Page 140 of The Lazarus Protocol

Adam moved. The others did as well, launching an attack at the same time. Hitting back at the mercenaries Earthnet had supplied Montrose with, all of it happening well ahead of Adam’s decision to come to the island.

A pistol slammed down on Adam’s forehead.

He dropped to his hands and knees, breathing hard as the truth dawned.

Earthnet had set this whole thing up. The AI—Polaris—had anticipated all of this and brought them here, thinking they were rescuing their friends. Instead, they were playing into its hands, and the whole thing had landed him back in Montrose’s clutches.

A gun went off. One of the workers fell to the deck with a hole in his forehead, blood seeping out to stain the deck.

Montrose yelled, “Enough!”

Adam lifted up and sat back on his heels, blood running down his temple.

“Any of you tries that again, and the two women die.”

FORTY-SEVEN

Arlington, Virginia

Dr. Emanuela Peraya pulled into the parking lot of the hotel, one of those chain ones that were all the same. Didn’t matter where in the world you were, the room would look like all the other rooms.

It figured that Kraus would pick this nondescript spot to speak with her, even going so far as to order her to leave all electronics in the car.

She brought her keys, leaving her purse under the passenger seat so it was out of sight of would-be thieves. Even in times of stress, a woman had to guard her personal security.

The entrance doors parted, sliding back to grant her entry.

Behind the desk, the heavyset Hispanic woman with fabulous lashes didn’t even look up from her computer. Emanuela spotted a single man reading a newspaper over where breakfast would be served, if she stayed here long enough. Who knew where the night would lead—after they settled everything there was to discuss.

She took the elevator up and found room 224 at the end of the hall.

Emanuela knocked once, and Kraus opened the door for her. She waited until it was closed before she set her keys on the TV unit. There was barely enough space to walk around between the two double beds, and the screen displaying hotel amenities.

Kraus stayed by the door, facing her now.

“What?” Emanuela hadn’t come here only for him to be silent. “You look like your cat was run over.”

“You think my problems are that pedestrian?”

“No, I don’t imagine they are.” She brushed back a couple of loose strands of hair from her temple. “But they’re likely also more than classified.”

He broke away from the door and went to a brown paper bag behind her, on the desk. “Care for a drink?”

“Just tell me what this is.” She sat on the edge of the bed and slid off her shoes because they’d been pinching her toes all day. “You said you wanted to talk.”

Kraus brought over a hotel paper cup, half filled with the Macallan he’d brought.

“Fine.” She took the cup. “Just one. There’s far too much to sort out for us to get distracted by drinks and…the rest of it.”

Kraus didn’t take the bait, something he’d have done if he wanted to make use of the bed. Maybe that ship had sailed, and she should let it rest. Quit feeling so sorry for herself. So lonely. It was only desperation that had landed her in his arms before. She didn’t need to be desperate again now.

He held out his cup. “Now that you’re here, I’m not in so much of a hurry.”

“Maybe we should drink to answers.” She tapped hers against it.

Kraus leaned on the edge of the TV unit and sipped first. “You saw the report on Simon’s killer. He was unidentified. No one in the world knows who the guy is. It’s like his existence was completely erased.”

Alarm bells of instinct rang in her mind—ones she’d honed over thirty years working in the field of psychology. He’s lying.