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“I won’t say another word in front of them,” David responded. “Mr. Moss does not believe in personal armies, whether mercenary or otherwise. And my loyalty is to him.”

She knew arguing was pointless, and time was slipping.

“Fine. Captain, keep your team on alert in case there’s another surprise waiting for us. If I have any problems, I’ll contact you through the DR29. Agreed?”

“You’re the boss.”

She followed David, who did not say another word until they were several corridors and a short flight of stairs away from the mercs. They approached the observatory.

“I apologize for my silence,” he said. “I know you’ve been desperate since Michael fled. I know you counted on Mr. Moss as a silent ally if matters turned dark. If there’s any consolation, please know I tried to convince Finnegan to change course.”

His voice cracked. Sam feared where this was headed. Inside her, Lucinda Blanche spoke through the circastream.

“Dear, this feels like a trap of some sort. Perhaps if you turned around now …”

“Changed course?” Sam asked. “Changed from what?”

“Please.” David pointed to the massive sectionals in the center of the observatory. “You’d best sit. This will not be easy – for you or whoever is watching on your circastream.”

She accepted the invitation but refused to set aside her rifle.

“Changed from what?”

“Few men are as complex as Mr. Moss. In the years I’ve served Finnegan, he has routinely surprised me. He …”

“You’ve been lying to us. Haven’t you?”

He met her eyes with a hint of anger.

“We’ve never lied to you or Michael. Not once. Everything we discussed – our efforts to track down James Bouchet, our inroads to assist with Solomon equity – were factual. But the lack of a lie is not a guarantee of a whole truth. Like every Chancellor, we calculated the value of information based on our ability to leverage our position.”

“Which means what?”

“Samantha, I tell you this against Finnegan’s wishes because he does not want to hurt you. He genuinely cares about Michael and considers him a friend. So, I tell you with heavy heart that the circumstances which brought Finnegan into Michael’s orbit were engineered for a larger purpose.”

“You mean, what happened at Entilles Club …”

“Was staged. Yes. Not everyone was in on the scheme, of course. The individuals who were killed were sacrifices Finnegan deemed necessary.”

Her blood reached a full boil. “What? Michael was almost killed … twice. Why would you do that?”

“To achieve a creditable alliance with someone important inside the Solomon equity movement. A direct link to the leadership.”

Anger turned to horror. “So you would know who to kill when the assassins were sent out. You were part of her plan.”

She lifted the rifle, but David remained comfortably seated between pillows.

“It’s not what you think, Samantha. Mr. Moss is sympathetic to Solomons, but he has been working on a larger project for more than a year. He has had to make difficult choices. Not choices I approved of, but as I said before, Finnegan is complex. He is also practical.”

David tapped his temple and threw open a holowindow. He fingered the graphics to bring up geographical schematics of the Scandinavian Consortium. He tugged and swiped the land features. At last, he produced an image of a tall house built several stories high against the side of a mountain overlooking a fjord.

“This is where Mr. Moss currently resides. I could go inside, but I doubt you’d like what you see.”

“Who lives there?” Sam knew the answer already.

“Celia Marsche. Based on recent feeds, he is likely sleeping in her bed. They have been sexually intimate for some time now.”

Her worst, most persistent nightmare overtook her emotions.

“Oh, God. It was all a scam. You were playing us.”

“He saw no other options. I disapproved at every turn, but he was sure he found a pathway to a resolution. He had to give her what she wanted. Everyone gives Celia Marsche what she wants.”

“And what does she want?”

“The Guard. The Chancellory. Earth. All of it.”

“And Finnegan is helping her?”

“Like I said, Samantha, he’s a complex man. I am sorry.”

She reared up and aimed her rifle. It would be so easy.

David did not budge, as if unconcerned with his imminent fate.

Her father’s voice in her ear and her heart burning with rage, Samantha laid a finger upon the trigger. One day, she’d finish the job with Finnegan himself.

Then David uttered one word. The most unexpected of all.

43

The Appalachians

20 minutes before sunset

 

E VACUATION MEANT TWO THINGS: Grab every offensive weapon and run. Which they did. Inside the chaos, Rikard made a command decision to abandon four of the seven ships that ferried them into hiding. He charted the escape routes with the least path of natural resistance and divided the insurgents into three teams of ten. He gave each pilot rendezvous coordinates and a program for dropping into blind flight. In the frenzied departure, one sprained knee, a shattered tooth, and a broken fibula caused the briefest of delays. As they ran, the mountain pass fell into fading shadows of pink and orange.

Michael saw the enemy approach from the north: Scramjet, most recent model, based on size and configuration. He’d studied every commercial and military craft inside-out to earn his flight certification. It was coming in low, too high a speed to be an error.

He warned the team around him to close the forward spotlights in their holocubes, lest they be seen. The Scramjet passed directly overhead, its course pure and obvious.

“Don’t look back,” he told them. “Soon as they finish, they’ll spread a net for us.”

Rikard and Matthias gave him command of these nine, which included cook-turned-fighter Helene Yaffetz, fellow assassin Maya Fontaine, and Carlos Rivera, whom Michael now referred to as “No. 1 asshole.”

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