Chasing the White Lion by James Hannibal (mind reading books .TXT) 📕

But Talia hadn’t looked at the scoreboard purely to check Val’s work. If the silhouette she saw had killed Atan, his line would be red and empty. It wasn’t.

The slate buzzed. “We have a message from Atan.”

“When we came back to the room, you said he was dead.”

“I think I jumped to a conclusion. Either that, or this is a trap.” Talia clicked on the message box.

ROUND 3

ROOM DIRECTIONS ARE ACTIVE – ALL PLAYERS TO ALL ROOMS

WE SHOULD MEET

I HAVE A DEAL FOR YOU

Val sat beside her on the couch. “Do we answer?”

“Do we have a choice? Time is running short. We have to risk this.” Talia typed in a response.

OUR PLACE OR YOURS?

The answer came back immediately.

YOU COME HERE

NOT LEAVING MY ROOM

SOMEONE TRIED TO KILL ME

P.S. BRING YOUR BAVARIAN MERCHANDISE

Talia and Val struck out into the maze together. The outer windows were still polarized, but sunlight filtered in from the Atrium. The colors had changed to blue and green. With the better lighting, Talia saw a moving wall had changed their hallway to a four-foot ledge, open on one side to a forty-foot drop. In the darkness hours before, she could have easily fallen.

Atan the Hyena was in his room. The leopards, Bi Fan and Rudenko, and the unknown Scandinavian panther were still out there, all potential killers, all with slates now able to lead them to any other player’s room. Talia and Val were prime targets, and the heavy duffels they carried made them slow.

Talia let Val handle the directions, while she kept watch, eyes moving. “Where are they all?”

“In their rooms? Setting up at the bazaar?” Val gestured with the slate and the two turned left into a stairwell. “Who cares? As long as they’re not here.”

Three floors down and a few turns later, they came within sight of Atan’s door. His room, like theirs, sat along a ledge, a few steps past an intersection with a blacked-out hallway.

An Asian woman stood at the door in a white dress and black apron. A device strapped to her wrist showed a green flashing arrow. She held a tray with a covered room service platter.

Val let out a nervous laugh. “You think Atan ordered hors d’oeuvres for our meeting?”

The woman kept her body angled slightly away from them. Maybe she hadn’t heard them coming, or maybe she was hiding her face.

Talia stopped, catching Val’s forearm. “There’s no drink.”

“What?”

“On the tray. There’s no drink. Who orders food with no drinks?”

At Talia’s declaration, the woman looked their way, wearing a pleasant smile.

She had a scar on her chin and a cut on the bridge of her nose.

Talia shouldered Val aside and heaved her duffel up as a shield. A ceramic stiletto stuck in the canvas. The hacker had thrown it sidelong from under the tray, all while holding her pleasant smile. Talia charged. The tray clattered to the floor. Bi Fan dodged, but not far enough. Talia clipped her against the wall, swept the back of her knees with a kick, and dropped the duffel full of fake gold on her as she fell.

She pulled the stiletto free and pitched it over the ledge. “You should have learned your lesson after I popped you in the—”

A strained cry from behind cut her short. Eddie shouted into the comms. “Ambush! Val’s in trouble!”

“Ambush?” She turned to see Val, caught in a choke hold and fighting to keep her attacker’s knife hand at bay. The Scandinavian. He must have been hiding in the dark hallway, waiting for them to pass. Val had a death grip on his wrist, but the duffel was dragging her down.

Talia leveled her gun, walking toward them. “Drop the knife!”

He sneered at the command and fought the blade closer to Val’s neck.

What did he see that Talia didn’t?

Bi Fan. She glanced back in time to see the hacker coming, but not in time to shoot. Bi Fan knocked the gun out of her hand and the two spun in a standing grapple, each squeezing the other’s throat.

The hacker let go and yanked Talia’s hair, pulling her head to the side.

Talia punched her in the ribs. She asked a question with each shot. “Really? The hair? Again?”

In her peripheral vision, she saw Val elbow the Scandinavian in the gut. He answered with an “Oof!” and pushed her away.

She reeled back, off balance because of the duffel.

He flipped his knife around for a throw.

“Val, duck!”

Talia gave Bi Fan another swift kick to the knee and turned the hacker’s back to the oncoming blade. The knife flew. Val ducked. Bi Fan’s eyes widened in pain, and her grip on Talia’s hair went slack. She slipped to the floor with the blade embedded in her spine.

Neither Talia nor Val wasted the moment.

Talia dove for her gun and fired.

Val got control of the duffel and came up swinging.

Two P3Q rounds hit their attacker square in the chest. He grunted and winced, but he didn’t go down—until Val’s duffel full of coins hit him in the shoulder. The Scandinavian teetered, lost his footing, and pitched headlong over the ledge. He bounced off another ledge two floors down and landed with an ugly thud at the bottom of the maze.

Talia stared at Val in shock. “What did we just do?”

The door next to her opened. Atan stuck his head out and looked up and down the hall. “Is it over?”

“You,” Talia growled. She pushed him back with the barrel of her gun and stormed inside.

CHAPTER

SIXTY-

NINE

WESTERN TOWER

TWIN TIGERS COMPLEX

BANGKOK, THAILAND

ATANFELLBACKONHISREAREND, staring down the barrel of Talia’s gun. “Don’t shoot!”

“Why not? You lured us into an ambush.”

“No!” He scooted backward on his haunches. “I swear. I have no idea how those two knew about our meeting.”

“He’s not lying.” Val dragged both duffels into the room and shut the door. She showed Talia a gray smartphone-size device. “Remember this? Looks like Bi Fan cracked Boyd’s system.”

“She knew we were coming?”

“She knew you were coming. She intercepted the private messages. And she invited the Scandinavian