Dahlia waited a moment or two until she was certain it was safe to proceed. She swung like a pendulum, back and forth, pushing off with her feet until she was able to swing high enough to hook her heel over the edge and hold her body there while she tied off the rope for a fast getaway. It was a simple enough matter to pull her body into the tube, but she did it in slow motion, inch by cautious inch, fully aware of the motion detectors scattered through the vent. It took a tremendous amount of concentration to keep them still as she crawled carefully through the narrow tube.
A strange buzzing began to grow louder and louder in her head. It was annoying, developing into a pressure, making her temples throb. Keeping her mind centered on the motion detectors was difficult with the buzzing interference. Her stomach began to churn. Dahlia stopped moving and lay completely still, recognizing a psychic attack. It had never happened to her before, but she knew it was an outside source. Tiny beads of sweat broke out on her forehead. She forced air through her lungs as the pressure in her head increased until it felt as if a vise gripped her skull.
She tried to be small and far away, thinking of the bayou and the sound of the frogs and alligators, the continual lapping of the water, anything to take her mind off the increasing pressure. She pictured it in her head, the island that had been her home with the myriad of flowers and bushes and trees scattered everywhere and the wildlife she spent a great deal of time watching from the roof of her house.
Slowly, she felt the pressure ease. Whatever was coming after her, hadn’t succeeded, but she felt sick and dizzy so she lay still waiting for her mind to clear before she proceeded. Was Roman Howard capable of such an attack? He hadn’t undergone the psychic experiment. Martin had. Martin had been taught such attacks.
Dahlia kept her head down, resting on her hands as she tried to piece it all together. She didn’t dare move until she was controlling the motion sensors, and adrenaline was still racing through her body. Everyone who had undergone the experiment had some psychic ability prior to allowing Whitney to enhance what was already there.
Dahlia, you’re scaring the hell out of me. Did he hurt you? Just his voice calmed her. She felt the air move through her lungs and her nerves steadied.
Did you feel that? she asked.
All of us did.
Can he hear you? Can he feel the surge around him when we communicate like this? She didn’t want another attack until she was out of the narrow confines of the tube.
No, I’ve worked at sending only to one person. Martin Howard is concealed just outside the building entrance. It looks as if he followed his brother here and is waiting for him.
Was it Martin who attacked me?
It was impossible to tell who generated the attack or if it was specifically meant for one person. Our best guess is, whoever initiated the attack did so because he feels our presence and is uneasy. He was trying to draw us out.
Dahlia frowned. It made sense, but if he knew she was in the building and was hunting her, it made it all the more dangerous, especially if he were feeling strong emotions and he got close to her.
Are you going to abort?
Nicolas kept his voice neutral this time, and she was grateful to him. She had to think it through before she made a mistake. She took another breath, let it out slowly. I’m so close, if I leave now, I’ll have to do this again. I’m going to see if I can get in and out without trouble before I turn away on this one.
She felt more than heard the echo of Nicolas’s disappointment, the sheer frustration of not being able to command her the way he could his men. Was she being stubborn? It was one of her worst traits, but she didn’t think so. It wasn’t stubbornness, it was fear. She didn’t want to be responsible for the research falling into the wrong hands and she never wanted to come back to the Lombard building.