Gabriel glanced at the screen. It was undoubtedly Lyssa's form, but this woman's walk was different — less graceful, more energetic. And given the real Lyssa was safely tucked away, this was obviously the replacement. But if she was a multi-shifter, why would she wear this form here? Surely she'd have to be aware that the SIU and the Fed's would be here. He paused. Maybe that was the entire idea. Kazdan would have found out by now that his prisoners had escaped. Maybe they were planning to frame the real Lyssa for the attempt on the PM's life. The video evidence would be undeniable, especially since few authorities knew about multi-shifters.
He gripped his brother's shoulder. "That's not Lyssa."
Stephan glanced at him sharply. "Why would you say that?"
"Because the real Lyssa is safe with Karl. That's the imitation you've been living with for the past six months."
Though his face went pale, anger burned deep in his brother's eyes. "You knew, and you didn't tell me?"
"I wasn't sure until a few hours ago." He pulled out his gun and checked the clip one final time. "I'll explain later. Right now, I have to go catch our traitor."
"When all this is over, we talk."
When all this was over, he was taking a holiday. He tapped the wristcom one of the State boys had given him, unlocking the audio pin and placing it behind his ear. "Keep an eye on her. I'll be in touch."
The Lyssa imitation had taken a corridor that led to two places — the workers lounge and the refuelling depot. With the careful placement of one or two bombs, the depot would provide one hell of a light and sound show, which was why Stephan had arranged for extra security there.
After exiting the security center, Gabriel ran down the corridor, made a sharp right and continued on. The workers lounge came into sight, but there was no one in the immediate area. He slowed and pressed the wristcom. "See her?" he asked softly.
"Just gone into the ladies room."
He studied the door to his left. Would a terrorist stop for a quick bathroom break? "Check the plans. Is there a large vent of some kind connected to the bathroom?"
"Hang on."
He crept forward while he waited. Once he neared the door, he pressed his back against the wall and pressed his fingers against the door, slowly opening it. He heard soft cursing and then the harsh rasp of metal against tile. She was up to something in there, for sure.
"One vent," Stephan said, "It connects to vents that lead to depots one and two."
Both of which were well covered. Even if she succeeded getting into the depots without being caught, she wouldn't get much further. There had to be something else, something they were missing. "Where else does the vent go?"
"Heads back past the kitchens and up to the main air conditioning unit."
"No other vent openings beside the kitchen?"
"Nope."
Then what the hell was she up to? A soft, metallic thumping indicated she was climbing into the vent. "Keep an eye on the vents at the depot. Inform security I'm heading down to the kitchen."
He eased the door closed and ran for the stairs. State police swung towards him, guns raised, as he entered the lower level. They didn't shoot though, which meant Stephan had been in contact with them. He dug out his ID, flashing it as he ran past.
The kitchen was dark and still. The exit lights gleamed brightly, lending a ruddy glow to the darkness. He quietly closed the swinging double doors and waited for his eyes to adjust.
"Vent's near the crockery shelves," Stephan said.
Gabriel clicked the audio off, letting his brother see and hear but not speak. He had no idea how acute the imitation Lyssa's hearing was, but given she was a shifter, he wasn't about to take a risk. The vent was still in place. He squatted behind a bench that offered him cover while still allowing him to see most of the kitchen.
After several minutes, metal scraped, and the grate covering the vent clattered to the floor. He drew his gun. With a soft grunt, Lyssa appeared, slithering from the vent to the floor like a small sack of potatoes. She climbed to her feet near the far end of his bench and headed toward the stoves. Once there, she began to turn on the jets. A soft hissing filled the air.
Gas, he thought. They were going to blow the kitchen, not the more obvious fuel depot. He rose and held his gun at the ready.
"Not another step, Lyssa."
She jumped and swung around. The red light reflecting from the overhead emergency beacon made her pale features seem harsh. "Gabriel. What are you doing here?"
"I might ask you the same question." She had something in her right hand, and though he couldn't make out what it was, it appeared the wrong shape to be a gun. "Drop whatever you're holding," he ordered.
A smile touched her lips. "I don't think so."