Ghostwalker 04 - Conspiracy Game

followed.
    The man got out of his car, removed his dark glasses, and walked toward her with long, confident strides angled to intercept her before she could make it to safety. “Ma’am, my name is Kadan Montague. I need to speak with you and your brothers about a matter concerning you and Jack Norton.”
    Briony turned away from him, wary of the stillness in his eyes, the calm expression, but most of all, the instinctive knowledge that he was enhanced. He lifted his arm and his shirtsleeve pulled up, revealing the same tattoos Jack wore. She stared at them, knowing the strange dye only showed up using enhanced vision. “You must have the wrong person. I don’t know anyone named Jack Norton.”
    Tyrel emerged from the store, knowledge flaring in his eyes, and he snapped a command at his brothers over his shoulder before hurrying to her. He took Briony’s arm and pulled her protectively toward him.
    “It’s important, ma’am. Just hear me out. We can sit out in the open, maybe at that table over there.” Kadan indicated a colorful umbrella over a round table on the sidewalk where she’d been. “I’ve been traveling nonstop to find you and I could use a cup of coffee about now.”
    Her brothers poured out of the store, rushing to surround the man. He calmly handed Jebediah his identification. It was his stillness—his complete control—that worried Briony.
    This man reminded her too much of Jack. She didn’t trust anyone, and without a doubt, Kadan Montague was enhanced both physically and psychically. More than that, she realized right away, he was an anchor. Out in public, her body trembled continually and she had to fight off the pain squeezing her head like a vise. The moment he’d approached, the symptoms had receded.

    She pressed both hands over her stomach. She was never going to feel safe again. Worse, her brothers were running with her. They had no plan. No clear direction. They didn’t even really know why they had to run. She knew Jebediah could read the desperation in her eyes, because he put his arm around her and pulled her close to him.
    “Please, I’m only asking for a few minutes of your time.”
    “Are you armed?” Jebediah asked.
    “Yes. And you should be as well. I arrived too late to help at the circus, tracked you to the villa, and followed you here. I’m not the only one on your trail.”
    Seth cursed under his breath. “I watched the entire time; I never saw a tail.”
    Jebediah gestured to indicate that Kadan precede him to the table. “Seems like half the world is on our trail. What is it you want?”
    Kadan waited until the Jenkins family was seated around him, the brothers forming a protective ring around their sister. “Did you meet up with Jack Norton in Kinshasa?” he asked bluntly.
    “I’m not going to answer that,” Jebediah said.
    “Maybe this will help you understand what’s going on,” Kadan said, opening his briefcase. Before he could retrieve anything, Jebediah pinned his wrist. Kadan merely looked at him, one eyebrow raised. Jebediah slowly removed his hand.
    Kadan took out a file. “Once upon a time, many years ago, a brilliant researcher, with more money than good sense and morals, came to Europe and went through the orphanages looking for specific children. He wanted children, all female, who showed promises of superior intelligence, but also—more importantly—a psychic gift.”
    Tyrel leaned forward. “How would this researcher be able to tell if a child was bright with psychic gifts? How old were these girls?”
    “Many of them were infants. He bought the girls and took them back to his lab, where he proceeded to conduct experiments on them. Later, when he feared he might get caught, he devised a plan to make it look to the world as if he had adopted the girls out. In the meantime, he conducted his experiments on volunteers, military men trained in Special Forces.”
    Jebediah let out his breath in a slow hiss of comprehension. “He was developing a superior soldier, a weapon, using physical and psychic enhancement.”
    “Exactly. Briony, you’re one of his girls.”
    “Dr. Whitney,” Jebediah said. “My parents were approached by a man named Peter Whitney. He was a billionaire. Checked out completely, had all kinds of ties to several governments, here in Europe as well as in the States. He knew the president and just about anyone who was anyone. He said his wife died and he just couldn’t raise his daughter alone.
    He wanted her