She hung up then glanced at her watch. It was nearly two in the morning. The hospital wasn't going to let her interview Max at this hour, no matter how vital it might be. She'd have to wait until morning. All she could really do now was head home, and get a few hours sleep.
* * * *
Sam woke with a start. Her heart thundered, a rhythm that spoke of fear. Heat crawled over her skin, warning of danger. She glanced at the time. Four fifteen. She'd been home for nearly two hours, and asleep about half that.She stared into the darkness that filled the living room. She'd fallen asleep on the sofa, as she did most nights. The TV had tuned itself off, and the only sound to be heard was the wind sighing through the window she'd left slightly open.
So what had woken her so abruptly?
She wasn't sure. Frowning, she rose and headed to the bathroom. But halfway there, she heard it — a slight beep outside her front door. An inconspicuous sound unless you knew what it meant. Someone was using a key-coder to break into her apartment.
The sensation of danger crawled over her skin, so intense it burned. But before she could move, the door handle turned. She caught her breath, barely daring to breathe, and hoped like hell the shadows would hide her.
The door opened slightly. A figure appeared, dressed in black, features covered by a mask. A woman.
She hesitated in the doorway, and then she threw something towards the bedroom. It landed with a soft thump, the impact obviously cushioned by the thick carpet. The woman stepped back and closed the door.
Sam stepped towards the object on the floor. It was round and metallic, and it had numbers that glowed into the darkness. Numbers that were counting down from ten... nine... eight...
A goddamn bomb.
She swore and dove for the window. The bomb beeped and then exploded. Heat sizzled across her bare feet as she crashed through the window. Glass and flames followed her into the night as she tumbled down to ground. Only, like a cat, she somehow landed not only on her feet, but unhurt. She wasted no time on reflecting how or why this was possible, running instead for the front of the building.
A car engine roared to life. She cursed and pounded around the corner. Lights cut into the darkness. She threw up her arm to protect her eyes, and then she realized the lights were drawing close. The engine roared and tires squealed as the driver accelerated — directly at her.
She threw herself sideways, but not fast enough. The car swiped her side, and pain leapt like fire through her body. She hit the concrete with a grunt. Darkness surged through her and she knew no more.
* * * *
Gabriel leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. They ached, like the rest of him ached, his heart most of all. But there was no time to rest, no time to contemplate what if. Not until he caught the bitch who'd murdered his sister.Behind him, his father paced, his strides long and somehow furious. Grief was something that hadn't fully hit the Stern clan yet — anger, and the need to find Miranda's killer, were uppermost in everyone's mind.
Which was why they were here. Though Federation's headquarters was supposedly on Collins Street, this small bomb shelter was its true heart. One of a dozen built within the city during the new millennium, when the race wars were at a peak. The shelter was a two-story deep complex that housed the Federation's information gathering center. The SIU might pride itself on having an extensive network system, but the Federation had operatives in every government, every union, and every rebellious group currently on record. Though officially the Federation was not terribly active these days, it kept its finger on the pulse and was ready to intervene when and where needed. No matter whether that intervention meant direct or verbal assault.
Right now, those resources were concentrated on finding his sister's killer.
The door behind them opened. Gabriel glanced around. Stephan walked to the table and dropped a sheaf of papers on the glass-topped desk.
"That's everything we can find on Hopeworth and its projects." He collapsed into a chair and rubbed his eyes. Though family members currently manned the info center, the image Stephan retained was the image the world knew — black hair, green eyes. The Stephan that was the image of their father rather than his true self, Gabriel's identical twin. Even here, in the true heart of Federation, they had to be careful. "Our contact in Hopeworth wasn't able to help — security has been tightened since these murders began."
Gabriel raised an eyebrow. "Since they began? Did he say why?"
"Security breach the day before the murders started, apparently."
"Someone got into their system," he mused. "That's how the killer found out about the Generation Eighteen adoptees."
"And probably why the General was so anxious to meet with you. He wanted to know how much SIU knew."
He nodded, and glanced at his watch. "I'll call Sam at seven and see how the meet went."
Stephan's gaze narrowed. "Why not call her now?"
"Because it's four in the morning, and she deserves to get a few hours sleep before I start hounding her again."
"Miranda is dead — doesn't finding her killer take precedence?" There was an almost accusatory note in Stephan's rich tone.
He clenched his fist and somehow restrained the urge to launch across the table and belt his brother. "I know Miranda is dead. I found her, remember?"
"Enough, both of you." Charles slapped a palm down on the table. The sound ricocheted through the abrupt silence, as sharp as a gunshot. "Fighting between ourselves is not the answer. And as much as I want to find this murderous bitch, I agree with Gabriel. What young Samantha has discovered can wait until morning. I have a feeling that we have all the clues we need right here."
He nudged the case reports with a finger. Gabriel stared at his twin for several seconds, saw the anguish and guilt in his eyes, which was no doubt a mirror of his own. Like him, Stephan felt he could, should, have done more to prevent Miranda's murder. He sighed and reached for the top folder. "We've been through these. There's nothing here."