Page 29 of Circle of Death
“Well, then, Mr. Cranston, my ask is simple: I want your help to erase them from the planet.”
My eyes keep flicking to the armed men behind Diaz. “Sorry if I seem antsy. The last president who stood where you’re standing tried to kill me.”
Diaz laughs, showing the same dazzling smile that beamed from a million campaign posters. “Killyou? Mr. Cranston, from everything I’ve heard, that would be a criminal waste of talent.”
His laugh makes me relax a little. “Well, then you probably know that I’m primarily an investigator. I gather evidence. I follow leads…”
“Spare me the modesty,” says Diaz, his smile evaporating. “You are far more than an investigator. You have powers none of my scientists seem to be able to decipher. Supernatural abilities. The power to summon fire and lightning.” He leans in with a low whisper. “The power to shape-shift at will.”
I don’t like where this is headed. For decades, I kept my special abilities secret. Only my closest associates ever knew what I was capable of. Putting my powers on display for the whole city to see a year ago was not my choice. Khan had to be defeated, and he picked a very public place for the battle. But the fact that a politician’s staff knows my entire skill set is not reassuring. In fact, it’s unnerving.
“So show me,” Diaz says.
“Show you what?”
“Shape-shift for me. Turn into something else. I want to see it for myself.”
This gets my back up even more.
“With all due respect, Mr. President—I’m not a trained monkey.”
Diaz stiffens slightly and his expression clouds over. He’s clearly not accustomed to being turned down.
“Understood,” he says. “Then let me showyousomething. I insist.”
CHAPTER 31
BURBANK, MOE, AND Jericho are standing stiffly in the hallway when I walk upstairs with the leader of half of the world. They’ve obviously been watching and listening on the monitors, but from the expressions on their faces, they still can’t believe this is happening. It’s safe to say that Lucian Diaz is the first president any of them has ever met. I make the introductions short and sweet.
“Mr. President, my associates. Druke, Shrevnitz, and Burbank.”
“Do they need to be here?” asks Diaz.
“Yes, they do. They know what I know.”
Diaz waits impatiently as the guards give all three the same vigorous pat-down that I got. Then he pulls a video stick from his jacket pocket and holds it up.
“Somebody play this.”
Burbank nervously plucks it from the president’s fingers. “Follow me, sir.” He leads the way to his homemade comm center. Diaz steps in behind him. The rest of us crowd in as Burbank slides the video stick into a slot in the video console. A large monitor blinks and brightens.
The scenes are even more disturbing than the footage my source sent me, and the video has been sharpened and enlarged to make the horror even more visceral. And unlike the videos I received, this one has sound. The tiny room fills with the roar of military machines. Then gunfire, explosions, and screams of pain.
Diaz lets the horror play out for a half minute or so, then reaches past Burbank to slide the volume down. The images keep playing in the background.
“Bad as this is,” says Diaz, “we believe it’s just a sideshow. Destroying resources and setting populations against each other is just a way of masking the real threat.”
He nods to Burbank. “Freeze it here.”
Burbank taps a key.
“Now roll it back. Slowly.”
Burbank reverses the footage, frame by frame.
“Stop,” says Diaz.
Burbank freezes on the image of a figure in black ducking into a cement bunker. The location appears to be somewhere in the Asian highlands. Maybe Pakistan. Maybe Tibet. The subject is only visible in a few frames, and even with enhanced video, it’s hard to see much. He’s draped in flowing tribal robes from head to toe, and the view is from the back. We can’t see a face. There’s not enough to catch much body movement.
