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“Call the elevator,” the henchman growled, and I realized he wished to avoid leaving an electronic trace.
“Do you see a badge on me?”
“Use your thumb.”
I rubbed my left thumb against a muddy spot on my PJ pants and then pressed it to the elevator pad.
ACCESS DENIED.
“What the zigqat?” he swore under his breath in Ara-Cope.
“Princess Imana must have deactivated me,” I said.
With another curse, he leaned around me to call the elevator himself, and the door slid open.
Garrison stood there. His surprised gaze shifted between me and my captor. Then his expression went neutral. “I thought you were taking the day off,” he said in a conversational tone while blocking the entry.
Run, Garrison, run! They’re coming for you! “My hovercar broke down.” I used the guard’s own words, but my heart leaped into my throat with fear. The excuse made no sense for me being in the building; Garrison would realize that. “The president’s protection officer was kind enough to provide me with a ride home.” With a nudge of my chin and jerk of my eyes, I tried to point to the henchman’s holstered weapon. Would Garrison notice the hilt the way I had? Please, please understand!
“Do you mind? We don’t have all day,” the guard snapped and prodded me forward. I faked a stumble and fell against Garrison, slipping Imana’s broach into his pocket.
I’d grabbed it on instinct with no time to consider the consequences—that it might turn me into Erika Stadler right in front of Imana and her henchman, which would have been very bad for me. Fortunately, that hadn’t happened—although, in retrospect, I didn’t understand why it didn’t work on me. But, hopefully, Garrison would make the connection I’d been to see the president who was not the president.
The henchman badged the reader, the doors closed in Garrison’s face, and the elevator ascended to the garage.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Maxx
Bright morning light spilled in through the windows. In frustration, I pounded my fist against the door. Chyt. Chyt. Chyt.
By the time I’d managed to drag my sorry ishta upright, the power had returned, and, as I’d feared, the doors had sealed, locking me inside my own safe house. Jessie was out there at the mercy of Imana. I didn’t doubt for an instant she’d headed straight to Erika Stadler’s office.
I paced, cursing my stupidity. I should have told her everything. I’d only omitted one fact—that Imana had assumed the New Terran president’s place. My reasons for the secrecy had been valid—until we could force Imana to reveal herself at the scene, we’d never get a conviction by the LOP Justice Tribunal. We had to ensure nothing aroused Imana’s suspicion. The league had invested three years, strategizing, waiting, monitoring. And, just as we’d been about to collar the cartel’s mastermind, Jessie charged into the middle of it.
The smart, canny Copan princess could smell a trap from an ypnot away. That was how she’d stayed ahead of the law for so long—that and her royal position.
We’d worried about what Jessie would do if she suspected the president of her planet was behind the abductions, so we’d tried to head off any contact. The slightest change in nuance would arouse the princess’s suspicion, and, if that happened, she would eliminate Jessie and/or abort the plan.
Unable to sit still, I prowled through the house rechecking the doors and windows, cursing the techs who’d set up the security system. Of course, detainees in protective custody had to be prevented from leaving, and threats had to be kept out, but there’d been flaws in the system. The house had been rendered wide open during a power outage then locked tight with no way to exit in an emergency.
I yanked on the window in the bedroom we’d shared. I’d already tried to break the glass in the main room by hitting it with a chair and broke the chair. I pounded a fist against the window in frustration and turned to regard the rumpled bed.
Oh, Jessie…please be all right. If anything happened to her, I’d never forgive myself. The mission had become personal to me. This wasn’t just about saving humans and other sentients, but saving the woman who’d come to mean the world to me.
Imana had to be stopped.
The wormhole on the New Terra-Nomoru route had enabled the princess to shuttle between two worlds with such ease, she’d virtually been able to be two places at once. She could go home to Nomoru, spend a few months in the Copan palace, then time-travel through the wormhole and be back in the president’s office within a couple days of when she’d left. To cover her brief absences, she’d announce she’d be going to Camp Larabelle. No surprise— “Erika Stadler” had spent a lot of weekends at the presidential retreat.
I stomped out of the bedroom to the kitchen. Flinging open drawers, I examined the limited cooking and serving utensils for a tool to hack or pry my way out of here.
Crash!
I whipped around to see the attic access panel in the hall ceiling had fallen to the floor.
A second later, an armed man dropped out of the opening.
Chapter Twenty-Five
