Chapter 8

William Kensington, of Kensington, Harris and Stowe, looked like he could have played the venerable family attorney on any number of television shows. With the touch of silver in his dark hair, tailored three-piece suit and fatherly air he looked every inch the part. His office was completely in keeping with the occupant, from the framed diploma from Harvard Law School to the matching sofa and client chairs in hand-tooled Moroccan leather; from the burnished 18th century desk to the authentic Egyptian antiquities spotted here and there through its spacious confines. Everything there was quietly but unmistakably the very best, with an understated elegance that reflected the firm's exclusive clientele. The expensive atmosphere added another notch to Shalimar's tension, although Olivia didn't seem to be bothered by it. Thank God she had chosen to bring the stylish suede outfit she now wore instead of giving in to her original in-your-face pique and showing up in biker leathers. This way she could at least pretend that she didn't feel quite so out of place.

Introductions were made, and the ladies shown to their seats. A polished, middle-aged woman with a professional air entered with a tray holding a finely-wrought silver coffee pot bearing the mark of a famous Boston silversmith and delicate china cups. She served coffee all around, left the tray on a side table, and departed. Olivia handed him the folder she brought with her. Kensington laid it on his desk and picked up a portfolio embossed with the law firm's crest.

"Your late father's attorney overnighted all of the pertinent documents," he said to Shalimar, "I have here a copy of his will, with the section regarding your bequest tabbed for your convenience, with a separate itemized listing detailing the securities and devices involved." He gave a short smile. "I'll translate the legalese for you, take you through it step by step and answer any questions you may have, but perhaps you would care to peruse them for a moment while I examine the documents your mother provided. I will, of course, need to see your own identification – your driver's license, Social Security number, that sort of thing." He rotated the portfolio around and slid it toward Shalimar while she dug her ID out of her purse and presented it to the barrister. All was silent in the office for a long time except for the soft rustling of papers being shuffled. Presently, Kensington looked up.

"Yes, these all seem to be in order." He shifted a second portfolio from the corner of his desk and opened it. "Naturally, there are a number of papers to be signed and notarized. My executive assistant has them prepared, and she is a licensed notary. We can have all the arrangements completed today. Do you have any initial questions, or shall I begin going through the will with you?"

Shalimar looked up slowly. She was holding one of the papers in both hands, her eyes wide with shock. It took her a moment to find her voice, and when she did the words came out in almost a squeak.

"Am I reading this right?"

The attorney reached across and took the sheet from her shaking hands.

"Yes, you are," he said, "As I said, there is a complete listing of the holdings bequeathed to you, but this summary is quite correct. Your father has left you five hundred thousand dollars in cash, an annuity of an equal amount, and a portfolio of stocks, bonds and other financial devices totaling approximately seven hundred thousand dollars, based on yesterday's market closing prices. In all, one point seven million dollars."

Olivia smiled and clasped her daughter's hand warmly. "You see, Kitten – your father never forgot you, never gave up hope that one day we would find you. I'm so happy for you."

Shalimar was still sitting openmouthed in stunned astonishment. The lawyer coughed apologetically.

"It was to be much more, but I'm afraid that the biggest portion of the holdings was in your father's company," he said, "As you may have heard, Naxcon suffered a devastating explosion and fire about a year ago, and folded shortly thereafter, which of course negated the value of the stock. Nevertheless, it is still quite a substantial bequest. Congratulations."

He handed the summary sheet back to the new heiress. Shalimar recovered enough to accept it with somewhat steadier hands and a whispered thank you. Kensington continued.

"There is a page there with the contact information of your father's financial advisor, or I can recommend someone if you don't have one of your own. You will no doubt wish to consult with someone regarding the proper handling of the securities, particularly if you wish to divest some or all of them. I should tell you that as of right now, only the cash is immediately at your disposal. Your advisor will be able to give you more information should you wish to liquidate some of the assets, as well as counsel you on the tax issues. Oh, and there's also this."

He dug under the papers and handed Shalimar a sealed envelope with her name on it, along with the notation "To be opened only in the event of my death", and signed by Nicholas Fox. She accepted it and turned it over, but it was blank except for that short screed.

"What's this?"

The attorney shrugged.

"I'm given to understand that it is a letter from your father," he said, "I have no information on when it was written, but it may be dated inside." He offered her a gold letter opener with a handle of topaz set in ebony from the handsome matching organizer on his desk. "You may open it now or later, whichever you wish."

Shalimar took the implement, and after a moment's hesitation slit the flap and slowly withdrew a single sheet of paper. She read it silently, her expression unreadable, and when she finished her eyes closed briefly, as if in pain. Olivia waited expectantly, but Shalimar didn't say a word. She just folded it up and replaced it in the envelope, then carefully stowed it in her purse.

Silence reigned for several moments, then the noted attorney cleared his throat.

"Well then…shall we go through the will from the beginning? I have my own copy here. If you'll turn your attention to page one…."

Upon hearing Lexa's pronouncement Brennan didn't hesitate. He immediately started toward the hanger, his long legs eating up the floor. The others weren't far behind.

"I take it this is coming from the Dominion?" Jesse asked as they hurried along in his wake.

"Yes, my contact just called. He didn't actually say ….look, let me tell you both at the same time."

The engines were already firing as they hustled up the ramp. Lexa started to head for the copilot's chair, but Jesse caught her wrist. He shot a quick, meaningful glance at Brennan, at the grim line of his jaw and the tension in his shoulders as the big man finished the pre-flight routine with snappy, practiced motions. Lexa nodded in understanding and stepped instead to the seat behind, more than willing to let Jesse be the buffer for the hot-tempered elemental.

Jesse slid into the chair and flipped the switch to close the hatch, then turned his attention to the navigation system. The Helix rose even before the hatch locked and shot toward the hanger entrance.

"So..," he said to Lexa as they cleared the opening and headed west, "The Dominion thinks that someone is after Shalimar?"

The tall brunette shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"Not exactly…"

"Then what, exactly?"

"I don't think this is coming from the Dominion itself. I ….think my contact was acting on his own."

That certainly got their attention. Both heads swiveled toward her, although Brennan turned quickly back to his instruments. Jesse felt the small hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean he called out of the blue to ask me if Shalimar went to San Francisco alone – and he emphasized alone. At first I thought he was going to gripe about the cost, so I told him that she did and that she flew commercial. He hesitated for a minute, like he was trying to make up his mind about something, and then he just started volunteering information. He's never done that before, not unless I asked him about something directly."

She paused for a moment, trying to think of the right words that would convince them. The evidence he gave her was admittedly circumstantial, but she knew clear to her bones, with the instinct of a professional agent, that she was right. MacGruff's thinly veiled warning was part of that. He didn't actually say that Shalimar was being targeted, he just laid out the facts as he knew them and let her draw her own conclusions. It was this hedging that made her believe that he was giving her this information on his own; that, and the way he told her. 'Hesitant' wasn't his style. If he didn't want her to know something, he just kept his mouth shut. This dancing around the topic wasn't at all like him, and that led to another question: why wouldn't the Dominion want them to know if someone was stalking a member of Mutant X?

But that was a question for another day. Lexa took a deep breath.

"Look, let me start at the beginning. Do you remember Damien Acosta?"

"From that mess at Naxcon last year." Jesse's blood chilled about twenty degrees. He wasn't likely to ever forget the renegade telepath/telekinetic and his horde of mutant-DNA-grafted foot soldiers. Brennan had been mortally wounded in that epic battle, and the team itself came within a cat's whisker of being captured or destroyed.* The memory still made him shudder.

"What about him?"

"Yeah, we haven't heard a peep about him since that facility blew up," Brennan said, "I thought the Dominion punched his ticket."

* see "Threads", also on this site

"No such luck. They've been trying, but they haven't been able to catch up to him long enough to do the job," she said, "Acosta went underground after he trashed Naxcon, hiding behind a bunch of aliases. The Dominion has found a half dozen so far, all connected to very profitable, medium-to-large sized companies. Their operatives have managed to infiltrate them, and they've been providing intelligence on those holdings, but Acosta himself stays away from the day-to-day operations."

"Are you trying to tell me that with all their resources, the Dominion hasn't been able to find this guy and take him down?" Jesse wasn't buying it for an instant. "He was supposed to be Number One on their hit parade."

"He is," Lexa insisted, "But every time they think they've got him tagged, he manages to slither away."

"Sounds like he's being tipped off from the inside," Brennan mused.

"That's what the Dominion Council thinks, but they can't figure out who the traitor or traitors could be. In the meantime, there have been some skirmishes between his people and ours, but nothing major until recently."

"What happened recently?"

"Two months ago a Dominion research facility was attacked and destroyed. One of the survivors swears that he saw a man shoot, and I quote, 'knives of fire' from his hands. Sound familiar?"

The two men exchanged grim looks. One of their main adversaries in the Naxcon fracas had been a DNA-grafted street thug with an identical ability. He was the one who set off the explosion that nearly killed Brennan. They knew it couldn't be the same man, since Shalimar subsequently took him out, but there was no doubt that if Acosta could create such powers in one man, he could easily do so in another. Besides, he had to get the DNA from somewhere to graft into that street thug, so there was at least one mutant out there with those abilities. Brennan could think of one right off the top of his head, but he was in federal custody – that is, if the feds hadn't already executed him. He was a psychopath too, just like the one at Naxcon. If Acosta had the connections and resources to spring someone like that from federal custody, then he was a far more serious threat than they knew. On the other hand, Brennan could think of at least two other possible scenarios that could also fit.

"Is that all they've got to go on?" he asked Lexa. He wouldn't put it past a couple of the black-ops agencies to use a maniac like that if the Dominion happened to step on the wrong toes.

"They're positive it was Acosta," Lexa assured him, "Since that first strike there have been an increasing number of assaults on Dominion-held facilities around the country, five in the last month alone. Several of the attackers have been traced back to known Acosta holdings. In addition, every one of the raiders they've managed to kill or capture had been grafted with mutant DNA."

"I guess Acosta got tired of staying in the shadows and decided to challenge the Dominion head-on" Jesse said.

"Big time," Lexa agreed, "Acosta has been gaining strength exponentially in the last six months, amassing huge amounts of cash and weapons, and the ranks of his grafted mutants are swelling. Not only that, but he seems to have made a major breakthrough in his genetic research program."

"In what way?"

"He hasn't been able to completely fix their little burnout glitch, but he has made great strides in stabilizing their genetic structure. The estimates so far indicate that he has managed to at least quadruple their lifespan. He's used it, too. These recent attacks have been increasingly better organized, the grafted mutants carrying them out better trained." She looked from one to the other, not even trying to hide her worry. "It looks like there's a major war brewing."

Silence fell as they all digested that, each lost in their own thoughts. The implications were clear. If such a full-scale war happened, there would be no way they would remain on the sidelines. Sooner or later they would be in it up to their necks, caught between the two titanic forces. When that happened, the odds of their survival were not good.

Jesse's brow furrowed as a thought occurred to him.

"Wait a minute. Something smells here. We were the ones who took out a major portion of Acosta's troops at Naxcon. If this has been going on for the last several months, why haven't we been brought in on this?

"They're hiding something." Brennan cut to the chase with quiet certainty. "There's something they don't want us to find out."

"Like what?" Mutant X's resident tech specialist glanced at the grim elemental for a long moment, then turned back to the tall brunette behind him, seeking an answer.

"I think…," she said hesitantly, "…they're afraid of us."

"They've got a right to be," Brennan muttered. He had never been exactly enamored of working for the shadowy group, and his distrust of them had been growing over the past few months. If he had his druthers he would just as soon tell them to take their agenda and stick it where the sun didn't shine. It was primarily his loyalty to Shalimar and Jesse, plus the acknowledgement that they were accomplishing at least some good in their missions, which kept him with the team.

Not that he had any use for the other side, either. To his mind, Acosta and the Dominion were flip sides of the same coin, manipulative, ruthless, and consumed with a lust for world domination. In a perfect world they would just take each other out and leave everyone else alone, but the world was far from perfect. All they could do at this point was continue working on their contingency plans, and keep their eyes open for treachery from either direction. In the end, though, it really didn't matter which side came after them. He wouldn't hesitate to burn down anyone who tried to harm those he loved.

Jesse was shaking his head incredulously.

"Come on – they can't be that stupid," he said, "After what happened at Naxcon, they don't seriously think we would even consider joining Acosta."

"Maybe not willingly, but ….look," Lexa looked from one to the other. "My contact sent me the reports on some captured raiders. There's something else different about this next generation of DNA-grafted attack squads. Acosta has done something to them to make every one of them fanatically loyal to himself."

"Some kind of brainwashing?"

She nodded, not quite repressing a shudder at the thought.

"It looks like it. Whether it's chemical or genetic is open to debate. It might even be telepathic. The point is they're afraid we could become a huge weapon against them – and they wouldn't know it until it was too late."

Brennan saw where she was going with this.

"And the easiest way to go about it would be to catch one of us – like Shalimar - alone and use her to bring in the rest."

"Exactly."

"Yeah, I get that," Jesse concurred, "What I don't get is why the Dominion thinks Acosta is going after Shalimar now."

"Too many coincidences keep popping up. First - doesn't it seem strange that Shalimar's mother suddenly contacts her out of the blue?"

"She didn't know how to reach her," Brennan said, "Shal said that her dad's old assistant only recently found her contact info among his papers."

"Right – his assistant….who now works in one of Acosta's companies….suddenly decides to go through some papers a year after her boss's death, and finds something like that out loose someplace as opposed to being, for example, in his office, which was destroyed in the first explosion, or his desk at home, the contents of which were checked by her at the time."

Put that way, it did sound pretty fishy. The two men looked at each other, tacitly agreeing on that. Lexa, however, wasn't finished.

"And then there's this little tidbit," she said, "A Dominion operative at Miami International Airport spotted Acosta getting off a private jet yesterday afternoon. The flight plan for departure had him leaving Miami mid-afternoon today for San Francisco."

"I'll call her." Jesse swiveled back around, his fingers reaching for the computer console, but Lexa cut him off.

"I tried that. There's no answer on her cell phone, or at her mother's number."

"That doesn't necessarily mean anything," Jesse said, although he could feel ice starting to form in his gut, "They're probably just at the lawyer's office."

"And she could have left her cell on the charger," Brennan added, "It ran out of juice when we were talking last night."

They were grasping at straws, though, and they both knew it. Lexa was right; there were too many coincidences. They had to get to Shalimar right away. Jesse's fingers tapped through the navigation program.

"It's nearly 2600 miles, though, from Miami to San Francisco," he said, his tension easing a bit, "We've got time."

"Not as much as you think," Lexa informed him, "Acosta took off about ten o'clock this morning local time."

The two men checked their watches simultaneously, and anxiety spiked in the cabin as each did the math. Brennan's head snapped around angrily.

"Dammit, Lexa, if the Dominion knew where this guy was, why didn't they take him out there?"

She returned his look steadily.

"They tried. The sniper team they sent was found an hour ago in a luggage truck. Their necks were broken."