SLAVE TO SENSATION

“How do you know he won’t choose to go underground until we give up?” Nikita. “If he’s that good at hiding his tracks, he’s going to be aware we’re keeping watch.”


“He hasn’t killed the newest girl yet. I don’t think he’ll be able to stop himself from doing so.” Marshall. “All our research on serial killing in the Psy populace supports the compulsion theory.”

“How many others are operating at present?” Nikita. “The last data I received said fifty.”

“Those are all the ones we’re aware of. None are as much of a concern as our unknown—they aren’t preying on high-visibility victims. Most are targeting other Psy, which makes our job considerably easier.”

“What’s being done about them?” Henry.

“They’re being set up to be sentenced to rehabilitation for unrelated reasons. The ones we can’t afford to lose are being provided for. Every one of them will be taken care of without alerting the PsyNet.”

“But there will always be more.”

“That is the nature of the Psy.”

The meeting concluded without further discussion. Henry made his way back through the door and the outer core, Shoshanna by his side. They didn’t speak until they were inside the walled rooms of their private vault.

“What do you think?” Henry asked.

“It’s a reasonable outcome. We can take care of this matter without anyone knowing.”

“The changelings are suspicious.”

“Suspicion is worthless without proof. Nobody has uncovered even a single Psy serial killer since the first generation of Silence. We know how to keep our secrets.” Shoshanna’s energy flared. “Where were you?”

“In the history archives.”

“Tagging?”

“Yes. You were right again—the indicators are present in several members of the extended family, but it’s the youngest boy who might become a cause for concern.”

“Let’s discuss it tonight.” She left without a backward look.

Henry checked his calendar and began the return journey to the archives.

The part of him that was Sascha rose sluggishly to the surface, prodded awake by the recall of her earlier near-trapping in the vault. It took her precious seconds to realize her own consciousness. She’d come perilously close to losing herself in Henry. Detaching from him before he reached the vault was imperative but she had to separate as softly as she’d merged.

So she waited. They were almost to the vault when they passed a guard with a sloppy alarm system. She flowed from Henry to the guard’s shadow. When the man completed his circular route and reached the outer level of the restricted zone, she flowed onto another guard. Step-shadowing her way back to her own mind took over three hours in real time because she was tired, exhausted by the extended immersion in another’s consciousness.

At long last, she slipped back around her firewall and released the gathered information into her mind. It was like letting go of a data bomb loaded with shrapnel. Her eyes opened with a snap and she collapsed backward on the bed, her heart racing at a thousand beats per second. There was too much new information in her mind. She let it process while she lay there staring at the ceiling and thinking she was starving.

A look at her watch confirmed it was well past dinner-time. Groaning, she went to the console and checked for messages. There was one from Lucas. He looked very much like the predator he was, the lines on his face vivid against the golden heat of his skin. “Ms. Duncan. If you could spare some time this evening I’d like to discuss a matter to do with the design change. I’ll be at our earlier meeting place.” The message ended.

No one eavesdropping would’ve given it a second thought. Businesspeople left vague messages like that all the time. Only she saw the worry in those cat-green eyes, only she knew he’d called after she hadn’t gotten back in touch within a reasonable amount of time, only she ached to go to him.

A glance in the mirror showed her appearance to be completely acceptable. No one looking at her would’ve guessed at the turmoil inside. Decision made, she went to the console to return the call but changed her mind. No use alerting anyone who was watching her as to her whereabouts. Her heart twisted at the thought of Lucas worrying but she knew he’d have told her to do exactly what she was doing.

She changed out of the relaxed clothing she’d been wearing and into a severe black pantsuit and white shirt. It was the uniform of the Psy and she couldn’t afford to stand out. So armed, she walked out. And almost ran face-first into Enrique. If she hadn’t spent a lifetime keeping secrets, the shock might’ve made her shell crack.

“Councilor. How can I help you?” She closed the door behind her. It was a subtle hint.

His dark eyes ran over her clothing. “A late meeting?”

“Yes.” Meetings after nine weren’t anything unusual.