The Shadow Project Read Online Free PDF Page A

gray-brown mountains, gray-brown valleys, rock fields,and narrow, winding trails. This was not a fertile land. There were no rolling grasslands, no fields of grain, just a wilderness of rock. Life here was brutal in the extreme. Small wonder the country bred such hardy people. The tragedy was that it still housed so many terrorists, despite the American invasion and the overthrow of the old government. That war was supposed to be over, but Opal knew it was still going on. Her father was scathing about the fact that Britain had become involved, even though his job meant he couldn’t speak out publicly. All the same, most of the fighting was far to the south. Here she was overlooking what appeared to be a wholly peaceful region of empty, barren wilderness.
    The Israelis were probably wrong about the Skull.
    She caught a movement on the ground to her left, at the very edge of her field of vision, and swung her body around. For a moment there was nothing, then something moved again. It was so far away, it could have been anything: a sheep or a goat, but also possibly a man. Or actually, no, it couldn’t have been any of those things: it was too far away for something so small to show up. The terrain she was staring at was rugged— all the terrain was rugged—a mix of foothills and the lower slopes of mountains. She seemed to be looking toward a ridge of some sort. The flicker of movement had appeared briefly above it, but she could see nothing at all beyond.Anything could be hiding there.
    Gross movement follows thought. To reach somewhere, you had to visualize the details of your target. Opal closed her eyes and soared from her high vantage point toward the distant ridge.

9
Danny, the Shadow Project
    P iece of cake, Danny thought. But he resisted the urge to fling his cell door open and make a run for it. The people who nicked him hadn’t impressed him very much, but it never did to underestimate anybody. Especially when you didn’t know exactly who they were.
    He pulled the door open a crack and peered through. The place they’d stashed him had prison written all over it, right down to the bunk bed and the standard lock on the door. Which made him grin because a standard lock didn’t last more than five minutes when you had the tools.
    Crap! Should have guessed it—there was a guard! He was sitting on a seat outside, one of the security goons who’d been stationed by the door when Danny was questioned. Danny could see his profile through the crack. Ugly, short haircut, thick neck, wouldn’t want to meet him on a dark night. But was he built for speed?Danny knew how to leg it when the occasion warranted, first thing you learned as a street kid. If you were big and tough, you fought. If you were a skinny little runt, the way Danny used to be, it was speed that got you away from the other gang. Danny was bigger now, and he’d left the street gangs behind, but he still had his turn of speed. And the element of surprise.
    But the trouble with legging it was, he didn’t know where to leg it to. And there might be a second guard, out of sight. There’d been two when they were questioning him.
    The guard spotted him! Danny jerked his head back, waited for a moment, then put his eye to the crack again. No, he’d been wrong—not spotted. The guard was just closing his book and standing up. Standing up and plodding off. Call of nature, probably.
    Danny held back until the footsteps faded and he heard the closing of a door. Then, all thoughts of a second guard forgotten, he opened his own door, looked around, slipped out, and took off.
    He was on the bus home before he switched on his cell phone.
    There was a message waiting for him, a woman’s voice, familiar though he couldn’t place it and she didn’t leave a name. Sounded a bit anxious, like she wasn’t used to voice mail. The woman said, “Danny? That you,Danny? Hate these bleeding things. Danny, if