Total pages in book: 149
Estimated words: 138217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138217 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 691(@200wpm)___ 553(@250wpm)___ 461(@300wpm)
“You win. Kiss me right now, sexy Mr. Charming.”
—Conversation between Pavel Stepyrev and Arwen Mercant (5 September 2083)
THEO WOKE TO the sound of a phone alert.
A stir from the big body holding her, one arm reaching over her head to the bedstand to retrieve a phone. “Pasha, what is it?” was the question asked in a gruff morning voice that made her skin tighten and her toes curl into the sheets.
Whatever Pavel said had Yakov going still. “You’re sure?” he asked at last.
Another silence.
Then: “Send me the address. Good work, bro.”
After hanging up, he wrapped his arm around her again and said, “I know you’re awake, pchelka.” A nuzzle against her throat. “Sadly, we can’t cuddle. My brother decided to be an insomniac after he had a great idea, and he’s found us a lead. I’ll tell you about it in the car. Ten minutes to get ready. We’ll grab breakfast from the bakery.”
Somehow it was easier to do this, face him again, when they were on a deadline. But once they’d picked up the food, she couldn’t make herself touch the donut holes she’d previously eaten with gusto. She stuck instead to liquid nutrients. “What did your brother discover?”
Yakov finished off a breakfast roll as he drove. “You know how you looped him into the discussion with your brother regarding the pills we found?”
“Yes.” It had been an easy decision, both because StoneWater was already in deep on this—and because Pavel was Yakov’s twin.
Yes, she had her biases, but she would’ve never trusted Pavel so much without first learning to trust Yakov.
“Your brother messaged back while we were asleep, and Pasha being Pasha, he’d set up an alert for when the data came in. Once he had it, he decided to stay up all night writing a program cross-referencing any prescriptions of those drugs against people living in Moscow.”
Theo frowned. “How could he get access to such sensitive databases?”
Coughing into his hand, Yakov said, “I can neither confirm nor deny that my twin has . . . a way with computronic security. As in, it doesn’t seem to exist for him. Pasha walks through walls.”
His pride in his twin was obvious. But Theo read between the lines. “He found a match.” Her mouth went dry. “But Yasha, a number of those medications are used therapeutically.”
“Yes, but that’s not the match he found.” Then he told her the combination of five drugs prescribed to a single address by two different doctors. “Two different people’s names on the prescriptions, but chances are high that it’s for one person. But no doctor would issue them together.”
“So a partner or a friend faked symptoms to get the other part of the necessary regimen?” Theo inhaled shakily. “This would mean a patient is alive.” That didn’t make sense, not with what Theo knew of the people who’d run the facility. “How is that possible?”
“We’ll find out soon—but that’ll push our investigation of the possible burial sites off by hours, maybe even a day. You still don’t want me to send a team out?”
Theo considered his question, shook her head. “The dead have waited for years. The living must have priority—especially if they could be a witness to what went on at the facility.”
The idea of a survivor . . . Theo wanted to grip on to that hope, hold on tight, but a cold snake of uncertainty uncurled in her gut. “If they’re still on the drugs,” she said slowly, “they can’t be free.”
Yakov’s arm muscles stiffened, the veins on his forearms taut. “If it’s a staff member from that torture chamber holding them prisoner, then their time is up. No more hiding.”
* * *
* * *
BLOOD dark and hot with the awareness that they might be about to come face-to-face with evil, Yakov brought the vehicle to a stop in front of a three-story apartment building in the suburbs of Moscow.
It wasn’t one of those sleek but soulless structures that existed in certain Psy-heavy areas of the city; this was an older building, constructed of golden brick and with flourishes over the doorways and around the windows. Vines crawled up its sides, and it boasted two neat garden beds, one on each side of the pathway that led to the front entrance.
One bed held flower bushes that had been tidied up for their winter rest, with the odd tough bloomer still going in amongst them, while the other flourished with cold-weather vegetables. Yakov’s father would be delighted to arrive at a property and see such thriving plants. From what Yakov could see from the street, both beds were in pristine condition, free of weeds and dead leaves.
The small but not negligible areas of lawn between the garden beds and the sidewalk provided further evidence of a gardener’s care. There were no bare patches, no knots of weeds, and the area around the path had been clipped neatly.