Lightning Game (GhostWalkers #17) -Christine Feehan Page 0,158

you were coming. You’re not on the list.”

“Get the major here now,” Joe said crisply. He continued to walk briskly, not even slowing down.

“Yes, sir. Yes, sir.”

Heads turned as the GhostWalkers continued up the broad cobblestone walkway leading to Oliver Chandler’s sprawling building. The layout had been studied and committed to memory. They had not only the satellite images, the plans Major General Tennessee Milton had provided, but also the meticulously drawn blueprints Sean and his men had given them as well.

This time, their unit had not come alone to this piece of property Oliver Chandler owned and thought he protected with his government-paid employees. He was so certain he could get away with anything. He had created his own army without permission, going beyond his contracts, using his protections and believing himself above the law, believing he would never have to answer to anyone. Oliver Chandler had more money than he knew what to do with. He liked his position as a respected and high-level security defense contractor. Most likely, having a couple of colonels and a full unit of GhostWalkers coming to investigate the disappearance of a team that had gone AWOL would make him very happy, although Chandler and his guards would have no way of knowing the officers coming to see him were GhostWalkers.

Two men approached them, angling across the grass to cut off their direct trajectory to the building. Joe halted his forward progress when the major and his companion, a tall, well-built, athletic-looking man, were directly in front of them. Joe waited, looking the two men up and down in that way he had. Rubin wanted to smile. The major’s companion came to attention immediately, saluting. The major was much slower, but eventually—and sullenly—followed suit. Only then did Joe deign to speak.

“I’m Colonel Joseph Spagnola, Major Kingsley.” Deliberately, Joe used the major’s name to show he knew exactly who he was. “I want you to call your men out onto the field now. Immediately. All of them.”

Kingsley looked over the group of men in their uniforms, managing to look insolent. “I’m afraid I can’t do that … sir.” The major flashed a barely there smile. “Had you called ahead, we could have accommodated you, but today is a bad day. Mr. Chandler is testing weapons today, and we don’t allow any outsiders on the premises while the tests are being conducted. I’m sure you can understand.”

The man standing beside him gasped and swung his head toward Kingsley, frowning. When the major glared at him, he looked at the ground. Rubin knew that was Jarod Barnard, recruited from the elite Marine Raider Regiment. He was a good soldier with an excellent record.

Joe raised an eyebrow. “I gave you a direct order, Major Kingsley. I didn’t ask for an excuse.” His voice was low, but there was a whip of command in it—one that said, I’m a commanding officer and you had better remember that.

The smile vanished instantly from the major’s face. His shoulders straightened as he stiffened, annoyance crossing his features. It was clear that few ever questioned him, probably since he’d been enhanced. The fingers of his right hand curled into a fist. “Yes, sir. Right away, sir.”

Joe looked bored and turned away from him, dismissing him, knowing that would aggravate him more than anything else. This was a man who had suddenly discovered he had a small kingdom and ruled it with an iron fist. They needed to see just how far gone he really was, and they needed to know very quickly. These men were sworn to uphold their duty to their country. They served in various branches of the services, but they were all men who had served with distinction, and they upheld their code of honor with pride.

Rubin felt bad for Kingsley. They had no idea what kind of DNA had been put into him. He was in the Air Force and his record was spotless. He wouldn’t have been chosen for this assignment had it not been. He never would have passed the requirements for the GhostWalker program if he’d had any kind of psychological problems. Whatever had been done to him had caused the damage. The enhancement had pushed his natural aggression and testosterone levels off the charts, ripping away his basic kindness and humanity. Fortunately, his training kicked in and he obeyed his commanding officer, albeit reluctantly.

They still didn’t have the full list of men who had applied for the GhostWalker program under Oliver Chandler. They had