Chapter Fifty-One

Chapter Fifty-one

“We know the enhancement serum requires regular boosters,” the voice said. “How long will you last if you don’t get your next dose on time? A few hours? Days, maybe? I can give you an injection of the drug. I’ve got an extra dose on me. All you have to do is answer my questions…”

Gideon closed his eyes and kept his back planted against the reassuringly hard surface of the wall. He concentrated on the crystal he clutched in the palm of his hand.

He was sure he could feel Amelia’s energy in the stone. Maybe it was the hallucinogenic gas or simply the damned placebo effect, but it was all he had so he leaned into it. He could have sworn the crystal distracted him from the voice and helped him steer a path through the visions. His Sweetwater intuition stirred beneath the smothering weight of the dreamscape. It told him that his only hope was to maintain his silence.

“Fuck this,” the voice said. “The boss will be pissed if you die before I get answers out of you. I don’t have time to wait for you to feel like talking. We’ll do this the old-fashioned way. The unpleasant way.”

The metal barrier slid open. Gideon tightened his grip on the crystal and opened his eyes. A figure loomed in the doorway, silhouetted against the gloom of the bathroom. His face was partially concealed behind a respirator mask. He had a pistol in one hand.

“On your feet, Sweetwater. I need answers.”

A rush of ice-cold rage slammed through Gideon.

“I need information, too,” he said.

Intuitively, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, he channeled the full force of his psychic senses through the crystal.

The stone responded to his energy the way a finely tuned race car did when the driver stomped on the accelerator. He suddenly had more focus, more control, and more raw power than he had ever had.

Instead of hitting the target like a grenade, the psychic blast struck with the devastating impact of a sniper’s bullet. The man in the mask convulsed violently, reflexively pulling the trigger of the pistol as he fell.

The bullet tore into the wall beside Gideon. The roar of the weapon was somewhat muffled by the acoustic paneling but the sound was nevertheless loud enough to leave Gideon’s ears ringing.

For a moment he did not move. After a few seconds he became aware that he was still clutching the crystal.

Carefully he slipped the stone back into the pocket of his trousers. Note to self: If he was going to use crystals in the future he would have to develop a new level of control. The learning curve thing.

The atmosphere in the cell was clearing rapidly. The hissing had stopped. Opening the door probably turned off the gas.

He staggered to his feet, braced one hand against the wall, and leaned down to retrieve his shirt and cane. He had to get to Amelia.

When he was fairly certain he wouldn’t lose his balance he crouched beside the unconscious man, collected the pistol, and checked for a pulse. The guy was alive but it didn’t look like he would wake up anytime soon, if he woke up at all. There was no ID.

Gideon headed for the kitchen door.

He exited the house and limped toward his SUV. There were no sirens in the distance. No sign of the vehicle his captor had used, either. It was probably concealed somewhere nearby. He did not have time to search for it.

When he reached the SUV he paused to take out his phone and call Amelia. He was thrown directly into voicemail. He did not bother to leave a message. There was no point. He tried Shelton next but he didn’t expect an answer. He was right.

Whoever was behind the project to kidnap Amelia had succeeded in grabbing her. He told himself they would not kill her, at least not right away. He refused to think about the possibility that Shelton was already dead.

He desperately needed a starting point. Irene was looking increasingly relevant. He tried her phone. When the call went straight to voicemail he was pretty sure he was right. Irene was not an innocent bystander.

He was about to switch on the engine but he hesitated, studying the garage where Falcon’s dust-covered vehicle was parked. He thought about the gas station receipt he had found at the Lucent Springs Hotel.

A frisson of something that felt a lot like certainty but was probably nothing more than hope whispered across his senses. He had missed something important when he had searched Falcon’s vehicle. He needed to take another look.