Chapter One #2
“Mr. Delacourt,” Warden said, extending his hand. “Thank you for coming.”
Giles took it with the kind of old-world courtesy that went out of style before the Industrial Revolution. “The pleasure is mine, Warden.” His British accent was a smooth blend of old money and older privilege that made everything sound like poetry. Or a threat.
With Giles, it’s usually both. Bryn’s head throbbed. Separation hadn’t dulled his memory of how that voice could make the most brutal lessons sound reasonable, even necessary. The way Giles could make breaking someone seem like an act of kindness.
Gunnar was bristling, his eyes dark with fury. Bryn was grateful, and though watching Gunnar rip Delacourt’s head off would have been satisfying, violence wouldn’t help the investigation. I’m not even twenty-two, I shouldn’t be expected to have achieved this level of restraint.
Warden gestured for Giles to take a seat and resumed his own. Giles settled into one of the free chairs. His eyes, a shade of brown so dark they almost looked black, found Bryn’s across the table. “Hello, dear boy. You’re looking well.”
Bryn had forgotten how much weight Giles could put into simple words, how he could make a casual greeting feel like fingers trailing down his spine. He didn’t respond and gritted his teeth.
“Mr. Delacourt has been kind enough to offer his expertise on the Thanacrine case,” Warden said.
“How generous of him,” Bryn commented.
Giles’ lips curved. “Now, Bryn, there’s no need for hostility. We’re all on the same side here.”
“Are we?” The words came out sharper than Bryn intended. The air in the room had that peculiar heaviness it always got around Giles, like the atmospheric pressure before a thunderstorm.
“Bryn,” Warden said, his tone carrying a clear warning.
“Mr. Delacourt has provided valuable intelligence about the effects of Thanacrine and has been conducting some investigations already. His knowledge could be crucial to locating more production facilities. He has agreed to assist us in a consulting capacity. He’ll be working directly with you and Detective Ericson. ”
“That’s not going to…” Bryn started, but Warden cut him off.
“This isn’t a request. Whatever personal history exists between you and Mr. Delacourt is irrelevant to the current situation.”
And you know all about that history. Bryn felt Giles’ satisfaction like a physical thing, a cool current in the air. He gripped the arms of his chair until his fingers ached. He couldn’t look at Gunnar.
“The latest batch is even more potent,” Giles said. “The effects are devastating.”
Don’t fucking guilt trip me, you bastard.
Warden cleared his throat. “Allow me to introduce Detective Gunnar Ericson, Giles,” he announced, gesturing at Gunnar, who offered a curt nod, his expression conveying his displeasure. “Gunnar is Bryn’s partner.”
“Protective. Interesting.”
“And this is Emmett, our talented admin support.”
Emmett glanced up from his laptop, his eyes wide behind his glasses. He blinked, and gave a shy, almost apologetic smile. “Uh, hi.”
“Well then.” Giles gave a lazy smile. “I’d say we’re going to make quite the team. The dynamics will be very interesting.”
The conference room felt smaller with each passing second.
Bryn forced himself to take steady breaths, fighting the urge to bolt from his chair.
He could feel Gunnar’s concerned gaze but couldn’t bring himself to meet it.
Not with Giles sitting there, radiating that infuriating calm.
Bryn didn’t want to give away how close he and Gunnar really were.
“Perhaps we should begin with what we know about the distribution network,” Warden suggested, though his tone implied more of an order.
“I’ve managed to trace the probable routes of several shipments moving through the northeast corridor,” Giles said.
“And you didn’t think to share this information sooner?” Bryn couldn’t keep the edge from his voice.
Giles’ smile didn’t waver. “Information gathering takes time, dear boy, even with the resources of The Facility to hand. Especially when one wishes to avoid detection. Mr. Russo’s organization is…shall we say, particularly paranoid about new faces these days.”
“I wonder why,” Bryn muttered.
“Something to do with a recent court case, I understand,” Delacourt said. “You’ll have to tell me all about it.”
Gunnar cut in before Bryn could say anything else. “Let’s stick with this case, shall we? What’s the delivery method?” he asked, his tone professional but cool. “If they’re targeting gene-affected individuals specifically, they must have a way to ensure the drug reaches the right people.”
“Ah, that’s where it gets interesting.” Giles pulled a small leather notebook from his jacket pocket.
“They’re using legitimate medical supply chains.
Several private clinics that cater to our kind have been compromised.
The drug is being administered through routine blood work and standard treatments.
As you know, all sanguines and lupines are tested once a year as part of an ongoing national study.
A trace of Thanacrine on the needle of a blood draw syringe is enough. ”
Emmett scribbled on his pad. “I can cross-reference clinic locations with reported cases when I have my laptop,” he offered, not so shy with a challenge to work on.
“Good thinking.” Warden nodded. “We need to identify any patterns in the targeting.”
“There’s more,” Giles continued. “The clinics aren’t random. They’re all connected to a healthcare management company called Helix Solutions. On paper, it’s a legitimate business. But dig deeper…” He slid a USB drive across the table to Emmett.
Bryn watched the drive move across the polished surface, his mind racing. “Helix Solutions. Why does that sound familiar?”
“Because”—Giles’ eyes gleamed with something that might have been approval—“they received a rather substantial investment from one of Russo’s shell companies six months ago. Something that was mentioned in the trial of Russo’s accountant.”
“Right before the first cases started showing up,” Gunnar added, frowning.
“Indeed.” Giles leaned back in his chair. “The question is, how deep does the infiltration go? How many medical professionals are knowingly involved, and how many are being used?”
“We need to get someone on the inside,” Warden said, but Gunnar was already shaking his head.
“No way. It’s too risky.”
“Not necessarily.” Giles’ voice had that silken quality that always preceded his worst suggestions.
“They’re looking for gene-affected subjects.
The drug doesn’t touch anyone that isn’t.
We could send someone in for routine testing, or get someone employed at a clinic who’s completely normal. ” He eyed Emmett.
“We need to think about the specifics,” Warden said, breaking the tension.
“Emmett, head up to your office and start running those clinic locations. Gunnar, I want you to pull everything we have on Helix Solutions. Talk to your contacts at Boston PD. And Bryn…” He paused, meeting Bryn’s eyes with unexpected empathy.
“I need you to work with Mr. Delacourt on identifying potential entry points. If anyone goes in, it’ll need to be you because you’ll have to read the staff somehow. ”
Bryn wanted to argue, but the weight of what they were dealing with settled over him. People were dying. His personal history with Giles didn’t change that fact.
“Fine,” he said, pushing back from the table. Nothing about this is fine. “But Gunnar takes the lead on planning.”
“Of course,” Giles agreed. “Shall we relocate or continue working here?”
“The conference room is needed for some after-hours maintenance,” Warden said.
Gunnar shoved his chair back. “Our office is too small for all of us, but Emmett will need his equipment. We can use the table in our apartment. More space for mapping everything out.”
“Very well,” Giles acknowledged. “Lead the way, Detective Ericson.”
As they filed out of the conference room, Bryn couldn’t shake the feeling that they were walking into something potentially fatal. Why does my life have to be so fucking complicated? “This was supposed to be my day off,” he complained, not expecting sympathy from anyone.