stratagem
Christina Hagmann
Orange Hat Publishing
www.orangehatpublishing.com - Waukesha, WI
Stratagem
Copyrighted © 2019 Christina Hagmann
Paperback ISBN 978-1-64538-035-1
Ebook ISBN 978-1-64538-140-2
Library of Congress Control Number: 2019939568
First Edition
Stratagem
by Christina Hagmann
All Rights Reserved. Written permission must be secured from the publisher to use or reproduce any part of this book, except for brief quotations in critical reviews or articles.
For information, please contact:
Orange Hat Publishing
www.orangehatpublishing.com
Waukesha, WI
Cover photo by Chris Tefme
Cover design by Therese Joanis
Edited by Lauren Lisak
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Characters in this book have no relation to anyone bearing the same name and are not based on anyone known or unknown to the author. Any resemblance to actual businesses or companies, events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
To my husband and son, who know when to give me space.
To my family and friends, who know that I need space.
And to my students, past and present,
who know no concept of space. I love you all.
chapter 1
I sat in the dark interior of the car, nervously spinning my earring and watching the shadows move behind the curtain in the lamplit house. Mr. Gray was saying goodbye to his poker buddies, all of whom had wives to get home to, making it an early night for him. It was 8:00 pm, and the streetlights cast an ethereal glow in the night. Conveniently but not surprisingly, the streetlight by Mr. Gray’s house was burnt out.
Most families in this upscale neighborhood, one of many affluent suburbs of Washington, D.C., had retired in front of their televisions for the evening. I looked in the window of the house across the street. The drapes were open, revealing two kids, about six and seven years old, chasing each other around a kitchen table. They were laughing and playing as their mother sat at the table with a book. They didn’t even know how good they had it, and they probably never would.
When I realized I was spinning my earring, a bad tell I had acquired, I pinched the diamond in the fleshy part of my thumb. It bit me, drawing blood. I watched a man, Mr. Gray’s neighbor, exit the house. Now a single shadow moved across the living room.
I glanced out the rearview window at the black van that was parked a block away. The windows were tinted, so I couldn’t make out who was in the driver’s seat. It was usually the same guy, but I’d never seen him up close, and I didn’t want to. I wondered how much they had briefed him about me. I wondered what he saw when he looked at me. I wondered if he knew what I was.
I flipped down my visor and examined myself in the mirror, something I often did, not out of vanity but out of reassurance. My green eyes were bright in the light of the visor mirror; they sometimes surprised me by how green they were, and I wondered if they were really my eyes.
Like the moon over a pond, the glow of the street lamp reflected off my black hair and illuminated my dark complexion. I quickly shut the visor, extinguishing the light and returning my attention to the house. Mr. Gray would be bringing the garbage out soon as per his usual schedule. I grabbed the petition, the one that had been supplied to me, off the passenger seat. I was sure the petition was for some real cause, just real enough for Mr. Gray to open the door for me. “They” were very good with details, but it wasn’t a cause that mattered to me.
I reached for the door handle, feeling around for it in the darkness, and then pulled back, remembering I would need a pen. My purse was large and full of candy wrappers. I didn’t have much else. After digging around and finding a pen, I paused. My cell phone sat in my purse. I picked it up and turned it off. I didn’t know when I would see my phone again because this job was different and there was no emergency exit. If anything, that was what gave me some comfort during the last year, that they had planned a way out for me if I needed it.
Finally, I tucked the phone in my jacket pocket. I knew I would be in trouble for keeping it, but at this point, it didn’t matter. The clean-up crew would report it missing, but I would already be in place. If they wanted it, they’d come for it.
My palms were sweating. I wiped them down the front of my sweater.
A quick tap on the driver’s side window jolted me out of the whole cell phone conundrum. I jumped, my heart beating hard in my chest, and glanced up to see a young man, blond, his face filling up the window. He looked about seventeen, the same age as me. He was tall and lanky and kind of cute. His broad smile covered his face, but it didn’t reach his eyes. I grabbed for the window button, but because the engine was turned off, I couldn’t roll down the window.
Thoughts ticked across my brain. I couldn’t ignore him, but at this point in the game, I shouldn’t be talking to anyone besides Mr. Gray. I thought back to my cell phone in my pocket and had the strange sensation that something was wrong with this assignment. The boy lifted his hand in a still wave.
I grabbed the door handle. My palm was warm and clammy. I didn’t know what to say to him, in part because I wasn’t used to talking to boys, but also because this was the least ideal time to chat up some guy. Sweat began to dampen my brow. I opened the door a crack. “Yes?” I asked. Before I could get the whole word out of my mouth, he wrenched open the door.
Taken by surprise, I lost my grip. To my left, I saw movement coming from behind the vehicle. Instead of leaning out to see what was happening, I crawled back into the car, shimmying over the middle console, trying to get away from him. He snatched at my leg and grabbed me around the ankle.
I kicked wildly at his hands, moving back towards the passenger door, and that was when the second boy appeared, moving in from around the back of the car. He had short, brown hair and wasn’t as tall, but he had a muscular build. As the blond pulled on my ankle, the brown-haired boy grabbed at my other leg. It was eerie how quiet the night was. All I could hear was my own heavy breathing and grunting as I tried to get away.
When they got me out far enough, the blond-haired boy tried taking hold of my waist. I grasped for anything that could anchor me in the car, but he was too quick and too strong. When he seized my waist, he was able to wrench my entire body from the vehicle.
I was unsteady as he pushed me into the arms of the dark-haired boy, and the dark-haired boy’s large arms wrapped me in a bear hug and pulled me backward, away from the vehicle and out onto the road. I tried dragging my feet to slow us down, but my toes barely touched the pavement. I hunched over, trying to get my feet firmly on the ground, but he wouldn’t let me gain control.
Struggling, kicking, my heart was racing. My mind went to the men in the van. They would come for me. An engine revved close by, and I turned my head, hoping to see the van, but instead, a rusty Pontiac squealed up next to my car. “No!” I tried to yell, but I had very little breath stored up in my lungs. I used all my strength to pull my arms apart, but it was useless with the boy’s arms squeezing me tightly. I was sure that the men in the van had to be on their way. That was their sole purpose. To look out for me.
“They’re coming,” the blond yelled out. The boy holding me pulled me around to the back of the car. Everything seemed to be taking so long, but only a matter of seconds had passed. There was a click, and the trunk popped open. “Quick, put her in.” The blond boy held a gun up. I squinted towards the rusty vehicle and the dark interior of the trunk.
“No!” I k
icked, struggling for words, and jerked my head back, trying to hit the dark-haired boy who was holding me, but he was bigger than me, and my head only thumped harmlessly against his chest. My kicks were useless. I couldn’t connect with anything. I tried to twist around, but he had a firm grip and was not letting go.
“The cuffs!” the blond boy yelled. The driver of the car, who I couldn’t see, tossed something out the open window, but it missed its mark and clattered to the ground. Gunshots rang through the air. I flinched and stopped struggling, not sure who was firing. The dark-haired boy stopped and looked back long enough for me to see the men from the van running at us and firing their weapons.
“Help!” I screamed. It occurred to me that if they were willing to open fire, then maybe the target, Mr. Gray, no longer mattered to them. Maybe the assignment was void and they would have to go with Plan B, which was riskier and had a higher mortality rate. That was what I was told going into this, warning what would happen if I failed or refused to follow through. More importantly, they didn’t need me for Plan B.
I kicked again, but the boy holding me was too strong. The blond held the trunk open as the dark-haired boy lifted my legs in. He fumbled with me as I used my legs to push off the edges of the trunk, or whatever I could get my feet on. Instead of losing his grip on me, he pushed himself forward and folded himself over me. With his weight heavy against my back, he forced me down and hopped in the trunk with me. More gunshots fired. Bullets pinged off the side of the car. The trunk closed, wrapping everything in darkness.
I tried to get away, moving towards the back of the trunk. My senses heightened. Our breathing was heavy and loud in the dark trunk. It smelled of gas. There were muted shouts and more gunshots as the vehicle pulled away. The force of the forward motion and the fact I was off balance caused me to roll back to the boy who was holding me. I tried to wiggle away again, but his grip was firm and his arm locked securely over my arm and around my stomach.
A bullet loudly ricocheted off the side of the vehicle, and I froze, listening to the muffled voices inside the car. Suddenly, the boy shifted, and his head moved down over me and closer to my ear. “Sorry for being so rough.” His voice was gentle in my ear, and a prickly sensation shot down my side. I held my breath, wondering what the Agency would do now that I hadn’t completed the assignment. What would they do now that I had gone and gotten caught?
“Are you okay?” his voice broke through. I didn’t say a word. I didn’t know what these boys wanted or what they knew about me.
Low, faint voices came from the inside of the vehicle. It was cold in the trunk, and there was no way of telling how much time had passed. The boy’s rhythmic breathing warmed my neck. His body, solid and heavy, pressed up against me. What would a bunch of teenage boys want with me? Dark motives crossed my mind, and my panicked brain circled and circled around thoughts that I kept trying to push out. I was on the verge of a freak-out, and I couldn’t afford that. After what I had been through, I should be able to handle a bunch of teenage boys.
I had come a long way from a year ago. Back then, I was living in my home in Oak Park, Illinois, with my father—the librarian—and my sisters, Ginger and Georgia. I was worrying about the girls at school accepting me and regretting what I had done to make them accept me when a group of men broke into my bedroom one night and took me. They knew what I was, and I knew it was my fault, even though my dad had warned me. And my poor father, a regular guy who had already lost his wife six years earlier, was forced to give me up without hope of ever seeing me again.
I closed my eyes tightly, but the blackness in the trunk was darker than that of my mind. I thought about the cell phone in my pocket, but with the boy’s arms wrapped around me, there was no way to get to it. If I waited for the right time, it might be my only chance to escape. My only way to get back to the Agency.
These thoughts jumbled in my mind like clothes in a dryer. Though I had no idea how much time had passed, we were moving out of the city. The vehicle had slowed at certain points in the trip and made brief stops, probably at traffic lights. When we finally slowed to a complete stop, I strained to hear what was going. “Shh,” the dark-haired boy whispered in my ear. There were voices outside. I sucked in my breath, prepared to let out a piercing scream, but suddenly a large hand clamped down on my mouth. The hand was warm and smooth but damp with sweat. It gently drove my chin down and my neck and my head into my chest. The pressure was uncomfortable, claustrophobic. I felt like I was suffocating. Like I would never be allowed to breathe again. My body prickled.
“You don’t want these people to know you’re here,” he whispered. “They will not be kind to you.” I had no idea what he was talking about. But if I couldn’t yell out, there was one other thing I could do. That thing was my specialty. I grabbed his hand on my mouth and concentrated on his voice, closing my eyes. My head began to buzz. “Stop.” He pulled his hand away like he had touched a burning ember. “What are you doing, Meda?” I hesitated for a moment, startled he knew my name. My skin was ablaze with pins and needles, and the backs of my eyelids burned. “Shit,” the boy whispered, squirming away from the heat of my body. I began to fill up the trunk. The car moved again.
chapter 2
I lay waiting, breathing heavily. These guys seemed like a bunch of future frat boys who were looking for a dark thrill, but frat boys wouldn’t know my name. No one knew my name. So maybe they were a part of some other group I didn’t know about, rogue members of the Agency? If so, why was the getaway car a rusty Pontiac? I knew it wasn’t in my best interest to underestimate anyone, but it was the only thing that kept me calm and in control.
Then I began to wonder what the boy in the trunk with me was thinking. He had moved away from me, sensing some change in me, and was now pressed up against the front of the trunk. He knew my name, so maybe he knew what I was. He would be ready when they stopped, and he would be the first one out. The first one they would see. I tried to think quickly about my element of surprise, how I could fool them, but the vehicle finally pulled to a slow stop before I could come up with a great plan.
“So, is it okay we didn’t cuff her?” I heard a voice ask from outside.
“Well, we’ll see when we get there, but I think Brody can take care of himself just fine.” Brody. The name of the boy in the trunk with me. I mentally recorded the information.
“Guys,” Brody said, his voice loud from the interior of the trunk. “Guys, she did it. Be prepared.” Damn it. They knew about me. I still could surprise them though; everyone was always shocked by what I could do.
I moved towards the boy, trying to get closer to the door. He tried to grab me, but I was now as strong as him. We fumbled in the darkness for a minute, and I felt my elbow connect with his face. “Shit,” he said quietly. His words were muffled, so I could tell he was grabbing at his face. He let out a groan. Suddenly, the trunk popped open. It was still dark, but there was a glimmer of dawn on the horizon, and I tried to use that to my advantage.
I jumped up quickly, brushing Brody’s arms away. “It’s me!” I yelled, trying to move quickly out of the trunk so that they wouldn’t have a chance to take in all of the details. I shot out, and as my feet hit the ground, I stumbled, my body stiff from being confined, and caught myself with my hands to the ground. “She’s in there!” I yelled, standing and pointing at the trunk. I was ready to run.
“Holy shit!” one of the boys yelled. I was hoping they would be looking at the trunk, but as I looked at them, the tall blond pulled his gun up and aimed it at me. The two boys stared at me, the blond and the driver who had a shaggy fringe of dark hair. The driver looked at the trunk, and I turned to see what he was looking at.
Brody was sitting up in the trunk, holding his nose where I hit him. “Damn, that stings.” He pulled his hand away and wiped blood on his blue jeans. More blood dripped down the front of his leather bomber jacket.
I glanced down at my own clothing, a sweater and leggings now stretched to the size
of a man. It was a dead giveaway that even though I looked like Brody in every way, I was an imposter in the skin of their friend.
“Nice try, Mimic,” the blond boy said. “Dan, grab her.”
Dan must be the driver who I hadn’t seen. He had a chiseled, clefted chin and muscular physique. His build was like the blond’s, kind of lanky. In fact, they had many similar facial features. Dan stepped towards me, eyes open wide. “Man, I wouldn’t have believed it if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, Aaron. Dude, she looks exactly like Brody.” I knew I was done. I couldn’t compete with a gun. There were other mimics who could, but I wasn’t trained to.
“My dad wouldn’t lie,” the blond, who I now knew was Aaron, said, pulling out a set of cuffs. I remembered that they had dropped cuffs earlier. I should have known then that they were aware of what they were dealing with. For being an expert at observation, I hadn’t noticed the obvious with these boys, but most likely, I just didn’t want to acknowledge the obvious.
The real Brody pulled himself out of the trunk. Aaron handed the cuffs to him, and he walked towards me, standing face-to-face with me. He stared at me, his eyes traveling all over my face. I knew he was trying to look for differences. They all did. But I was able to take anyone’s form down to every minute detail. I saw the mole above Brody’s lip, and I knew he would see the same mole on mine. I was an exact replica.
“This is insane, Aaron. For real,” Dan said, breaking the silence.
“Put the cuffs on her,” Aaron motioned at Brody. “That should stop her.” Brody grabbed my hands. I didn’t struggle as he gently clicked the cuffs in place. They burned as they settled down onto my wrists. I couldn’t help myself as I cried out in pain. I studied the cuffs. They were silver. Yes, these boys had done their homework. I felt pins and needles, and my knees turned weak. I was going to pass out.
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