Free Mind Storm by K.M. Ruiz Page A

capable of using.
    â€œYou don’t know that.”
    â€œNathan isn’t interested in breaking my mind, Jael. He’s got other things to worry about.”
    â€œHell.” Jael bowed her head as she squeezed the bridge of her nose, the thin dreads of her black hair swinging to hide her dark face. “Times like this I wish we had a chance at stopping what the Sercas are planning.”
    â€œYou don’t think we do?”
    â€œBeing optimistic isn’t in my job description. I put minds back together, not lives. That’s your job.”
    â€œThen tell me we have some information on the target that’s been holding steady on the West Coast.”
    Ciari was looking at the man standing next to Jael when she asked the question. Aidan Turner was the Strykers Syndicate’s chief administrative officer (CAO), a Class IV telepath, and the last living member of a three-person team that hadn’t made it to the age of thirty on the field. He had got past the bitterness and pain of survivor’s guilt only by a severe application of psi surgery. Telepaths were the most numerous psions, but the majority were a Class V or lower. The Strykers Syndicate needed him, and it needed him sane.
    It did not need the report he delivered.
    â€œWe lost contact with Threnody and Quinton in the field,” Aidan said. “Jason and Kerr dropped off the mental grid as well.”
    Ciari’s expression didn’t change. “When?”
    â€œThere was a spike around the same time you left for The Hague. The psi signatures were that of Nathan’s twins.” Aidan hesitated a moment before continuing, “The target’s psi signature changed into that of Lucas Serca’s.”
    Those three were the best murderers on the planet aside from their father, psions that could read as human on the mental grid and you’d never know they were there until they were killing you. Only the OIC and her top supporting officers knew of the Sercas’ true nature, a truth that complicated everything.
    â€œDid you give the Warhounds our Strykers, Ciari?” Jael asked sharply.
    â€œYou know I didn’t,” Ciari said as she looked each of her officers in the eyes. “None of us granted those four a reprieve, and Lucas has never been assigned retrieval duty. He’s been missing from the field for two years.”
    Keiko frowned, rubbing fingers over her left temple. “Which begs the question of why?”
    Lucas Serca’s absence in the media and by his father’s side had been noted. Whatever game Nathan was playing, they were far behind on knowing his goal. There wasn’t a chance in hell that Threnody and Quinton could be alive, not after the last two escapes. The third time was never the charm, not in this world. Kerr and Jason might have a chance, with Jason being a telekinetic and able to teleport, but Ciari doubted it.
    Was it worth it? Ciari thought. She reflected on the government’s decision, at her urging, to cut Threnody loose for a suicide run because the electrokinetic cared more than she should for the humans she had been indoctrinated to protect. Threnody had never been one to swallow propaganda whole without choking on it. All Strykers were like that, most were just better at hiding it.
    â€œGet a team together,” Ciari said, her face devoid of all emotion. “Bring back the bodies. The World Court always requires proof when Strykers die. It’s so damn difficult to make them believe anything without a corpse.”

[ SIX ]
    JULY 2379
LONDON, UNITED KINGDOM
    New York City had been a crater since the Border Wars, the remains swallowed by the Atlantic Ocean and worn down by acid rain. The world’s financial center had been transplanted perforce to London once the fallout dust settled, because London still stood, thanks to the fanatical service of long-ago RAF pilots. The metal clock hands on Big Ben’s face remained stuck at 3:27, a