The Last Twilight Read Online Free PDF Page B

startled, horrified. Never a good sign.
    Duna hesitated. “One thousand people are dead. Killed by disease, all in one night. Ebola, we think. Deep in the Congo.”
    Amiri’s stomach dropped. “We have not heard anything.”
    “Of course not.” Duna turned and slammed his hands down on the wheel. “We have worked hard to keep it that way. All the secrecy and games? Done to prevent a panic. It is bad enough when only a handful die of that disease, but now? If word got out, even by accident, there would be chaos.”
    “And Doctor Kinn?”
    “The CDC’s lead investigator in this region. She is at the camp even now, trying to determine what happened.” Duna rubbed his head and leaned against the wheel. “There are very few left with her capabilities. Other doctors have gone missing. Locals, no one foreign, but prominent in their fields. Only a handful of physicians have ever encountered these particular hemorrhagic fevers. And now, in all of Central Africa, there are only two. Doctor Kinn, and another CDC employee, Mackenzie Hardson.”
    Max sat back, closing his eyes. “Why isn’t this Hardson guy on the protection list?”
    “I do not know. Larry was only concerned about Doctor Kinn.” He grimaced. “Some peacekeepers have disappeared as well. Just…gone. This is not out of the ordinary, you know. Rebels are not above a bit of ransom, or leverage.”
    Amiri glanced again at the photograph in his hands; those eyes, that smile. “Is this conjecture, rumor? Or has anyone actually threatened Doctor Kinn?”
    Duna did not answer, but Amiri was not looking at him. He watched Max instead, and when the man stiffened, eyes turning cold and hard, no words were necessary. Any fool could see the answer.
    Max’s hair fell over his eyes. “You have something to tell us.”
    Duna faltered. He looked uneasy, and Amiri did not think it was entirely because of what he had to say. “Yesterday morning, foreign mercenaries attempted to intercept Doctor Kinn. The attack was brazen. She was in the presence of UN peacekeepers when it occurred.”
    The men stared. Amiri dug his nails deeper into his palm, fighting to maintain his calm. It was difficult, which was a surprise. He was good at containing himself. Had a lifetime of practice. Strong emotions were always ill-advised. Passion was dangerous. Anger, worse. Repression as a means of survival was an important lesson for any shape-shifter.
    But even so, Amiri could not fathom himself the depth of his rage at the idea of that shining woman at the end of a gun. It made him sick.
    Max glanced at him. “You should have told us. Called us in transit. Made it clear what happened the moment we got in this van.”
    “It would have changed nothing. You are still here to protect the doctor.”
    “Is she well?” Amiri nearly had to repeat the question; his voice belonged to a different man—low, hard, more growl than speech.
    “She is fine,” Duna said quickly, giving him a worried look. “But one of her escorts died and the other is in critical condition.”
    “Fuck,” Max muttered. “Rebels are one thing, mercenaries another. Those guys don’t get called in for cheap shit. What else do you know?”
    Duna studied Amiri’s closed fist, which was beginning to drip with pinpricks of blood. “Rumors. Politics. The war machine continues to turn. Corruption has ruined this country, and foreign scavengers sniff at the borders, trying to broker deals for Zaire’s minerals. Mercenaries are used to … persuade people. And to pave the way for enterprising businessmen who travel the interior, making their own deals with those self-proclaimed local warlords who hold military power over valuable areas.”
    Amiri looked again at the woman’s picture. He wanted very much to take it with him, and felt irrational for that desire, for the hunger he felt when staring into her eyes. “What does any of that have to do with her? Or those other doctors?”
    “We do not know. That is the