"Wlodek has that one closely guarded while she is inside the country," the female Council member paced a little. "Merrill is her surrogate sire, but I'm sure you have that information already."

Xenides didn't have that information but his expression failed to reveal that fact. Merrill would be difficult to kill. Saxom had always been wary of him, but Xenides saw no reason to fear. He'd use whatever means necessary to lure Merrill into a trap, like so many others he'd destroyed.

"The girl is susceptible to compulsion; she will be easily manipulated," the female Council member laughed. "The little fool."

"And yet her remaining talents are formidable." Xenides watched the female pace; they'd met on neutral ground—an old hotel on the outskirts of London. Xenides arranged for the room and notified the female afterward, giving the time and place for the meeting. The Council member's jealousy of the younger female was evident to him. Her petty emotions mattered little. Information was Xenides' objective and he might arrange to have her killed if the death could remain hidden. She'd already given him every scrap of information she knew. No matter. She was contemptible and beneath him and his mission.

"Promise me her death when you are done with her," the female member stopped pacing to offer Xenides a hard look. Xenides smiled.

* * *

"Grand Master, I wouldn't have come to you if I weren't so concerned." Lucas Alford sipped coffee inside Weldon's study. It was late and Weldon's son, daughter-in-law and grandson were asleep in another portion of the house. Weldon was still awake and talking with the Second from the Denver Pack.

"You think they've gone to London to track Lissa down?" Weldon was worried over the same thing, but didn't want to reveal his concern to Lucas.

"Yes. Their mother is terrified and you know what the Council might do if they find out."

"They are not the most forgiving race on the earth," Weldon agreed, staring into his own coffee cup for a few moments.

"I don't think we can afford to anger them any more than we already have," Lucas went on. "I have no idea what Tony was thinking when he did what he did."

Weldon didn't know either, and had Tony Hancock not been as highly placed as he was, Weldon might have sought justice for Tony's acts himself. Lissa was Pack and she'd been violated. He'd toyed with the idea of pulling his wolves out of the special division of the FBI. Daryl, Weldon's son, had pointed out that the information garnered through those wolves had been invaluable from time to time. For the moment, Weldon judiciously left those wolves where they were.

"What do you want me to do about this?" Weldon asked. He had a good idea but waited to hear what Lucas had to say anyway.

"Do you have anyone in the area who might be able to keep an eye on those two? Maybe stop them from doing anything foolish?" Lucas didn't expect anything from the Grand Master, but felt he had to ask anyway. He'd raised both those boys, although only one was his natural son. Tony was two years old when Lucas met Corinne, Tony's mother. Deryn had come along two years later. There wasn't that much difference in the boy's ages.

"I might have someone," Weldon replied, after appearing to give the matter a bit of thought. "I'll make some inquiries and let you know. We have a bedroom prepared for you, and I'm a little tired myself," Weldon yawned to get his message across. Kipp and two other wolves would keep watch on the cabin through the night. Weldon had gotten wind of the trouble that might be coming and was taking no chances as a result. Lucas Alford rose and Weldon led him out of his study and down the hall to the guest room.

* * *

"You're sure about this?" Rear Admiral Dennis Hafer shut the folder his spy handed over. If the gathered information was correct, Anthony Hancock could be blackmailed or exposed unless the female agent was offered to him. The Admiral had plenty of uses for her; he didn't care who or what she was. Hancock had allowed his pet research biologist to experiment on six special ops agents. Now, all six were dying of a rare disease. Hafer merely had to leak this information to the press and things would blow up immediately surrounding the Director, the President and a few other top officials. The Admiral smiled grimly. He intended to get what he wanted, one way or another, and he wasn't above using any means necessary to achieve his goal.

"Where is Hancock now?" The Admiral asked.

"Out of the country. In the U.K., I believe," the spy replied.

"Can we have him followed?"

"Easily," the spy agreed.

* * *

"There is no need to worry that anyone will attack or compromise the building while we're here or at the manor," Merrill informed Gavin as they dropped their bags in the vestibule. Merrill ordered their driver to deliver them to the flat they'd used before in London. Gavin watched as Merrill relaxed his guard once they were inside. It was a four-story brick but only the first floor was used as living quarters; the rest was used for storage and parking. The underground portion held several vehicles, some of them vintage and worth quite a lot. Merrill pulled out his cell phone and made a call to Franklin. It was still early—not yet nine.

"We're fine," Merrill assured his human child. "How are Greg's treatments progressing?" Gavin listened in on both sides of the conversation—he knew Merrill wouldn't make the call in his presence if he desired otherwise.

"As well as can be expected; Greg's taking medication to keep the nausea down, but that only goes so far. He's doing all right at the moment," Franklin's voice was muted through the cell.

Gavin tuned out the rest of the conversation—Lissa was the one he wanted to speak with, but she'd been sent on a secret mission. Wlodek refused to give details and that frustrated him. He couldn't imagine where she might be that she couldn't risk taking a call now and then. A low growl escaped his throat just thinking about it. Gavin located the refrigerator in the kitchen and helped himself to a bag of blood, grumbling mentally as he drank.

* * *

Franklin placed the cordless phone in its cradle and turned to Greg. "You don't think Lissa will mind if I borrow this?" Greg held up her Louis Vuitton carryall. It was one of the bags Charles had given her shortly after the Council found her not guilty.

"Lissa would give it to you if you wanted it," Franklin smiled. Lissa wasn't much on possessions; he knew that. He and Greg were taking their trip to Las Vegas; that's what he'd told Merrill while they were on the phone. Merrill offered the jet and Brock to fly it, but Franklin had already booked first class tickets. The doctors had given a cautious go-ahead for Greg to make the ten-day trip.




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