“It’s possible he may be developing an implant of his own.”
“We’ll find it before he finishes,” Henry said with sublime confidence. “That kind of a secret is near impossible to keep. Even you could not do that.”
Henry waited for her to respond. She let him.
Finally, he rose and walked to stand in front of her, a tall man with mahogany skin whom the human media had dubbed “patrician.” She cared nothing for that, only for his mental and political strength.
Now, he proved his political acumen by saying, “The Sri Lankans broke naturally—the anchor in that region is fluctuating.”
Anchors, as Shoshanna well knew, were integral to the functioning of the PsyNet. Since anchors were born, not created, they were identified young and trained to use their abilities to merge with the Net to ensure it remained stable. But those unique Psy also had a habit of failing spectacularly—a disproportionate number of serial killers had come out of the pool of anchors in recent times.
“Do we need to bring it up at the next Council meeting?” With some things, there was better political mileage in taking the initiative.
“I’ll take care of it.”
“Henry, we need the anchors.” They couldn’t simply be rehabilitated like the others who broke. Rehabilitation left very little of a functioning mind, and the anchors needed those minds to do their jobs.
Henry’s expression didn’t change. “He can be brought under control with a little judicious telepathic reshaping.”
“That could break his mind.”
“I know what I’m doing—I’ve had some practice.” He stared at her. “If we succeed, we’ll have an anchor who’s bound to us. That part of the Net would be ours to control.”
And if they failed, no one would know. “Do you need my assistance?”
“Keep snowing the media. I’ll do the rest.”
As Henry left her office, Shoshanna did a reassess ment. Their previous relationship had been to her advantage, as Henry had obeyed most if not all of her commands. However—and if Henry continued to remain rational—this new partnership could yield even greater fruit.
Henry might not want to rule, but she did. She also knew how to take care of extraneous matter after it had outlived its use.
CHAPTER 20
Dev could still feel the soft curve of Katya’s body tucked against his as he ushered her into an apartment on the twelfth floor of the Shine building. The drive into Manhattan had been largely quiet, but he didn’t make the mistake of thinking she’d given up her plans of escape—of going north.
Her eyes went to the door as he put down her bag. “You’re going to lock me in, aren’t you.” Not a question, though it was framed as one.
It hit him hard, a two-fisted punch—because no matter his awareness of the calculated evil that had brought her into his life, Katya continued to cut through his defenses like a scalpel, leaving him exposed. “I can’t have you out of Shine control.” She could be programmed to seek and destroy files, information, specific individuals.
“Out of your control you mean.” Her jawline firmed, her delicate bone structure defined against skin that had begun to gain the golden flush of health.
“Yes.” Lying would achieve nothing. “My people come first—it’s something you can’t ever forget.”
She gave him her back as she turned to walk toward the windows. “How long do you plan to keep me here?”
Fighting the instinct to bridge the distance, to capture her between his arms as he had in Vermont, he thrust both hands into the pockets of his suit pants. “For now—at least a week.”
“That’s not an answer, Dev.”
“You know the answer.” He stared at the slender line of her back, willing her to face him, make him feel less like a monster. “You’ve always known the answer.”
She pressed her hand flat on the glass. “You’ll keep me here as long as it takes. Even if it takes years.”
It was a kick to the gut, the utter emptiness of her voice. For the first time, she sounded like one of the Psy. As if he’d destroyed something in her. “It won’t,” he said. “We’ll have answers sooner rather than later.” He’d set every single one of his contacts into play.
“Then what?” Finally, she turned to look at him, her eyes as empty as her voice. The woman who’d come to him last night was just . . . gone. “As long as I’m connected to the PsyNet, I’m a threat. And there’s no way to pull me out of the Net. Stalemate.”