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“Or they’re just dumb,” Serge said. “I hope the data in the research facility is secure. If the plans for that datachip are made public, we can kiss goodbye to a hefty profit. Not to mention company stock will fall. Our positions are riding on that information remaining secure.”
“Why are you stating the obvious, Serge?” Sandrine drawled. “Is it because you’re sober? Maybe you should pour a glass of that whiskey you like so much. You’re much more interesting when you’re drinking. And anyway”—she cast a spiteful glance at Miriam—“CommTECH’s stock is already falling.”
“Careful, Sandrine.” Serge cocked his head and gave Sandrine a considering look. “Your claws are showing.”
“I agree with Serge,” Ju-long said. “You may have to sacrifice your people to ensure the data remains secure.”
Miriam fought the urge to roll her eyes. Oh, if only she’d thought of that all by herself.
There was a knock at the door, which drew her attention from the holographic people taking up virtual space in her pristine office. The door opened silently, and her personal assistant, Damien, came in.
“I’m sorry to interrupt, ma’am.” His voice was toneless as usual. Miriam wasn’t sure if Damien felt emotion. It was one of the things she liked best about him. “We have visual confirmation that Keiko Sato is alive.”
Now, wasn’t that interesting? She supposed Freedom thought to exchange the press secretary for the rest of their demands. Amateurs. People could be replaced. It was the research that couldn’t. She inclined her head, and her ever-efficient assistant brought the newsfeed up on the screens covering the wall opposite her desk. There was silence as each of her holographic counterparts tuned in to their own newsfeeds.
But instead of the Freedom leader threatening Keiko and making unreasonable demands, the screen showed the press secretary clinging to the outside wall of the sixty-seventh floor of the research facility. And she wasn’t alone.
“Who is the man with her?”
Damien consulted his notes. “Mace Armstrong. Freelance newshound.”
“Is he with Freedom?” Ju-long asked, though he had no right to address her staff.
Miriam gritted her teeth. Now wasn’t the time to reinforce their tenuous hierarchy. As soon as this latest situation was dealt with, she was going to ensure that her fellow leaders were aware of the boundaries she placed around them.
Damien glanced at her before answering, which reinforced her confidence in the man. “Not that we can tell. We’re still digging.”
“What of the scientists? Are they still alive?” Miriam asked. The other hostages meant nothing to her. Although they weren’t irreplaceable, recruiting new scientists and getting them up to speed on time would be a tremendous inconvenience.
“We only have the broadcast that the terrorists made”—he checked his datapad—“almost an hour ago. There has been no confirmation, either visual or otherwise, since then.”
There was no need to ask if this latest information regarding Keiko had gone to the Mercer brothers. Damien knew his job.
The harried cry of the newscaster drew everyone’s attention back to the newsfeed.
“It looks like there’s a disturbance on the ledge. Yes. There’s a bat. Keiko seems to be shooing it away.” The newscaster’s voice carried ghoulish excitement. “She’s slipped! Oh my goodness, she’s slipped from the building. Keiko Sato is falling!”
“Well, that’s unfortunate,” Miriam said as she watched her press secretary lose her balance and topple from the ledge.
Chapter Fourteen
Keiko fell.
The world tilted as her hands grasped at nothing, and her mouth opened in a soundless scream. Adrenalin surged through her in a wave that left every nerve screaming in agony. The building disappeared. Air rushed past her ears, the volume deafening. The sky surrounded her. Sucking her in. Clinging to her with greedy fingers. Her breath was pushed from her lungs. Suffocating. She was suffocating.
In.
The.
Air.
With nothing to stop her.
Nothing to break her fall.
Nothing.
She was weightless. Out of control. Plummeting to her death. Being eaten alive by the night.
