Grand-mere is quite a woman, Malichai reiterated.

Wyatt felt pride in his grandmother and was pleased at the admiration of his friend for her. Nonny wore old clothes and smoked a pipe. She was very traditional in a lot of ways and some people just didn’t take to her. He was glad his friends didn’t view her at face value.

Malichai and Ezekiel were two of the toughest men Wyatt knew – and he knew plenty of hard-asses. As a rule the brothers kept to themselves. It had taken hundreds of missions before the two had included Wyatt in their small circle of absolute trusted friends.

He had hoped his grandmother would work her spell on them both, but on Ezekiel in particular. His nature, shaped on the streets of Detroit, was already savage. Adding cat DNA made him far more aggressive and dangerous. Grand-mere was a stabilizing influence no matter what. He couldn’t imagine anyone resisting her down-home wisdom and the sheer welcome she gave to complete strangers. It helped that already, he could tell, she had their respect.

Dogs, Ezekiel warned. Up ahead and to the left of us.

That would be the corner of Nonny’s pharmaceutical field. They spread out, each moving independently of the other, heading for the thick growth of trees outside the tall chain-link fence.

Nonny was right. The fence was overkill for whatever they were keeping hidden from the world. Wyatt caught sight of the sign. Wilson Plastics. Now that was a load of crap, but they’d claim they were researching and needed the security to keep out rival companies. He’d have to send Joe the name of the company and find out who owned it and what they actually did.

Rolls of razor wire had been strung all along the top of the fence. The three-story building was a good forty feet from the fence with no ground cover.

Are they keepin’ us out, or somethin’ in? Wyatt asked the others.

Good question, Malichai replied. I’d say there’s a good chance it’s both.

Maybe they really are making dirty bombs in there, just like Nonny said, Ezekiel added. We’ve got a guard and dog approaching at six o’clock, Wyatt, and I think he’s the one that shoved Grand-mere.

Wyatt studied the big man. He moved easily, fluidly. Too easily. The large semiautomatic cradled in his arms looked a part of him.

Something’s not right here, Ezekiel said. That’s no private security. He knows his way around a gun. And that dog is skilled. He’s not for show.

Maybe, but more likely ex-military private security. He just doesn’t feel enhanced to me. Good, but not Whitney kind of soldier, Wyatt said.

The dog looked out toward the trees where the three of them were concealed, alerting for just a moment before Ezekiel could calm him.

Dog smells big cats and doesn’t like it. He’s difficult to control. If I push too hard I could hurt him, Ezekiel warned. You’re better with mammals, Wyatt. You try. I’ll save my energy for reptiles.

The handler was skilled as well. He didn’t dismiss the dog’s seeming confusion. He stopped immediately and shone his light all along the ground leading to the fence on the inside, not the outside. That told Wyatt there was something inside they didn’t want out.

You need the practice, Ezekiel, and the dog’s listenin’ to you. Wyatt wanted to save every bit of energy for dealing with the man who’d shoved his grandmother. He knew he wasn’t 100 percent healed, but he wasn’t going to wait to give the man a beating.

The guard checked the fence itself next. He stepped up to it with his light and carefully examined all along the chain link, even up to the razor wire. He was thorough in his inspection, taking his time, another mark of a professional. When he was finished, he crouched beside the dog, scratching its ears and talking low while he examined the ground on the other side of the fence.

What the hell is he lookin’ for? Wyatt asked.

Not us, Malichai said. It hasn’t even occurred to him yet that he might have someone out here watchin’ him.

The guard spoke into his radio softly. Wyatt’s hearing had always been extremely acute and was even more so from both his psychic and physical enhancements. With the feline DNA, he found he could hear higher pitches far better than he’d ever been able to before.

Did you make out what he said, Wyatt? Malichai asked.

He asked someone inside to check the cells. Cells, not rooms. And I don’ think he’s enhanced. He’s been a soldier at one time, but he’s not a GhostWalker.

Wyatt’s warning radar was beginning to give him a few prickles. He took a long slow look around, careful not to rustle a single leaf in the tree.

I don’ think we’re alone out here, boys. You feelin’ anythin’?

There was a long silence while both brothers stretched their senses to encompass as much of their surroundings as possible.

I don’t see or hear anything at all, Ezekiel said, but the dog is getting harder to control. I think we’re going to have to get out of here for tonight and rethink our plan of reading to that man from the good book.

That wasn’t happening. You go on ahead and I’ll meet you at the pirogue.

Wyatt stared hard at the man who had shoved his grandmother into the swamp. He’d patted her down and pushed her. She could easily have broken a hip, and the guard had known it but hadn’t cared.

The guard brought the dog twice up to one of the gates and stood waiting, as if he’d receive a signal to let the animal loose. The dog barked, baring its teeth, looking out behind Malichai.

He’s feeling something I can’t, Ezekiel said.

Fall back, Wyatt told them. He’s goin’ to come out and investigate.