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“And even luckier that the stuff didn’t kill you,” Amelia added.
“My lucky day,” Luke said.
CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO
The Night IslandProject was a failure, and now his father would demand answers.
Benedict Steen walked off the air-conditioned private jet into the humid tropical warmth of the other island, the one he was supposed to think of as home. What bullshit. The island was a fortress.
He had shed the Nathan Gill persona as soon as he had seen Draper and the others off on the last ferry. He had explained that he would wait on the island for a while in case Talia March and Luke Rand managed to find their way back to the lodge. But as soon as the ferry was out of sight he had jumped into the cabin cruiser and another identity and headed for the mainland.
There had been only one loose end—Jasper Draper. He had become increasingly unstable, and that made him uncontrollable and unpredictable. He hadn’t been proof of concept, after all. Just another failure. He hadn’t even managed to take out an unarmed Rand.
It probably would have been a good idea to get rid of March andRand, but the body count was already unacceptably high. The problem with killing them was that too many people would notice—including theLost Night Filespodcast crew. They were already getting too close for comfort. Luckily they were small-time players in the podcast universe. The last thing he wanted to do was give them a story that might go viral.
Benedict climbed into the waiting SUV and sat back for the ride up the hillside to the sprawling villa that overlooked the sparkling waters of the South Pacific. Time for the confrontation with the old man. It was not going to be pleasant.
Cutler Steen had never been what anyone would call the understanding and forgiving type. He had a low tolerance for failure. His temperament suited a man who controlled a global empire founded on the arms trade and a private security business that catered to dictators, warlords, and the extremely wealthy.
The flight to the island had given Benedict ample time to compose his version of events. True, his sister Celina’s project had imploded a short time ago, but Cutler had been less concerned with the disaster in Carnelian. That project had been significant but it had been more in the nature of a drug trial.
The Night Island Project, however, had held out the prospect of an astonishing result—the creation of a squad of psychically enhanced assassins who could be controlled with the boosters. Cutler had been so obsessed with his vision of becoming the ultimate player in the private security world that he had broken his own rules. He had left his tropical fortress to make not one but two trips to Night Island to assess progress.
The armored SUV came to a stop at the entrance of the villa. A member of the Steen security team was waiting.
“Your father is waiting for you in the great room, sir,” he said.
“Thanks,” Benedict said. “Are my sisters here?”
“Yes, sir. Ms.Celina and Ms.Adriana are out on the veranda. Cocktails will be served soon.”
“In that case, might as well get the business with Dad over and done. I need a drink,” Benedict said.
He walked through the high-ceilinged halls to the vast, tiled great room that opened onto the veranda. He thought he was prepared for the confrontation; nevertheless, his gut twisted when Cutler turned to face him.
“Welcome home,” Cutler said. “I hope you had a smooth flight.”
Benedict chilled. Dealing with his father was always a high-wire act. Cutler was the ultimate Janus-faced man. You had to be careful not to assume that what you saw on the surface reflected Cutler’s real state of mind. Growing up, Benedict and his half sisters had learned that the truth was in Cutler’s eyes.
In the past it had been hard to read his eyes. Doing so had required attention, analysis, and caution. But lately it had become easier. Benedict still wasn’t sure why that worried him.
Today Cutler’s eyes glittered with cold disapproval and contempt.No surprise, Benedict thought. But it seemed to him that there was something else going on just beneath the surface.
“Good to be home,” Benedict said. He could lie as easily as Cutler. Like father, like son. “Unfortunately, as you know, the Night Island Project had to be terminated.”
“Because of Rand and March,” Cutler said, his voice tightening. “Hard to believe you let a fucking failure of a test subject and that amateur podcast investigator take down such an incredibly promising enhancement project.”
“For what it’s worth, the project was doomed from the start.”
“What are you talking about? You had that logbook. You had thatamazing lab. You had the scientists. You had everything you needed to succeed and you failed.”
“The project was doomed because the formula is flawed. It killed the first two subjects. It nearly killed Rand. I’m convinced it drove Jasper Draper mad.”
“Bullshit,” Cutler shot back. “He was no doubt unstable before he was enhanced.”
“Maybe, but the serum pushed him over the edge.”
“Why didn’t it kill Rand or make him insane?” Cutler demanded.
