High above him, with the wind and rain in her face, she watched him cross the street to the Lombard building and stand in front of the entrance, looking around him guardedly, as if he suspected someone was watching him. This was the man who had killed her family, destroyed her home, and nearly killed Jesse Calhoun. He betrayed his country and his own family, using his relationship with the woman who raised him as her own son and his brother, to further his own ends.
Dahlia watched as Roman Howard walked back down the sidewalk, using the building’s reflective glass to try to search for hidden eyes. He was clearly uneasy, but he eventually went back to the entrance and punched in a code. How would he have one, and why? He was supposed to be a student, self-employed. Lily’s investigator had found no evidence of him working for Lombard. They were a large firm and often received government contracts. Many of their research and development teams had security clearance. There had been no mention of Roman Howard having such a clearance.
It was only when Dahlia felt the precarious sway of the cable and heard the sizzle of the rain that she realized the temperature around her was going up in direct proportion to the anger building inside of her. She took a deep breath and let it out. She had to keep things cool and under control. The recovery of the data on the stealth torpedo was of utmost importance. It had to come first, before anything else. She didn’t dare release more energy to the atmosphere when she was up on a cable.
She put first one, then a second foot on the thin cord and went into a crouch. Her mind immediately countered every problem the way it would in a chess match, finding points of balance in the gusting wind, finding the best angle for her body to prevent another incident. It was a fight with the distraction of wind and rain, but she kept the cable taut, using her mind. She was more cautious this time, feeling the way with her mind as she began to move forward. The wind kept the line swaying continually, so Dahlia had to counteract with her own brand of persuasion, using her psychic ability to hold the braided cord still. She picked up speed, but not enough impetus to propel her onward as she levitated. She had to actually push off the cable with her foot to keep forward momentum going.
It should have been nerve-wracking, and probably was to the GhostWalkers, but Dahlia reveled in the difficulties. Her mind and the extraordinary amounts of energy gathering in her body needed the constant challenges. She made it to the roof of the Lombard building and stood for a moment, regulating her pounding heart and controlling her breathing as the adrenaline flooded her body. She was used to that as well, the aftermath of the incredible feats she performed and the rush she got when she realized she was still alive.
Before stepping off the cable, she searched with both mind and body for cameras, motion detectors, and any other security devices. Her body was a reliable tuning fork, something, she was certain, to do with high frequencies. She could jam them, but she didn’t want to alert anyone to her possible presence, especially with Roman in the building.
I want you to abort now. It was a clear order. Roman Howard entered the building and he was clearly agitated and suspicious. I don’t like the entire smell of this. Abort. We’ll try another day.
I saw him go in. He doesn’t make a difference. We can’t risk it, Nicolas. I’ve allowed too much time to go by as it is. The data could easily be discovered by one of the researchers. I moved it, but I didn’t hide it.
Dahlia felt the full force of his frustration, the edge of his anger at her for not listening to him. But it wasn’t Nicolas’s responsibility if an enemy got their hands on the research for a weapon as potentially destructive as a stealth torpedo would be. She steeled herself to oppose him.
Don’t distract me. If you can’t lay back, wait for me at the house.
There was the same force of frustration, but he held back his anger. He simply was silent. They both knew he’d never leave.
Dahlia dismissed him from her mind and concentrated on finding any new security precautions. She’d scouted the rooftop numerous times, but not since she’d paid Lombard Inc. a visit. She was certain they would have beefed up their defenses.
The rain stopped, although the wind persisted, rising almost to a howl so that she had to crouch low, taking shelter beside one of the series of pagodas that housed the heat exhaust vents. She remained very still while she studied every detail of the roof, trying to orient herself to the earlier layout and what detail might have changed.
There was a small dark spot up near the top of the casing housing the wide cooling coils. The roof was as artfully done as the building itself, which gave Dahlia room to move between the pagodas and stay out of the camera’s vision. The camera itself was set on a sweep of the roof. She timed it twice to make certain she had enough time to fully disappear down the vent before it would pick up her entry.
She waited until the camera swept past the pagoda and immediately sank down into the shaft. It was easy enough to slip down, using her hands and feet to guide her until she reached the turn. It was a closer squeeze, but her small body fit nicely. She had memorized the layout of the building and followed the narrow vent that took her to the elevator shaft. She had used it before and was familiar with the way the vent opened into the shaft. She had to be careful with the screen, holding it even as she pushed so that it wouldn’t fly down the shaft to the basement level. She maneuvered it carefully aside and peeked into the shaft.
The shaft was the fastest way to get to the hub of the building where the enormous vault room was. The elevator bypassed the floor unless one of the elevator’s occupants had a special key and the correct access codes. Dahlia didn’t bother with elevators; she simply climbed down the shaft, using safety grips when possible, or cracks for fingers and toeholds when there was nothing else. The vent she needed was in an awkward position above her. She hooked a line to a safety grip, metal sliding against metal. The grating noise was overly loud and seemed to reverberate up the shaft.
Dahlia waited a moment or two until she was certain it was safe to proceed. She swung like a pendulum, back and forth, pushing off with her feet until she was able to swing high enough to hook her heel over the edge and hold her body there while she tied off the rope for a fast getaway. It was a simple enough matter to pull her body into the tube, but she did it in slow motion, inch by cautious inch, fully aware of the motion detectors scattered through the vent. It took a tremendous amount of concentration to keep them still as she crawled carefully through the narrow tube.
A strange buzzing began to grow louder and louder in her head. It was annoying, developing into a pressure, making her temples throb. Keeping her mind centered on the motion detectors was difficult with the buzzing interference. Her stomach began to churn. Dahlia stopped moving and lay completely still, recognizing a psychic attack. It had never happened to her before, but she knew it was an outside source. Tiny beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. She forced air through her lungs as the pressure in her head increased until it felt as if a vise gripped her skull.