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“No way to know for certain, but the logical answer is that the formula simply didn’t affect him. Maybe his system was immune to it. Or maybe he had the wrong parapsych profile. It’s not like we can measure innate ability and accurately assess how someone will respond to the new version of the drug. All we had to go on was the fact that his name was on that list and that he had a military and intelligence background.”
Cutler began to pace the floor. Benedict watched with interest. This was new. Cutler had never had a habit of pacing.
“Now that ridiculous podcast crew has the list,” Cutler said.
“There’s very little they can do with it,” Benedict pointed out. “They might track down some of the people on it, but so what? It’s just a list of names that was compiled several years ago. We don’t even know who conducted those old psych studies. There’s no way that list can leadThe Lost Night Filesto us.”
Cutler reached the far side of the room, turned, and started back. He stopped a couple of yards away from Benedict.
“Let’s hope you are right,” Cutler said. “And let’s also hope that Adriana’s project will have a more successful outcome than yours and Celina’s did.”
Benedict considered his options and decided he had nothing tolose. “Back at the start, Adriana, Celina, and I assumed that you were playing a succession game with us, using the three enhancement projects as a test. The winner would be anointed as the next in line to take control of the business.”
Cutler slammed a fist on the table. “It’s not agame. Don’t you understand? We are talking about power of a kind that has never before been available. If we control the enhancement drug, we control anything and everything we touch. But the operative word iscontrol.”
“You’re talking about the boosters.”
“It’s one thing to be able to switch on an individual’s psychic senses, and, yes, people will pay any price for true paranormal talent. But we must have a means of making sure the subject is stable. We also need a way to shut down an asset with enhanced senses if it becomes necessary.”
“I get it. But the bottom line here is that the new version of the serum that was used in the original Night Island experiments doesn’t work any better than the original. Boosters won’t solve the problem.”
“We will see what Adriana can accomplish with the version I provided to her,” Cutler said. “Your sisters and I will meet you on the veranda for cocktails in fifteen minutes.”
He had regained most of his composure, but there was still an edgy tension sparking in his eyes.
“Yes, sir,” Benedict said. “Fifteen minutes.”
He walked out of the great room trying to find the right word to describe what he had glimpsed in Cutler’s eyes. It came to him a few minutes later when he was standing in front of a mirror fastening the buttons of a short-sleeved sports shirt.
Fear.
That was what he had seen in the old man’s eyes. Cutler was afraid.
But what would it take to scare Cutler Steen? He was a ruthlessman driven by a craving for power. He had fathered three offspring by three different mothers as an experiment designed to discover whether or not innate paranormal talents could be passed down through the bloodline. He had never told Benedict and his half sisters the truth about their origins, but they had done some quiet ancestry research on their own.
Among other things, they had learned that all three of their mothers had exhibited indications of psychic ability. Each had died shortly after giving birth. Benedict, Adriana, and Celina had been raised by nannies, private tutors, and high-end boarding schools. They had been brought up in the family business.
Cutler Steen had given his offspring everything they needed to take their place in a world that was fueled by wealth, power, and secrets. In return he had demanded constant proof of achievement and absolute loyalty.Family is everythingwas the motto of the Steen clan. The corollary,Trust no one outside the family, had also been drilled into the Steen heirs.
Cutler had always ruled his empire with an unshakable certainty in his own off-the-charts intuition, a talent that had been so unerring Benedict knew it qualified as psychic. But now he was showing signs of fear, maybe even panic. It was as if he was running out of time.
Benedict studied his reflection in the mirror. What did it take to make Cutler Steen panic? He had made enemies in the course of his climb to the top of a dangerous business, but enemies were nothing new for him. Something else was going on.
Benedict smiled. A new range of options and possibilities had just opened up. He turned away from the mirror and went to meet his sisters and his father for cocktails on the veranda.
Cutler was right, family was everything—including the source of the greatest danger.
CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE
Time to ponderthe most important question of the day,” Talia said. “What’s for dinner?”
Luke was sitting at the dining counter, working on Talia’s laptop. He looked up, amusement glinting in his eyes. “This morning you said that ‘What’s for breakfast?’ was the most important question of the day. Around noon I recall you saying something similar about lunch.”
“I believe in treating each meal with respect.” Talia opened the refrigerator door. “How does pasta with brown butter and parmesan and a nice watercress salad sound?”
“Sounds great,” Luke said. “But I have to tell you, just about anything would sound good.”
“That was easy.” She reached for the watercress. “You’ll eat anything I feed you. I like that about you.”
