so he’d thought.

  Like he had told Cassidy, it was all a lie. One he couldn’t live with. But he didn’t need to think about that now. They would be coming for him. And if he wanted to finish telling Cassidy what he knew, he needed to go.

  Now.

  Turning away from the window, Dorne started across the empty floor, running for the open doors to the elevator shaft. He looked over his shoulder when a light pierced the window where he had just been standing, the drone dropping from above and hovering directly outside. A red dot appeared on its face, the laser beam invisible, though he knew where it was aimed.

  The drone had to shoot the glass before it could get to Dorne, which bought him the few milliseconds he needed to throw himself to the floor, drawing his needlegun before the rocket streaked over his head. He felt the heat of its engine on the back of his neck before it hit the far wall and exploded, pelting him with chunks of drywall and stone.

  Dorne lifted himself up to his elbows to get a bead on the drone with the needlegun. He fired at the same time the drone did. Two slugs caught him in the right shoulder, causing his gun hand to go limp. But it was too late for the drone to avoid his needle. It pierced the thing’s shell and detonated, the explosion triggering the ammunition in the machine’s rear magazine. A small fireball lit up the room, a trail of smoke tracing the drone’s fall to the street below.

  Clenching his teeth in pain, Dorne dropped the needlegun and struggled to his knees. He picked up the gun again and stumbled to his feet, making it to the elevator shaft. He had already secured a long rope from the shaft’s overhead structure to the bottom, aiming to rappel down the empty shaft to the lobby. It was going to be a lot harder with one arm, but he didn’t have a choice. He was forty-four floors up, and the stairs would take way too long.

  Reaching awkwardly into the pocket opposite his good hand, Dorne removed a pair of gloves. He only needed one now. Dropping the right one, he pulled the other one on with his teeth before dropping to his knees. Taking the rope in his good hand, he wrapped it loosely around his useless arm and eased himself onto his butt, his legs dangling over the edge and into the black abyss. He would have to hold all of his body weight with his limp arm, something he wasn’t sure he could do. The pain was going to be excruciating.

  “Damn it, Sal,” he said out loud. “You have to.”

  He took a couple of deep breaths and pushed off, sliding out of control until he could clench the rope under his bad arm and in his left hand to slow down his high-speed plummet. His feet hit the shaft wall and he pushed out again, arms hurting with every inch he descended.

  It didn’t take long before he had a feel for controlling his slide down the rope, covering the forty-four floors in less than a minute. On his way down, he thought he heard someone in the stairwell adjacent to the shaft. If they were who he thought they were, they were too late.

  Reaching the lobby, he slowed his descent and caught his feet on the bottom edge of the frame behind the closed doors. Realizing he couldn’t force the doors open and hold onto the rope single-handedly he changed his tactics. Pushing off, he dropped three more levels into the underground garage. Most structures in the city didn’t have underground parking. It had all been moved up top to support the rotos. But this tower was one of the oldest in the downtown section, which was why it had an underground garage and also why it was slated to be destroyed.

  At the bottom of the shaft, he released the rope and pulled a small device from his pants pocket which he pushed between the two elevator doors. The motor on the device hummed lightly as it extended in each direction, forcing the doors apart.

  Temporary lights had been strung to the garage, dimly illuminating the colored wires that connected the explosives ringing the support columns, all strategically placed to implode the site. Spotting the ramp at the far end that led up to the next level, he hurried toward it, not taking his quick escape down the shaft for granted.

  He continued up the ramp to ground level, where a heavy steel door had been placed to prevent anyone from getting inside. He had already bypassed the front door security, but this door had been welded shut after the explosives were installed.

  It meant he needed to go out the way he came in.

  “Shit.”

  It wouldn’t be easy.

  Dorne crossed the first level of the garage, heading for the stairs. He was almost there when the door swung open and a squad of armored UDF agents filed through.

  They spotted him immediately, rifles moving into firing position as he leaped behind a column before they could shoot. They must have found the rope and guessed where he had gone.

  “Hold your fire!” a sharp voice ordered.

  “Nevis,” Dorne said. “Is that you?”

  “Dorne,” Nevis replied. “You might as well come out. There’s nowhere for you to go.”

  Dorne didn’t move.

  “Come on, Salem,” Nevis said. “You know you’re trapped down here. You might as well not make it hard.”

  “This whole place is wired to blow,” Dorne said. “And I’m already a dead man walking. My original body is gone. I have no access to a transfer unit. How about you let me out or I take you all with me?”

  “You won’t do that,” Nevis replied. “These agents haven’t done anything to you. They’re following orders, just like you should have. All of this could have been avoided.”

  “It might be worth it just to kill you.”

  “Maybe. If I were actually here.”

  Dorne leaned his head out past the column, just long enough to see Nevis projected from the helmet of one of the armored agents. He laughed as he came out of hiding. “You don’t even have the guts to take me out in person.”

  “You don’t deserve that much respect,” Nevis countered. “You’re a traitor.”

  “How so? Because I know the truth? Because I know what’s about to happen?”

  “You conspired against Unity and the Initiative.”

  “What do all of you think?” Dorne asked, eyes shifting to the agents who were present in the garage. “Do you want to know what the Unity Defense Force really does? Do you want to know what our true mission is?”

  “You spoke to Cassidy,” Nevis continued. “What did you tell him?”

  “The truth. Would you like to hear the truth? For once.” he asked the others.

  They didn’t answer, waiting for Nevis to give them direction. Dorne didn’t blame them. They were good, loyal agents.

  Just like he had been.

  He didn’t know if he had given Cassidy enough to work with. He hoped so. His top Shade was experienced, smart and resourceful, and with Hall’s repo would be more mentally formidable than ever.

  “So what happens next?” he asked.

  Nevis smiled. “We bring you home, see what there is to see, and put you to rest. For good.” She motioned to the agents. “Take him.”

  They started toward Dorne. He smiled. There was no way he would let them look into his head. Nevis was right, this wasn’t the fault of the agents, and they didn’t deserve to die. She did, which was probably why she wasn’t really here.

  He put the muzzle of the needlegun against the side of his head. “See you when I see you,” he said, satisfied when Nevis’ smirk turned into a scowl.

  He pulled the trigger.

  Chapter 26

  A soft tone from somewhere in the bedroom jogged Cassidy out of his slumber. Opening his eyes, he looked to the left where a projection rose from a white table made to look like a Roman vase. A call from the front desk.

  “Answer call,” he said. The projection changed, revealing Shell from the chest up, in the same black leggings but a different colored sweater than the one he had last seen her in.

  “Hall,” she said, eyebrows crinkling. “Did I wake you?”

  “Don’t you ever go home?” Cassidy replied.

  “I did. Twelve hours ago.”

  Cassidy rubbed at his face, trying to clear his fatigue. Twelve hours? A sense of frustration washed over him. He didn’t remember having any dreams. It was his favorite part of being imprinted. “What do you need?”

  “It’s not what I need, Hall. It’s what you requested. The guy with the diamond teeth is coming up. I just thought I’d let you know.”

  Jazz was here? “Thanks, Shell,” Cassidy said. “I owe you.”

  “How about you make it up for me by getting coffee with me the next time you’re free?”

  Cassidy admired her persistence, even if he didn’t have much interest. “Sure,” he replied. “As soon as I’m done with this case, we can set something up.”

  “Great,” Shell said.

  “Disconnect,” Cassidy said, causing the projection to vanish. He moved to slide off the bed, wincing when his knees began to burn, refusing to bend as he tried to get up. He had slept way too long, exhausted from the prior day’s events.

  He removed the stim cocktail from his pocket and took a small swig, coughing after the concoction burned its way down to his stomach. A fresh tone from the sitting area alerted him that Jazz had arrived.

  “Just a minute!” Cassidy shouted, using his arms to slide his legs forward and drop them to the floor. He growled softly as he got to his feet, forcing his knees to bend enough to allow him to walk. Putting his needlegun back in its holster, he hobbled out of the bedroom to the suite’s door, checking the camera to ensure Jazz was on the other side before opening it.

  “Brando,” Jazz said, eyes narrowing. “You look like hell. Does it have anything to do with that UnityComm array that blew up here last night.” He laughed. “I should have guessed you would be involved somehow.”

  “I was standing six feet away from the comms tower when it was attacked,” Cassidy replied. “I don’t recommend it.”

  “I always do my best to stay away from exploding electronics. Can I come in?”

  “Oh, yeah, sure,” Cassidy said, shuffling out of the way and closing the door behind Jazz. “Have a seat.” He motioned to the couch sitting against the wall adjacent to his bedroom and then hobbled over to the matching side chair.

  “Knees?”

  “Locked up on me.”

  “What about the stim?”

  “I just took some. It’s starting to loosen then up a little.”

  “Remember, the chemicals trick the brain into thinking the limb isn’t damaged. If you push it, you’ll only make it worse.”

  “I didn’t have much choice. I still don’t.” He didn’t want to destroy Hall’s knees, but especially after what had happened earlier he didn’t know if he could help that either.

  His mind turned to the events on the rooftop. To the call from Dorne. He had said everything about the Initiative was a lie. If that were true, what was the point of staying on mission?

  The answer was simple. Despite the effort Dorne had made to contact him, despite Hall’s own efforts, he couldn’t be sure of what was and wasn’t true. Had Garrett’s records at the Dome been removed so he wouldn’t find out who Garrett really was? Or had Dorne removed them so he couldn’t uncover his lie?

  Bottom line, he didn’t know what to believe. This job was nothing like he had expected it to be before he had left the Underworld. This job wasn’t like any he had been sent on before. Dorne had told him everything depended on him, and at the moment he felt the weight of those words, even if he didn’t know which side he was supposed to be fighting on. Or what everything really meant.

  Either way, Hall’s knees were the last thing he was worried about.

  “After you stopped by last night, I got in touch with an associate who knows an associate, who knows how to reach Garrett,” Jazz said. “I told him I had someone who really wanted to meet him.”

  “Did you use my name?”

  “Yup. But I told him I vouch for you, and I’ve got a lot of street cred. Which I’d appreciate if you didn’t ruin, by the way.”

  “Since you’re here, I assume that means your messenger got back to you?”

  “Mmmhmm,” Jazz said. “Tonight at midnight.” He pulled out his ClearPhone. “Let me pass you the details.”

  Cassidy pulled his phone out of his shirt pocket and Jazz sent him the information. He would review it later. “Thanks. What do I owe you?”

  “You scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours. Besides, I didn’t do that much. Made a couple of calls. Threw my weight around a little bit.”

  “Then maybe you can get me something else?”

  Jazz laughed. “You have that look in your eye.”

  “What look?”

  “You want something illegal.”

  “The cocktail you gave me is illegal.”

  “Yeah, but it’s like a class C. You’re thinking class A.”

  “You can tell that from my expression?”

  He pointed to his eye and the invisible Sliver implanted on top of it. “And the heat changes in your face. And your increased heart rate. You’re not entirely comfortable with what you’re going to ask me for.”

  “I know who Garrett is,” Cassidy said. “I don’t intend to start any trouble, but if he gives me any, I’m screwed. Especially with my knees the way they are right now. I need something subtle but powerful.”

  Jazz smiled, his teeth glinting in the suite’s lighting. “I think I know what you mean. Definitely class A. We’ve had a good relationship over the years, my friend. What you’re asking for, I can get you. I’ll just add it to your tab.”

  “That’s more than fair.”

  “That’s the kind of black market kingpin I am.” Jazz laughed. “You’ve got a few hours till midnight. I’ll be back before you need to go. You might want to put some ice on those knees until then.”

  “They’re starting to feel a lot better.”

  “Even so. You’ve got time. Maybe get your suit cleaned and pressed and take a shower too. You don’t want Garrett to think you’re some kind of low-rent thug.”

  “Good advice. See you when I see you, Jazz.”

  “Sure. But this is the last errand I run for you, my friend. I’m only doing it because I know your knees are shit at the moment. In the future, you always come to my shop.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Good.” Jazz opened the door. “Two hours. Smell better when I get back.” He laughed, closing the door behind him and leaving Cassidy alone again.

  Cassidy tapped on the panel next to the door. “Front desk.”

  Shell’s face appeared a moment later. “What do you need?” she asked.

  “Can you get my clothes cleaned and pressed?”