No Peace for the Damned

Dressed in all black, he kept his shades on and let his shoulder-length dark hair hang forward.
    I adjusted in my seat. Unfolded my legs for better maneuverability. Theo shifted behind me. Jon made sure his gun hand was free.
    The man was all business. No emotion, no wasted energy on worry or excess. He silently named each individual as he looked around the room. When his eyes found me, his thoughts only stuttered a moment, barely a reaction. And he knew my name instantly. Thirteen must trust this man intrinsically. Not even Banks had been told about me before our personal introduction. So why hadn’t I met this guy before?
    The man turned his head to Thirteen. From the waistband at his back, he pulled out a sealed packaging envelope. Thirteen crossed the room and took it anxiously. The dark stranger turned to me again. Behind the sunglasses, he met my gaze. My abilities came to him, one after another, as if he were reading them from a list. And he knew every detail—even the new things that I’d never done before now. I moved to the edge of my seat. His thoughts blanked out, gone. A wall had shot up in his mind, blocking me from him. He nodded to me once more and turned away, disappearing out the front door.
    What the hell?
    I was on my feet.
Who was that guy?
Thirteen shot me the briefest glance as he crossed back to his seat. Slowly, I sat back down. His daughter’s image flashed through his mind, his longing stronger than ever. Then he focused again on the package in his hands.
    “Who was that?” Cordele asked breathlessly. A pink blush colored her cheeks. She fanned herself with a napkin. I wasn’t the only one intrigued by Mr. Big, Dark, and Brooding.
    Thirteen tore open the envelope and quickly skimmed the contents.
    “Jesse is an old friend,” he said finally. His tone made it clear that questions weren’t welcome.
    Thirteen held up the envelope. “The substance in each of the discovered bodies was polonium 210, a highly toxic radioactive isotope that attacks its victim’s DNA. It is exceptionally rare. It is essentially a by-product of uranium. It kills the intended victim by radiation poisoning.”
    “You mean like victims of a nuclear holocaust?” Cordele asked.
    “Not exactly,” Thirteen said. “Polonium 210 is only hazardous when ingested. And once in the victim’s digestive system, it’s death by radiation from the cell level out.”
    “If the Network members were killed by this radioactive isotope, how could the coroners not pick that up?” Charles asked.
    “I don’t believe they were killed by the polonium 210. Only miniscule traces of the substance were found in their systems.”
    “So what does that mean?” Jon wondered aloud.
    “As a by-product of uranium, the substance must be generated rather than simply found. And to generate this particular isotope, a nuclear reaction must be created.”
    Silence filled the room. My stomach sank.
    “The Kelches have a nuclear reactor,” Theo said, quietly voicing what everyone else had concluded.
    “We can’t be sure of that,” Thirteen said. “But if the Kelches
do
have a weapon of atomic destruction, and a plan to use it, it stands to reason that they would want their chief hindrance eliminated before putting their plans into action.”
    No one spoke, but their thoughts were all the same: Holy. Shit.
    I’ve asked a great deal of you, Magnolia
. I jumped. Then turned dark eyes to Thirteen as his focused thoughts became clear.
    More than we agreed to, by far
, I snapped.
    Yes…I would apologize, but you know in your heart that my intention has never been to deceive or use you
.
    That’s the only reason you’re still alive, Thirteen
.
    He lowered his head and smiled.
I have no doubt
.
    So what is it now?
I thought.
    I don’t see another way
.
    I saw flashes of an unfinished idea flit through his mind. Terror stole my breath. I gripped the sides of my seat to keep from falling over. Heather turned toward me. Theo moved in closer.
    You would ask this of me, knowing what could happen?
    Thirteen’s gaze was frighteningly serious.
They will never hurt you again, Magnolia. I swear this on my life. They will never touch you again
.
    Unwanted tears rose at the sincerity of those words. If only he could keep such a promise.
    Thirteen’s face was tight with wear and intent, his silver hair a little frazzled from the day’s stress. His jaw set, his lips pressed. A face I had memorized over the last several months. The face of my