Return to Zero

by Pittacus Lore

  The guy standing right there, at the head of the craps table, a stupid grin on his handsome face. King wore a tan suit with a lavender dress shirt deeply unbuttoned, his chest bronzed and waxed. A blond woman with a huge mane of curly hair and an hourglass figure was tucked under his arm. She was clad in a low-cut and sparkling red-and-blue dress, looking like a human version of a firework. Derek put his fist in the woman’s face, the dice clutched there. She puckered her lips and blew on them.

  “Blech,” Caleb said.

  Caleb couldn’t be sure, but he thought Isabela tried about six different looks before catching King’s eye. She’d sauntered by the craps table as a dazzling Middle Eastern woman, retreated to an elevator when King didn’t take an interest and came back as an icy-eyed blonde in a chic business suit. When that didn’t take, Isabela had reappeared as a freckled redhead with a playful smile, then a striking woman clearly modeled after Lexa from the Academy, and eventually even a lithe young man. These were just the appearances she chose that Caleb managed to notice, the ones who glanced up in his direction and winked, or blew a kiss, or briefly flashed a stretch of leg.

  Isabela. She couldn’t take anything serious.

  After hours of trying, it had been the voluptuous trailer-park beauty queen who had caught King’s eye. Apparently, King’s tastes skewed towards the cliché. As Caleb watched, Isabela tossed her head back and laughed brightly at some remark King made. Caleb winced.

  “I only see one bodyguard. What about you?”

  It took some effort for Caleb not to leap to his feet and then more effort not to let loose a duplicate. Ran had sidled up beside him without his even noticing. She’d changed back into Isabela’s slinky dress, although this time she’d added a pair of silver leggings.

  “Jesus,” he said. “You scared me.”

  “You were very focused.”

  Caleb cleared his throat. “Yeah, uh, I only see the one big guy, too . . .”

  He nodded discreetly towards King’s shadow, a rather large man who stood a respectful distance from the craps table but hadn’t budged since King arrived. He wore a charcoal suit over his massive frame, dark red hair pulled back in a ponytail, a scar creating a canyon in his otherwise thick beard. He looked like a modern-day Viking.

  “He’s not wearing an earpiece,” Ran observed. “If he was, I would think maybe there are more guards. But it’s just the one.”

  “Einar was right,” Caleb admitted begrudgingly. “King feels safe here. This was a good place to target him.” He took his eyes off Isabela for a moment to look at Ran, searching for reassurance in her typically serene face. “We’re doing the right thing, aren’t we? I mean, a part of me still feels like we should be rushing straight back to the Academy.”

  As usual, Ran considered her words before speaking. “This man, King, he is our enemy. If we can hurt Blackstone, that will hurt the Foundation as well. Also, he could know something about Sam and Six.”

  Caleb nodded. They’d been over all this before, but he was still searching for a reason not to go along with Einar’s idea to interrogate King, even though the plan was already in motion.

  He turned his attention back to the craps table. King leaned forward and tossed the dice. They bounced off the back wall and a cheer went up from the gathered crowd. He must have rolled a high number. Or not? Caleb had no idea how craps worked. As Caleb watched, Isabela leaned up to whisper something in King’s ear.

  “This is gross,” Caleb said.

  Ran patted his back gently. “It’s the mission.”

  Caleb sighed. “I know, I know. It’s just like . . . this guy is evil. And Isabela is . . . I don’t know. Forget it. I don’t know why it’s bothering me so much.”

  Ran flashed a small smile. “You don’t?”

  “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  “No reason.” Ran tilted her chin towards the gaming floor. “It’s happening.”

  Caleb looked down in time to see the croupier passing King a tray filled with tight-packed chips. King handed that off to his large bodyguard, put his arm around Isabela and escorted her away from the craps table. They were on the move.

  Caleb shot to his feet, then brushed some wrinkles out of his shirt to appear unhurried. Ran hooked a hand through his arm and the two of them made their way slowly along the balcony level, headed towards the elevator bank.

  Down below, King briefly parted from his bodyguard, the brute stopping by a teller’s window to turn the chips into a wad of cash. King spent this time letting his hands wander along Isabela’s back. She said something and King laughed delightedly. Caleb wondered what it was.

  “Does this man really only have one bodyguard?”

  That was Duanphen, joining them from the other side of the overlook, where she’d also been keeping watch.

  “It appears so,” Ran said.

  “Good. This will be easy.”

  “Don’t say that,” Caleb replied. “You’ll jinx us.”

  They waited for Isabela, King and the bodyguard to board the elevator. Caleb slouched his shoulders.

  “Do we look casual enough?”

  Ran arched an eyebrow. “Yes, Caleb.”

  “Last car on the right,” Duanphen reported.

  They all looked up towards the gold-plated arrow above the elevators that ticked off the floors, watching the last car on the right tick upwards and upwards until, finally, it stopped. Fifteenth floor.

  “Just one below our penthouse,” Ran said.

  “That’ll make it easier,” Duanphen replied.

  Caleb groaned. “The ‘e’ word again. Haven’t you ever been on one of these missions before? They consistently go sideways.”

  “Actually, ours tended to go pretty well,” Duanphen said. “Until you Academy people showed up in Switzerland.”

  Caleb punched the button, calling for another elevator. Once they were inside, his foot tapped compulsively, a fact he didn’t realize until Ran gave him a gentle nudge.

  “Sorry,” Caleb said.

  As the doors started to close, Duanphen cocked her head to the side. Caleb followed her gaze and caught a glimpse of a wavy-haired girl with a wooly unibrow passing by on the walkway.

  “What is it?” He asked Duanphen.

  “Nothing,” she replied. “I thought I saw someone familiar.”

  The doors closed and the elevator hissed upwards. Seconds later, the three of them stepped into a typically posh hallway—gold trimming, recessed lighting and doors with ornamental knockers. There was a mirror on the ceiling that Caleb thought was unnecessarily dizzying.

  Straight ahead, in front of the door nearest the elevator, King’s bodyguard was just beginning to lower his thick frame into an absurdly fragile-looking wicker chair. The bodyguard appraised the three of them with bored, tired eyes, his butt hanging over the seat like he wasn’t sure if he should finish sitting down.

  Ran looped her arm through Caleb’s again and they stumbled off the elevator in unison, like a pair of messed-up kids coming back from a long night. Duanphen followed behind them, body straight, not bothering with any kind of ruse.

  “This ain’t your floor,” the bodyguard said, deciding to stand up after all.

  “No English,” Ran replied as they staggered closer.

  The bodyguard didn’t buy it, not even for a second. His hand darted inside his coat, probably reaching for a weapon.

  Too slow.

  Ran and Caleb split apart and Duanphen lunged between them. She grabbed the bodyguard’s throat and sent a jolt through him.

  The bodyguard’s knees wobbled and it looked for a moment like he might pass out straightaway. He was a large man, though. Big enough to withstand a shock. He rallied and managed to throw a desperate punch at Duanphen’s face.

  “Stop—stop, you—you prick—” the bodyguard said through gnashing teeth.

  Caleb popped a duplicate to grab the bodyguard’s arm. The duplicate danced and twitched as he too was shocked by Duanphen’s touch, but held ba
ck the bodyguard until the large man collapsed from the volts. Duanphen kept ahold of him for a couple of seconds after he was down.

  “Okay, okay,” Caleb said. “He’s out.”

  Duanphen stopped shocking the bodyguard but said nothing in response. She brushed off her hands and waited.

  “Gotta get him out of sight,” Caleb said as he loosed another pair of duplicates to pick up the unconscious bodyguard.

  Meanwhile, Ran tried the door to King’s hotel room. It was open. Just like they’d planned.

  “Took you long enough. This creep was extremely handsy.”

  Isabela—not the blond lifeguard stereotype, but the real thing—stood over the prone body of Derek King. Caleb found himself smiling with a combination of relief and admiration as he entered the room. It appeared that King had attempted to undress but only managed to get as far as his belt and one shoe—the shoe that Isabela apparently brained him with. There was a decent cut on his forehead, blood trickling down into his eye. King kept dazedly trying to push himself up and, every time, Isabela stepped down on his back, pressing him to the floor.

  “Hot,” said one of Caleb’s duplicates as he observed Isabela striking her glorious pose over the beaten CEO. Caleb cringed at the remark, but he didn’t think Isabela heard it.

  “Stay down, stupid,” Isabela was saying to King.

  “Who—who are you?” King mumbled.

  “Quiet,” Isabela reprimanded him, digging her heel into his back.

  Meanwhile, the duplicates had managed to wrestle King’s unconscious bodyguard into the room and dumped him on the floor. Once there, they began systematically tearing up bedsheets and using the scraps to bind the large man’s wrists and ankles. They wouldn’t be the most secure bonds for such a huge guy, but hopefully they’d be long gone by the time he woke up.

  Duanphen stood in the doorway for a few seconds, watching and listening for any alarms raised from neighboring rooms. It was quiet. The whole encounter had lasted less than a minute. She closed the door to King’s room and locked it behind her.

  “Let’s get him up,” Ran said, coming to stand over King.

  Caleb and Ran each grabbed an arm and yanked King to his feet. His eyes were glassy and blinking, still recovering from Isabela knocking him upside the head. Isabela reached out and pinched his cheek.

  “Thanks for teaching me craps,” she said. “Bye-bye.”

  Ran and Caleb dragged King towards his room’s balcony. At first, he hobbled alongside them, too dazed to fight back. But, when Ran used her telekinesis to push open the balcony doors and the night air rushed in, something clicked on in the man’s brain. He started to dig his heels into the carpet and his words became sharper.

  “What are you doing?” he demanded. “Don’t—don’t—!”

  It struck Caleb how it must seem to King like they were about to pitch him over the balcony’s marble railing.

  “We aren’t going to hurt you,” Caleb said, trying to sound coolly dispassionate.

  “You already hurt me,” King replied.

  “We aren’t going to hurt you more, then,” Caleb said. He didn’t want this guy getting too comfortable, though, so he added lamely, “Unless you make us.”

  Once they were out on the balcony, Ran grabbed a ceramic ashtray off a table and used her Legacy to charge it until it shone bright red. She held the glowing object out over the balcony’s edge, waved it back and forth twice, then grunted as she absorbed the energy back into her body, not letting the ashtray detonate.

  “What the hell are you doing?” King asked her.

  Five floated down from above. His part of this mission had been to hover above the hotel and wait for Ran’s signal. King shrank back when the one-eyed Loric grabbed him by the shirtfront.

  “Hold—hold on—” King stammered.

  “You hold on,” Five grunted.

  Five started to rise up again, this time with King in his grasp, but hesitated when he realized Caleb was still holding the older man’s arm.

  “You can let go now,” Five said.

  “I’m going with you,” Caleb replied. “I know this guy’s a scumbag, but I’m not leaving him alone with you two for even a few minutes.”

  Five’s lips curled back and he started to snarl some threat, but Ran put a hand on his shoulder. That surprised Caleb.

  “Take Caleb,” she said to Five. “We’ll clean up here and be there soon.”

  From inside the hotel room, Isabela shouted, “Oh my God, this dude has so many watches!” Clearly, the process of rummaging through King’s luggage had begun.

  Caleb watched Five, both of them still holding on to King, who had gone completely silent since the Loric showed up. After a moment, Five shrugged.

  “Whatever. Grab on,” he said.

  Caleb didn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around Five’s neck in a piggyback position, even though it felt ridiculous and awkward.

  King was trying to be stoic now, but he let out a squeak when Five lifted off, still holding the older man by the front of his dress shirt. Caleb thought he could hear fabric ripping. King must have heard it too because he groped at Five’s forearms to hold on.

  It wasn’t much of a flight, really. More like a big leap. Five landed them on the private rooftop garden attached to their penthouse. And there was Einar, seated at a small metal table with a half-eaten steak in front of him, surrounded on all sides by vined trellises and flowers drooping low in the moonlight. A candle flickered on the table, the fire shining in Einar’s eyes.

  “Hello, Derek,” Einar said, a piece of bloody meat paused just in front of his lips. “Thanks for dropping in.”

  Caleb rolled his eyes. How long had Einar been sitting up here in that exact position with that lukewarm steak in front of him, all so he could deliver that line?

  Five shoved King forward. The businessman stumbled—he was still only wearing one shoe. With his telekinesis, Five yanked a chair out from under the table opposite Einar and tilted it so King could fall into it.

  “Einar, hold on, hold on—” There was a note of panic in King’s voice as Five shoved the chair closer to the table. Caleb stood aside, watching, his hands clasped behind his back.

  “Why are you so scared, Derek?” Einar asked with a teasing smile. “I only wanted to catch up.”

  “I know what you’ve been doing to Foundation people,” King said. He glanced over his shoulder at Five and Caleb, his Adam’s apple bobbing in fear. Caleb’s stomach turned at being lumped in with these killers. “I’m not working with them anymore,” King continued. “I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

  Einar raised his eyebrows in surprise. When discussing this interrogation, they’d all expected to have to resort to more threats, or possibly let Einar manipulate King with his Legacy. Einar set down his cutlery and reconsidered King.

  “What do you mean you’re not working with them anymore?” Einar asked. “I never did a mission for the Foundation that didn’t use Blackstone as support personnel.”

  “They canceled our contract,” King said. “Don’t need us anymore. They’ve got the UN boys now.”

  Caleb stepped forward. “What do you mean by that?”

  King glanced over his shoulder. “After Switzerland, the Foundation got in good with Earth Garde. I think that was always their plan. They presented themselves as a nonprofit that’s been rescuing abused Garde from non–Earth Garde countries.”

  “The UN bought that?”

  “Sure. Those suckers lapped it up.”

  “There are good people at Earth Garde, though,” Caleb murmured. “I mean, there have to be . . .”

  Caleb realized belatedly that he’d already derailed their interrogation. Einar looked exasperated and even King was staring at him like he was the biggest schmuck on the planet.

  “Yeah, there’s some bleeding-heart types at the UN,” King said. “But mostly those guys go to the same cocktail parties as the Foundation people.” He glanced at Einar. “Who’s the new kid, Ei
nar? He seems a little wet behind the ears to be running with you.”

  “Don’t worry about him,” Einar said. “Worry about me.”

  “Oh, I am.” King touched the knot on his forehead, winced and plucked a napkin off the table to dab at the blood. “You know how many good men I lost on those Foundation ops? Was getting so the money they paid didn’t cover my costs to train new recruits. I’m glad they let me go when they did. Frankly, you people scare the shit out of me. I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

  “How do we find Lucas Sanders?” Einar asked.

  “Who?”

  “The body-jumper,” Einar elaborated. “Blackstone apprehended him months ago.”

  “That maniac?” King breathed out through his nose. “If I knew, I’d tell you.”

  Einar’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, but Caleb jumped in before he could ask another question.

  “Do you know anything about a prison built to house Garde?”

  King thought for a moment. “Actually, the Foundation did have a place in Mexico. Right in the middle of the Chihuahuan Desert. They bought it cheap off the Mexican government and were making some upgrades. Had some of my people assigned there to act as security, clear out the cartels, that kind of thing. Seemed like they were gearing up to hold a lot of you freaks—you people there.”

  “Why are you speaking in the past tense?” Einar asked.

  “I lost the contract on that place a few weeks back, that’s why,” King replied with a note of bitterness. “Those UN white helmets took over.”

  “Peacekeepers,” Caleb said.

  “Yeah. Foundation said something about a subcontract from Earth Garde. Guess they’re on the up-and-up now, can’t be associating with mercenaries like me. History of every great business, right? Things are illegal until they aren’t. Like prohibition, right?”

  “Spare us the history lessons, King,” Einar said.

  “Sorry, sorry,” King said with a nervous smile, remembering himself. “Look, if you’re trying to track down Lucas Sanders or any of the other Garde that the Foundation have stashed—the ones they can’t get to work in the field for them, anyway—” King glanced at Einar. “That’s the first place I would check.”