Phantom Prospect Page 12

  Annja frowned. “Who am I going to tell?”

  “Hunter and Cole.”

  “You don’t want them knowing you’re in the clear?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Why?”

  “It will probably help flush out the real culprit if I’m still suspected of being the traitor.”

  “I can’t keep it from them for very long.”

  “Just let them think that you’ve got me buttoned up and I’ll get clearance from Garin. Then we can go see them.”

  Annja nodded. “Fine. I’m going to lie down. But move fast. I want more information than what I’ve got so far.”

  ANNJA GOT BACK to her quarters and stretched out on the bed, sinking into the mattress with relief. She felt butterflies in her stomach and did some deep breathing to relieve the nervousness she was feeling.

  The idea of jumping into the ocean to do battle with the shark stalking the boat did nothing to make her pleased she’d agreed to come along with Cole on this trip. If anything, Annja only wanted to run home and lock the door.

  At least in Brooklyn, she only had to worry about muggers, murderers and a variety of other scum. Sharks hadn’t yet figured out how to settle down in any of the five boroughs.

  Garin.

  His face swam into her mind and Annja frowned. So Sheila worked for him. That was a surprise. More surprising was the fact that she knew plenty about Annja and was a decent match in terms of her combat skills. Annja hadn’t met many who could go toe to toe with her.

  Why was Garin recruiting his own operatives? The fact that he and Roux had once been mortal enemies hadn’t stopped them both from moving around the world as it suited them. Sure, they kept reasonably low profiles, but why was Garin now so worried that he needed operatives in play for him?

  She wasn’t sure that made much sense and it had to be addressed the next time she saw him.

  Then there was the whole notion that some rival was actively searching for the crucifix that had once belonged to Joan of Arc. Annja felt a twang in her stomach at the thought of the woman whose sword she now owned.

  No, that wasn’t it. Annja didn’t own the sword. If anything, the sword seemed to own her.

  Regardless, what type of organization was this? Did they know about Annja and the sword? Or were they only after the crucifix? Being granted immortality was a fantastic concept and one that Annja wasn’t sure she could buy into, even knowing Roux and Garin had survived for centuries.

  Of course, if someone had suggested that Joan of Arc’s sword could manifest itself at will in her hands, she would have told them they were nuts, too.

  She desperately needed sleep.

  Annja stretched and let the pillow cradle her head as she took a few more deep breaths and sank further into herself. She let her mind go blank as she often did when she was tired and worn out. She could feel her awareness soften and expand as she took each subsequent breath.

  Who is the traitor?

  She heard a noise first and then turned sharply.

  Someone was trying to open her door.

  The knob moved one way and then the other. But Annja had been sure to lock the door when she’d come in. And that meant whoever was trying to get in would either have to pick the lock or kick the door in.

  Or they could just knock.

  Annja smirked. She didn’t think they’d do that.

  She slid out of the bed carefully and let her feet touch the floor before she shifted her weight any further. At least the floors don’t creak, she thought as she stood and padded over toward the door.

  The doorknob kept rotating back and forth. She heard another sound from the other side. Metallic.

  She frowned.

  What were they doing? She thought she could hear a vague clicking or scraping sound.

  They were picking the lock. As far as she was concerned, that ruled out the idea that someone friendly was on the other side of the door. If they weren’t knocking, then Annja wasn’t happy to see them.

  She crept closer to the door and put her ear to the surface. She could almost hear the breathing on the other side. She could visualize the face of the person picking their way into her quarters and see the exertion. She could feel their desire to get into her room.

  But why?

  No sense wondering, she thought. She turned the lock and yanked the door hard. “Hi, there.”

  18

  Sheila stumbled into the room, lock picks in her hands. Annja caught her and pushed her up against the wall. “Want to tell me why you were breaking into my room?”

  “I didn’t want to wake you.”

  Annja frowned. “If Garin told you about me, then you should have known that I’m a pretty light sleeper.”

  “You weren’t yesterday when I clocked you. You were way out of it then. I thought I could creep back in here and you’d be none the wiser.”

  “At least until I woke up.” Annja frowned. “You got in touch with Garin already?”

  Sheila nodded. “He wasn’t there, though. I had to leave a message.”

  “He knows you’re on an operation and he’s not there to pick up?”

  “We have a set window of contact. This wasn’t it. He won’t be available until then. I’ll have to call him back.”

  Annja nodded. “So, let’s pretend that Garin says yes. Why don’t you go ahead and fill me in on the bad guys while we wait, huh?”

  Sheila sat down on the chair in the room and faced Annja. “I really don’t feel comfortable doing that.”

  Annja nodded, took a deep breath and summoned her sword. In an instant, it was in her hands, aimed right at Sheila’s throat.

  Sheila’s eyes went wide and the color drained from her face. Annja smiled. “Pretty amazing, huh?”

  Sheila nodded dumbly. “Garin told me it would be impressive, but I didn’t expect anything like this.”

  “Yeah, most people don’t.” Annja kept the blade pointed at Sheila’s throat. “You know, I don’t really have a high tolerance for waiting. I’m much more of a ‘let’s get it all out in the open’ kinda gal. So, we’ll have a talk about these bad guys and not worry about what Garin might or might not say. How does that sound, hmm?”

  Sheila’s eyes were locked on the blade that seemed to hover just inches from the base of her throat. “There’s really no need to bring that out and use it to threaten me.”

  “I’m not threatening you, Sheila.” Annja smiled. “I’m just using this to illustrate a point—namely, that I don’t like waiting. Especially when I know you have the answer to the questions I have.”

  “I feel like you’re threatening me.”

  “I don’t really care, to be honest.” Annja pressed the sword at Sheila’s throat. “See, I figure if you don’t tell me, I’ll just slice your head off and then tell Garin you had a horrible accident involving our pal the shark. Really an unfortunate turn of events, but that’s the way it goes sometimes, huh?”

  “You wouldn’t.”

  Annja shook her head. “Don’t even go there with me. You won’t like the result.”

  Sheila glared at Annja. “You’re serious.”

  “Deadly.”

  “I shouldn’t do this,” Sheila said. “I’d be violating one of Garin’s rules that he ingrained in me a long time ago.”

  “Your choice,” Annja said. “Makes no difference to me. Or to the sword I’m holding.”

  Sheila frowned. “This isn’t how I envisioned our friendship developing, Annja.”

  “No?”

  “I thought we had some sort of trust going.”

  Annja shook her head. Outside, she could see that clouds moving in had thwarted some of the afternoon sun. “That kind of went out the window when you picked the lock on my door.”

  Sheila sat quietly and then looked at Annja. “Fine. The organization is headed by a guy from Cleveland—”

  “Cleveland?”

  “That’s what I said, why?”

  Annja shrugged. “Never thought of a nefa
rious organization having someone in charge from Cleveland. Just doesn’t seem right.” She shook her head. “Whatever. Keep going.”

  “His name is Henderson. That’s all anyone knows. He’s supposedly one of these religious nuts who’s obsessed with anything even remotely supernatural. Doesn’t matter if it’s from some other culture or what. If he hears about it, he wants it.”

  “And the crucifix fits in with his ideology?”

  “Henderson’s ideology is simple. If it’s powerful, he wants it.”

  “To what end?”

  Sheila shook her head. “Who knows? No one’s ever really seen Henderson. He could be a complete flake. Or he could be a captain of industry. All we know is he has people everywhere, and when he hears about something unusual, he gets his fingers into it.”

  “Why didn’t he recover the crucifix himself?”

  “Henderson’s never been much of a starter. He prefers swooping in after the work has already been done. He’ll wait until the crucifix is recovered and then come and steal it. Easier that way.”

  Annja nodded. “Guess I can see how that might look attractive.”

  “He’s on the hunt for this crucifix, Annja. He wants it very badly. The lure of immortality has always held sway over men.”

  “Women, too,” Annja said. “Seems to me I can recall plenty of historical figures who spent their whole lives looking for something that would stave off the onslaught of age and death.”

  “Indeed. And Henderson is definitely one of those types. Garin’s intelligence estimates his age at almost eighty.”

  “He wants the fountain of youth,” Annja said.

  “But he’ll settle for something that keeps death away.”

  Annja eyed Sheila. “Who works for him?”

  “Anyone he can pay. He recruits from every walk of life, knowing that money tends to make people very open to things like murder, deception and stuff along those lines.”

  “You’re certain that he knows about the crucifix?”

  “Absolutely.” Sheila frowned. “He managed to plant someone on this boat. Apparently, Hunter’s rather loose approach to hiring people worked out well for Henderson’s organization. No background checks means they didn’t have to work hard at positioning their people or supplying them with an extensive résumé prior to sending them out.”

  “Handy.”

  “And quite unlike Garin, who had me create an entire fictitious account of my life just so I could hold up under scrutiny.”

  Annja laughed. “Would have worked if you hadn’t moved the way you do.”

  “Yeah.”

  Annja let the sword drop. “There, now don’t you feel better having told me all of that? No sense bothering Garin at all. We’ll keep it just between us.”

  “If you say so.”

  Annja stood, sending the sword back to otherwhere. “I’m still not sure how you think I can take out that shark. The idea of me fighting it—”

  “You don’t have to fight it, Annja. Just stab it with your sword or chop off its tail or something like that.”

  “That shark is forty feet long at least. That’s big.”

  “I know.”

  “And that mouth. Did you see the mouth?”

  “I wasn’t on deck when you were.”

  “Miles of teeth. The thing’s an eating machine. I mean, I’ve seen sharks close up, but this thing is beyond unreal.”

  Sheila nodded. “I’m not pretending that it’s going to be easy.”

  “It will be for you. You’re not going to be in the water. I will. It’s my life on the line if something goes wrong.”

  “Nothing’s going to go wrong, Annja. You just get in the water. When the shark approaches, you kill it. Very simple.”

  “You think so, huh? In that case, I’ll lend you my sword and you can do the business yourself. How does that sound?”

  “It won’t work,” Sheila said. “You know as well as I do that your sword won’t transfer to anyone else. Like it or not, you’ve got to do this thing because there’s really no one else who can.”

  “Maybe Hunter’s got some guns on board. Maybe we can just shoot it and watch it sink to the bottom.”

  “The most powerful thing on this boat is a 9 mm pistol. That’s not going to do squat against a forty-foot shark. Except maybe piss it off some,” Sheila said.

  “That’s the last thing we need,” Annja replied.

  “All we’ve got to do is lure it to the cage where you’ll be. Once it gets close, you can plunge your sword into its belly. Cut deep and fast and that should be a mortal wound. Once you do that, you can dispatch it at your leisure.”

  “Like when my heart calms down.”

  “Sure.”

  Annja sat back on her bed. “The whole idea sounds insane. There’s got to be a better way, but damned if I can think of one.”

  “The problem is the size of the shark,” Sheila said. “If it was smaller, we could try fishing for it. But with it being half the size of the boat, it will simply weigh far too much for us to try something like that. It has to be destroyed.”

  “Cole’s going to love that,” Annja said sadly.

  “I can appreciate his sentiments on this. I’m not one to encourage wanton slaughter of animals, but there’s no way around this. The shark is obviously interested in the boat since it’s made a repeat appearance, even in the wake of Jock’s death.”

  “So it’s a rogue shark?”

  “Could be.”

  Annja frowned. She knew a rogue shark was one that didn’t behave like others of its kind. Its behavior was unpredictable and, because of that, trying to discourage it from staying around would most likely not work. Destroying the beast would be their only option.

  “Okay,” Annja said slowly. “You kept your word and told me about Henderson. I appreciate that. You didn’t have to.”

  “Well, you did have a sword up against my throat.”

  Annja smiled. “I simply encouraged you to help me out with my distinct lack of information.”

  “Convincingly, I might add,” Sheila said. “But Garin will kill me if he ever finds out, so you can’t tell him about this, okay?”

  “Sure. No problem.” Annja leaned back and tried to relax. “When do you want to start?”

  “It has to be soon. And it would be better if we can do it without anyone else knowing.”

  “Yeah, sure, that will be easy. We’ll just wait until midnight so I can winch the cage into the ocean without anyone hearing me. Of course, it will be totally dark and I won’t be able to see a damned thing.” She glared at Sheila. “You’re nuts. Of course people are going to have to know.”

  “The more people who know, the more difficult it will be to convince them that what we’re doing is the right approach.”

  “Maybe we could just show them pictures of Jock’s body. That might be enough to convince them.”

  “Maybe.”

  Annja knew she’d have to tell Hunter and Cole about this. It would only be with their help that she could even dream about pulling it off. “We’ll talk it over around dinnertime, okay?”

  Sheila nodded. “All right.” She stood. “Are we finished here?”

  Annja shrugged. “Hey, you were the one who came to my room, not the other way around.”

  Sheila smiled. “I think we’re done.” She put her hand on the doorknob and turned it. “Talk to you later.”

  “Not so fast.”

  Annja looked up at the sound of the new voice. Captain Jax stood in the doorway. She held a pistol in her hand, its black barrel aimed squarely at Sheila’s chest.

  “Seems to me,” Jax said, “that we all need to have a serious talk. So, why don’t we sit down for a few minutes until we get things cleared up.”

  19

  Sheila backed into the room, her hands rising defensively. “Slow down, Captain. There’s no need for any violence.”

  Jax frowned. “I’ll be the judge of that.” She looked at Annja. “Stay where you are, Ann
ja.”

  “Why would I want to do that?” Annja asked. She could have the sword out in the blink of an eye if she could just keep Jax fixated on dealing with Sheila.

  “Because I don’t want to have to shoot you,” Jax said. “But I will in order to get you to listen to me. You understand?”

  Annja nodded but she was keeping her focus soft, ready to move if Sheila could help her gain an opening.

  Sheila kept her hands up. “Why are you doing this, Jax? I thought we got along just fine.”

  “Appearances are deceiving,” Jax said. “And frankly, I never cared for the way you carried yourself.”

  “Why not?”

  “Too obviously disdainful of the rest of us.” Jax smirked. “Well, the joke’s on you, isn’t it? Nothing like having a gun barrel in your face to make you a little more humble, huh?”

  Sheila shook her head. “This isn’t necessary.”

  “I think it is. You’ve been trouble since I laid eyes on you. Time to take care of business since Hunter and Cole won’t deal with it.”

  Annja frowned. Jax kept the gun steady on Sheila. She didn’t seem motivated by anger. In fact, she seemed pretty calm. Annja looked at Sheila and there was concern on the woman’s face. What was going on here? The presence of a gun in the mix didn’t help matters.

  As Jax focused on Sheila, Annja summoned her sword and went on the attack, drawing the blade high overhead and launching herself through the air. She heard a shout from Jax as she pounced.

  But the captain dodged the blow and punched Annja in the side of her chest, sending a thundering strike rattling through Annja’s body. Annja gasped, trying to get some air back into her. As she landed hard, Jax pivoted again and delivered a roundhouse kick to Annja’s leg, sweeping it out and dropping her further.

  Annja was down before she realized Jax had the pistol aimed at her chest. “Dammit, Annja, I told you not to engage!”

  But then Annja saw a form hurtle across her field of vision as Sheila tackled Jax. Their two bodies fell across the mattress, toppling over backward beyond the edge of the bed.