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Peaks leaned into her, to an intimate distance, an uncomfortable distance that conveyed just the hint of threat. “We need one of you, preferably you. But if you refuse, our next stop is Sam Temple. And I think we both know he’ll agree to help us.”
“Hey, Sam’s sober, and Astrid’s got her head screwed on straight, so leave them the hell out of this. Leave them both alone.” Peaks met her gaze, unflinching, and Dekka sighed. “Ah. So it’s like that.” She shook her head, realizing she was trapped. “You have any idea how many times that boy, that man, saved my life?”
“Many times.” Peaks again, and now the pitch was lower, lending an almost compassionate tone. “I’ve read all the published stories, Ms. Talent, and many unpublished statements. So I know as well that you saved him. Many times. I know that you were his strong right arm whenever things turned dangerous.”
Then Green spoke up, sounding disapproving. “You’re a lesbian, and black, and yet you’re inevitably referred to as the ‘strong right arm’ to a white male. Doesn’t that grate on your nerves? Aren’t we supposed to be past that—”
Dekka let go a snort and sat all the way back in her seat, willing herself to remain calm. “A white male?” she echoed, her voice vibrating with suppressed anger. “He’s not a white male, he’s Sam freaking Temple. You can read all the accounts you want, but you don’t know what he did, and how . . .” Tears threatened to well again. Dekka stabbed a finger at Green. “Every single person . . . every single one . . . who came out of that hellhole alive is alive because of him. Sam Temple’s strong right arm? You can chisel those words on my tombstone, lady, and I’ll be a proud and happy corpse.”
“We’d rather have you,” Peaks said, and took Green’s phone and held it out for Dekka. The document glowed up at her. “Press your thumb on the button.”
Dekka did it, because if she didn’t, Sam would. He would of course be furious if he found out she was protecting him. The thought brought a small smile to Dekka’s lips. Sam and Astrid didn’t need more of the FAYZ; they needed college and work and lives and hopefully, someday, a bouncing little baby that they’d name Dekka if she was a girl.
That was Dekka’s fantasy for them, anyway.
“Am I going back to work tomorrow?” she asked.
Tom Peaks shook his head.
Dekka unclipped the name tag with her cover name—Jean, her middle name—reached across, rolled down the window, and tossed the tag out to clatter on the blacktop.
“Wherever you’re taking me, my bike had better get there, too, and without a scratch. Oh, and fill the tank.”
ASO-2
ANOMALOUS SPACE OBJECT–2 struck planet Earth after its million-year trip, landing precisely where it was expected to land—in a section of the North Sea just off the coast of Scotland that had been surrounded by NATO ships—American, British, and Dutch. Below the water one British and one US submarine were holding the perimeter around a French deep-sea exploration submersible. Ships from the Russian navy and the Chinese navy looked on from a barely discreet distance, their surveillance equipment all atingle.
But the meteorite played a trick on all of them. The seventeen-pound object hit perfectly in the target zone moving at about ninety thousand miles an hour, but like a rock slung sidearm toward a pond, it skipped.
The first skip carried it six miles.
The second skip carried it just two miles, but that two miles took it to the Isle of Islay, where it struck a rock outcropping—still moving at fantastic speed—and broke apart.
Homeland Security Task Force 66 immediately diverted every resource at its disposal—the international naval force and their marines, land-based police and military forces—and turned the sleepy Isle of Islay—pronounced “eye-la” and best known for sheep and Scotch whisky—into something between a war zone and a bad action comedy. Within an hour, the coast of Islay was beset by dangerous-looking ships, while helicopters buzzed around like bees who thought Islay was their hive.
All the activity brought the islanders out of their homes and fields and businesses to see what was going on. Once they had deduced that the military and police of several nations were all searching for a meteorite, out came the metal detectors and the sifters and the shovels. The locals might not know what the rock was, but they knew it had value.
Yet it was not greed that caused the biggest problem; rather it was kindness. It was young Delia Macbeth, fourteen, who saw her little brother, Sean, just four years old, playing with a chip of dark rock. The chip was oddly shaped, in that if you held it a certain way it looked a bit like Mickey Mouse. Sean was sucking on the rock, and at first Delia did the proper big-sister thing and took it from him. Then Sean started bawling, so Delia did the easy thing and gave it back.
After all, it was just a rock, and if Sean wanted it that badly . . .
Search teams swept the lower half of the island and eventually recovered 60 percent of ASO-2.
Sixty percent.
The other 40 percent was scattered across fields and woods. And about three ounces of it was in the greedy fist and slavering mouth of a four-year-old with a notoriously bad temper.
CHAPTER 3
The Committing of Crimes
DAYS PASSED. HOMEWORK was done. School was attended. But school had ceased to be the center of Cruz’s life.
They had dinner once with Shade’s father, Professor Martin Darby, just back from Scotland. He was a good-looking man, a silver fox type, formal by nature but trying to be accessible. “Please, call me Darby, everyone does.”
He tried to play the cool dad, but his interest and attention were elsewhere. He seemed overly formal with Shade, and she returned it in kind. Not that there was any hostility; on the contrary, the affection and mutual respect were clear, and something Cruz envied terribly. But Professor Darby’s mind was not on his daughter, let alone his daughter’s new friend who—even a distracted astrophysicist had figured out—was not a boyfriend.
Above all, Shade and Cruz planned. Which was to say, Shade planned with ferocious efficiency and relentless logic, as it began to dawn on Cruz that while the scheme might seem wildly improbable, even impossible, it was no such thing for her impressive new friend.
