Chapter Forty

“So how do we do this?” Callum asked.

“They must know we have Smith; they’ll be expecting us. We need to go in fast, blow the place, and get the hell out of there.”

“And what about the woman?” Callum’s expression was blank.

“Tell me what you’re thinking,” Luke said.

Callum shrugged. “I’m thinking we’re almost there. We’ve worked at this for ten years, and at last, we’re close, but you’re not thinking straight. That woman has you tied in knots.”

Luke wasn’t going to deny it. For the first time since this whole nightmare had started, he was looking beyond the end of the mission, actually contemplating an existence after they destroyed the Conclave. Always before he’d known he would give his life for the cause. He still believed that, but now the difference was—he didn’t want to die, he wanted to live. But Callum was involved in this as well. “So what do you think we should do about Jenna?”

“I think we should lock her in one of the cells. Keep her quarantined. At the very least, keep her confined to her room. If she is somehow poisonous, chances are we’re already infected, but there’s no need to risk anyone else.”

“She’s staying in her room. It was her idea.” He stared Callum straight in the eyes. “She’s not the enemy.”

Callum ran a hand through his hair. “I know. I just want to be sure that your priorities are right. Hell. What are you going to do if we get this stuff and the doctor tells us she is toxic?”

“I don’t know. Search for some sort of cure, I guess.”

“For her, or for us and every other poor sod she’s been in contact with?”

“Both. Look, we know she’s been fine for the last twenty-six years. There’s no reason why she can’t be fine again, why we can’t reproduce the drugs her father gave her. Now drop it.”

Luke knocked on the door and pushed it open without waiting for an answer. Jenna lay on the bed facing him, her eyes wide open. She blinked as though coming out of a trance, and he crossed the room, putting the bags he carried on the floor by the bed.

“Some clothes for you. I guessed the sizes, but they should fit.”

“Thank you.” But she made no move to look inside the bags. “If you find out I am poisonous, will you do something for me?”

“What?”

“Kill me.” She held up a hand to stop him interrupting, and he bit back his words. “I saw the film. I couldn’t bear to be responsible for doing that to anyone. Really, I’d rather be dead.”

“It won’t come to that. Besides, we can quarantine you until we find out the cause. Or until we can get a supply of whatever it was your father was giving you.”

“Maybe, but you must keep the option open.”

“I will,” he lied. “Now come here.”

She rose to her feet and stepped into his arms. After a minute, he released her. “I just came to say goodbye. We’ll be heading out in a few minutes. I’m leaving two men here—use the internal line if you need anything.”

“Will it be dangerous?” she asked.

“Shouldn’t be, if the doctor’s given us accurate intel on the place and the security.”

“Could he be lying?”

“He could be, but I doubt it. Let’s say it’s in his best interests for us to succeed. I’ve sent him back to London—we have a holding facility there. He knows if we fail, they’ll release the poison, and he’ll die along with everybody else. He didn’t change his story, so I think the intel is good, and we have all the security codes, the guard positions, and so on. Should be easy.” He didn’t add “as long as the Conclave aren’t waiting for us.”

She forced a smile. “I’m glad. I want this to be over.”

“Me too.” He reached out and stroked a stand of silky hair from her cheek, tucked it behind her ear. “I have to go.”