Chapter Thirty-Seven
Kane Duggan was amused by the nest the smuggler had built for himself and his woman. Amused enough to allow his captives the illusion of privacy, for the time being. It was hours until the poison activated and Friday Jones expired. According to the records at the Houston facility, she’d accessed the controlled substance cabinet at six p.m. five days earlier. That meant she’d taken the poison close to the same time. Which gave her less than six hours to live.
Kane smiled at the monitors showing the couple’s cell. In an hour or so, he’d send a team to rip apart their little sanctuary. And then he’d record every last emotional minute for Miriam. He knew exactly how much she’d appreciate his efforts.
Satisfied with his plan, he turned his back on the monitors, but he could still hear his prisoners whisper. Kane couldn’t quite make out the words, but from what he did manage to hear, they were talking about Striker’s family. Not a topic that interested Kane. Family was nothing more than sentimental weakness. It was why he’d rid himself of his as soon as been able. He’d learned early that a man with his skills made enemies easily, and it was best not to have anything those enemies could use as leverage. Not that his useless parents would have been much in the way of leverage, but it had been wise to eliminate the possibility—in the most permanent way possible.
Of course, he’d made sure that the right people heard about what he’d done to his family. In the end, his useless parents had served a purpose—they’d furthered his reputation as a man to be feared. Mm, maybe he was sentimental after all, because listening to Striker talk about his childhood had brought back the happiest memory he had from his youth—watching the life drain from his parents.
He tapped the console in front of him and connected with CommTECH’s head office. He hated the Coalition Countries. Hated that his implants were useless outside the Territories. He wanted to go back to New York, where his will was carried out with the merest thought. After a moment’s delay, Miriam’s face appeared on the screen covering the wall.
“Is she dead?”
Kane smiled. Miriam Shepherd always got straight to the point. It was one of the things he loved about her, in as much as he could love anyone.
“Nearly. They’re locked in a monitored cell.”
Her gaze sharpened, his meaning at once clear. “Are you recording it?”
“Of course.”
“No chance of escape?”
“None.”
“I knew you wouldn’t let me down.” She practically purred the words, and not for the first time, he wished he found her even remotely attractive. He considered Miriam to be his soulmate, but she didn’t arouse him sexually. His needs lay in other directions.
“When can I expect your return?”
“Tomorrow. I need to clean up this mess. After that, I’ll meet with the mine management, to ensure ladmium production is on track. Then, I’ll be back.”
“I look forward to it.” The communication ended.
The CommTECH CEO was a piece of work. He’d never met anyone as intelligent or as ruthless. Aligning himself with her, instead of against her, was one of the smartest moves he’d ever made.
He checked the monitors again. There was no movement from inside the little tent. No sound coming from the room. If the bioreadings for the cell hadn’t been telling him there were two bodies in the space, he might have assumed they’d escaped. But there was no escape. Not for them.
Settling in at his desk, Kane went through the reports on the mine. It had only been running a year, and already it had supplied half the amount of ladmium they needed for their new data chips—at a fraction of the cost of buying the mineral legitimately. CommTECH would make a fortune from this deal. And not only in the Territories. If Miriam was right and her plans were successful, CommTECH would rule the world.
And Kane would be the new world leader’s second-in-command. He liked that title very much. Leading had never appealed to him. He didn’t want the attention. No, he liked the ability to slip into the shadows when the need arose.
Two hours later, Kane looked up from the reports he’d been reading to check the monitors, and found no change. Still, it was time to rip away their shelter and lay them bare for the cameras. Since his commlink didn’t work in Bolivia, he reached for the comm button on the console to call his security staff.
Only, he never made it.
The attack happened with blinding speed. The first he knew about it was a series of stabbing bites to his leg. He reacted fast, striking out at his attacker. But it was too late. He knew that when he felt the poison moving up his leg. An excruciating burning pain that made his vision blur. He reached for his gun as sweat broke out on his brow. Another bite. This time to his arm. Something moved behind him, crawling across his chair. No, not crawling. Slithering. Nausea assaulted him, and he vomited over his desk.
His fingers turned numb first, and his gun fell to the floor. The pain was blinding. His arms and legs began to swell, as he felt another stabbing bite to the back of his neck. Too many bites. Too much venom. Blood rushed through his veins, propelling the poison through his system at the speed of light. His head fell to the desk in front of him with a thud, and he couldn’t lift it again.
Antivenin.
He needed antivenin. He let out a sound that was a mixture of laughter and screaming. He’d blown up the antivenin with the clinic.
He’d killed himself.
His heart surged, and it felt like it might burst. Agony wracked his body. His throat closed tight, trapping his screams. He couldn’t breathe. His limbs were swollen to the point where he felt like they would explode. His tongue filled his mouth as he gulped for air and got nothing. He gasped. Desperate. Unable to breathe. Unable to move. With one last shudder, his heart stuttered and stopped.