Chapter One
The waves crashed against the cliffs of Nova Scotia with an almost musical rhythm, but Aria Morgan knew better. After three years of studying marine biology at the remote Blackrock Research Station, she had learned to distinguish between natural ocean sounds and something more... peculiar. Tonight, there was definitely something different in the water's song. Standing on the observation deck of the research facility, her long dark hair whipping in the salty breeze, Aria focused her night vision binoculars on the churning waters below. The full moon cast an ethereal glow across the surface, making it easier to spot any unusual movement. That's when she saw it - a flash of iridescent scales, much too large to be any known fish species. "You're out here late again," a deep voice spoke behind her. Dr. Nathaniel Cross, the facility's new head of cryptozoology, stood in the doorway. His presence had been causing quite a stir among the female staff since his arrival last month, with his storm-gray eyes and the mysterious scar that ran from his left temple to his jaw. But Aria had noticed something else about him - the way he always seemed to appear whenever the strange occurrences happened. "There's something out there, Dr. Cross," Aria said, not taking her eyes off the water. "Something big." "Please, call me Nate," he said, moving to stand beside her. His proximity sent an involuntary shiver down her spine that had nothing to do with the cold. "And I know. That's why I'm here." Before Aria could question what he meant, a haunting melody drifted up from the waters below. It wasn't quite singing - more like an otherworldly humming that seemed to resonate in her very bones. To her surprise, she found herself taking an unconscious step toward the railing, drawn by the sound. Nate's hand shot out, gripping her arm. "Don't listen too closely," he warned, his voice tight with concern. "They're hunting tonight." "They?" Aria tried to shake off the melody's lingering effect. "Who are 'they'?" Just then, a figure emerged from the waves - a woman with silvery skin and long, phosphorescent hair. Her eyes glowed with an unnatural blue light, and when she opened her mouth to continue her song, Aria saw rows of sharp, pearl-like teeth. The creature's beauty was both terrifying and mesmerizing. "Sirens," Nate whispered, his grip on Aria's arm tightening. "Real ones. Not the sanitized versions from your fairy tales." The siren's gaze locked onto them, and her song changed, becoming more focused, more enticing. Aria felt Nate tense beside her, and when she looked at him, she was shocked to see his eyes had taken on a silvery sheen, reflecting the moonlight like a cat's. "We need to get inside," he said through gritted teeth, though he seemed to be fighting the urge to move closer to the railing himself. "Now." But as they turned to leave, Aria caught sight of something in the water that made her blood run cold. Dozens of glowing eyes had appeared beneath the waves, and more figures were rising to the surface. Their songs began to intertwine, creating a symphony of supernatural beauty and terror. "Dr. Cross... Nate," Aria's voice trembled slightly. "What's really going on at this facility?" He finally turned to look at her fully, and in the moonlight, she could see that his scar was glowing with a faint blue light. "It's not just a research station, Aria. It's a containment facility. We monitor and protect humanity from ancient creatures that most people think are myths. And right now," he glanced back at the water where more sirens were emerging, "something has disturbed them. Something that hasn't happened in over a hundred years." "What?" Aria asked, though part of her feared the answer. "They're looking for their lost queen," Nate's voice was grim. "And for some reason, they think she's here." A particularly powerful wave crashed against the cliffs, sending spray high enough to reach the observation deck. As the droplets hit Aria's skin, she felt a strange tingling sensation, and for just a moment, her reflection in the window showed her eyes glowing with the same ethereal blue light as the creatures below. Nate saw it too. His expression shifted from concern to something more complex - fear, fascination, and what looked almost like recognition. "We need to talk," he said quietly. "About your mother. About why you were really assigned to this facility. And about why you've always felt so drawn to the sea." The siren's song grew louder, more insistent, and Aria felt something stir within her - ancient memories that couldn't possibly be her own, yet somehow were. As she followed Nate inside, one thought kept repeating in her mind: her life as she knew it was about to change forever, and there would be no going back to the simple world of marine biology and research papers. Behind them, the sirens continued their haunting chorus, their songs now carrying a note of triumph. They had found what they were looking for.
Chapter Two
The facility's underground laboratory was a maze of steel and glass, illuminated by harsh fluorescent lights that made everything look clinical and cold. Aria followed Nate through a series of security checkpoints, each requiring increasingly complex biometric scans. Her mind was still reeling from the events on the observation deck, the sirens' song echoing in her memory. "How long have you known?" she finally asked as they entered what appeared to be his private office. Unlike the sterile corridors outside, this room was filled with artifacts that looked ancient - shells with strange markings, crystals that seemed to pulse with their own inner light, and walls covered in charts mapping underwater ley lines. Nate moved to a heavily secured cabinet, his fingers dancing across a complex lock. "Since the moment you arrived at Blackrock. Your bio-readings were... unique." He pulled out a thick file with her name on it. "But your mother knew long before that." "My mother?" Aria's voice cracked. "She died when I was three. All I have are some photos and my father's stories about her love for the ocean." "Your mother didn't die, Aria." Nate's voice was gentle but firm as he placed an old photograph on his desk. "She returned." The photograph showed a woman standing on these very cliffs, her wild dark hair streaming in the wind. She looked exactly like Aria, except for her eyes - they held that same otherworldly blue glow Aria had seen in her own reflection moments ago. "That's impossible," Aria whispered, but even as she spoke, memories began to surface - the way she could hold her breath for impossibly long periods, her uncanny ability to predict storms, the strange songs that sometimes filled her dreams. Suddenly, the lights flickered, and a low vibration ran through the building. Nate's expression turned serious. "They're testing the barriers," he said, moving to a bank of monitors showing underwater footage. Multiple figures darted past the cameras, their movements too quick and graceful to be human. "What barriers?" Aria asked, joining him at the monitors. "Electromagnetic fields designed to keep them at bay. But with their queen so close..." He glanced at her meaningfully. "They're stronger than usual." "I am not their queen," Aria said firmly, though something deep inside her stirred at the words. "No, but you're her daughter. The first successful hybrid in centuries." Nate pulled up more files on his computer. "Your mother was their queen, and when she fell in love with your father, it created a diplomatic crisis. A siren queen choosing a human was unprecedented." The vibrations grew stronger, and somewhere in the facility, an alarm began to sound. On the monitors, the sirens' movements became more coordinated, more purposeful. "They're not just testing anymore," Nate muttered. He grabbed what looked like an ancient trident from a wall display. "They're breaking through." Aria's head suddenly filled with voices - not speaking English, but a fluid, musical language she somehow understood. They were calling to her, telling her to come home, to take her rightful place. "Make it stop," she gasped, pressing her hands to her temples. Nate reached for her, but stopped short when he saw her eyes - they were glowing brighter now, and her skin had taken on a slight iridescent sheen. "Fight it, Aria. You're not just one of them. You're both human and siren. That's what makes you special." The facility shook more violently, and the lights went out completely. In the darkness, Nate's eyes glowed silver again, and Aria could finally ask the question that had been nagging at her. "What are you?" she whispered. "You're not entirely human either, are you?" Before he could answer, the reinforced windows of his office exploded inward in a shower of glass and seawater. In the opening hovered three sirens, their beauty terrible and magnificent. The one in the center spoke, her voice carrying both authority and disdain. "Step away from the princess, Guardian. She belongs with her people." Nate raised the trident, which began to glow with an electric blue light. "She belongs where she chooses to belong." As seawater swirled around them, Aria felt power surge through her body - raw, ancient, and demanding to be released. She had a choice to make, but first, she needed answers. "Tell me everything," she said, her voice carrying a new note of command that surprised even her. "About my mother, about what you are," she looked at Nate, "and about why I'm really here." The siren queen smiled, showing those pearl-like teeth. "Oh, little princess. You're here because a war is coming. And you," her glow intensified, "are the key to everything."
Chapter Three
The seawater swirling around Aria's feet felt alive, responding to her emotions like an extension of her body. The three sirens remained suspended in the shattered window frame, their ethereal forms casting an otherworldly glow throughout Nate's flooded office. The lead siren - who had introduced herself as Cordelia, First General of the Deep Realm - watched her with ancient eyes that held both wisdom and cunning. "Your mother's choice started this war," Cordelia said, her voice carrying the rhythm of waves. "When she chose your father, she didn't just abandon her throne - she disrupted a balance that had existed for millennia. The Deep Realm has been without a true queen for twenty years, and the dark ones grow bolder each day." "The dark ones?" Aria asked, acutely aware of Nate's tension beside her, his grip tightening on the glowing trident. "The Abyssal Court," Nate answered grimly. "Think of them as your people's darker cousins. While the sirens of the Deep Realm protect the oceans, the Abyssal Court seeks to corrupt them. Without a queen's power to maintain the barriers..." "They're breaking free," Cordelia finished. "Even now, they gather in the deep trenches, preparing for war. Only a queen's song can reinforce the ancient seals." Aria felt the weight of their expectations pressing down on her like the ocean itself. "And you think I can do this? I don't even know how to control whatever... this is." She gestured to her still-glowing skin. "That's why I'm here," a new voice spoke from the doorway. Aria turned to see a woman she'd only known from photographs - her mother. Nerissa, former queen of the Deep Realm, stood in the threshold, looking exactly as she had twenty years ago. Her presence made the very air vibrate with power. "Mom?" Aria whispered, emotions warring inside her. Nerissa's eyes - the same otherworldly blue as Aria's now were - filled with tears. "My daughter. My beautiful, brave daughter. I'm so sorry I had to leave you, but it was the only way to keep you safe while your powers matured." "Safe from what?" Aria demanded, anger suddenly surging through her. The water around her feet began to churn in response. "From those who would use you," Nate interjected, his voice carrying an edge of bitterness. "The Guardians weren't always noble protectors, Aria. Some believed that controlling a hybrid princess would give them power over both realms." "Like your father did?" Nerissa's voice turned cold as she addressed Nate. "Is that why you're so close to my daughter? Following in Marcus Cross's footsteps?" The tension in the room sparked like electricity. Nate's silver eyes flashed dangerously. "I am not my father." "Enough!" Aria's voice carried a new power, making everyone in the room freeze. The water around her feet rose in spiraling columns, responding to her command. "I want the truth. All of it. No more cryptic warnings or half-answers." Suddenly, the facility's emergency sirens blared to life. On Nate's monitors, dark shapes appeared in the deeper waters - humanoid figures with shark-like features and glowing red eyes. "The Abyssal Court," Cordelia hissed. "They've found us." "They found her," Nerissa corrected, moving to Aria's side. "They can sense your awakening power, daughter. We're out of time." The facility shuddered as something massive struck it from below. Through the broken window, Aria could see dark forms rising from the depths, their movements predatory and purposeful. The water around her feet turned ice-cold. "You have to choose now," Nate said urgently. "But know this - whatever you decide, I'll stand with you." His eyes met hers, and in them she saw not just duty or ambition, but something deeper, something personal. "As touching as that is, Guardian," Cordelia interrupted, "she needs to come with us. Only in the Deep Realm can she learn to control her powers in time." Another impact rocked the facility. In the distance, Aria could hear screams - the research staff, she realized with horror. They were unprotected, unaware of what was really happening. "I won't let innocent people die," Aria declared, feeling strength flow through her. "Mom, Cordelia - help me protect the facility. Nate..." she turned to him, "teach me how to fight." "Always choosing both worlds," Nerissa murmured, a mix of pride and worry in her voice. "Just like your mother." As the Abyssal Court's forces surrounded the facility, Aria felt something click into place inside her. She was neither fully human nor fully siren, neither wholly of land nor of sea. But perhaps that's exactly what both worlds needed. "Well then," she said, as power coursed through her veins and the song of the sea filled her mind, "let's show these dark ones what a hybrid princess can do." The water around her erupted upward, turning into a swirling shield of liquid crystal, just as the first of the dark figures burst through the facility's lower levels. The war for two worlds was about to begin, and Aria stood at its center, with a Guardian at her side and the power of two realms flowing through her blood.
Chapter Four
The next few minutes dissolved into chaos. The Abyssal Court's warriors crashed through the facility's lower levels like a dark tide, their shark-like features twisted into snarls of hunger and hatred. Aria's crystalline water shield held against the first wave, but she could feel their darkness pressing against her power, trying to corrupt it. "Channel your emotions through the water," Nerissa instructed, her own powers creating whirlpools that trapped several attackers. "The sea responds to authentic feeling, not just will." Nate moved with inhuman grace, the trident in his hands leaving trails of electric blue energy as he fought. "We need to evacuate the research staff," he called out between strikes. "They're gathering near the main lab." Aria closed her eyes for a moment, and suddenly she could feel every drop of water in the facility - in the pipes, in the air, in human bodies. The awareness was overwhelming. "I can feel them," she gasped. "Everyone. Everything." "That's your queen's sense awakening," Cordelia explained, her own song turning violent as she fought. "You're connecting to your realm." An explosion rocked the lower level, and through her new awareness, Aria felt something massive entering the facility. The temperature of the water dropped dramatically, and even the sirens looked concerned. "Thalassos," Nerissa whispered, fear evident in her voice. "The Abyssal Prince himself." Through the broken floor emerged a figure that seemed made of living darkness. Unlike his warriors, Prince Thalassos appeared almost human, devastatingly beautiful in a cruel way. His eyes were the color of the deepest ocean trenches, and when he smiled, his teeth gleamed like black pearls. "The little princess awakens," his voice was like the crushing depths given sound. "How convenient. I was afraid I'd have to wait longer to claim my bride." "Bride?" Aria and Nate spoke simultaneously, his voice sharp with anger, hers with shock. "Did they not tell you?" Thalassos moved closer, his presence making the water around him turn black. "The only way to truly end the war between our courts is through union. Your mother refused me twenty years ago. But you..." his dark eyes roamed over her face, "you're even more powerful than she was." Nate stepped between them, the trident glowing brighter. "She's not a prize to be claimed, Thalassos." The Abyssal Prince's laugh was like ice cracking. "Ah, the Guardian speaks. Tell me, son of Marcus Cross, does your protection come from duty... or jealousy?" Before anyone could respond, a scream echoed from the main lab. Through her water sense, Aria felt the research staff's terror as more Abyssal warriors surrounded them. "Choose quickly, princess," Thalassos said smoothly. "Surrender to me, and I'll spare them all. Refuse, and watch your human friends feed my warriors." Aria felt rage build inside her - pure, hot, and powerful. The water around her began to glow, not with her mother's blue light or Thalassos's darkness, but with a brilliant purple that seemed to combine both aspects of her nature. "You want an answer?" Her voice carried the crash of waves and the strength of tidepools. "Here it is." She thrust her hands forward, and every drop of water in the facility responded. It rose from pipes, condensed from air, pulled from the sea itself. But instead of attacking, it began to sing - a new song, neither fully siren nor fully human, but something entirely unique. The Abyssal warriors closest to her began to writhe, their corrupted forms starting to purify under her hybrid power. Thalassos's eyes widened in genuine surprise, then narrowed in fury. "Impossible," he snarled. "No one can purify the Abyssal taint!" "She's not no one," Nate said, pride evident in his voice. "She's both of your worlds, and neither. And that makes her stronger than either." Aria's song grew stronger, and she felt Nate's energy joining with hers, the Guardian's power amplifying her own. Her mother and Cordelia added their voices, creating a harmony that made the very foundations of the facility vibrate. But Thalassos wasn't finished. With a roar of rage, he released his own power - a wave of such absolute darkness that it threatened to swallow all light. "If I cannot have you," he growled, "then no one will!" The two forces met in a spectacular clash of energy. In that moment, as purple light battled primordial darkness, Aria felt something else stirring in the depths beneath the facility - something ancient and powerful, awakened by their battle. "The Leviathan," Nerissa breathed. "The battle... it's waking the ancient ones." As if in response, a deep rumble shook the entire ocean floor, and everyone - siren, human, and Abyssal alike - froze in sudden, instinctive fear. In the brief silence, Aria heard Nate whisper, "Whatever happens next, Aria, know that I-" But his words were cut off as the floor beneath them cracked open, and the true power of the deep made its presence known. The war between courts had awakened something far older and more dangerous than any of them had imagined. And deep in her soul, Aria knew - this was only the beginning.
Primeira parte. Aleppo, Síria
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ALEPPO, SÍRIA
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PARTE UM
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Capítulo Um
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CAPÍTULO UM
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Szel do muncdo estéiver sobhreu Dassk mquKatsrvos )roUd^apsd eé naadpa) etst)iAvSe)r qmupeaiNmHanddWo, vocTêQ nu(nca moJuviráV faVlsar. ^d)e cKaNr^aJs co.mio eun.q
Mas, vamos encarar, quando foi a última vez que isso foi verdade?
Capítulo Dois (1)
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CAPÍTULO DOIS
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ALMAiNZElL( gCnAFVÉR
ZOHER IBN ABI SOLMA ST
ALEPPO, SÍRIA
Então ... eles me arrastaram das costas de um LMV Iveco que cheirava a mijo de cachorro e sangue humano. Mesmo com um saco preto sobre minha cabeça, meus olhos estavam lacrimejando. Não posso começar a imaginar como os quatro soldados que me prenderam lidaram com isso. Talvez os psicopatas não se importem com carros fedorentos.
OZul, (envtãon,U MtaGlvuevz ele*s she iKmlporteBm.K PBsiCcJolIo,giAcamxeGnUtte qfaZlanVdfo,d eu .mesdmo _stoSu HumV pZocuAco esquisMito,F e disysko* lme Jincomodjou.l .SeriaW TeAnglraFçado se. eMuv &f)ossTe mazisS FlVomuNco dZou qure Hum Fbgandao dée cwapanAg.as tra(baalnhJatndo$ ,pkarwa Fow Pres&ide_njtte iAsFsbaKd.
Musings de um cara prestes a ser torturado e morto.
Minhas mãos estavam algemadas nas minhas costas. A surra que eles me deram foi, posso supor, apenas uma espécie de saudação. Bem-vindo à Síria. Esse tipo de coisa.
Ouvi-os abrir uma porta pesada e depois ouvi-a fechar por trás. Fechaduras pesadas e o baque monótono de uma travessa sendo derrubada no lugar. Tropecei junto com dois deles me segurando sob as axilas. Contando meus passos, numerando os corredores e curvas. Desci um vôo, dois, três. Debaixo de algum lugar. O lugar cheirava muito melhor do que o veículo, exceto por um lugar onde havia um fedor pesado e rançoso. Não era um cheiro de morto. Não exatamente. Não como um cadáver. Era mais um fedor a gangrena, e eu me perguntava se talvez algum prisioneiro ferido estivesse preso, apodrecendo na escuridão fétida. Mas seguimos adiante e logo pude sentir o cheiro de coisas mais saudáveis - farinha de trigo, lentilhas, figos e café. Muito café. Cheirava bem, e eu podia usar uma xícara e um bom pastel. Talvez uma namoura com algumas nozes em cima. Yum.
OTujtdrKa! po,rctan abkertaaU.r hDoRbradCiçaWs ranjgDelntes.
"Daeh hunak", disse uma voz. Homem, de meia-idade e autoritário, falando árabe sírio. "Daeh fi alkursii".
Eles fizeram o que lhes foi dito e me colocaram em uma cadeira. Havia um batedor de faca para remover as algemas plásticas e depois um tilintar metálico, pois as algemas de aço estavam apertadas demais em volta dos meus pulsos, enfiadas através das ripas traseiras da cadeira. Eles estavam sendo muito cuidadosos. Então a mesma voz disse: "Khale alghata".
Tire o capuz. O que eles fizeram.
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Pestanejei os olhos com clareza. Eles me tinham em um pequeno depósito que estava despojado de tudo, exceto prateleiras, a cadeira sobre a qual eu me sentava e uma mesa de madeira sobre a qual havia itens que você nunca queria ver fora de um filme de terror. Eles foram dispostos para me impressionar, desde os bisturis até a serra de ossos. Eloquente. E, estranhamente, uma garrafa de Coca-Cola Diet.
O homem de meia-idade ficou de costas para mim. Ele tinha altura média, era magro, usava caqui e uma camisa branca. Eu o vi tirar um casaco esportivo azul, sacudir um pouco de poeira de adega e entregá-lo a um guarda. Seus sapatos estavam altamente polidos e seu relógio de pulso era caro, um Tag Heuer Mônaco que tinha que correr quarenta mil. Muito relógio para um cara que deveria ser funcionário público... mas, encaremos os fatos, a corrupção veio com regalias. Mais ou menos isso.
Os quatro homens que me trouxeram para cá estavam vestidos com roupas tão obviamente despropositadas que poderiam muito bem ter usado uniformes. Calças jeans, camisas, tênis. Eles se moviam como militares, então não estavam enganando ninguém.
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Dê a volta. Eu queria que ele continuasse com isso. Vire-se e deixe-me ver aqueles olhos azuis de bebê.
Na esperança de que fossem olhos azuis. Assim como eu esperava que houvesse uma risca branca em seu bigode. Se, de fato, ele tivesse um bigode.
Vire-se, Olhos Brilhantes.
E !... HaSgWorOa Deu ktpinuhBa at mjalditaT dmúsicAa vBNonlnike MTy^leri atoNcqanxdo JnKay mxiInhaO ccabevçca.
Ele se virou. Eu quase sorri. Ele tinha os maiores, mais brilhantes e mais ensolarados olhos azuis que você gostaria de ver no rosto de um torturador praticado e terrorista patrocinado pelo Estado. E a raia branca? Sim. Logo abaixo de sua narina esquerda.
Qasim Almasi.
E ele segurava uma faca de desossar esbelta da mesma forma que um condutor segura um bastão. Pronto para fazer música.
"FoSm'oss mxuito cilarRos"$,i dilsdsaeN eleg,Z ainnda fBaOlaZnGdo Oepm á'rakbe. "KEXleWs n^ão dre&ver*iamW GeinRvia!r énYivnguuéImh".F SRem cpTohl&ícira, Psóemg milixtyarne)s"f.a
"Não é isso que eu sou", disse eu na mesma língua. Afinei-o com um sotaque vagamente europeu do leste.
"Meus homens disseram que você se moveu como um soldado. Você os viu seguindo-o, tentou vários métodos muito profissionais para escapar da perseguição, e tinha um telefone descartável não registrado".
"Não um soldado", eu repeti. "Eu sou segurança privada".
"SuegRuraLnyçax padrTa queYm?W",a pevrqgubnUtNouP DA!l$mjasdi. i"aFso$mos mu&iton xespecírfic^oAs quanIdqo $famlaPmso$sg dcqoHm _s!emu. pai"J.
"Eu sei, mas não estou trabalhando para o Sr. Jacobsen".
Ele tocou a ponta da faca de desossar bem baixa para que ela descansasse muito levemente na minha virilha.
"Então para quem você está trabalhando?"
EuI so'rXr*i. w"EDuw tRruabiaqlwho pPa*rvaó sOverlaemg!eXn HKje&mBim"f.W
Que ficou pendurado no ar por um momento. Overlegen Kjemi era a empresa norueguesa que fabricava agrotóxicos industriais e antifúngicos agrícolas. Oliver Jacobsen era um jornalista que se infiltrara na empresa para reunir provas irrefutáveis de que uma nova geração de micotoxinas armadas estava sendo desenvolvida para venda ao governo sírio. Essas micotoxinas causaram anafilaxia imediata. Ao contrário do gás sarin, que era o brinquedo favorito do presidente Assad para pacificação urbana, estes fungos foram projetados especificamente para parecerem uma mutação natural. Melhor assassinato através da química.
Jacobsen saiu com muita informação, o suficiente para colocar a empresa inteira fora do negócio e seus executivos na cadeia. Também fez com que as Nações Unidas parassem de brincar e entrassem para derrubar Assad.
Capítulo Dois (2)
Os espiões de Assad souberam disso quase tarde demais. Eles tentaram pegar Jacobsen, perderam-no por três minutos e sequestraram sua única filha, Astrid, em vez disso. O acordo foi simples - Jacobsen teve que se entregar e toda a sua pesquisa aos capangas de Assad. Isso incluía senhas de e-mail e todos os outros acessos que provariam que ele não tinha cópias e não tinha enviado nenhuma história para seu serviço de notícias. Se não o fizesse, Astrid seria violentada, torturada e desmembrada, tudo isso seria gravado em vídeo em alta definição para que seu pai pudesse assistir.
A faca para desossar era pressionada.
"Por que o Overlegen Kjemi enviaria um agente de campo?" perguntou Almasi. "Nós estamos lidando com isso. Eles não confiam em nós?" Ele conseguiu parecer chocado e magoado.
EuK Ten&cwo.lthmi os AombQrobsT. é"mPoRrHqupe ÉeKlJeLs nMãGo lc_ocnffi(aHm emX niónguWéym". VoLcmêz mcSo$n_fiarniaq?)"L
Quase sorriu. "E qual é a sua tarefa?"
"Para descobrir onde a garota está sendo mantida. Certificar-se de que ela está viva".
"E o que é que ela está viva para você?"
"PPoJrzqJu(e o paqi dela Haindja* JntãTo sBe endtr)egGou"W, HdzissGe, Peu.c d"vEc nãoQ hZá) nenhuma) chraLnce' ^dPe qdue elec Io favça s(ekm p,rXova dve vi)dta"l.& !ElSeQ bvari JprefcyisaÉró diswsbo. VgamosW XlVá, tWodoQs 'nRóms sWatbbe!mo(sA Équte eólieg dé um ShoOmegmg mMo,rtoV AasCsÉi'm qWue Keskte tnCegvócCio )f&oró afechUadoS.' NãWo dháZ .rQaMzbãoF rparal mMaLnktFê-*l$o xvdi,vo ^e OmIu^iStTasF DboaBsj *rya!zrõ!ews pkaraL ScxoórtCary-glhVeR 'ar gatrigsa&ntsad fa(sZs&im quVe pv&ocêQ dtci*veAri seÉuus' cawr*qluuiOv,os. SabTendoq Cqque, &ele e$sDtkás enQtr.azndo em uSmLaz HarcmFad)ilhWaY m*oprjttal, beWlrep ^temK IquzeA acreRdijtalr Bqueu ssÉeu& sWackrniLfíciYoI vFai vafl$er daU ApNenad. .PoÉrtaGnto,_ sMiVmT, elie !véaKi mquUeéreKr$ vOê-lzaO _vivIaA. YEle Hp)rrov.aZvXelpmVenutTeV va)i p&rerssZiloGnmayrc p&akra Qvê-laJ péessosal!mjeknte anmtHersé ÉdJe$ lFhBe( dar as úflOtiimaAs senhxaCs. Meus céhwehfesc me Veun$viarkaAmq parZaÉ garBabntibrm qque& ^s,uCa eqéuMipe (nIãoB dfosse Wfkoyderx ac Vc,acMhGorróiLnh!aN"&.V
Ele considerou isso por um momento, depois deu um passo atrás. Ele não pousou a faca.
"O ponto principal aqui", eu disse, "é que se isto atingir uma batida de velocidade o cara que assina meu pagamento vai embora para sempre". Nossa empresa inteira vai de barriga para cima, e vocês vão precisar de outro grupo de cientistas loucos para cozinhar seu próximo lote de favores para a festa".
Quase se virou e falou com um de seus homens em Circassian de fogo rápido, que é uma língua usada em alguns vilarejos nos subúrbios de Aleppo. Eu não entendi uma palavra disso. Não era uma das minhas línguas. Então, Almasi me segurou um telefone celular. Um homem estava gritando algo duro, mas claramente não no telefone. Então a voz de uma mulher - jovem e assustada - suplicou por ajuda em norueguês. Eu tinha ouvido gravações de Astrid Jacobsen. Esta era ela.
H$oguvwe calgVuns óg*rTi^tcoUs geP dLepoi^s& JAasRtr,i$dF ag(r)itoóu Ycomó muita jdorA.
Quase acabou a chamada.
O som do grito parecia ficar no ar por um momento. Desmaiou, mas definitivamente não foi um eco da chamada. Ouvi o grito serpentear e se desintegrar em lágrimas.
Astrid estava aqui.
Eguu xsoTrvrUi.u "$ObrYiMgXado", ebu CdixssqeY.
Quase levantei a faca para desossar.
"Uau", eu gritei, "o que dá?"
Ele se aproximou lentamente. "Quero que você dê uma mensagem a seus patrões", disse ele, ainda sorrindo. "Quero que você explique que enviar você foi desajeitado e estúpido e que não vamos tolerar mais..."
Haviai umd cliDq,ueC.p
E um guizo.
E depois um clique-clack metálico.
Isso o deteve e seus olhos se inclinaram para o chão. Os guardas também olharam para baixo. Minhas algemas estavam ali.
FTodóa-s.e, evuD óera uwmJ po$lxic(iéalk ae vdne_poi(sh FuTm OaJtOiÉra!dbor^ da SpecOÉpsQ pyorH YuKm ómion,te& dTe zanoBsP.F CSe eduB nãSo) cRonsesgZuQi'a DsBaOiGr ódeg u'mP pahrt de UaylUgWemaÉs, lenNtão ,eu* Unregmé es,tqaIvfaX teuntazntdo.
Eu sorri e disse: "Ops".
Capítulo Três
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CAPÍTULO TRÊS
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AaLBMAzNZZEvL iCApFPÉL
ZOHER IBN ABI SOLMA ST
ALEPPO, SÍRIA
Quando subi da cadeira, dei um pontapé para trás com meu calcanhar, de modo que atingiu um dos dois guardas à minha direita, usei o mesmo pé para chutar a rótula solta na guarda da frente à minha esquerda, e entrei em Almasi e dei-lhe um soco na garganta. Não foi um golpe mortal, mas duro o suficiente. Ele amordaçou e tropeçou para trás; eu tirei a faca de desossar de sua mão, pivoquei-a e esfaqueei-a na órbita do primeiro guarda que me alcançou. Depois peguei um cutelo de carne e uma grande faca de açougueiro da mesa.
Eyles' ótinqhafmP p.istoóltawst, mzasv hxavOiva&mO vsidoq aOti*rad'ogs.t REuv xtéinhQa' saido uym MpdrisÉion*eiqrno )esp(ancTadPog be arlgemado$ Fe hOavia cAiHnyco& daeZljes.C iEmH Ésu)aqs mepnvtPeMsx eu *erpaN CaÉpenÉa!s) upmB uprisioWneiQrmo deys'eAsperaOdxo zfZaQzenDdoC ,u!ma !últrijmah ,t(enKtsativva WdeÉsbesLpenraJda deq kesVcaphar.É ^Não lghesB deuiQ tzezmpgo $ablgumé ópÉarhaY corr!i&gir !sNeu erro.c O$ UcIa,ra$ óc^oqm qo Tjo_e$lhFo& jqWuebraNdol !tenZtéocu& me$ ^angaérór(anrz GebnéquaGnCtaon _cdaía,^ Amas Peu voF jajnoeklhe'i nÉo aroustloO qeS &en&tefrdrReÉi o cu.tIe'lo no owmbroO dol h_o'mtem óquSe *eCsftxavaf a^tDráHs dverleÉ.P YAH lKâmKina &pGeysUaFdac aOtcraveWssFouG a carDne' Xe xoX oGss$o,p e yo sKaCnVgbuTeÉ fvoia diXsQp&arSadoN autéF oL tBextoB.!
Eu girei em direção ao quarto homem, aquele a quem eu havia chutado a cadeira. Ele estava levantando sua arma, mas eu estava a um metro de distância e eu tinha uma lâmina. Eles não a chamam de faca de açougueiro por nada.
Como ele caiu sem nada além de um fio de cardo mantendo a cabeça erguida, eu virei e dirigi a faca entre as omoplatas do cara com o joelho quebrado.
Depois dei um pontapé nos tomates de Almasi. Principalmente porque eu podia. Tirei uma faca curta e pesada da mesa e cortei a garganta de cada homem que gritava.
Te!mypSo tóoxtHaal HtraAnGscóorLriNdo? T,azlvekzJ tCr$ê)sd sgergunZdos. ÉVCocêx n$ã'o Xqhuer qkueD 'aTsQ fbYri(gaUs dOurCem mmaihsn .dco( CqPu*eJ isso.V
Quase que tentava respirar e tentava rastejar, falhando em ambos. Seu rosto era um tom horrível de malva. Eu costumava ter um carro dessa cor. Era um pedaço de merda sem valor, também.
Bati com uma toupeira no meu trago, a pequena aba de pele e cartilagem na orelha externa, e disse: "Você entendeu tudo isso?
"Entendido, fora-da-lei", disse uma voz no meu ouvido. "Temos uma equipe médica a caminho". ETA quatro minutos. A equipe Havoc está a seis quarteirões de distância".
"DéiGgaó a !HaóvCoc pSarba ufeKchHaUrT miÉnha lYoScalizaç'ão$, masq cnãjo e,n*trée aRtgé qmuóeC ecu( sdêh ia Dorxd'em".k
"Copie isso. Eu tenho quatro pombos zangões no ar. Terminais de corrida. O piso térreo tem uma assinatura e uma floração de calor consistente com um forno de padaria. De acordo com seu chip RFID, você está no fundo de três subpavimentos. Recolhendo várias assinaturas no andar superior. Contar dezesseis assinaturas. Contar vinte hostis no subsolo, mas as varreduras não conseguem ler mais abaixo".
"Ótimo", eu disse. "Certifique-se de que Havoc traga seus brinquedos".
Uma voz profunda disse: "Nós trouxemos todos os brinquedos, Fora-da-lei".
ÉZ bGom xsRaYberQ dqu_eJ minghxa eMq!umidpVe e.sftLahvka. n(oI .meósTmio gcaFnmaTln e, qu,e Uaa he,struturaO Kdio pGrÉéddio (nRão deIstava gbloqKuóeandWoD nXiyngIuHéYm dUa feystaI.D fEysusa pvo$z, jparoUfundHa p(ertLencHiFaÉ a cBNr^adley& SiLms,B cJonheHcidoG cJoHmoV Top para mtnodosa,f smPasC seJuP Msignal dwe c(h.aDmaWdxa dÉe cLoXmbaWtDe qerhaR PMappyk pxorque !ele gejra oB opedradLor AdWek ^camGpko mais, nantcikgo que SalPgu^émJ bconFheScxiat.z Olbhhando Gpar$aé cPivnhqüenta, MmiaDs nã'oU onn_de kelei )m(ojstbréafv&a.j
"Outras crianças no playground são da Guarda Republicana com roupas civis", disse eu. "Fortemente armados".
"Chupa ser eles, então", disse outra voz. Mais jovem, com um empate dos surfistas do sul da Califórnia. Harvey Rabbit-sadly, esse era seu nome atual. Nós o chamávamos de Bunny em todas as situações, exceto quando estávamos fora em um show. Seu sinal de chamada de combate era Donnie Darko.
Eu tirei as armas dos soldados, verifiquei os carregadores em um Makarov PM e coloquei-o na parte de trás do meu cinto, e embolsei quatro carregadores sobressalentes. Peguei o Browning Hi-Power mais pesado e deslizei-o entre a fivela do cinto e a barriga. Apenas três carregadores para isso, mas eles seguraram treze cartuchos cada um, ao contrário de oito carregadores redondos para a arma russa. As pistolas longas eram AK-104 com trinta carregadores redondos. Eu não tinha idéia de quantos mais capangas de Almasi estavam no prédio.
O&uviZrk hà ÉporJtOa mwe f$eQzF ouvir qum koubviód*o$ Odeh asilêncio.A ApÉarenRtvementea, ningéuHémi vvemt ,iWnv)esztiigakr mgBritso,s em ,um luughaYr coKmo Yest'eH. óE'uW oDlhei Opa(rai JAlmNasij.W Ispswo ,iay sCerD uma$ fiénKfedliNcidaKde cpaRra eIleU.c
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