Page 140 of X Marks the Stalker
“One victim isn’t convincing enough,” he says, tilting a compact mirror toward his face. “But two… Nothing sells contagion like multiple victims.”
I watch as he transforms himself, creating realistic symptoms of some terrible disease.
“The plan is simple,” Thorne explains, handing me an earpiece. “Lazlo and Calloway create the biohazard distraction in the lobby. Building security initiates evacuation protocols. They’ll all rush downstairs. Ambrose monitorspolice channels and security cameras, guiding us through the building.”
I nod, trying to focus on his words instead of the fear clawing at my throat. “And once we reach the penthouse?”
“We’ll have to act fast before somebody realizes something’s wrong,” Thorne says. “We need enough time to access the vault and extract Xander.”
“Assuming he’s still?—”
“He’s alive,” I snap, cutting Ambrose off. “He has to be.”
Thorne hands me a syringe. “Use this if necessary.”
I turn the glass tube in my hand, eyeing the clear liquid inside. “What is it?”
“Something that will help if the situation deteriorates,” he says, his expression unreadable. “Best you don’t know more than that.”
I tuck the syringe into my jacket pocket. “Where will you be?”
“I’m coming with you,” Thorne says, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We’ll approach from different entry points, just in case one of us gets caught. But I’ll be there for the extraction.”
I understand the logic. If we both go down, Xander dies. If one of us makes it through, he has a chance.
“Okay,” I say, swallowing against the dryness in my throat. “I’m ready.”
As Lazlo applies the final touches to his “disease,” I close my eyes and picture Xander. Not as I last saw him—tense and focused on killing Blackwell—but how he looked the night before. His face softened in the dim light of my apartment, his fingers tracing patterns on my skin.
“I love you, Oakley.”
His words echo in my head, a promise and a goodbye all at once.
“Not a goodbye,” I whisper to myself. “Not yet.”
“What was that?” Thorne asks.
I open my eyes, resolve hardening within me. “Nothing. Let’s go get him.”
Chapter 34
Oakley
Seven floors and I’m already wheezing like a chain-smoker after a marathon. If I survive this rescue mission, I’m definitely joining a gym. Or at least considering the possibility of walking past one on occasion.
I pause on the landing, pressing my back against the wall, listening to the chaos echoing up from the lobby. Lazlo’s fake epidemic is working better than expected. The screams and panicked shouts blend into a perfect symphony of distraction.
“Someone’s convulsing!”
“Don’t touch him!”
“Call the CDC!”
“What if it’s airborne??”
Darius chuckles in my earpiece. “Lazlo’s really committed to the bit. He just projectile vomited on a security guard’s shoes.”
“Corn syrup and foodcoloring, right?” I wheeze.
