Kyle drove us the short distance from the pub back to Crane’s temporary residence. I took note of the passcode he entered at the gate as the numbers flashed through his mind. Once inside the barrier, he pulled around to the back of the stone house. I blinked rapidly, turning my head from side to side, taking as many pictures as I could. Kyle parked the vehicle in a small, relatively empty lot behind the house. He turned to face me, one hand on the button that opened the vehicle doors. His thoughts turned anxious; he was having misgivings about bringing a stranger into Crane’s home.

I gave him the most dazzling smile that I could manage. Crane won’t mind. I’m just a young girl. I won’t cause any trouble, I coaxed. His face relaxed, and his thoughts returned to indecent. He pressed the button, opening the doors. I walked around from my side and took his large meaty hand in my small one, calloused and scabbed from all my weapons and combat training. I realized my mistake a moment too late. His eyes grew wide as he ran his thumb across the pads of my palm. I told you that I worked on my parent’s farm, I quickly covered. His face smoothed as he recalled a memory that wasn’t his own—the one that I’d just implanted.

Kyle led me up a stone walkway to the back of the house, where a guard stood watch. He had a large scoped rifle slung over one shoulder and two smaller guns holstered at his waist.

“Kyle,” he called. “Who’s your friend?”

“Hey, Dan, this is Anna,” Kyle called back.

“You know that you’re not supposed to bring visitors here,” his tone was disapproving, “even if they are cute little girls.” He slowly ran his eyes up and down the length of my body. I felt the overwhelming urge to shower. Anger and annoyance bubbled up inside of me. I understand that at just shy of five feet, I’m small, but “little girl”? He was lucky that I had yet to get what I came for, or else I would show him who was a little girl. I took several deep breaths to control my temper.

It will be okay just this once, I directed toward both Dan and Kyle.

“I guess it will be okay just this once,” they said in unison.

“I will need to search you and your bag,” Dan insisted. I had a feeling that this had more to do with his skeevy nature than fear that I might actually be armed.

Not necessary. Just let us in, I ordered. Dan moved aside, letting us pass, but not before giving me another once-over. I shuddered.

The interior of the house was dark, but my eyes adjusted quickly.

Lead me to your room now, I ordered more forcefully than I intended. Kyle tripped over his own feet as he set off in the direction of his room at a near-run, dragging me along with him. As soon as we walked through his room door, I mentally pushed the door shut and engaged the lock. Kyle’s eyes widened.

Lie down on your bed and go to sleep, I ordered. When you wake up, you will remember taking me home. Kyle obediently lay on top of his blankets. I filled his head with a distorted mental image of myself. Many of Crane’s men had seen us together and could describe me, but conflicting descriptions might buy me some time later. I waited until his breathing fell into an even rhythm before creeping out of his room, locking the door behind me.

I envisioned the floor plan for the house that I’d painstakingly committed to memory. Aware that my time was limited, I headed directly for Ian Crane’s office. I blinked rapidly, taking pictures as I jogged silently through the long hallways and up several flights of stairs. I reached the heavy wooden doors of his office in under a minute. Placing my hand on the wood panels, I opened my mind, searching for people inside. There was no one. I forced the lock and slid the door open, just enough for me to squeeze through. Mentally, I closed and locked the door behind me. I reminded myself to breathe.

Slowly, I scanned each wall with my eyes. I opened and closed them at a slow, even pace, praying that the pictures would be useful. After I was satisfied, I moved to Crane’s desk. I was no Crypto, and my knowledge of computers was limited, but I followed Blaine’s instructions for uploading the contents of the computer to my Communicator. I connected my portable Communicator to the computer, and it turned it on. A screen appeared on the monitor, asking for a password. I typed a sequence of numbers into my Communicator and waited while it worked. Blaine had explained that the Communicator was programmed with code-cracking software; several agonizing seconds later, a password box on Crane’s computer filled with a row of black dots. It beeped loudly three times, and then “password confirmed” appeared on the blue screen. The screen went blank, and then numbers, letters and symbols appeared, scrolling white against a now-black background.

Blaine had warned me that this might happen. He’d explained that everything on the computer was likely encrypted, and to just download the information “as is” and let the Cryptos sort it out. I checked the screen of my Communicator; the words “download started” appeared, followed by “download in progress.”

While the download ran, I rifled through Crane’s desk. Most of the drawers were locked, so I mentally disengaged all of the bolts at once and drew them out on their runners. I didn’t actually know what I was looking for. Mac said to gather as much information as I could, so I began taking pictures of each and every document that I came across. When the download finished, I decided that my next stop would be the basement.

The floor plan included underground dimensions that ran the length of the house. The aerial and satellite images that the Cryptos had weren’t able to determine what was down there. The most likely answer was a laboratory. Whatever it was, it had to be important to warrant so much protection surrounding it; the Cryptos hadn’t been able to get clear images because the entire basement was shrouded in some type of image-blocking technology.

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Opening my mind, I pinpointed all of the men in the house. I tiptoed from Crane’s office down a lengthy hallway, and wound through the house until I found the basement door. I paused. I couldn’t sense any active minds behind the door, but it wasn’t because there weren’t any. When I opened my mind, I met resistance, but not the kind that indicated an absence of human brain activity. I pushed harder, but it was like pushing against a brick wall. Not good. I placed my hand on the door to the basement and tried to disengage the lock. Nothing happened—really not good. I tried once more, for good measure. Nothing.

At school, Donavon and I had often found our way into restricted areas. Biometrically protected areas, I could easily handle. Security guards? Not a problem for somebody like me. But actual blocking technology? This was more advanced than anything that TOXIC utilized. The School’s security measures were in place to keep out overly curious kids, but nothing like this. Even Elite Headquarters didn’t employ such advanced security measures.

Brute force it was. With my mental faculties rendered useless, I had no other option. I was not super-humanly strong, but I did train for physical combat almost every day of my life. The door was definitely alarmed; once I broke the lock, I forfeited any element of surprise that I currently had.

Since I knew the general layout of the basement, I knew that there was an exit to the outside. I weighed my options. Whatever was behind this door was important. I knew that it was important going into the mission, but the fact that there was some type of protection that rendered my talents useless meant that whatever was down there was really important. There was no question in my mind—the risk was worth it. I would get in, take as many pictures as I could, and then make for the exit door. I took several calming breaths, slipped off my sandals, and then backed up several feet. I closed my eyes, cleared my mind, and prepared myself for the worst.

I launched myself at the keypad next to the door. My bare heel made contact, crushing the keypad in one blow. Plastic cut the bottom of my foot, but I didn’t feel pain. I pulled the dangling fragments of the keypad from the wall, exposing the wiring. Reaching through the pocket of my dress, I withdrew a knife from the belt around my waist. I began slicing through wires at random, praying that one would unlock the door. I breathed a sigh of relief when the door whined and eased itself open. No alarms had gone off when I broke the keypad, but that only meant that they were silent. There was no way that a facility with so much protection wasn’t also alarmed.

Immediately behind the door was a set of steep metal steps, so long that I couldn’t see the bottom in the dark. I worried for a split second that the security that was in place wouldn’t allow me to focus my energy, but thankfully, my fears were unfounded. I concentrated on my sight. My eyes adjusted to the absolute darkness in no time. Fearing that I’d already wasted precious time that I didn’t have, I tore down the staircase.

At the bottom of the steps, I made a snap decision and turned to the right. I ran down the corridor, mentally trying to open the doors lining either side; I was surprised to find that the doors responded to my mental talent. The protections only worked to keep people outside from getting in. I searched for human minds, but I’d waited too long.

Just as my mind registered a flurry of mental activity in a room just ahead to my right, a huge man stepped through the door. I couldn’t stop myself in time. I barreled into him. His hands closed around my upper arms, gripping them so tightly I knew that I would bruise. Instinct took over, and I brought my knee up, directly into his groin. He groaned, but didn’t release me. His vice-like grip let up just enough for me to maneuver my hand into my pocket. I withdrew the first knife that my hand closed around, and I didn’t hesitate when I plunged it into his side.

This time, he released me. His hands sought the wound between his ribs. I took the opportunity to take the offensive. I kicked behind his left knee. His legs buckled and he fell over. I aimed my next kick at his left kidney. He fell over flat on his stomach. I was on his back before he could react. I wrapped my right arm around his neck, cutting off his air supply. He reached back, clawing at my face. He tried to pry my arm from around his throat, but he was quickly losing consciousness. When his body finally went limp, I released my hold and eased his head to the floor.

Preoccupied with the large man on the floor, I didn’t sense the second man come out of the room until it was too late. I craned my neck at the sound of his soft footfalls, just in time to see the glint of the silver needle before I felt the prick in the side of my neck. I looked up into the bright green eyes of the man holding the syringe. The metallic burn of chemicals filled my veins. So, this was how I was going to die. I’d hoped it would be more dramatic. I couldn’t even lift a finger to save myself before everything went black.

When I came to, I wasn’t dead, but I kind of wished I was. My head throbbed. A metallic taste filled my mouth—not blood, a chemical of some kind. I wished that it were blood. My vision was fuzzy, and I blinked several times in rapid succession, trying to clear the haze from my eyes. I was still wearing the lenses. Frantically, I turned my head from side to side, getting as many pictures of the room as possible. The room looked as if it belonged in one of TOXIC’s medical buildings. Several hospital-type beds were evenly spaced against the wall. Each bed had electronic monitors and a tray of syringes set up next to it. If I ever got out of here, these would be valuable.

I only moved my head from side to side because that was all I could move. I looked down. I was strapped down, my wrists and ankles shackled to the railings. Two leather straps, one across my chest, one across my hips, immobilized my body. I tugged on the restraints, testing their strength. They were pretty sturdy.

“I don’t want to hurt you, Talia,” a deep voice boomed. A tall, thin man walked into the room. His salt and pepper hair was closely cut; his coal-black eyes were small and beady in their deep sockets. Three heavily armed guards trailed in his wake.

My blood turned to ice in my veins as I locked eyes with Ian Crane. The chemical cocktail injection must’ve been playing tricks with my brain because I thought I just heard him call me Talia. He couldn’t know my name. He couldn’t know who I was.

I was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack; my chest heaved against the leather strap. I inhaled deeply through my nose. When I blew out the breath, it hissed through my clenched teeth. I mentally slapped myself. I needed to get control of myself. Only then could I gain control of the situation.

“Yes, I know who you are, Talia. Natalia Lyons. And I assume you know who I am?” Crane continued. Who was the mind reader here? When I didn’t respond, he pushed on. “Just hear me out, Talia. I think you might be interested in what I have to say.”