Page 53 of The Lazarus Protocol

Adam eyed her. “Maybe I’m just curious enough to want to know what you’ll do next.”

“You mean, what I’m going to do is fix this burned thing and get my life back?” She stared at him, wondering why it seemed like he was as much of a fairytale as this place. The problem with those stories, though? It was usually a trap. Good thing there was nothing innocent or naïve about her.

Adam shrugged. “I figure that means you need my help.”

“Then you figure wrong. Because I don’t need it.” She waited a beat. “But I’ll take it.”

She caught the edge of his smile as he turned away and walked to a wide hall. The kind that would have been lined with family portraits and old medieval armor—or Nazi flags. This one had been decorated with the flags from several states and every US military branch except one.

“No Space Force flag?” She glanced around at all the guys, who were sitting at desks that wouldn’t have been out of place in a police station.

Kai snorted. “No space force.”

The guy who’d been injured wandered in, barely limping. “He doesn’t believe in aliens.”

Adam waved her to the far end of the room, where they had an LED screen that was at least ten feet tall by eight feet wide. “Ice, bring up everything we have since the server farm.”

Steph watched the screen come to life, filling with images, snatches of video that played, transcripts and documents.

She spotted two photos, one of a man beside a document from Earthnet, and another by images of a chopper crash. A woman.

“I know her.”

NINETEEN

The clattering of dishware across the far end of the great hall caught Adam’s attention. He spun to see Winston pushing a dining cart into the room. Sure, he needed information from Steph, but they all needed to eat.

“Gentlemen.” Winston’s gaze found Steph. “And lady.”

“What the…,” Steph muttered under her breath.

“This is Winston.” Adam knew exactly what the old guy looked like. Black suit, white gloves, pristine white shirt, and shined shoes. His jacket even had a tail on it that was as authentic as his impeccable British accent.

“I’d have sworn his name was Alfred.”

“That would make me Batman.” Adam grinned at her. “But I don’t have nearly that much money.”

“Sure, that’s the only thing stopping you.” She wandered down the central aisle and stuck her hand out. “You’re Winston? I’m Stephanie-Jo.” He bowed over her hand rather than shaking it.

“Yes, ma’am. I am Winston.” He said it the British way, even. So it sounded like marm. Followed by, “Breakfast is served.”

Kai jumped out of his seat. “Finally. I’m starved. Smells amazing as usual, Winst.”

Their butler lifted a silver cover off a plate. “Sausage, egg, and cheese burrito with hashbrowns for you.” He handed over a second plate. “No hashbrowns, pico and sour cream for Mr. Firenz.”

Kai took the plates and rushed back to his seat, handing the second dish to Ash.

“Pancakes and blueberry sauce for Mr. Wylder.”

Adam walked the plate to Dan, who barely looked up from his computer but did say thanks.

“A ham omelet for Mr. Ibanez.”

Ice took the plate. “Thanks, Winston.” His phone rang, and he answered in Russian, taking the plate out the way the butler had come in. Tucking the phone between his cheek and shoulder and continuing to converse in Russian as he left with his breakfast.

Steph glanced at Adam, but he didn’t explain.

“One breakfast platter. Bacon, potatoes, four eggs over easy, extra cheese for Mr. Dubkowsky.”