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“Be there in an hour.”
Zooming down the highway, he sent a quick text to the only person he loved and trusted. Tell your boss to call this number from his sat phone.
He didn’t have to wait long. Three minutes later, his phone buzzed. Before he could say anything, a man said, “You wanted me to call?”
“Yeah. We need to meet.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
“I have something that belongs to you.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Kingsley’s Compound
Serena stared down at the meal in front of her, her appetite non-existent. Her emotions had endured a Category 5 hurricane, topped off by a catastrophic earthquake. She was surprised she could even sit up straight.
Earlier today, Kingsley had allowed her an opportunity to check on Sean one last time. He had not only survived his surgery, but the surgeon had noted that the procedure to repair his leg had been textbook perfect. He’d even predicted that, with rehabilitation, Sean should regain close to eighty percent mobility.
Serena had almost smiled at that diagnosis. The doctors didn’t know Sean Donavan. If anyone could regain full mobility, that person would be her husband.
Sean was safe and was recovering. That was what she’d asked for, and Kingsley had delivered. Now it was her turn to do her job. If Sean remembered what she’d said—the way she’d said it and what she had tried to convey to him—then this would work. She had set things into motion. She worked with some of the smartest, savviest people in the world. They would figure out what she needed them to do. She had to trust that everything would proceed the way she had planned.
She took a small bite of her perfectly seasoned grilled salmon, forcing herself to chew and swallow. When she had arrived at the table, Kingsley had welcomed her with a smile but seemed disinclined to talk. She was more than happy to stay silent.
Jenson Mosley had still not returned to having meals with them, and her heart hurt for him. The others at the table concentrated on their own plates and barely lifted their attention from their meals. They knew what had happened to Mosley. None of them were going to put themselves in that kind of situation. She didn’t blame them. They were looking out for their loved ones, just as she was.
When she had finished half her meal and realized she wouldn’t be able to eat any more, she set her silverware aside and wiped her mouth.
Kingsley apparently took this as a sign. His expression one of genuine excitement, he said, “Everyone, I’d like to announce that Serena has accepted a full-time position with us. Isn’t that exciting?”
She didn’t know what reaction Kingsley had expected from his announcement, but the faces that were looking at him were not filled with anything but blankness and apathy. Seeming oblivious, Kingsley went on, “Once she’s been here awhile, gotten the lay of the land, she’ll head up a team, all with the purpose of hacking into various organizations and governments, downloading their databases, and disseminating information to aid our goals. That means all that proprietary information our competitors are selfishly keeping to themselves can be ours. We’ll be able to achieve our goals so much faster. Isn’t that exciting?”
She detected no mockery or malice in his statement. Serena couldn’t decide if Kingsley was truly delusional or simply had no conscience. She already believed he was a sociopath, so the second explanation was the likeliest.
Continuing as if everyone shared his enthusiasm, he said, “Now that we’re all one happy family, let’s go around the room, reintroduce ourselves, and tell Serena what we’re working on.”
Her ears perked up at that. Learning what each of these captives was being forced to do would be infinitely helpful.
“Dr. Holland, why don’t you start?”
The tall, thin, bespectacled woman with the sallow complexion spoke in a quiet, emotionless voice. “I am Dr. Josephine Holland. My field of study is genetics. We’re studying ways to decrease infant deformities and childhood diseases by strengthening the parents’ genetic makeup to ensure a child will begin their life as healthy as possible.”
The instant she stopped speaking, the man sitting to Holland’s left, who looked to be in his mid-fifties, spoke in a stiff, antagonistic voice. “I am Dr. Felix Mareno. My field of study is microbiology with an emphasis on genetic altering of crops to produce healthier, more sustainable food sources.” The dark, hollow look in his eyes and the grimness of his mouth gave the impression he despised every moment of what he was being forced to do.
Franklin Lockhart was next. He was shorter than average, slender, and pale. His dark brown eyes held an intelligence that even his circumstances didn’t diminish. “I am Dr. Franklin Lockhart, a neurosurgeon. At present, I am studying the links between diet, physical activity, and early signs of dementia.” Hostile eyes flickered toward Kingsley as he said, “And as interesting and rewarding as that might sound, that is not my normal field of study.”
A short, uncomfortable silence followed Dr. Lockhart’s statement. Serena saw a slight tightening of Kingsley’s mouth and a small twitch at his left eye. Would Lockhart be punished for that?
Unsure if she would be helping or hurting his case, Serena hurriedly said, “You saved DeAnna Winston’s daughter’s life. I remember reading about how difficult and rare the surgery was.”
Lockhart’s face relaxed slightly, but before he could speak, Kingsley said, “That’s exactly what we thought. That’s why Dr. Lockhart is here. There’s so much more potential for him.”
No one, including Serena, knew how to respond to that inane statement. Thankfully, the next person spoke. “I’m Dr. Sarah Templeton, a plastic surgeon. Right now, I’m focusing my talents on radical reconstructive surgery.”
What the radical part of that statement meant, Serena was afraid to ask.
After a brief silence, Kingsley turned to her, his face almost glowing with pride. “I know you must have a multitude of questions, Serena. Feel free to ask anything. You’re one of us now.”
